America has questions and Jason has answers. Want to know the square root of 3? Need to find a good way to break up with your girlfriend? Want to know who will win American Idol? (Please don’t ask me that.) Looking for a cheap plastic surgeon? Do you really think I can help you with any of these things? You’ll never find out if you don’t ask. No question will go unanswered and no subject is off limits. Ask anything. Let us begin.
Q: Jase, if you could have any animal as a pet, what would you choose…and why?Signed, Anonymous
A: Ann, as we can see by your question, we are now on a shortened first name basis. There is no longer the need to write out your full name when sending me questions. What animal would I like as a pet? This is a tough question. I can tell you what animal that wouldn’t be. A bird. The sole reason for this decision is that I’m scared to death of them. I had a bird when I was younger and somehow, he frequently broke out of his cage. Every time he did, my mom would freak out and yell “RUN!!” and shove my brother Marvin and I in the nearest closet while she shielded my then-baby sister Jessakin. If that doesn’t sound like a mentally scarring experience, tell me what does. Quick aside, yes my name does rhyme with my brother’s and sister’s names. My parents were poets and they definitely did know it. And it was embarrassing.
Q: Do you think it tarnishes the legacy of a star player if he fails to win a Stanley Cup with his long-time team but wins it with a perennial contender?Signed, Joe B in Lockport
A: YES! Sports! I’ve been hoping and praying for a sports question to come my way. Thank you for answering my wishes Genie Joe. Also, can you believe I have readers in Lockport?! Talk about going worldwide. When I look at this question, the first name that comes to mind is Lanny McDonald. For those that are unfamiliar with Lanny, he had the most beloved mustache in the history of hockey. He was a pretty good hockey player too. Lanny reached superstar status as a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs in the 1970s but was unable to bring the elusive Stanley Cup home as a member of the team. As Lanny’s career wound down, he spent the last half of his career with the Calgary Flames. In his last NHL season, Old McDonald finally had a Cup on his farm. Is Lanny McDonald’s legacy tarnished for not winning a Cup with the Cable Thiefs ? Lanny’s real legacy is his mustache. I’ll always remember Lanny for his last moments as an NHL player. Lanny sipping from the world’s most prestigious pimp cup as his mustache (now fused into a magnificent playoff beard) cried champagne tears of joy. My answer is no.
Here is a letter that I received from a member of an apparent anti-Jason coalition. I have included my answer as well. Please note that he insults each and every one of you. This means war.
you suck. Yes I am aware that is not a question, but I felt that everyone should know the truth. Here is a question for you, How do you manage to suck so much? Now I now this is a bit vague and hard for you to comprehend, but for the sake of your “readers” please try to explain how it is that you suck more than a Flow Bee in a Billy Mays commercial. Riddle me this O Great Wizard!
I hope you die in a fire,
Not your pal Ralph
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. That is, unless they’re spelled incorrectly and used improperly in a sentence. But I’m not going to be that douche bag that points out your grammatical errors. (Wait, I already did that?) I have much more that I’d like to say to you mister. By putting the word readers in quotes, you have managed to insult each and every one of the Jasonites. By insinuating that they don’t exist, you’ve guaranteed yourself the top spot on the sinner list at the Jasonic Temple. The fact of the matter, Ralph, is that you’re actually the one that sucks. Want to know how I know? You know what a “Flow Bee” is. Sorry, I have much more important things to do than catch up on five year old Billy Mays commercials. What is a Flow Bee though? I’m curious. No, actually I’m not! No real person would ever give a Ninja Turtle flying-kick fuck. This “question” is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. All of my teachers that I had growing up that said that no question is ever a stupid question must have never met you. This is a worse question than “ooooh, did you get a haircut?” when you come into work bald after having a mullet the day before. No idiot, it fell off and I spent the entire night in the hospital. Does it look noticeably different? Please help, I’m scared! Anyway, I hope I die in a fire too. When I’m 165 years-old though. That sounds like a much more legendary fate than “succumbed to cance (my personal nickname for cancer).” I’m glad you’re not my pal.Never chew your nuts, Jason
Please submit your questions for the next edition of Ask Jason. They can be submitted as comments here or in an e-mail to JasonNotImaginary@gmail.com. Or you can exercise your creative muscles and figure out another way to get them to me. I hope someone rips Ralph a new one. New hole in his purse that is. I love you all, signed Jason.
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Is your life confusing? Do you need relationship advice? Do you want a psychic reading? Do you need help with your math homework? Well, you need to ask Jason. This is round one of what will hopefully be a recurring section of my extremely important blog where I will answer your questions about anything and refer to myself in third person. Today’s edition features a couple personal questions that will help all of my readers become best friends with me and an extremely important educational question. Without further ado, I give you the world’s new favorite advice column.
Q: Jason, what is your favorite song?
A: I’m very happy that you asked me that, Ann. Can I call you Ann? I think that if I spread my great musical taste to the rest of the world, I can help everyone forget about the garbage that is getting spewed out by “artists” like Lady Blah Blah and Sticky Menage. Although I can’t narrow my answer down to one specific song, I can give you a couple different songs that I will recommend to anyone with ears. “Owjay” by Painful Sex and “Bubblegum” by Beautiful Jessica are two of the greatest songs ever written. If you’re unfamiliar with those, I’m hoping I can share them with you someday soon. Another one of my favorites is the Jason theme song that I hope will exist one day. The only thing I can tell you about it is that it will feature the chorus of “Feed the World” but with the words “Jaaaaasoooon, wooooah-oh” replacing “feed the world.”
Q: Dear Jason, where do babies come from?
Signed, The Great Jessica of Cheektovegas
A: It appears as if we have one of my younger readers here. Either that, or we have someone that coincidentally slept through the same lesson in class for five years straight. Let’s assume that we have a younger reader and keep this clean for the children. Great Jessica, most , if not all babies originally come from Jason’s magical wizard. Does that mean that there is a chance that you are one of my children? It is very possible. I will give you a couple minutes to celebrate but I will warn you, don’t expect much of an inheritance to be left for you. All of the money will be spent.
Q: Jason, why do you act like some hard-ass, almighty genius but you are scared to tell us your last name? Be a real man, Jason. What is your last name?!
Signed, Jim Business
A: Aaaah yes, my good friend Jim Business. Jim, you don’t have to be bitter about the incident in the grocery store anymore. Let’s just put that behind us. As for my last name, I’ve never revealed it because I don’t have one. That’s right, I’m the Madonna of real life. I bet you feel stupid now. Coming on here and trying to talk like the big boy down the street who was the first one to get a Power Wheels car. Shame, shame James Biz.
Well, that concludes Round One of Ask Jason. Thank you to everyone who participated, except for Jim Business of course. Asshole. If you’d like to participate in the next edition of America’s new favorite advice column, you can either comment on this post or send an e-mail with your question to Jasonnotimaginary@gmail.com. There are also other creative ways to come into contact with me that I’m sure all of my intelligent readers can figure out.
Be sure to like or rate this post and don’t be afraid to comment. If I do comment back, I promise to be my peachy little self. Also, a subscription would be greatly appreciated. Now please take time out of your busy day to take this important poll about myself:
Fun fun, party, goin’ to a party. Fun fun, party, it’s a fun fun party. Who doesn’t sing that to themselves when they know they’re going to a party? I know I do! Yeah! The Beach Boys! Wait, that isn’t a Beach Boys song? I just wrote that!? What’s up career change?
Everyone loves a good party. In fact, there was one party that I loved so much that I haven’t set foot in another one since. That was four years ago. This party has me pretty convinced that I’ll never attend another because it is impossible to match its greatness.
The party was at my friend Ricky’s house and it was hyped for months. We knew it was going to be huge. He made fliers that I helped pass out at all sorts of local stores. He even listed the time on the flyer as 8 PM until question mark! That’s secret code for “someone is going to die.” Unbeknownst to Ricky, I edited my stack of fliers to advertise “must-see attractions” like circus freaks, a petting zoo and strippers being part of the party. This was nowhere near true and might help explain the protesters from the “Equal Rights for Circus Performers” group that had gathered outside the party. I had no idea that the term “circus freak” was considered offensive by actual circus freaks. That’s almost mind blowing.
When I showed up to the party, the scene outside looked crazy. I didn’t get there until around ten o’clock because there was no way I would ever go to a party on time. But that’s not because I’m so cool that I need to enter the party to Hulk Hogan’s theme song or anything like that. It has more to do with the great opportunity being late gives you to laugh at all of the completely plastered idiots stumbling around like zombies and telling you how much they love you after you tell a lame joke about farts.
As I drove by Ricky’s house, I saw a kid already stumbling around on the front lawn. Pretty early for that, I thought to myself. There were so many cars parked on Ricky’s street that I had to park two blocks over and walk. As I got closer to the house, the shouts of the aforementioned protesters got louder and louder. The half-human, half-snake lady led the group in a spirited chant of “we’re not freaks, we’re just peeps,” as I crossed the street in front of them. I thought about how terrible and ineffective their chant was and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. As they watched me walk toward Ricky’s house, the crowd let out an enormous boo in unison. Even though I was the reason that they had shown up in the first place, I was pissed that they booed me.
“Shut up you obnoxious freaks!” I yelled across the street. Upon hearing the insult I had hurled at them, one of the acrobats that was part of the group sprung into action. Literally. He did a back-handspring-into-a-back-flip combo across the street in an attempt to avenge my verbal attack on his freak friends. Luckily, he wasn’t able to reach me in time and I slipped into the house unharmed.
Inside the house was even more unbelievable than outside. It was one of those parties that you just knew the cops would show up at. It felt like it was just a matter of time before they did. There were people everywhere and hardly any room to move around. People were already passed out on couches and even on the floor and stairs. There were empty beer cans everywhere and you could barely hear yourself think. Like any great party host would, Ricky had set up his TV to play reruns of old cartoons all night. His Rescue Rangers DVD was currently on continuous play, showing the select few that were conscious enough to watch it one of man’s defining creations. I slithered through the microscopic gaps that the party-goers had left between them on my quest to find Ricky and a few other friends. Just as I thought I had made it out of the room, I was stopped.
Out of nowhere, a hippie-looking kid popped up from the floor. He was inches from my face when he finally spoke.
“Meeeoooow, I’m Doggy Boy,” he said in his groovy accent as he grabbed one of my beers without asking. The way that he was staring at me, actually right through me, I could tell that he was tripping on something. Before I could say anything, he turned and did the hippie dance all the way to the TV. When his nose was resting on the cleavage of the boob tube, he spoke again.
“Is that me on TV!?”
I had no answer for him. It was clearly Rescue Rangers and unless he was an animated chipmunk, I’d have to go with no on that one. I walked away and left Doggy Boy to himself. I finally located Ricky, who was the best dressed party host I’d ever seen in his puffy and half-unbuttoned white, pirate shirt and short black shorts. Ricky was standing in the back corner of the room, along with a couple other friends, bearing witness to an epic Dick Challenge. For those of you that are somehow unfamiliar with the world-famous Dick Challenge, it’s exactly what it sounds like. One contestant will stare directly into the eyes of the other potential contestant and declare “dick challenge!” Both contestants will then “present it” and a panel of three impartial judges will declare a winner. It was currently ranked as the number one party game in the latest issue of “Games Weekly” so it’s no big deal that I would have inside knowledge of this game. Just as the judges were about to hand down their ruling, Doggy Boy burst into the room.
“Something about…my parents!?” he yelled.
At this point, it was pretty clear that noone at the party actually knew Doggy Boy. Everyone looked at him like he was nuts. He might have been nuts. Everyone was pissed that he had ruined the Dick Challenge and he definitely received his fair share of hateful looks. How dare you interrupt our completely normal fun? Doggy Boy could sense the danger.
“Should I kill myself?!” he asked.
The sad part was that he was so seriously confused that there’s no doubt in my mind he would have ended his life right there. For the sole reason of not being investigated for murder, Ricky tried to console Doggy Boy. But here’s where Doggy Boy somehow gets even weirder. For whatever reason, Doggy Boy had introduced himself to Ricky as Kitty Boy. Apparently this kid was so gone that he had no idea of what his real name was and was even more baffled by what he’d like his hippie nickname to be. Ricky offered him some water and jokingly said that he had a lot of it. Doggy Boy responded with “yeah, my aunt has a lot of water.” Oh. I don’t know if Doggy Boy ever did get his glass of water.
I took my attention off of Doggy Boy for a minute. Or was it Kitty Boy? Who knows at this point. I headed to the next room to see what kind of wacky surprises I could find there. As I walked in, I caught my friend Greg doing flying dropkicks to a closed closet door and laughing like a maniac. He looked up and saw me and started to laugh even harder. For a few seconds, I was convinced he had gone on a little trip with Doggy Boy if you know what I mean. But before I could ask him what he was doing, Greg started to scream at the closet.
“You’re going to die in there! Hahaaaaaaa! You’re never going to get out! You’re trapped forever hahahaaaaaaa!” he drop kicked the door again.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” I finally managed to ask.
“I trapped some little wasted kid in the closet! Hahahaaaaaa! He’s never going to get out, he’s going to die in there! Hahaaaaaa!”
For a minute or two, I thought this was the greatest thing I’d ever seen. I immediately started to laugh like a maniac along with Greg as we took turns drop kicking the door and reminding our new found hostage that he would never make it out alive. Somebody really was going to die at this party. That hit Greg and I at the same time and the mood changed quickly. Greg decided that since he was the one that kidnapped this kid, he should be the one to set him free. We opened the door and BOOM! The little wasted kid face planted onto the floor instantly. We couldn’t have caught him if we tried. Greg was beside himself. It seemed like he had instantly been struck with a severe case of Survivor’s Guilt.
“Oh my God! He really is dead! I killed him!”
As I tried to reassure Greg that sometimes murder just happened, the little drunk bitch’s knight in shining armor showed up. He was a friend of the kid’s and apparently, he had been searching for him for quite some time. He looked like he had been crying and was relieved to find his nearly-dead friend. He picked him up off the ground and started to drag him outside. As he left, he thanked us for…I’m actually not even sure why he said thank you. Greg was still upset and I didn’t want him to depress me. I decided to leave him by himself to contemplate his place in the universe. I moved on to yet another room. When I walked in, I couldn’t believe what I saw.
The room was close to pitch black and all the lights were turned off. The only outlines I could see were illuminated by the light coming from the adjacent room. In the darkness though, I could make the outline of a figure. I turned the light on quick to find Cat Dog, I mean Kitty Boy, errr I mean Doggy Boy standing barefoot and shirtless on top of a couch. He turned immediately to face me and had a frightened look in his eyes.
“Doggy Boy! What the Hell are you doing!? Why are the lights off!?”
“I set it to be this way!”
“Dude, you are fucking weird. What is your deal?”
“Something about…Jason!?” I never told him my name and I have no idea how he knew it. “I love…Jason!?” everything he said sounded like something he was repeating and totally unsure of. “I guess these make me…say what I feel!?” I guessed that “these” were whatever he was on. But I had no idea what he was talking about or how he knew my name.
“Doggy Boy, I don’t have the slightest fucking clue what you’re talking about.” The look on Doggy Boy’s face went from plain confusion to confusion and terror.
“Im really scared of Jason right now! I’m really scared of Jason right now!” he started to scream and completely freak out. I took that as my cue to get the Hell out of that room.
I walked back out to the Dick Challenge room and things had gotten completely out of control. I looked to the left and saw a fight break out. I looked to my right and saw a kid puke all over himself and the floor and then get punched in the back of the head by Ricky as a reward. Right in front of me, some kids were playing the traditional party game of Shlong Pong (beer pong where the cups are arranged in the shape of, well, a shlong). People were talking about everyone that was skinny dipping in the back yard, but the weird thing was that Ricky didn’t even have a pool. It was so loud that I may have heard that incorrectly. I needed to walk outside to check anyway.
Unfortunately, there was no skinny dipping. Double unfortunately, I did see a body part that I had hoped to avoid. The little drunk bitch and his knight in shining armor were outside together. Now, the little bitch was being held up by his buddy so that he didn’t fall over and at the same time the little bitch was receiving assistance going to the bathroom. That’s right, the knight in shining armor was holding the drunk bitch’s peen as he went. I started to laugh and the knight in shining armor and I made eye contact. All he could manage to spit out was “no,” in a wimpery little voice. I started to laugh so hard that I decided I’d run away and hope to find some skinnie dippers in the front yard.
What I saw instead sucked. The drunk kid from earlier was still stumbling around out there but the cops had just pulled up. As they approached the drunk stumbler, he offered the cops a beer. I thought that this whole scene was hilarious but I didn’t want to stop and watch. I had to go warn Ricky so I turned around and ran into the house. I was too late. The cops had already made it into the house and were starting to introduce themselves as I walked in.
“I’m Officer Tillman and this is Officer Watermilk.” Just as the second officer was introduced, Doggy Boy somehow dropped from the ceiling and landed in front of them. He stared at them for one second and then yelled.
Everone in the house burst out laughing. The police grabbed Doggy Boy immediately. He started to scream like a child that had just had their favorite toy taken away. He kicked and screamed and cried and sounded completely ridiculous as both officers carried him out of the house. Another officer that had arrived on the scene stepped up to talk.
“Is everyone here a minor?” the officer asked. Since this was a widely advertised party, there was a good number of minors at the party. This could spell danger for Ricky since he supplied the party with alcohol. Ricky, however, was pretty drunk at this point and didn’t seem to care about anything. He was the only one to answer.
“No! I’m a MAJOR!!” he yelled back.
The officer ignored him at first.
“Who lives here?” asked the officer.
“I do!” said Ricky fearlessly.
“And where did you get all the alcohol for this party?”
“I found it!”
“You found it?! Don’t get smart with me! Where did you get all the alcohol!?” he was now raising his voice.
“I stole it! All of it! And I’d do it again!” erupted Ricky even though he hadn’t even stolen one bottle.
“You stole it!? You aren’t helping yourself out at all here! Do you want to go to jail tonight!?”
“I’ll ask you one last time! DO YOU WANT TO GO TO JAIL TONIGHT?!”
“You bet your dick I do!” Ricky yelled as he knelt down on one knee. He extended both arms forward. Ricky was asking the hand cuffs to marry his hands. They screamed “yes!” As Ricky was pushed out the door, the party broke out in chant.
“Ricky! Ricky! Ricky!” everyone yelled. Everyone was forced out of the house but the chants wouldn’t stop. I stood in the street surrounded by the world’s biggest Ricky fans. When the police car with Ricky inside finally pulled away, I watched until it was out of sight. Wow, I said to myself. There goes the bravest and best dressed party host I have ever seen.