Advice - Spike Sez offers no-nonsense, practical advice for the lovelorn, lost, and stupid. If you feel you fit into one of these categories and have a related question, submit it to spike@onlineoffbeat.com, and if he feels like it Spike may respond.

Spike is NOT a licensed therapist and has NO training whatsoever in psychology or human behavior, but as he frequently says, “the fucking President has no qualifications for his job either, and look how well he’s doing.”

Dear Spike — I’m a recent college graduate who just moved to Boston from Minnesota for my first job. When I was growing up my parents always taught my brother and sister and I that how we look isn’t nearly as important as what kind of people we are inside. They stressed the importance of education, social skills, and being well rounded over being physically attractive. Since I moved here, though, I’m starting to wonder if they knew what they were talking about.

It seems to me that every gay guy in this city is like an Adonis. Not necessarily that they have great faces, but they all seem to have amazing bodies. Maybe for my Dad just being a nice, smart guy was enough, but he was competing against a bunch of other pasty, doughy guys from the midwest, not a bunch of beautiful gym bodies.

Objectively speaking I suppose I’m cute, but I’m definitely not a traditional hottie. I’m almost 6’ 3”, about 150 pounds, wear glasses, and I'm kind of nerdy. Basically I look like an overgrown Harry Potter. But I think I’m pretty interesting. I’m educated, well-read, interested in everything from politics to pop music, and I’m a good conversationalist. I'm pretty sure that if I could get a guy to give me a chance he’d find out I have a lot to offer, but I feel like I’ll never get that chance competing against all the hot bodies in town.

I absolutely HATE working out, but I’m starting to think it’s a necessary evil if I want to meet guys. Do you think I should bite the bullet and get a gym membership? And what do you think about using steroids to speed up the process? I think I wouldn’t mind working out so much if I saw results more quickly.

Thanks for any advice you can give.

— Harry Potter in a He-Man World, Boston

Dear Harry — Why not just tell guys you have a huge “sorceror’s stone” and offer to fill up their “goblet of fire” with it? Sorry, not one of Spike’s better opening lines, but he’s a bit delirious having spent the last few days devouring the final installment in the Potter series. That Rowling woman is a wonderful writer but has she never heard of an editor? 759 pages? Spike hasn’t read that much since his Aunt Clamydia gave him the complete Hardy Boys collection for his 12th birthday and he spent a whole week fruitlessly searching for the parts where Joe and Frank take their “brotherly love” to the next level.

But Spike digresses. Apparently your major was not business, Harry, because if it were you’d know that the first rule of business is never to enter an already-saturated market with a product identical to that of all of your competitors. To stand out you need to offer something different, so your lack of sculpted, gleaming musculature could actually be a competitive advantage.

But let’s start with your original premise: that men don’t find you attractive because you’re not muscular. Do you honestly think that guys are attracted only to guys with big muscles? If that were true then why did thousands of gay men start searching the internet for photos the second they heard that Daniel Radcliff was appearing nude in "Equus" (not counting the guys from NAMBLA or on sex offender lists)? No, Professor Spike is here to tell you that more than a few men find the charms of the "sexy nerd" quite irresistable. And now he’s going to open his Chamber of Secrets and reveal the TRUE magic for attracting men....CONFIDENCE! (oh, and codependency issues work really well if you want to entice men with substance abuse problems).

That’s right, Harry: all you need to cast your bewitching spell is a pinch of confidence, because confidence is sexy. Yes, a handsome face, a good sense of humor, intelligence, and a hot body help, but confidence can prevail over a lack of any (or all) of these. How else to explain Kid Rock bagging Pamela Anderson? Actually that might be another codependency issue thing so never mind.

Anyway, confidence is the key and your confidence shouldn’t be dependent on having big muscles, because no matter how hard you work out, and how many magic growing potions you drink (or inject), there’s always going to be someone bigger or more ripped. And the downside to big muscles is that they need to be maintained. It’s amazing how quickly 6-pack abs and rock hard pecs melt into a paunchy keg gut and a pair of saggy double-Ds without constant maintenance. Do you really want to sentence yourself to a lifetime of bench presses, squats and supplements just so you can look like every other clone in the clubs now?

Spike suggests that you focus instead on becoming comfortable with what you already have...which works especially well if you have a big penis since that's something all those guys at the gym can’t build no matter HOW MUCH time they spend pumping iron. Why do you think they’re trying to build all those muscles in the first place anyway? Hello! It’s called compensation. It’s the same reason middle aged men buy Porsches when they can’t get it up anymore without little blue pills. Oh wait...are you trying to tell us something? Ummm...sorry, Harry.

Anyhow, so does that mean you shouldn’t get a gym membership? Not necessarily. Regular exercise is good for you and may help you become more attuned to and comfortable with your body, which may help you build some confidence. And you may enjoy the sense of increased strength and stamina. But working out is NOT a prerequisite for being confident and attractive. Look at Jack Nicholson. Does he look like he’s ever worked out anything more than his fork hand? Hell no, but the guy gets more pussy than a room full of litterboxes. He’s an example of someone who is so supremely comfortable in his own skin and who exudes such confidence that he’s sexy despite the fact that he looks like Shelly Winters’ balding twin brother.

Now, if for some reason you decide that you absolutely must embrace the shallow existence of a gym bunny anyway, do yourself and everyone around you a favor and stay away from the steroids. In the short term steroids can lead to mood swings and unsightly zits on your back (a.k.a. back-ne). In the long term they can lead to organ failure, bone loss, shrinking testicles, and uncontrollable rage. And it’s not like you can take them just for a little while and then stop once you’ve achieved the results you want, because once you stop juicing your body begins to go back to its former state (except, of course, for the parts you’ve permanently damaged).

So Spike suggests that rather than trying to transform yourself into just another muscley gay guy, you embrace your inner Harry Potter. Not that you should start wearing a striped scarf and calling everyone Muggles (because first of all that would just be weird, and second of all one should avoid at all costs conjuring the word “Hogwarts” any time one is hoping to get naked with someone), but rather you should accept your Harry-esque essence and try to make it work for you.

In Potter terms, your lack of confidence is like a Dementor, sucking the life out of you in terms of the aura you project. And how do you drive away Dementors? Why with a bright, shiny sexy nerd Patronus, of course. So Spike suggests you try a confidence-building exercise. The next time you’re in a club, keep repeating to yourself, “I’m the hottest guy here who looks like a beloved childhood icon who isn’t purple” over and over, like an incantation. Visualize your confident vibrations filtering through the room like an intoxicating potion, casting its spell over the crowd. And then if no one still pays any attention to you, just walk up to the cutest guy you see and ask, “Would you like to see me work my magic wand?”, because after all, what gay guy doesn’t like a good trick?

So best of luck, my boy-wizard friend.

Ciao for now,
Spike

Spike is NOT a licensed therapist and has NO training whatsoever in psychology or human behavior, but as he frequently says, “the fucking President has no qualifications for his job either, and look how well he’s doing.” DISCLAIMER: Spike and Online OffBeat take no responsibility whatsoever for advice given in Spike Sez. Submit questions at your own risk to spike@onlineoffbeat.com. If no questions are submitted, Spike will make them up.

Posted by Spike at 05:36 AM

Humor - Americans have always viewed our founding fathers as a heartier breed. Our country’s first multitaskers raised families, crops, and a militia. Paul Revere had the mettle to reach Concord without stopping at Starbucks, going to yoga class, and checking his Blackberry.

Still, we should not sell ourselves short. The challenges of 21st century living would be difficult for the stoutest of Colonial folks. Customer service is just one example.

City of Philadelphia, 1751: Dear Whitechapel Bell Foundry: The Liberty bell we ordered last year was delivered today. It is a fine looking crate, but when will you be installing it?

Whitechapel Bell Foundry, 1752: Your business is very important to us. We regret to inform you that our Colonial field support engineer recently quit and is now servicing butter churns in Rhode Island. Please refer to the enclosed installation and service manuals. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to write. We will respond promptly within one or two years.

Philadelphia, 1753: We received the documentation. Unfortunately, it is written in Italian, a language unfamiliar to all of our indentured workers. What gives? Are you really located in England or have you outsourced your product support to Tuscany?

Foundry, 1754: Our sincerest apologies for sending you the wrong documentation. Enclosed are English instructions for Ye Deluxe Bell, model number 234y. Please write if you have any other questions. Our new Response Center has reduced our already-speedy service from 12 to 11 months.

Philadelphia, 1755: For crying out loud! We purchased Ye Deluxe Bell, model number 234x, not 234y. These manuals make no sense!

Foundry, 1756: Please note the only difference between model 234x and 234y is that 234y has been upgraded to work with Clapper, model 873f. Enclosed you will find an addendum to the Model number 234x manual that reflects these changes. Also enclosed is our spring 1757 catalogue: Bells, Bells, & More Bells.

Philadelphia, 1757: One of our city leaders Benjamin Franklin has informed us: “Energy and persistence conquer all things, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out these instructions!” We demand these issues be addressed immediately by your supervisor.

Foundry, 1758: Thank you for contacting the newly revamped Whitechapel Bell Foundry Support Department. Select checkbox (a) to order a bell, (b) for questions about billing issues, or (c) to order our fall 1759 catalogue: Bells, Bells, & Yet Even More Bells.

Philadelphia, 1759: The heck with you! We will assemble it ourselves.

Foundry, 1760: Suit yourselves, but remember: any cracking of the bell voids the warranty.

ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com

Posted by Ben Alper at 09:48 PM

Advice - Spike Sez offers no-nonsense, practical advice for the lovelorn, lost, and stupid. If you feel you fit into one of these categories and have a related question, submit it to spike@onlineoffbeat.com, and if he feels like it Spike may respond.

Spike is NOT a licensed therapist and has NO training whatsoever in psychology or human behavior, but as he frequently says, “the fucking President has no qualifications for his job either, and look how well he’s doing.”

Dear Spike — My boyfriend Joey and I have been together for almost 5 years. In most ways he is a gentle, sweet, and caring person. He gives generously to several charities, works in social services, and is always kind to people he meets. But the things that come out of his mouth behind people’s backs or out of earshot astound me. We can’t go anywhere without him making constant comments to me about the people around us. We’ll pass by a heavy blond woman with big breasts and he’ll say something like, “Hey Anna Nicole, shouldn’t you be babysitting a dying husband somewhere?” Or we’ll see a guy in a wheelchair and he’ll say “I didn’t know the Special Olympics were in town.” And when he’s with his friends it’s even worse.

Joey comes from a large Italian-Puerto Rican family in the Bronx and they’re all the same way. Whenever they get together it’s a constant barrage of insults between the 4 brothers and 3 sisters about who’s gained the most weight, who’s lost the most hair, even about the brother whose wife left him for another woman. It’s like nothing is off limits. I guess making fun of people is just normal for them.

I just wasn’t raised that way. My parents taught us that people who mock others do it out of insecurity to make themselves feel better. We definitely followed the Thumper Family motto from “Bambi”: “If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything at all.”

I’m not sure what to do. I’ve already mentioned that it makes me uncomfortable numerous times but it’s like Joey has Tourette’s Syndrome and just can’t stop himself from saying unkind things. It’s getting to the point where I just don’t think I can take it any more. How do I make him understand how serious this is to me?

— Richard, Cambridge, MA

Dear Richard — Let Spike guess: were you an only child by any chance? Of course Spike thinks it’s WONDERFUL that your parents raised you with such strong values about kindness and civility, and he’s sure that you were the shining star of your class at the Montessori School and that the bag guy at Whole Foods thinks you’re just swell when you help him bag your groceries because you feel guilty that a Mexican has to do it. And he’s also pretty sure that behind your back everyone you know calls you “Princess.”

Personally, Spike was raised on the Clairee Belcher motto from “Steel Magnolias”: “If you don't have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me!” Nothing is sweeter to Spike’s ears than a well timed, witty repost at someone else’s expense, and his whole family is the same way. In fact, Spike remembers coming home from school one day when he was a wee lad, all boo-hooey because one of the girls in his class had called him a “Q-Tip with eyes.” And when he told his mother what the girl had said she laughed beer through her nose, punched Spike in the arm and said, “You gotta admit that was a pretty good one, you little pussy. Now what does this little bitch look like?” and then she helped Spike cook up some choice payback for the next day.

And Spike doesn’t see anything wrong with that. In fact he thinks that if more people followed the lead of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog rather than Goliath from “Davey & Goliath” the world would be a more joyous place and people would be more well adjusted.

While your philosophy may, in fact, be more evolved, a kinder, gentler world is simply not a place in which Spike would want to live, because life without mean-spirited humor would just be dull. It would be like living on the Starship Enterprise during the Picard years. Sure it was a wonderful utopian society where most races lived in peace and where famine and poverty were things of the past. Sure they could cure disease by passing a magic wand over your body and you could get a burger just by pressing a button. Sure you could watch the hot captain strutting around the ship in his form-fitting top and buttocks-hugging trousers. But poor Worf couldn’t allow even a touch of his fiery Klingon temperament to surface without everyone treating him like he’d just farted in an elevator. It was just repressive and boring.

Let’s face it, Dick, it’s human nature to mock and ridicule others who are different. Maybe it comes from insecurity as your oh-so-sensitive parents suggested—and perhaps it’s not one of our most attractive traits—but it seems to be locked into our DNA. And it’s not just a human trait. Most species shun those who are deformed or crippled, and the strong typically bully the weak. Granted, those behaviors have to do with a biological imperative to keep the species strong, but who’s to say that our impulse to mock and ridicule doesn’t come from the same place? It may just be that, as with everything we do, we humans have refined the behavior to the point where it’s lost all its original relevance...kind of like Katie Couric. We’ve moved from “Ogg is short and weak so will make bad babies” to “Did you hear the one about the Spartan who had sex with his wife? Yeah, from behind he mistook her for his young male lover,” to “Hey, 1975 called and they want your hair back.” Now our mocking may serve no greater purpose, but it’s still an instinctive part of our species.

Spike’s only rule is that it’s never okay to be cruel to strangers or hurt their feelings. To paraphrase Kathy Griffin, Spike was raised properly: he knows enough to make fun of people behind their backs...unless it’s a friend or family member in which case you should always mock them to their face. Sure Spike takes occasional cruel swipes at celebrities he doesn’t know, but let’s face it, the chances of Aretha Franklin, Tom Cruise, Rosie O’Donnell, Clay Aiken or Barry Manilow reading some little online gay advice column are pretty small...okay, well the chances of Aretha reading it are pretty small, anyway.

But caution must be exercised during public mocking. Many years ago one of Spike’s friends was stuck at the airport for several hours with his boyfriend. Being two gay men with nothing to do, they did what came naturally...they began making fun of everyone else at the departure gate. Since both of them were fluent in sign language, however, they did it all by signing so no one would know. At one point a particularly large, unattractive woman sat across from them so they turned their attention to her, ridiculing her size, her hair, her clothes and her shoes. Finally after a few minutes the woman got up, looked at them and signed, “And I’m deaf, too, assholes,” before waddling away. That was a very instructive life lesson. Spike finds it useful to test his volume before making fun of people in public by quietly asking, “Did anyone lose a twenty dollar bill?” If no one responds he knows he’s using his proper “inside voice.”

So long as no one gets hurt Spike doesn’t see any harm in making fun of other people. This world is sadly lacking in humor and wit, so anything that brings a little to our daily lives is for the good.

Which leads us to your REAL problem, Dick. As Spike sees it your problem isn’t that Juan Travolta likes to mock people. It’s that his jokes just aren’t funny. First of all, Anna Nicole is dead, so unless the joke is something like, “Damn, looks like Anna Nicole escaped from her coffin again. Nice to see dying didn’t hurt her appetite,” it’s just not timely. And when she was still living the better joke would have been, “Looks like Anna Nicole lost the recipe for Trim Spa again.” That's funnier because it’s layered. It acknowledges the resemblance between the passerby and Anna Nicole, but specifies the fat Anna Nicole, plus it makes fun of Anna Nicole’s intellect since Trim Spa comes pre-mixed in a can so you just have to open it. See the difference? No, probably not.

Anyway, the issue is that your man just isn’t very clever, so instead of trying to reason with him perhaps you should fight fire with fire. Insult his attempts at wit enough times and he just might stop trying. Spike suggest that from now on, every time he makes a lame joke, give him a thumbs up and a big goofy grin and say, “Yo, Dice. Nice one.” Of course given that he’s from the Bronx he might consider it a compliment since those goombas seem to think that the comic stylings of Andrew Dice Clay were the high point of modern comic culture, but he’s also gay so he might catch on eventually. And until he does at least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that you just called him a dumbass to his face.

Well, time for Spike to get going. The local Weight Watchers meeting lets out in 15 minutes and Spike needs to get an ice cream so he can sit out front and torment all the fatties.

So ciao for now,
Spike

DISCLAIMER: Spike and Online OffBeat take no responsibility whatsoever for advice given in Spike Sez. Submit questions at your own risk to spike@onlineoffbeat.com. If no questions are submitted, Spike will make them up.

Posted by Spike at 05:08 PM

Humor - In the New York Post’s Page Six section on July ninth, Cindy Adams tells us she has “lost three friends recently.” She never had a chance to tell Beverly Sills “I love you” because Cindy had been in Cuba. She “lost the opportunity to say goodbye to that dynamo and great gal and good friend Claudia Cohen.” And while “changing planes after Havana in Miami, I finally saw a newspaper and realized author Lois Wyse, a special lady whom I knew especially well, passed on.”

Four thoughts come to mind:

a. Cindy Adams uses the term “friend” very loosely.

b. Cindy Adams is the worst friend in world.

c. Cindy Adams’s friends die at an unusually high rate.

d. Being Cindy Adam’s friend can be dangerous to your health.

ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com

Posted by Ben Alper at 03:50 PM

Humor / Politics - Farfour, the adorable mouse and Palestinian spokes-rodent met his untimely end after being beaten to death by an Israeli official/terrorist who was trying to buy Farfour’s land. The Mickey Mouse lookalike was the star of a Hamas-sponsored children's television program, “Tomorrow's Pioneers.”

Sara, the show’s the teen presenter told the audience of future therapy cases and suicide bombers, “Farfour was martyred while defending his land.” He was murdered “by the killers of children.” No doubt, Farfour is in a better place sharing a piece of cheese with one of his 72 virgins, which may or may not be a lot for a mouse.

Unfortunately, this is not the only cartoon character whose premature demise has come at the hands of Zionists:

Bambi’s mother died in a fire started by Jews who were burning the forest for the insurance money.

Bugs “Bunny” Siegel mercilessly beat Elmer Fudd’s cousin Muhammad Al-Fudd to a bloody pulp after Al-Fudd refused to open a Ramadan Club account at a Jewish-controlled bank.

Charlie Brownstein (did you actually think “Brown” was his real name?) tricked the Little Red-Haired Girl into going on a date. They ended up in a Motel 6 where she was brutally ravaged by Charlie and a Chasidic motorcycle gang.

Mossad agents kidnapped Dagwood Bumstead and blackmailed him into confessing he was Yasir Arafat’s boy toy.

The Daily Planet succumbed to the Jewish-controlled media when Editor-in-Chief Perry White was kidnapped and forcefully circumcised -- with NO food served after.

Li'l Abner was captured, whisked away to Chevy Chase, Maryland, and forced to spend the rest of his life at the top secret APAC telemarketing headquarters, soliciting contributions.

The Joker revealed his true identity: funnyman Shecky Rasheh who then bankrupted Batman’s alter ego Bruce Wayne by persuading him to invest in Rasheh’s HBO comedy special.

Garfield’s invitation to a PETA rally turned out to be a special Hadassah meeting for PMS-enraged woman allergic to cats.

Spiderman was forced to retire in humiliation after his tailor, Sol Stitchman purposely forgot to sew the inseam on his tights, thus giving Times Square pedestrians gazing up more than a peek at his package.

Athletic director Sheldon Utzing fired Coach Gil Thorp for allowing goyim to use the team shvitz.

ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com

Posted by Ben Alper at 10:07 AM