My Advice Column for May 11, 2004

Hey people! Who wants to come to a party at my place? 11 Via Verde, Achewood Estates CA, 94526. 10pm, just come around the back. Don’t worry about bringin’ anything unless you think I won’t have what you’re really cravin’, then I won’t be insulted. I got a pallet of tri-tip and cold dry-marinated that funk with all kinds of onion powder and garlic powder and salt earlier today. Got like 230 baked potatoes all wrapped and ready, and some rad Bobby Flay mail order yam tamales. DJ Mephistopheles Nate will be spinning it ‘til 3am, or whenever I catch him doin’ coke off my nice glass picnic table, at which point I will hit him on the head with a shovel.

Come on, chochichachas!

-=RAY=-

Listen to the theme to Ray's Place, by Milwaukee Youth Children's Choir, aka MC Frontalot

I love my lady, but her family hates that she is dating a polar bear instead of another walrus. It gets her hella bummed out that they disapprove, and I don't know what to do. What would Ray Smuckles do? Did you ever get the hots for a lady dog or lady squirrel or something like that?
Nik, Alaska.

Dear Nik,

No, I have never wanted to get all animal kink on a dog. You got to understand, a dog is like a Neanderthal compared to regular animals. Dogs only have a very rudimentary “yelling” language and their only economy is loosely based on pooping and eating poop. It would be like if you, as a human, wanted to get romantic on, well, a dog. Dogs are that far down.

Anyhow, I don’t think it’s cute that you’re pretending to be a polar bear. I’ve seen this “furry” community stuff before and I think you’re all a bunch of creeps.

Hello Ray. You probably don't remember me, but I was the first person you ever gave advice to. I want to congratulate you on your recent anniversary of Ray's place as well as thank you for opening my eyes to the wonders of Ketel One. Without it, life would be much more difficult at times.

I send you this electronical letter not just for kudos, but also to ask a question. I have a number of friends who are, shall we say, less than enlightened. A few of them are downright racist. Is there any way to get them to see that they are being bigots without having them all gang up on me? Failing that, is it even possible to get them to see the problem in the first place?
Jack Rabbit

Dear Jack,

God, does racism bother me. Unfortunately it’s kind of a “deep down” quality, whereby you can’t really change a person from it in any easy way. What I would do would be to gradually disassociate yourself from your openly racist friends before they chase you down in their ’57 Chevy Apache pickups and blow your brains out.

As of late, I've taken up smoking (Djarum Black Cloves to be precise). The problem is, me and all my family have been ragging on my mother to stop smoking. So am I being a straight-up hypocritical bastard? Or is it okay since everyone knows that 18 year olds live forever anyways?
Sincerely, Maybe A Bastard

Dear Maybe,

Man, does this tobacco debate ever come at a good time. There are some really strong ads on TV now kind of confronting everyone’s sensibilities about smoking, basically straight-up showing a picture of a kid in front of a mural of his dad who died from smoking, etc. These kinds of ads are merciless and I usually find myself with a salty pearl or two collectin’ in the corner of my eye afterwards.

You know what? I’m gonna quit smokin’ today. Not too long ago I had kind of a cancer scare – lump in the throat, at the back – and I was sure I’d done myself in with my careless ways. Fortunately Dr. Andretti took a look at it and determined that I was just mildly allergic to some of the chemicals that they use in Altoids (I’m always poppin’ the dang things). But anyway, before I saw the Doc I trolled long and deep through my heart of darkness. Picturin’ Pat tyin’ his tie as he was gettin’ ready for my funeral. Thinkin’ what it would be like to never walk on a sidewalk again, never indicate to a person what kind of sandwich I wanted again, just the most basic things we take for granted. I pictured this one busy street in our town, cars constantly flowing down it for decades after I died, never stopping, nothing changing. I had hella weary moments.

Damn. Thank you for writing in, brochicho. I’m gonna flush this pack of Marlboro Lights down the stinker, one by one, one flush for each cancer cock. I think you saved my life today. It’s gonna be like a miniature Navy funeral. Maybe I’ll go get a cap gun and fire one shot every time I flush another cig. Just fucking meaningful style.

Typically when I go out, I like to have a few drinks to loosen up before I hit the dance floor / chat up the ladies / what have you. Anyhow, I ended up getting a little bit of a heart problem and the doctor has asked me to lay off of the sauce for a while. I went out last Saturday for the first time since my new found sobriety, and I must say that I felt quite a bit out of my element. I did end up getting some pity sex, but I doubt I can work that angle for much longer. Any advice on how I can come up with some liquid courage without the liquid part?
Thanks, F-ing Sober

Dear Sober,

Man, I been in that boat before. A couple years back I had kind of a cancer scare (I was offerin’ black logs, but fortunately Dr. Andretti was eventually able to determine that it was only due to eatin’ too much Orange Flavor Chicken down at Emperor Ting’s) so I voluntarily laid off the booze for a while. I’d go out to Radium, a kind of hot local dance club (stainless steel door with their name welded on, etc) and just observe the scene. I saw all kinds of people going through some kind of fake ceremony, creating their emotions based on the music and the drinks, and basically falling into some kind of MTV-sponsored booger trance (I don’t know what that means). It felt pretty lame, so I went on over to Thick Burger and just ate a rad old hamburger with fries. It was so much more awesome than wiggling around near a chick and trying to create a situation based on her emotions. That is what I would advise to do (hamburgers).

What's the deal with Todd? Has anybody tried to get him off the spank?
Cheers, Cory

Dear Cory,

Todd had a pretty bad cancer scare a while back and he went off all the junk for a while. I think he ended up getting pretty aware that he was just a boring guy with nothing to show for his life and when Dr. Andretti cleared him, he started messing around with various drugs again pretty quick.

I can usually be pretty frank about Todd ‘cause I know he can’t read.

Have you put a few inches into the waistline recently or is Roast Beef slimming down a little (does he possibly have an eating disorder?) or is it a bit of both or just my feeble imagination getting away on me?
Charlotte

Dear Charlotte,

First of all, you should learn in life that you do not ask a person questions about their “increasing” weight. I guess this is pretty basic advice. Anyhow, I been gettin’ rendered from some pretty bad angles lately. I been meanin’ to talk to Chris about this. I look best straight on and like exactly from the side. I also have this really slammin’ stretch-fit Calvin clubbin’ shirt that he never draws me in. It has kind of those cap sleeves and silver stripes down the sides. Chris, you know the one I mean. The one I wanted to wear on 11/25/03.

Roast Beef probably is slimming…Jesus Christ, this ain’t even an advice question! What I weigh is not “advice!” Man, fuck off, lady.

In the strip where you guys leave Europe, you use Vidal Sasoon [sic] shampoo on your head; do cats use shampoo solely on their head, or do they use it all over their bodies since they have hair all over? If they do use it only for their head, is there a special kind of head-shampoo for only cats?
Thanks, Adam

Dear Adam,

Cat hair is a pretty damn complicated subject, bein’ as how you noted that we have it pretty much everywhere but our noses and eyes. Large areas of the coat are different from one another in terms of dryness, oiliness, dander, etc., so I personally use a regimen of six different Vidal Sassoon shampoo products, paired with six specially-matched conditioners that Loaneesha down at LaMonde day spa helped me figure out. All in all I figure I spend a good ninety five minutes in the shower each morning (what I like to call the “’95”), but my coat is in way better shape than, say, Pat’s or Roast Beef’s. Pat just uses some crappy-drawers Pantene Pro V system that he thinks smells nice (actually it reminds him of some old girlfriend he is still hung up on), and Beef for god sakes just lathers his whole coat up with damn Ivory soap like he was in prison. I tried to get him a nice little Tresemmé starter system for Christmas one year but he took it back and exchanged it for like six pairs of nail clippers. Dude’s weird.

The comic you mention did not show me shampooin’ other parts of my body ‘cause that ain’t in my contract.

* A Gentle Reminder (“Disclaimer”): This is advice from a cartoon cat, and should not be taken seriously. We are not responsible for anything you do based on what Ray says, or otherwise. Do not commit suicide or otherwise interrupt the lives of others. Continue on with your life as though you had never read this column. Erase your browser history. Not for readers under 18 years of age.