Hello folks. I apologize for being away, but I've been working on a book about my two favorite pastimes, fingerbanging and bird-watching.

Today I thought that I would answer a few of your questions. 

 Niles,

My friends and I were arguing about this yesterday. Is it okay to fingerbang a woman while she's sleeping?

 Joe G., New Jersey

 Joe,

It is okay, only if you are married to the woman, or you know her first name, last name and her mother's maiden name.

Niles,

I lost my main fingerbanging (middle) finger in an accident with a hacksaw. Luckily for me, I was born with six toes. I had my longest toe attached to my hand. Now, if I fingerbang my wife with my toe/finger is that still technically fingerbanging or is that a new type of sexual activity?

 Kenneth H., Ohio

Kenneth,

First, good for you for not giving up. You're an inspiration. But technically what you are doing is just good old fashion fingerbanging, which is not too bad. Is it?

Niles,

Spring Break is next week. My buddies and I are going to Florida, and I'm sure there will be a lot of fingerbanging opportunities. I always have clean hands and short nails. What else can I do to give me the fingerbanging edge?

Trip D., Texas

Trip,

Kudos for the clean hands and short nails. You're already ahead of the game. The only edge you might lack is technique. Even though it takes years to become a master, there are few techniques that might work for you. 1-The Hitchhiker, where you use only your thumbs or 2- The Bishop, where you hold your hands together as in prayer. As always use caution and lube if necessary, and be careful of the sand. Good luck.

That's all for today. I'll be back soon with more tips. Until then keep your hands clean and happy fingerbanging. 

 Niles Crawford III

Frankie Strong

First, let me tell you that I am a blessed man. I have 16 kids, all toddlers. (That’s a lot more than Anthony Quinn ever had, so stick it AQ!) Well, actually I have 151/2 toddlers. Besides the two sets of boy twins, my girl twins, my fraternal twins, my five girls and two boys, I have Shiloh, my retarded son.

Now, this might be the beer ball and lack of sleep talking, but I know that for the good of our species, I should drown him. Right?

Now before you call me a monster, let me assure you that I’ve been thinking about this for almost 4 weeks. And besides this is what happens in the animal kingdom. Lions kill their substandard cubs and so do other animals like rats, ground squirrels and prairie dogs. And we’re nothing but giant prairie dogs, right? Right. So before my son can pass along his inferior genes, I know what I have to do. 

The problem is that I can’t do it. I’m weak. Every time I think about pushing Shiloh’s head underwater I break down, because I love that goofy bastard. I love his crooked smile. I love that even though he’ll never get any of the jokes, he’ll still watch Family Guy with me, and I love that he doesn’t mind sharing his disability checks. 

So maybe for the sake of our species, I should embrace that love and not drown my retarded son. Maybe instead I should drown the normal kids? I don’t know. It’s all very confusing. Maybe I should figure out this obsession with drowning, get some sleep and go to AA.

Or maybe I should recognize my son Tyler’s ability to throw the football and turn him into his generation’s Todd Marinovich. Yes, that’s exactly what I should do....Boy, I’m glad I figured that out. 

Frankie Strong

(Peoria, Ill) Remember me? I'm the sterile guy who just wanted to be a dad, (see article F*ck Anthony Quinn) the guy who hated the late Anthony Quinn and his baby making abilities, the guy who thought it would be a good idea to dig up Anthony Quinn and eat his balls in order to get some baby-making mojo.

That's me, and I bet you're wondering how it all played out.

Well, I did just what I said I would. I ate AQ's nuts. And if you think that I was caught, arrested, speedily convicted and send to rot in prison for ten years where I have been repeatedly used as a semen recycler, you'd be wrong. Like I said, I dug up the old man and ate what was left of his big raisin balls, but then I went home with no trouble at all.

After a restful sleep, I had to see if the old balls worked. So I called up this girl that I kind of like, Caroline, who more importantly already has kids (so I know her stuff works). I threw a bottle of wine down her throat then did my thing. But she didn't get knocked up. So I banged her again and nothing. I must've banged her ten times, and still there was nothing. I lost. It was clear that Quinn took his magic with him to the grave. Depressed, I went on a carnal bender. I must have shagged every legal woman in three counties. And when I was drained of baby making cell I could muster, I made peace with the fact that I would never be a father.

Then three weeks ago the phone rang. It was Caroline. She was pregnant! With twins! And she wanted to keep them! Wow! It turned out that eating a dead actor's scrotum, was a good idea after all.

Until last week, when I got a call from Julie, an 18- year old I picked up at J Crew, she was pregnant. Then more calls started to roll in from the likes of of my bartender fuck-buddy Holly, flight attendant friend Wendy, Wendy's mom Tina, my old real estate agent Brooke, my actress neighbor Tory, my mail carrier Joan, Joan's daughter Amy and my fitness trainer Mary,

Then there were the women I met on MySpace: advertising exec Heather, local TV producer Kristen, kindergarten teacher Tiffany, youth minister Susan, librarian Courtney and therapist Lisa.

They were ALL pregnant They ALL of  wanted to keep their babies, and they ALL wanted me to help support those babies. Listen there's no need for you to tell me be careful what you wish for, I understand fucking irony when I see it.  

So what now? Well, I'm trading in the mini-van for a school bus and coming to grips that starting in a few months, I will never sleep again. So, fuck Anthony Quinn? Fuck me.

Skyler Anderton

What’s up America?

I was just sitting back enjoying some kind bud watching all these ancient dudes talking about the war on terror and whether waterboarding  is real torture or not, when I thought to myself. “Dude, these relics are big giant pussies.”

So I decided to do something about it, like writing an open letter.

Dear Intelligence guys and cranky old guys,

First, you guys suck for keeping weed illegal.

Second, you don’t know how to torture or what torture really is. Because anyone with a sac worth scratching will tell you that pretending to drown someone is sissy girl stuff compared to a real torture, teabagging.

Come on, what would you rather not have stuffed into your mouth, water or a furry skin bag full of man rocks? I know I would much rather have water in my mouth and get a full-time job with my dad’s plumbing company than suck balls. And just think how much those crazy towel-heads, not the Indian Sikhs who serve up delicious slushees to me and my bros, (They’re cool.) but the Islamo-crazies would hate having a floppy and fuzzy piece of American manhood dropped on their tongue. I can just hear them begging for the waterboarding. Can’t you?

If you security dudes need to run a test bagging, (and I would recommend it) then feel free to use my frat guy neighbor Ronnie McMichaels. He’s a real prick, who likes to tease me about my relaxed lifestyle. If he’s not a secret terrorist, then I’m sure he’s a rapist or a rapo-terrorist in waiting. In any case, he’s dangerous. If you need his cell number or daily routine, just let me know.

In closing, America is in trouble bros. And we’re counting on you to keep us safe. That means you might have to do some ugly things. And believe me there’s nothing uglier than a giant unkempt scrotum hanging above your chapped lips. But like a friend of mine said, “If you’re going to be a bear, be a Grizzly.” So Intelligence dudes, drop your shorts and be Grizzlies, big hairy Grizzlies.

Peace. 

Dracula

How's everybody doing? It's me, Dracula. Forgive the old painting, but I have issues about being photographed and photographers. (They're delicious!) But I'm not here to talk about that, I'm here to talk about something we, me and you, live with everyday, fear.

Fear comes in many forms: spiders, ham and politicians. But just because we have fears, doesn't mean we have to live our lives in fear. Which is why I want to invite you all to the Los Angeles Learning Annex on October 31st , Halloween night, where I will be talking about my book HOW TO BECOME FINANCIALLY SOLVENT BEFORE YOUR 400TH BIRTHDAY, and in particular I will be discussing the chapter titled 'What Really Scares Me? Credit Card Companies'.

Now I can hear you all saying, (literally, I have preternatural hearing) what does 'Dracula have to fear? Hell, we're all scared of you!' Which, because my diet consists of warm human blood, I can understand. But believe it or not I'm not the big scary out there, at least statistically. For example I feed twice a week, three times tops; so adding that up, I'm only responsible for at most 150-ish deaths a year. In a world this big, that's nothing. Your wet bathtub is more dangerous than I am. But, those credit cards bastards will get you long before that bathtub will.

Take me for example. I had a good thing going. I had a castle in Romania, a Penthouse apartment in New York and a beach house in Malibu. Then the real estate market of the early 90's came and wiped away my equity. I still had bills to pay, and since I have a hard time making (keeping) friends, I was stuck. Then they came with words of encouragement like "You're Pre-Approved, Get Cash Back, You Deserve The Best." How could I resist? So I signed the dotted line, and they sank their fangs into ME!

But of course I couldn't pay them, and when I maxed out, I lost it all. Soon I was living in a 2-bedroom apartment in North Hollywood with a guy named Randy.

It took some time, but I clawed my way back. Now I have a house in Tarzana, and Randy, well let's say Randy is a dish best served at room temperature.

Whether you're able to admit it or not, I know a lot of you are in same kind of trouble I was. That's why this year, you need to forget the parties and come on down to the Learning Annex and hear my talk. If you do what I did, I promise you can break the chains of bondage from those true bloodsuckers. So again, that's Tuesday, October 31st at 8pm at the Los Angeles Learning Annex. I hope to see you there.

One more thing, even though I'll eat before the event, everyone should wear a crucifix just in case I get the munchies (It's been known to happen. Yikes!) So until then my brothers and sisters in debt, stay clean.