GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #78: NIGHT OF THE LIVING BOOZER

Once upon a time, I was one of the hardest drinking motherfuckers you could ever meet. Every night, you'd find me at a different bar, hanging out with friends. Mondays were Doc Ryan nights, because they had dollar pints. Tuesdays were Elmhurst Public House nights, because they had dollar personal pitchers. Wednesdays were, I think, random bar nights. My memory is fuzzy about that one, but I think I'm recalling correctly. Thursdays were spent at Seven-Ten, but I forgot the drink special. Fridays were Spring Inn nights, because drinks there were always cheap, and they were five minutes away from home. And more often than not, Fridays ended at Brauerhouse, because they were open even later than the Spring Inn, and they were even closer to my place.


Now? I don't have specific drinking nights. If there's a special outing, of course I'll drink. And if it's Friday or Saturday, I'll probably have a few drinks. But it was nothing like in my drinking prime. I miss those days.


My pancreas stopped working a while back, so I've got to be careful. Even if that hadn't happened, my wallet has gotten considerably lighter, so I've got to be careful about that, too.


Tonight, we had an unofficial work outing. Ordinarily, I'd be one of the last fuckers at the bar, reluctant to go home even after being about ten drinks in. Tonight? I left before midnight, and I barely had a buzz.


It's like I barely know myself. I miss the old days of getting hammered and blacking out and trying to piece together the mystery of last night. That's why I enjoyed THE HANGOVER as much as I did. When you get down to it, it's about solving the mystery of whatever the fuck you did last night. It's almost like trying to figure out a novel by William Faulkner.


Those days are behind me. Except . . . sometimes, I get the urge to become Future Booze Jesus again. I might do that later this year. Maybe for New Year's Eve. I probably shouldn't, because my pancreas might stop working again, but I'm feeling nostalgic.


One of my coworkers/friends reminded me of a time when we used to get drunk and spend the night at another coworker's/friend's place. When I woke up the next morning, I saw an unfinished drink. The first thing I did? I reached down and drank the fucker.


I miss those days. I need to drink more often.

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS 8: THE RESURRECTION

From @jesus_m_christ on Twitter

All right, Future Booze Jesus has been gone for longer than three days, but now HE IS MOTHERFUCKING RISEN! This will probably be his final appearance, since I’m only allowing myself to get plastered once a month. Thanks to a liberal dose of Wild Turkey 101 and some moonshine my cousin made for me for Christmas, I officially have new FBJ advice for you. But to quote a great man, “Enough of this palaver! Let’s get this show on the road!”

Fitz asks: How do you invite a malevolent spirit to leave?

FBJ says: Say, “FUCK YOU! DIE! ARGH!”

[EDITOR: Uh, FBJ. You used to be funnier than that. Can’t you elaborate?

FBJ: NO! FUCK YOU! DIE! ARGH!

EDITOR: Come on. You’re not even trying.

FBJ: *sigh* Fine.]

FBJ adds: First shout all of that stuff. If it doesn’t work, get naked. Wave your dick at the malevolent spirit. This will cause one of two things to happen: either it will leave, and we’re done, or it will bite your dick off. But don’t worry, there are more things we can try. Try cooking fish. They hate that smell. Fling your shit around. Blow your nose on the carpet. Things like that. If all else fails, start watching BIG BANG THEORY, but be very careful. It will definitely get rid of the malevolent spirit, but at the same time, you’re putting yourself at risk of suicide. NEXT QUESTION!

Leo asks: Why do children make the best victims?

FBJ says: Because they’re impressionable. And delicious. And if you kill enough of them, you’ll win the Mega Millions and the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes at the same time. It’s in the Bible. Next question!

Jon asks: Why are red fluids oozing out of my dick? Should I taste them?

FBJ says: YOU FOOL! Stop fingerbanging your dickhole! Or at least trim your nails before you do it. But since it is happening, you might as well taste it. Who knows? It could cure cancer. Dad loves weird scientific discoveries like that. NEEEEEEEXXXXXXXXT QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESTION!

Skalski asks: Is the universe really a hologram?

FBJ says: Worse. We are all the fevered jerk-off dream of a drooling pedophile at the center of the real universe. Remember: the next time you scratch your asshole hard enough to make it bleed, it’s fate. You were meant to do that. And every time you pick your nose and eat your findings, the dreamer who made you up is masturbating. Fervently. Whenever he cums, he creates a new universe, but we’ll never enjoy it because we’re all in his head. Next que—er. Hm. Force of habit. Sorry.

All right, that’s everything. I had a few more questions from Fitz, but they were all references to things only a handful of people would understand. Besides, he already got his responses via text while I was blacked out. FBJ predicted the death of a friend he and I have in common, and if he really dies in 2024, I will start an FBJ cult. For real. No kidding.

Anyway, I guess FBJ is returning to the cave, or wherever he goes when I’m sober. Don’t worry. I plan on becoming an absolute animal for the week of my birthday this year. I’m sure he’ll rise again.

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS: THE FINAL CHAPTER

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this will be the final installment of Future Booze Jesus. It has recently come to my attention that I have hypertension and diabetes. This means that I’ll have to stop consuming just about everything I love. I am a broken man, and the world will suffer for this. But that’s another story.

Fear not. I am not quitting the booze. Just cutting back. The doctor says that I am allowed 2 alcoholic drinks a week. Now that’s just silly, and it’s not going to happen. But I can no longer go on epic binges, like I usually do at the end of the week. Or in the middle of the week. Or on any day ending with a –y. No more excess means no more Future Booze Jesus, for it is only then that he comes out of my head.


I was just going to make the announcement and move on when I noticed there was still one question unanswered. On my final evening of boozing heavily, I allowed FBJ to take over, and this is his final piece of advice for the world.

Jon M. Lennon asks: "A friend of mine was groped by a midget in a public library!  Should I tell him to kill himself or should I do it myself?"

Future Booze Jesus says: YOU FOOL! Your friend must not be senselessly murdered! He should be venerated! To be groped by a midget is a great honor. Such incredibly good luck has befallen your friend. This means that he is graced by no higher power than my old man. He is destined for great things. President of the United States seems too small for the likes of him. Emperor of Earth has a nice ring to it. Support him in all things. Worship him, if necessary. But not too much. Remember, I’m the star of this show. Don’t make me go Old Testament on your ass.


There you have it, folks. The end of Future Booze Jesus. He was here for such a brief period of time before he was crucified by horrible health problems. He leaves behind this advice column, the video shot by Mike Navarro on my Facebook page, and a metric shit-ton of memories. I hope you were there for some of them.


Who knows? Maybe when my tolerance is lower, it won’t take so many drinks to get him out of my head. Pray for the Resurrection.

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS 6

I’m back! Yes, I am risen, you fools! You thought I was dead because I didn’t have a column for you last week. Well, you were half-right. I was dead DRUNK! I think I will take MODERN DRUNKARD MAGAZINE’s advice and start naming my hangovers. But enough of this gibberish! On to the mailbag!



The Adonis asks: “Real simple, is Charlie Sheen WINNING?”


Future Booze Jesus says: You bet, just as he always has. I’ve heard a lot of his quotes of late, and I’m having difficulty in trying to find what people find crazy about him. He’s just a guy who knows what he likes, and he knows what it takes to achieve this. He lives life the way he wants to, and that scares ordinary people. The average person wants to live free of society’s expectations, but the Fear keeps him in check. Sheen doesn’t have the Fear. People say he was crazy for fucking up a good thing by torpedoing TWO AND A HALF MEN. Gentlemen, I say he was crazy for sticking with that show for so many years. Sure, it added to his coke-and-whores fund quite a bit, but can you imagine being a free spirit shackled by network censors for years? Soar like an eagle, Charlie, and fuck the trolls. Who needs ‘em? NEXT QUESTION!


Rico (a proud non-ginger) asks: “Remember that episode of DIFFERENT STROKES where Sam the ginger got kidnapped? Why would someone kidnap a ginger?”


Future Booze Jesus says: Ah, Rico. Welcome back. You are clearly unaware of the powers gingers possess. They can restore your youth, but you have to milk them properly, or their ginger juice turns into a poison. Also, they are good at fetching things. NEXT QUESTION!


Zip asks: “Let’s say I know this guy named Chris. Crap, I mean John. Yes, John. His roommate bugs him all the time to actually do things. All he wants to do is be by himself and lay around. Recently John’s roommate said he was moving out and he is worried that no one will support his laziness. John is now confused and lonely. What should he do?”


Future Booze Jesus says: Hm, this scenario sounds familiar. Zip, I won’t lie to you. Let’s get down to brass tacks. Cut this John character loose. Nature finds a way, and slugs always manage to survive. John will find someone else to look after him, because there’s a sucker born every minute. However, I recognize that cutting him loose might not be enough. You may need to encourage his suicide. No one likes a downer, and if he were to die, the world would brighten up just a little bit. Tell him to kill himself for the good of the world. Maybe leave a bottle of pills lying around. Or a gun with one bullet in it. Leave some razorblades on the edge of the tub. He’ll get the idea. NEXT FUCKING QUESTION!

Not Dave Damasssssssssk asks: “Does soaking a tampon in vodka and then putting it in your rectum really work? Should I try it? Have you tried it? Would you try it? I am pretty poor at the moment and could use a ‘getting drunk on a budget’ type tip or five. Thanks in advance!!!”


Future Booze Jesus says: YOU FOOL! If you’re putting booze in your asshole, you’re doing it wrong! There is no excuse for not being able to get drunk on a budget. If you think you’re stretching a dollar, think about this: homeless people every day manage to get enough cash for booze. Sometimes, they can get the good stuff. If they can do it, you can do it. I recommend Cold Brook Whiskey, which you can get for $9.99 a handle at Corner Cottage on North Avenue. It’s far from good, but you’ll get trashed just the same. If you’re going out to a bar or restaurant, fill a flask with some of this stuff. Never buy drinks in public. It’s too expensive, unless you’re at the Spring Inn in Elmhurst. Cheap shots and cheap beer. You can’t go wrong. If all else fails, skip a few meals. As your messiah, I advise you to remember that booze is more important than food. If you’re hard up enough, you can always find someone to give you a sandwich. No one wants to give you free whiskey.

I hope I have enriched your lives for yet another week. If you have any quandaries or comments, please post them in the comments below. Barring another horribly awesome drinking binge, I feel certain you’ll get your answers next Friday. Until then, celebrate the 17th year of Charles Bukowski’s passing by watching BARFLY and FACTOTUM. That should get you through next week.

[NOTE:  FBJ IS LYING TO YOU.  NEXT FRIDAY IS C2E2, AND I WILL BE TOO BUSY COVERING THAT FOR THE NAPALM ASSAULT TO POST A NEW FUTURE BOOZE JESUS.  STILL, FEEL FREE TO LEAVE QUESTIONS BELOW.]

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS 5: SUPERSIZED EDITION

The one thing that bothers me about this advice column is that there’s a two-week lag on answering you folks. I’m the son of God. I can do better. To remedy this situation, I’ve decided to answer ALL OF YOUR FUCKING QUESTIONS NOW! This way, if you ask me something today, you will have your response in exactly ONE WEEK. You are welcome. Now . . . ON TO THE MAIL BAG!



Our first question actually comes via text from Rico, who asks: “Who would win in a fight? FBJ or Ricodoz? Put that on your website and drink it.”

Future Booze Jesus says: You fool! There is no question of my victory over a swine like you! You’re a shell of a man with no drinking ability whatsoever! While I am busy doing grand, messiah-type things, like turning water into booze and crippling Amazonian warriors with the sheer size of my Jesuscock, you are passed out and puking all over yourself! BEHOLD!

Even if you somehow managed to gather your wits about you, I would D-Dolla’ Holla’ you into submission. NEXT QUESTION!


Purple Rain asks: “I enjoy taking bubble baths all the time. Sometimes while in there I think of my co-workers. Is it wrong to tell people at work of my post curricular activities at home and show them pictures of it?”


Future Booze Jesus says: Shit. Who hasn’t emailed a picture of their junk to a loved one? If we had photography in my day, I would have done it all the time. My cock has a halo and is a thing of true beauty. Anyway, bubble baths are fun, especially if you make your own bubbles. I encourage this activity, especially if you’re thinking of D-Dolla’ when you’re waxing the weasel in the tub. I think you should tell him about it. In great detail. And gently touch yourself as you do so. NEXT QUESTION!


Iceman asks: “Is it true Val Kilmer hasn’t been hired on for any future movies because no one is willing to fork over the dough for the enormous craft services it would require?”


Future Booze Jesus says: How dare you sully this advice column with your vicious lies? Val Kilmer is like the hottest chick at the party. You know the type; she’s so beautiful that she intimidates guys, who then don’t get the guts to ask her out. Kilmer’s talent is so overwhelming that not even Jerry Zucker can stand to look him in the eyes. He drove Nic Cage to tears in BAD LIEUTENANT 2. He made Karl Urban—Judge fucking Dredd himself—feel like a lesser man in COMANCHE MOON. He makes Chuck Norris doubt himself! Ever notice that Kilmer was never invited to play a role on WALKER? CHUCK HAS THE FEAR! So Kilmer has resorted to making his own movies, starting with his forthcoming Mark Twain masterpiece. “Bible and sword!” NEXT QUESTION!

Tina asks: “What does a nuclear explosion taste like? I’ve always thought it’d be a bit salty.”

Future Booze Jesus says: It tastes like Mary Magdalene’s asshole. For her day, she was pretty hot, but she just didn’t keep herself clean. We didn’t have toilet paper back then, you see, and she was too busy bathing my feet with her hair than to actually take a bath herself. Big events must have extreme tastes. Birth tastes like wet pussy, and death tastes like an unwiped butt hole. NNNNNNNNNEEEEXXXXXXTTTTTT QQQQQUUUUUEEEEEESSSSSTTTTTTTIIIIIIIOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNN!!!!!

OsamaFan69 asks: “I got stopped in customs at O’Hare. My genitals were groped by a large bald man, and then he found the weapons grade plutonium I had hidden up my ass! Can you break me out of prison?”

Future Booze Jesus says: Enjoy the cockmeat sandwich you’ll be getting at Git-Mo, you fool! We all know how he found your nuclear nugget! When he touched your dick, you got hard! You rubbed his bowling ball melon, and he invited you back into the office where he tried to give you a much needed prison hug! You would never have been caught if you hadn’t encouraged the pig! There’s some good news, though; considering plutonium’s half-life, you probably won’t survive for much longer. You might even be dead by the time you read this. Next time send the plutonium through snail mail via lead envelope. NEXT QUESTION!


[EDITOR: UM, YOU DIDN’T ACTUALLY ANSWER HIS QUESTION, FBJ.


FBJ: YES, I DID.


EDITOR: NOT REALLY.

FBJ: MY ANSWER WAS IMPLIED.


EDITOR: CLARITY ISN’T ONE OF YOUR STRONG SUITS, IS IT?

FBJ: *sigh* FINE. OSAMAFAN69, IN RESPONSE TO YOUR QUESTION, THE ANSWER IS NO. NEXT QUESTION, PLEASE.]


Roy asks: “My dad caught me jacking off in the bathroom!!! Now he thinks I’m gay because I was looking in the mirror while I did it! What should I do?”


Future Booze Jesus says: You must kill your father. Sorry Roy, but there’s no other way. He knows your secret, and he must be silenced before he tells anybody. First he’ll tell your mother, and then his drinking friends. Rumors of your homosexuality will be spread around his place of employment. Hell, by the end of the week his bowling team might know about it. All of their kids go to school with you (they are the next step in the equation, after all), and you will be the laughingstock of your class. Nip this in the bud immediately and murder him. And next time, lock the fuckin’ door, will ya’? NEXT FUCKING QUESTION!


Well, actually we have no more questions. We do have a few comments, though. I see the Palp has stopped by to say hi, and to you sir, I say welcome. I can’t wait to see what Machiavellian maneuvers you will try here.

P says: “HAHAHAHA . . . . I don’t have a question, I just stopped by to laugh my ass off at that bubble bath question and commend you, Future Booze Jesus, for being the free-minded individual that you are who simply DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK :)”


Thank you, P. But I am no one special. Anyone can do this, provided they get hammered enough to let their inhibitions go. Give it a try sometime.


Angela Rutherford says: “Can’t wait to see you at the apocalypse! You’re soooo hot FBJ!!! Just look for the blonde with big tits wearing a cross around her neck!”


We don’t have to wait much longer, Angela. To quote a great man, “The future’s uncertain and the end is always near.” When we finally see each other, I will adorn you with a pearl crucifix.

My nemesis, Future Booze Satan stopped by to leave me with these words: “Hey FBJ! Suck my rancid asshole! Yo momma was a slut, all the fly gods stuck it in her! Face!”


Future Booze Jesus says: You are hilarious. I wonder how you can talk with that cock in your mouth all the time. And isn’t it hard to type when you’re jerking off your ladyboy brother with one hand and fisting yourself with the other? May your days be filled with dildo accidents and your evenings with dripping, syphilitic goat dicks. I wish all the joys of being sodomized with a chainsaw on you and yours. Good luck with the rape trial!


Well, that’s all I have for this week. Post questions below and pray for an FBJ 6. And remember: drink of my cum and eat of my cock, for these are the only things that will get you into Heaven. No, really. It’s in the Bible. Look it up.

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS 4

They beat me. They whipped me. They put a crown of thorns on my head, and they crucified me. Shit, you saw THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST. You know what they did to me. But they failed to kill me. Why? Because I’m a drunkard, and I have too much alcohol in my blood to allow mere mortals to kill me. And so I am here to answer your questions. So let’s get to it. I’m a messiah, and I don’t have a lot of time to fuck around.

Rico asks: “FBJ, what will next week’s winning Lotto numbers be? And when I win, what should I buy you as a thank you?”

Future Booze Jesus says: Everyone except Rico: LOOK AWAY RIGHT NOW. This knowledge is too dangerous for the likes of you. Okay, Rico, wait a minute . . . we’re almost there. Right! We’re one on one. The winning numbers are: 5, 10, 15, 27, 34, 48, and the bonus number is 12. You may buy me Wild Turkey 101, and make it a handle bottle. Nothing else will satisfy me. On your way.

Is he gone? Good. Everyone else can come back now. I lied to Rico. He’s a slimy degenerate, and I can’t stand the thought of him having a lot of money. For the good of the world, I had to deceive him. Do not play the numbers above, unless you want to waste a dollar. NEXT QUESTION!

Big Sal asks: “What happened to my puppy after she was kidnapped by terrorists? Do they know what kind of food she likes?”

Future Booze Jesus says: I’m sorry, but they weren’t very concerned with food for your puppy. They were too busy raping every orifice she had, and then they made new ones to rape. By the time they were done with your puppy, not even Charlie Manson wanted anything to do with it. But because of your sacrifice, Egypt will be safe. NEXT QUESTION!

Dr. Samuel Furnterb asks: “Future Booze Jesus! Why doth we live, sir?! Why?!”

Future Booze Jesus says: This is a pointless question. We live, obviously, because we want to fuck your mother. All generations of human beings, past, present, and future, exist to fuck the shit out of the vagina from whence you came. Do you have any idea how flexible she is? I’ve never seen a woman eat herself out before, and she’s one of the only people I know who can accommodate the D-Dolla’ Holla’. You should give her a shot. Maybe then you wouldn’t need to voice this silly quandary. NEEEXT QUUUEEESSSSSSSSTTTTTIOOOONNNNNNNNN!

Ben Hernandez asks: “I have made love to an unclean woman. I now have a small tongue growing from my anus. Can you help me fix this?”

Future Booze Jesus says: First of all, whatever you do, DO NOT EAT ANYTHING WITH YOUR ASSHOLE. I can’t stress this enough. If you encourage this new growth, the tongue in your mouth will become obsolete. Do you see yourself gobbling a cheeseburger down through the ol’ balloon knot? I didn’t think so.

The next step is more difficult. Grab the secondary tongue and pull it out as far as possible. Sever it as close to the base as you can. If done correctly, the root will retreat and after time become ineffective. It will rot and fall out with the rest of your feces. If you fail, though, it will grow back. Then you will have to core out your asshole, which is very unpleasant, and you will probably not survive the procedure.

The final step is to STOP FUCKING WOMEN WITHOUT CHECKING THEIR ANUSES! You must do this carefully. Vigilance is the only thing standing between you and sexually transmitted body parts.

That’s all the time we have for this week. Don’t forget to post your questions in the comments below so we can keep this advice column going for as long as we can. Until next time: watch where you put your dick, and remember to fuck Dr. Furnterb’s mother. It’s the best pussy Dad ever made.

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS 3

Am I the only one out there who desperately hopes to find himself on latenightmistakes.com? I hope not. I scoured that site, and none of you thought to post anything from my debauchery there. Fuckers. Anyway, good news! There are more questions for FBJ, so there will indeed be a fourth installment next week! In the meantime, if you have anymore questions, please post them below. For now: your questions, FBJ’s answers . . . .



Rico asks: “Who would win in a fight, you or Ace from Mullen’s?”


[FOR THOSE WHO DON’T KNOW, ACE IS A FABULOUSLY DRUNKEN SINGER AT MULLEN’S IN LISLE. WITHOUT FAIL, HE GETS UP ON STAGE AND SINGS GNR’S “SWEET CHILD OF MINE.” I HAVE HAD MAYBE A HUNDRED CONVERSATIONS WITH THIS GUY, BUT HE NEVER REMEMBERS ME. HE TOLD ME ONCE HE’S GOT 10 DUIS, AND I DON’T DOUBT HIM.]

Future Booze Jesus says: This is a foolish question. Ace would never stand a chance against your drunken messiah. I appreciate his love of booze, but the man has no control. If it came down to a karaoke battle, he would probably beat me. But I take shits bigger than him, and my cock is ten feet long and bulletproof. NEXT QUESTION!


That Guy asks: “If alcohol allegedly kills all these brain cells, how come it never kills the ones that make me want to drink all the time? I mean come on, what are the odds that they are ever killed off? I am starting to think this whole brain cell killings is a great lie.”


Future Booze Jesus says: Welcome to a more enlightened caste. If alcohol killed brain cells, I’d be a retard by now. You too, probably. Instead, I rise above you with my steaming messiah genitals, ready to save the world with my powers. Anyone can do this; you just need to drink as much as I do. Spread the word and help the world throw off its yoke of sobriety. Only then can we, as a species, evolve and make the world a better, more fun place. NEXT QUESTION!

Worried About the Womb asks: “I tried to strangle my cousin’s baby with its own umbilical cord last night but was unsuccessful. Do you think the kid will grow up to hate me?

Future Booze Jesus says: You fool! I hate you, and I am the messiah! How could you have failed to strangle a child? And where the fuck did you get the umbilical cord?! Is your cousin’s baby still attached to your cousin? If so, I’m impressed by your audacity. I wouldn’t worry about it, though; babies are stupid, and they have the memory of an empty can of Icehouse.

Well, that’s all the questions we have for now. Join us next time, when we find out what next week’s winning Lotto numbers are, how good terrorists are at taking care of puppies, what to do if a tongue starts growing from your anus, and why we exist. Please help Future Booze Jesus continue handing out advice by leaving your queries in the comments below. For now, all I can say is: next question . . . ?

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS 2

Welcome back to the Future Booze Jesus advice column! Very soon, FBJ will be available for children’s parties, so keep your appointment calendar nearby! He does not charge money, but he will expect to be paid in Wild Turkey 101. And believe me, you won’t find a better teacher; he will make sure your kids learn how to drink lots of shots and put their peers to shame! Sure, five-year-olds probably weren’t made for games like Edward 40-Hands, but with the help of FBJ, they will be ready for their high school and college years! Now, for questions and answers . . . .

Joey asks: “What the fuck is Yoda? You never see any other members of his species in STAR WARS. Is he a mutant?”


Future Booze Jesus says: Yoda was born 856 years before we met him in EMPIRE. Jaffa the Hutt, an ancestor of Jabba, had stomach problems after an evening of eating nbinriwoprfnit, and he shat out a turd about three feet tall. It turned out to be a sentient shit, and it soon learned the ways of the Force. After 113 years of being called Turd by his peers, he moved to the Dagobah system, where he reinvented himself as a great Jedi master. He named himself Yoda and waited for his peers to die off and for the world to forget him. He then re-emerged and quickly gained respect as a holy man. Oddly enough, Salacious Crumb was born the same way, but he took a different path. NEXT QUESTION!

Work Wife asks: “Will I ever find the mythical unicorn? And if so, will I be disappointed?”


Future Booze Jesus says: You fool! You will never find the mythical unicorn! Myths don’t exist! However, you will find a non-mythical unicorn on the eve of your 96th birthday. Unfortunately, it will be dead and very disappointing. You will bury it in your backyard, and three thousand years later, an alien culture will dig it up and find only the horn. The aliens will then masturbate furiously with it. NEXT QUESTION!


Potsy asks: “There was once a time, I think it was called HAPPY DAYS, when all the kids respected their parents and enjoyed malts and stuff. Will there be a woman president in the next 20 years?”

Future Booze Jesus says: Technically, no. But there will be a transsexual president elected in 2020, and “she” will present herself as a woman. It will actually be the actor who played Ralph Malph. There’s a lot you don’t know about that guy, Potsy. A lot. But that’s OK. In 2020, YOU will be the First Gentleman of the US, and by then, you will understand.


That’s all we have time for this week. Tune in next Friday for what will probably be the final advice column, unless we get more questions, of course. You can post them in the comments below, if you so desire. Next time, we’ll find out the true nature of alcohol and the brain cells it supposedly kills and what happens when you try to strangle an infant relative.

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS 1

Good news, everyone! We have enough questions for not one, but TWO Future Booze Jesus advice columns. But don’t let that stop you from posting more questions, which you can do in the comments section below. Let’s see if we can get a third installment, shall we?



Okay, so recording FBJ’s drunken answers didn’t work out so much because he either muttered too softly to be heard or screamed so loudly that his voice reverberated. What finally worked for me was getting hammered in front of a keyboard. There were a lot of typos, but the message got through. Edited for clarity, here are FBJ’s startling answers to your dire questions.

Billy Graham asks: “I am considering developing a methamphetamine addiction. Is this as bad an idea as the National Geographic documentaries suggest it might be?”

FBJ replies: This is the best idea you’ve ever had. Fuck National Geographic. They don’t know what they’re talking about. They should have called themselves International Geographic, if they were so smart. No, meth will make you invincible. It might even make your dick grow an extra seven inches. NEXT QUESTION!


Rico asks: “Isaac Newton invented calculus but died a virgin. What’s more important, being a math geek or getting laid?”

FBJ replies: Who the fuck uses calculus? I think you’ve answered your own stupid question. Then again, who uses your dick? The answer to life’s greatest question: prostitutes. NEXT QUESTION!

Cliff asks: “Why Future Booze Jesus? Jesus never predicted the future.”

FBJ replies: Jesus never predicted the future because he never had to; he lives there, as well as in the past and present. He knows when you’ve been touching yourself, and he knows when you’ve been beating children with rusty chains . . . because he’s there with you at all times. NEEEEEEXT QUESSSSSSTION!

Jon Lennon asks: “If Superman’s penis was cut off with a Kryptonite knife, would said penis have all the strengths of Superman? If I ingested said penis, would I gain Superman’s powers?”

FBJ replies: Funny you should mention this. DC plans to answer this question in the March 2052 issue of ACTION COMICS. For those of you not willing to wait 42 years, yes, you could fire a bullet at Superman’s disembodied cock, and it would be deflected. No, it cannot leap skyscrapers in a single bound. Yes, if you threw it at an oncoming train, it would stop the locomotive in its tracks. You would not, however, gain its powers by swallowing it. First of all, you might choke on it, since he is uncircumcised and ten inches long (flaccid). Secondly, he has not cleaned up his smegma. Lastly, it will give you indigestion, and it will never pass through your intestines. Swallowing his cock might actually kill you. As your doctor and messiah, I recommend swallowing Green Lantern’s dick instead. It’s not as cumbersome, and he keeps it clean.

That’s all for this week. Tune in next Friday for more Future Booze Jesus advice! Next up: does booze kill brain cells? Will there be a woman president in the next 20 years? What exactly is Yoda? And more! Don’t forget, if more questions arise, please post them in the comments! FBJ’s advice is free, but booze donations are welcome . . . .

FUTURE BOOZE JESUS

Since my DUI trial has still not taken place, and I'd kind of depended on it finishing up so I can post the DUI Diary serial, I have nothing to do here on Fridays.  I remember when a bunch of us got together to brainstorm for the Napalm Assault, one of my ideas was to have a Future Booze Jesus advice column.

Who is Future Booze Jesus?  If you don't know this, then you haven't been around me when I'm superdrunk.  If I drink enough hard liquor, I eventually leave myself behind and become Future Booze Jesus.  I have precognitive powers.  Yes, I can predict the future.  Anyone who asks me questions when I am in this frame of mind will get truthful and accurate answers regarding the future.

So . . . why not give FBJ an advice column?  Here's how it will work:  if you have a question, post it in the comments here.  When I get enough questions, I will get as wasted as I can, and I will answer them.  These responses will be posted in a forthcoming FBJ advice column.  I will take any question.

Good luck!