Segarini: The Bob Helpline (and Handy Hints)

There are so many troubling aspects to today’s herp-a-derp world. Things change every 38 seconds. ‘What to do’ becomes a dizzying maelstrom of decisions and choices, and trying to figure out if a hipster is being forthcoming or ironic is near impossible. We live not in the Atomic, Industrial, or Teen age, we are the occupants of the Age of Overwhelming Amounts of Information, Most of Which is Bullshit.

I know, I know, “How can we successfully navigate this brave new world of Instant Oatmeal, Microwave Popcorn, Angry Birds, and piano playing felines?” That is the question I am asked almost daily, sometimes more, like maybe two times daily or, “a day”. Well, Sally Smart-Phone, and Jimmy iPad, fear no more. I’m Bob…and I am here to help.

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Q: Dear Bob. Although I know I should really, really like her, I am concerned that I cannot bring myself to worship at the Shrine of Adele. I mean, she’s okay and everything, but I don’t really ‘feel’ her voice, or her songs, or why she just makes me afraid my boyfriend is going to break up with me and then I’LL have to sing about it. My girlfriends are all starting to look at me like I’m a weirdo when we get together to discuss ’50 Shades of Grey” and drink a box of wine. What should I do?

Betty

A: The solution is simple, Betty; Lie. If you really want to keep your girlfriends, just lie. If they play her music at your gatherings, claim irritated bowel syndrome and go hide in the bathroom (sneak your iPod in and listen to YOUR music). If they get tickets to see her live, use one of these 3 excuses: Grandmother’s funeral. Shoe Sale. Jury Duty. Keep it simple, and you will not be found out.

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Q: Hey Bob! Fuck, man, I got a new 70 inch LCD 3D flatscreen and hooked it up in my den. I tried to watch the game on Sunday but my wife was watching some movie about some woman who just had a miserable life and cried a lot and then got some disease I couldn’t even pronounce, and her life got even more shitty, and now everybody in the movie is crying and so is my wife, and then the kids come in and ask what’s wrong with mom, and our oldest, Nikki, starts crying, and tells the little ones we’re getting a divorce, and now my whole family is crying, and I missed the fucking game trying to straighten the whole thing out and then my wife starts yelling at me because I couldn’t see how beautiful that movie was and then got really pissed when I told her it wasn’t even fucking real, and now I think she actually does want a divorce. What should I do?

Burt

A: First things first, Burt. Tell your wife you sold the TV and hide it at one of your friend’s houses. Then, if you have anything else you love, like a Marshall Amp Beer Fridge, a collection of Penthouse Variations, or a DVD copy of Deep Throat or The Devil in Miss Jones, hide those too. Be sullen and angry. If you don’t already drink a lot, start. Don’t bathe or shave and don’t forget to yell at the kids. Then, get the divorce, move into a sweet little condo, and retrieve your stuff. Problem solved!

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Q: I recently bought a 1991 Gibson Les Paul with Humbucking pickups and a custom candy apple red finish. It also features a Porkworth 57a22 hardwire Felfman keel complete with Whammy jack, Delson mini clarts, and a fine set of Benhouse U77 faux pearl luminous tuning pegs with slip guard, and unlimited placement settings. It has a padded back, an armrest, and a hand painted, life like cigarette burn on the headstock where actual cigarettes used to be placed. The case is covered in stickers from all 50 states, 10 provinces, England and Chad. The interior is crushed red velvet, has a storage compartment that will hold 12 picks, an extra set of strings, and a 700 ml bottle of Jack Daniels. It also smells like beer. Here’s the problem. This guitar and case are fucking awesome! Everybody comments on how beautiful it is and are envious of the setup. Unfortunately, no matter what I plug it into, what pedals, I use, or how well I play Enter Sandman, Black Dog, or Highway to Hell, it always sounds like shit. What can I do?

Wayne “Shred-Man” Wilson

A: Relax, Dude. That guitar sounds like a fantastic instrument. Draws attention, and I’ll bet the ladies love it. You’ve got a keeper there. Seriously, I’d be surprised if anyone will notice that it sounds like shit. Just turn it up, man.

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Q: Bob. Whatever happened to Arcade Fire, U2, and Dane Cook? I miss seeing them everywhere, all the time, on TV and the radio, and even on the Internet. What can I do?

Howard from Brampton

A: Who?

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Q: Hi Bob. Why are the Rolling Stones still so popular?

Perplexed in Peoria

A: Well, Perp, the Rolling Stones are an institution. Like the Pride Parade, the 4th of July, and a cavity search at the airport. They have earned our respect, and continue to make fine music for adventurous young people and millions of aging Baby Boomers whose lives depend on the comfort of looking forward to a new Rolling Stones record or tour, another repackaging of The Beatles catalogue, and more Star Wars movies. The longer they can function, the longer we can all feel younger and productive. If it weren’t for The Stones, many aging Boomers would just give up, spending their nights in bed and their days under it. Personally, they are an inspiration to me and millions like me. If they can still make music…I can still make it to the bathroom before I start to pee.

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Q: My kids are taking me to a concert for my birthday. They want it to be a surprise, so they won’t tell me who we’re going to see. I’m worried it will either be too loud, or an act I don’t want to hear. I don’t want to tell that to the kids, but I need to know if there is anything I can do to make sure I can at least appear to have a great time with my wonderful children. Any suggestions, Bob?

Lawrence Feldman

A: If I had a nickel for every time I have been asked this question, I would have a heck of a lot of nickels! Seriously, Lawrence, there is a simple way to ensure that you, and your family have a great time even if you hate the show they take you to. Here’s all you need to do. First, purchase a box of Exlax or other fine laxative. Make sure they are the kind that look like chocolate. If those have been discontinued or simply no longer exist, any liquid one will do, but make sure you pour it into a screw-top plastic bottle of pop, which you can buy at the venue. It is your back-up plan. Next, make sure you bring two (2) Number 2 wooden pencils with you. These are almost a foolproof solution to your problem. If the band or artist is way too loud, just snap off the erasers from the ends of the pencils and shove them in your ears (there’s one on the left side of your head, and one on the right). Problem solved! If you can still hear the artist and you cannot stand their music, make sure your pencils are sharpened before leaving home for the concert, quickly remove the erasers from your ears, and jab the sharpened ends of the pencils into your ears where the erasers were. Hear anything? Hell no! Problem solved. If the blood flowing from your ears isn’t enough to let the kids allow you to leave, simply drink the soda pop you bought. They’ll beg you to leave in a matter of minutes and no feelings will be hurt. Happy Birthday, Lawrence!

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Q: Dear Bob. I saw in the Internet that people think the world is going to end. I’m scared. What can I do?

Timmy

A: Well, Timmy (and the dozens of you who also sent this question), you can relax. This is not the first time this scary thing has been bandied about. The world does end for everyone, but not all at once. For example, Mitt Romney’s world ended on November 6th of this year, and he did not see that coming. Usually, no one sees it coming until just before the plane crashes or the stove explodes, or the parachute doesn’t open. I’m guessing you’re a young fella, Timmy, so unless you do really stupid stuff, like walk down railroad tracks listening to Death Metal on your iPhone, or decide to drink something from the cupboard under the sink, or play with daddy’s guns (and ammo, which is usually in the night stand with the gun or in his sock drawer) you have a long, long time to worry about waking up on the wrong side of the lawn. So Timmy, do your homework, listen to your mother and father, and just say no to drugs most of the time!

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Q: Bob…Facebook is FUCKED, man! Now they want to steal our stuff and use our own information against us, and God knows what else. And that Timeline thing is FUCKED, man. I HATE it! Why do they keep changing shit, man, WHY!!!??? I need to protect myself from them, man. Seriously, man. What can I do, man?

Sonny D

A: Sonny, Sonny, Sonny. There are three things you can do; Decline to sign up for a Facebook account (too late for that one), Bilaterally negotiate a modified account with Facebook, or Cancel your Facebook account. Well, you don’t want to do that because then the millions of people you already share your information with won’t be able to enjoy it anymore, and that’s the sole reason a billion people joined Facebook…to share their information. At any rate, I have a foolproof solution for your problem, Sonny. Just copy and paste the following in your status window and you will be protected. That’s all you have to do. Seriously. Protected. Just share this and like it and use it as your status. Go ahead. Do it, Sonny. Do it NOW!

The Facebook Solution

In response to the new Facebook guidelines I hereby declare that I’m a bit bored and would really enjoy a sandwich about now. Dudley Do-Right is attached to all of my personal details, illustrations, comics, paintings, photos, videos, nail-clippings, tin-foil hats, absurd Internet Proclamations, abused dogs, cute kitties, and drunk 20-something’s mobile pictures of themselves, so be forewarned. And people who post pictures of food that they think the rest of us (some of whom could REALLY use a sandwich) will want to steal  and use  against them are probably just dizzy as a result of the Republican Convention.
For commercial use of anything on my Facebook Timeline, a note from your Gynecologist is required along with a recent picture of the troubled area.
(Anyone reading this can copy this text and paste it on their Facebook Wall, but seriously, making up something of your own is much more satisfying, creative, and possibly good for your health. This will not place anything under protection of copyright laws, nor will it help you get a date or cure that rash on your butt.) By the present communiqué, (by which I mean this written thingy you’re still reading for some insane reason known only to yourself), I notify Facebook that it is strictly forbidden to dance the Macarena at a funeral, teach a horse to cheat at cards, and listen to current ‘hit’ radio without wanting to punch a 13 year old in the throat for making his or her musical taste important to a bunch of otherwise intelligent adults. If you distribute, disseminate, or take any other action against me on the basis of this profile and/or its contents, and I feel I will be affected negatively or in someway impacted by it, I will consider myself paranoid, gullible, and kind of silly, but will nevertheless track you down, scratch “Tattletale!” on the side of your Prius or Camry, Call you a liar on Twitter, and teach your cat or dog to crap in your shoes. The aforementioned prohibited actions also apply to shut-ins, Carnival barkers, crossing guards, stoolies, Samoan doormen, people who honestly believe kale chips taste good, and/or anyone who uses tofu in their meat recipes. The content of this profile is private and confidential information. I can’t imagine that I am so interesting that another human being would desperately need to spend any time at all being interested in me when they have a perfectly good life of their own. The violation of my privacy is punishable by law (UCC 1 1-308-308 1-103 and the Rome Statute), unless you visit Snopes or do some research and find out that those two things are completely useless. Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to make a sandwich. I will not be posting a picture of it on Facebook, just in case somebody might want to steal it. Problem Solved!

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Segarini’s regular column appears here every Monday

Contact us at dbawis@rogers.com

Bob “The Iceman” Segarini was in the bands The Family Tree, Roxy, The Wackers, The Dudes, and The Segarini Band and nominated for a Juno for production in 1978. He also hosted “Late Great Movies” on CITY TV, was a producer of Much Music, and an on-air personality on CHUM FM, Q107, SIRIUS Sat/Rad’s Iceberg 95, (now 85), and now publishes, edits, and writes for DBAWIS, continues to write music, make music, and record.

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