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Fun Animated Quarters game.
Drink with Van Wilder

Ask Van Wilder

Readers wrote in, Van Wilder answered back 

Who put the bop in the bop-shoo-bop-shoo-bop? And For that matter who put the ram in the Ramma-lamma ding-dong?

-a curious reader

Dear CR,

With 1,093 patents to his credit, it should come to no surprise to anyone, that it was the "Wizard of Menlo Park" himself, Thomas Alva Edison, who indeed first placed the bop among the bop-shoo-bop-shoo-bop. What may surprise you however, is that it was Edison’s long time rival, Marty Forshpan, who may deserve credit for the ram in the Ramma-lamma ding-dong.

In his autobiography, entitled "Thomas Edison Was a Stupid Lying Scumbag Who Stole All My Good Ideas," Forshpan claims he had been working on the ramma-lamma formula for some time, and was foolish enough to reveal the secret to Edison at a drunken office Christmas party while the pair were discussing inventing something to make paper copies of their asses that could be later sent to the corporate office. According to Forshpan, Edison patented the idea the very next day, along with the carbon button microphone. And the rest, as they say, is history.

I find the expression "Naked as a Jay bird" stupid. It would make more sense to compare your nakedness to an animal without feathers or hair or anything. Maybe one of those ugly hairless cats for example. What do you think?


Interesting point, John, but the expression derives from the phrase "naked as Jay Byrd,"

Originally coined by Connecticut third graders in the year 1980, the phrase pertained to one Jay Byrd, a troubled youth who smelled of incense and Fritos, but who won everlasting fame mostly for his habit of running naked through the streets of Stamford.

In a similar vein, the phrase "dumb as Mark Sapperstein" is also eponymous. Although the expression never caught the popular imagination, man was that kid dumb.

What's the deal with these lions trying to attack us?

- Bryana

I know exactly what you mean, Bryana. These ferocious felines pose a menace to us all. Unfortunately, apex predators aren't easy to get rid of. The African lion can weigh up to 550 pounds and achieve a top speed of 40 miles per hour. What hope can any human have against such a killing machine?

Fortunately, we have use of our most precious weapon - the human mind.

Simply by airlifting in Kodiak Bears, our lion problem could soon be solved. Weighing in at over 1400 pounds and 11 feet tall, and sporting the largest fangs of any carnivore, the Kodiak bear should have no problem with the so-called "King of Beasts."

But what do we do once the Bears rule the earth?

Once again, our intellect provides a solution! By creating giant "Mecha-Gorillas," complete with laser eyes, missile fingers, infrared target acquisition capabilities and armor-plated skin, we should soon rid the world of Ursus Arctos Horribilis. But at what price?

For how can we deal with lumbering cyber-primates programmed solely for destruction?

A call out to space, perhaps? The Search Extra-Terrestial Intelligence program has by now undoubtedly made contact with the Telekinetic Medullans of Regulon 5. The powerful psychic hammers wielded by these ultra-evolved aliens would soon pulverize the rampaging mecha-gorillas to powder.

Alas, the obvious result of this shift in the balance of power would be the complete and utter enslavement of the human race, with all mankind working endless shifts in Nevada's borax mines.

Indeed, the only thing that stops this from happening today is the Medullans' love of relaxing in the tall grass of the hot savannas. A slow moving race, reputed to taste like gazelle, they are easy prey to those well-camouflaged masters of the hunt, the lion.

Let's just let the kitties live, shall we? Because otherwise, we're in a war we can't win.

What's the deal with airline peanuts?

- the annoying comedian from amateur night at a local bar near you

I don't know about airline peanuts, but would somebody please tell me what is the deal with ice cubes? They're not cubed. And they're certainly not ice... Oh, wait a minute. They are. On both counts.

This observational comedy is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

How do you tell your girlfriend that she has the bush the size of a fucking rainforest? More importantly, how do I get rid of the damn thing (the hairy bush, not my girlfriend)

- Ken Schwartz

Be careful what you wish for, Ken. It might come true.

Remember that rainforests are invaluable ecosystems, home to millions of rare species, with their dense foliage serving as the lungs of the world.

God forbid the shaving process begin! Do you really want Sting, Peter Gabriel, and the Indigo Girls holding a $300 a plate dinner protesting you, Ken Schwartz?

Would I be committing any grievous social faux pas by using Gary Coleman's butt for a bicycle rack? And if not, what's a fair price to pay for this service?

- No Kick-Stand

Yes, it would be wrong. Very wrong. Don't you think Gary Coleman has suffered enough in his short life? (No pun intended....ok, I intended it, but it was just a little joke. Oops! Sorry.)

Anyway, you may or may not be aware that Mr. Coleman has undergone three operations for a congenital kidney defect known as nephritis. As a result of this condition he will never grow any taller than 4 foot 8 inches in height. Not to mention, after playing Arnold Drummond on the extraordinarily popular comedy series Diff'rent Strokes (1978-1986) Coleman wound up faced with not only the uncertainty of life as a former child star, but also he became the central character in a bitter legal squabble between himself and his parents, before finally ending up as security guard. So shame on you for even asking!

Should you choose to ignore my advice, however, his going rate is $32.50 per hour.

Mr. Wilder, I don't know where my shoes are. Do you?

- Peener

Ahh, Peener. Peener, Peener, Peener, Peener, Peener, Peener, Peener. Peeeeener. Peeee-heee-heee-heeener. Peener. Mmmm. No, I don't know where they are. Peener.

Who in God's name are you? And after I know WHO you are, WHY in God's name would I ask you even one simple question for you to answer? Answer me that! Thanks.

- Jimbo

Who am I? Who am I indeed. I am many things to many people. To the Penobscot Indian, I am the Spirit of the Salmon. To the Yamamano of the Amazon basin, I am the Jaguar King. To Billy Parker, I'm known as Van Wiffer. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Two outs, bottom of the 9th, Parker on second. Strebowski on Third. Little Ronnie Reed was on the mound. I owned Reed that season… but this was the playoffs. Was Reed sandbagging all year for just this moment? I say yes. But to Parker, he'll always be stranded on second. Let it go Parker. Let it go.