By Tardsie
Tardsie Knows Lots About Lotsa Stuff!
Welcome at last to our first “real” installment of Ask Tardsie, where we answer your questions–no matter how bizarre or uninformed–as honestly as we feel like. We believe that Tardsie’s wisdom has the power to change the world, but we say with some rather generous exaggeration and perhaps even a trifle more glib insincerity than normal, that none of this would be possible without you, the reader/listener.
Let’s get to your questions!
Elysian Hunter inquires about the true nature of the taint.
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Happiness Is Not a Disease wonders if it’s evil to think about demons a lot.
Tardsie Had Something Similar Happen With His Computer One Time.
Tom Simard asks, ‘Why does the wind blow?”
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Madame Weebles wants to know if 650 or 675 volts is right for her flux capacitor.
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Jennifer Worrell asks about a potential career change.
Being Like Unto A God Can Be Quite Lucrative.
White Lady in the Hood wants to know if the pizza man will ever show his face all up in her hizzie?
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Bill inquires about the propriety of kid-muzzlin’.¹
With Love And Proper Discipline, Your Boy Might Someday Be A Doctor.
Le Clown wants to know if Tardsie will help him score some bath salts.
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Brigitte asks about the format of Ask Tardsie, never realizing that what she really wants to know are some of Tardsie’s thoughts on nomenclature.
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We very much hope you enjoyed this, particularly as we’ll be doing it again regardless. So let’s have more questions. Write your inquiries in the comment space below, or email them to Tardsie@gmail.com. You’ll be SO glad you did!
Really enjoyed that.
Not only do you entertain, but you educate. This morning I was completely ignorant of any way of explaining how those voices come to me from the radio and TV. No longer!
Thanks Tom, I appreciate it.
And now you know my sure fire way of dealing with things beyond my ken (which is most things, really): DEMONS!
Eleventy million volts for time travel…. Hmmmm, seems about right, I’d say!
(Written on behalf of those magnificent men in their flying machines…!)
Your reply evokes images of jaunty mustaches and much derring do!
Most certainly my good woman err fellow:
We Enchant All The Ladies And Steal All The Scenes
With Our Up, Tiddly, Up, Up
And Our Down, Tiddly, Down, Down.
Huh, Hmmmmm…
Smak,
This is absolutely brilliant. And the voice!! Off to the spice rack!
Le Clown
Thanks, man–I appreciate it!
And whippets, man–don’t forget the whippets!
Smak,
I just played this to Sara… She cracked up. We’re so going the Robitussin road tonight.
Le Clown
Ah, the Rue d’Robeuxtussin…I know it well, my friend.
Ahh, a huffer. That explains a lot.
Only in my misspent youth. I by no means used inhalants with any regularity, and ceased using them entirely the moment I found out what they do (as opposed to just being “bad for you.”). I would rather my kids smoked crack (which I by NO means want) than did inhalants.
Late in my college career N02 came in in a big way (most of the drugs have always been there, but they seem to come and go), but by that point I already knew that that stuff makes Swiss cheese of your brain.
That it does. I have a nice poster presentation I put together on the subject a few years ago. Gee. Maybe I could make a hilarious public health post out of that, too…
Sounds to me like someone’s set a challenge for herself!
Thanks so much for mentioning my blog!
Bill
No problem, Bill. As you know, I enjoy it, and particularly so that piece.
Also, thanks for the informative response to my question. I now have a broad assortment of muzzles. I will keep them color-coded for each day.
Bill
Well, your information was SO not helpful. I didn’t say I wanted to travel FAR back in time. I just wanted to travel back to last week so I could purchase Lotto tickets now that I know the winning numbers. I did appreciate your thoughts to Chica B on robbing the Domino’s guy, though. That should come in handy. And I could have sworn that you were going to say something about how the wind sucks too, but you didn’t.
Also, the photo of Tardsie next to the statue of Padre Pio made me weep in awe.
Thanks for you r kind words, despite our dropping the ball on your question. At Promethean Times we’re big believers in the art of listening, and like to think we’re pretty good at it. But in this case, while we heard you, we’re guilty of not listening closely enough.
All apologies. If somehow we could get a hold of your weak-ass time machine and travel back in time the few hours it would take to give a better answer to your question, believe me Madame W., we would!
For gawd’s sake, man your craziness is just what I needed this morning. BTW, you’ve got a great radio voice — did you learn how to talk real good from schoolin’ or does that just come natural? You could be the next Anthony Robbins, but do you have banana hands? That could be the difference in your success or failure, Smak…oh, and thanks for the props about my name. I do love it, I do, but I am reliving the Roseanne Barr song now.
Well, think of her has BRIGITTE Barr; it’ll help exorcise that demon.
It’s funny that you mention Tony Robbins. Although I’ve never met the man nor seen one of his performances, we were both in the same space on Sunday. He was doing one of his shows (the same 4 day seminar, in fact, where folks got burned just a couple nights before), and I was giving a lecture in a different part of the auditorium.
That’s only partially true, I’m afraid. It’s all true up to the point about what I was doing. If the ugly truth must come out, I was at a Wiggles concert. For real.
I had to look up banana hands. Although I hadn’t heard that term, yes, I do have banana hands. A friend of mine, who has spent some time in the military, and who never fails to delight me with his turn of phrase, calls them “great, big clumsy dickbeaters.”
Uh, seriously, I was pulling that from a movie, Shallow Hal, wasn’t meant to be anything other than some lighthearted banter, Smak. Sorry….
That’s two responses within seconds of one another where I’ve come off the wrong way, apparently. I’m in rare form!
No offense was taken. At all. Really.
I’ll try to get over it. I’m REALLY, REALLY (that’s all caps X 2!) upset, only I’m not sure why!
I kid–I got your note.
Get over it and tell your inner child to do the same for gawd’s sake. 😀 — this is kidding, Smak do you see that big smiley stoopid icon thingy?? here’s another one. :).
Holy smokes Batman – you are the coolest. I was howling with laughter. (and you DO seriously have a very nice radio voice) I almost choked on the um…taint explanation….and I’ll definitely remember to get the credit cards from the pizza dude since I don’t get paid during the summer, I chould use some help with the shopping. And since YOU asked for more….
Ask Tardsie:
I hate going to the DMV (Dept. of Motor Vehicles) is there a way to make this trip more pleasurable?
In beautiful Central Ohio it’s the BMV- the “B” stands for “Bureau” so you’re sure to understand right off that you’re dealing with a bureaucracy, and/or bullshit, but those two words are pretty much interchangeable anyway.
The only thing I could ever imagine making a visit to the BMV pleasurable is to be heavily medicated before going. But that’s not quite practical.
Since it’s not a good idea to be over the legal limit and/or stoned out of your mind when you’re trying to renew your driver’s license or registration, it helps to a.) bring the DS to play solitaire so the 45 minute wait is less bat-shit annoying, b.) hope and pray you don’t get the snotty crud from the ass pilot who sneezes into his hand then wipes the snot on the seat next to you, and c.) crank up the MP3 player (but not so much that you can’t hear when your number is called) to drown out the inevitable elevator music or (worse) oat opera that’s playing in the background.
Probably not, but I know a fellow who’s done it a few times. Not out of his mind, though. Just normal stoned.
Hahaha! Those are great ideas, Elysian! I really have to go, too…I have to pick up new tags for my husband’s truck. I normally go to the one in the Hood (it’s just so close) they don’t play music, the ladies behind the counter look suicidal, there’s usually a commotion because folks don’t like to take a number and try to break in line, screaming kids everywhere, a few folks that don’t speak English so their kids are the interpreters (that’s always interesting – cause they never have the right paperwork and want to go back out to their car and not lose their place in line) It’s a joy joy…..
Yes, I think we can help with that!
Glad we made you laugh, Chica Blanca, and thanks for the kind words.
I’m a bit speechless after this one. So many emotions–wonder, admiration, disgust, laughter, shock. Suck a wise little sac(k) that Tardsie is. Well, maybe he can answer this for me. Why do female medical examiners on TV always show up in tight, cleavage-bearing tank tops or slinky, white dresses? Wouldn’t all that blood and gore make a forensic specialist dress more appropriately? And why do female detectives do the same thing? Wouldn’t they prefer to hide their guns? Please, enlighten me.
Ah, a great question! Yes, we can help.
And we’re delighted that we could arouse so many conflicting emotions within you. Art should inspire, we think.
Loved the sac/sack thing, btw.
Then you’ll love this even more. I thought nut sac was without a K, but I wasn’t sure. So I googled it. You know, I thought it would be a clever word play since Tardsie is both a sac and a sack. Later, my son was sitting by me when I was using my laptop. He asked me to google something for him, so I went to the open window where I last searched. Guess what popped up? Yep. Nut sac. Try explaining that to your teenage son. I’m still not hearing the end of it. There’s a blog post in there somewhere, only this time the offal’s on me.
WOW!
This is brilliant…and so completely informative. I’m seriously giving thought to Tardsie’s suggestions to Jenn towards a cult-related career change. I’m already working on my kool-aid tolerance, just in case.
Ha ha, thanks Alex! It’s lovely to see you!
I’m seriously impressed Smak.
Oh !
Loving your voice ! Wow !
Thanks, R, and welcome back to our smiling shores!
My question is why the Padre took off his backpack. I wanted to read the inscription, to find out his name.
Well, sometimes we experience a paradigm shift when we find out the REAL story. Okay, first of all, that backpack was blind. Secondly, he’d waited years to visit that particular statue of the Padre, and what you see as your “view being blocked” is actually a very touching image of a devotee finally being able to “read” (by touch) the words which mean so very much to him.
I’m sure he’d be very sorry for blocking your view, but alas, shortly after this picture was taken, he succumbed after a long and horrifically painful battle with intestinal cancer.
Condolences to the backpack’s family, the wallets, suitcases and duffel bags. At least the backpack got to see the padre before “packing”it in.
I just about blew iced tea out of my nose on that one. Catholics (and my mother is a strict old-school one) consider any kind of self pleasuring to be a Major Sin. (not quite Mortal, but almost.) If you masturbate, you will grow hair on your palms, AND you’ll have to go to Confession. Alone. In the Confessional. Possibly even with the pervo boy-lover priest.
In the strict old-school Catholic paradigm, sex is only tolerated for married people, in the lights out, missionary position, and only if you’re trying to procreate. If you actually catch yourself having sex without an intent to procreate, or you catch yourself actually enjoying it, you are doomed straight to hell.
I was the last of three children. Now I know why Dad was always in a bad mood. To add to his frustration, he’s Baptist, and we all know it’s OK for Baptists to enjoy sex. Even with Rosie Palm.
However, I once did believe the myth that the taint is so named because it “t’ain’t” one and “t’ain’t” t’other. Thank you, Tardsie, for enlightening me. You have a most resonant voice- digital engineering- or perhaps some vocal training at one time or another?
I know a little something about being raised in the Baptist tradition.
Yep, it’s all the product of digital magic. In reality, I sound like “Pat” from SNL in the 90’s–“Hngggg…Hello..ehhhh). Seriously–it wouldn’t be fair of God to bless me with beauty, brains, talent AND a golden voice!
No, it’s my voice. As far as vocal training, I was a choir queer for 16 years, and in sales and teaching for quite a few.
Thank you for the kind words both on my pipes and my taint. My discussion of taint, I mean.
I knew it. I’ve had 6 years of classical voice, 7 years of school choirs and competitions, and another (some of it simultaneously) 5 years as the lead singer/bass player of a heavy metal band- so I can usually hear the end results of vocal training.
Weird thing is some people with fantastic speaking voices can’t sing for shit and vice versa, but the two usually go together. Mike Rowe is one guy who has an amazing speaking voice- and he spent some time as an operatic baritone. Go figure.
I am assuming you were probably 2nd tenor/baritone from your speaking voice? (Though all the little boys start out as first soprano in the boys’ choir.)
There’s nothing queer about a dude being a good singer. I imagine Steve Perry (in his prime) could have done the nasty with just about any chick he would have wanted. A golden voice can be a chick magnet. A chick with a nice voice, well, let’s just say it does nothing for her chances of getting lucky.
A chick with a nice voice, well, let’s just say it does nothing for her chances of getting lucky.
Oh, yeah–my years in choir pulled me SO much ass you wouldn’t believe it! That’s me being extremely sarcastic, if that doesn’t come across.
You’re correct that my natural range is baritone, although I sang bass in college choir (my range was better in those days), although since I was in choir so long I’ve sung Alto, 1st Tenor, 2nd Tenor, Baritone and Bass.
As far as singing goes, I have a pleasant voice, but not an exceptional one. I think it’s a great choir voice, not so much of a soloist voice.
I’m starting my own cult now. Y’all come down. We can taint-diddle, or whatever that was. Anyway, Tardsie, I found your response to my question and your sexy radio voice astoundingly astute. You totally rock. Dumb side note–in Old English, the “quaint,” or “queynte” refers to lady bits. “Quaint” rhymes with “taint,” and this is a snapshot into how my weird little mind jumps from idea to idea. So, Tardsie, want to investigate the origins of the word “quaint” for all of us next time?
Thank you so much, and thanks for the two (counting the last one) great questions. My life is all about dumb side notes, and that’s one I hadn’t heard. Awesome!
Hehehehe:)
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