(Editor’s note: Today’s post is dedicated to my fave Team Leader (my boss) Janessa, who’s a cutie person with a 10 mega-watt smile, an impish attitude and the worst taste in jokes I have ever seen…this one’s for you, kiddo.)

Okay, you can all exhale now…by the time you read this, 2020 will be on its last dying legs, and not one nanosecond too soon for my money. 2021 HAS to be better, but then, ’20 set the bar so low that ’21 has nowhere to go but up.

So as a public service, in the last decaying lights of the Year from Hell, I thought I would take a few moments and reflect on some of the events/incidents that have occurred since 12:00:01 on January 1st, almost a year ago, that have impacted us all so greatly.

In no particular order then…


Other than the Covid-19 pandemic which has dominated the news of 2020, the most significant event to occur this year was the Presidential election that took place on November 3rd.


Yes, it’s true, and although our Big Mac in Chief still refuses to acknowledge his loss to President-Elect Joe Biden, Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump lost…big time. Biden 306-Loser 232 in the Electoral College count (which by the way was the same count, Trump over Clinton, in 2016, which DeeTeeBeeTee characterized at the time as a “landslide”). On January 20, 2021, he’s gone, goodbye, sayonara, he’s history, he’s outta’ there, left the building, hasta yo mama, buh bye, don’t let the door hit you in the ass as you leave, auf wiedersehen, stick a fork in him and so long, so wrong.

By show of hands, how many of you are going to miss Donald Trump about as much as you’d miss hemorrhoids? Or less?


Due to supply problems caused by the reaction to the Covid-19 pandemic from worried consumers who were apparently concerned about running out of toilet paper in mid-wipe, stores throughout America had mostly empty shelves on the paper-goods aisle throughout the year, as shoppers swept up in great mass quantities any and all forms of toilet paper, Handi-wipes, paper towels, tissues, burlap sacks, old Sears & Roebuck catalogs, carpet padding and 800-grit Ultra Fine sandpaper, in an effort to maintain a “shiny hiney“. The “hoarding” was crazy, and believe me, I know…I work part-time in a Publix grocery store. I remember many mornings where the stock crew had put up 3-4 pallets of paper goods before the store opened at 7:00am, only to see the shelves were bare again by 8:00am.

One older lady and I were talking about the shortages, and she looked at me with a grimace of disgust and said, “What, are people pooping more all of a sudden?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’ve always thought many of our customers were full of shit, so I wasn’t surprised at the response.


Back in January, according to the Fargo Forum of Fargo-Moorhead newspaper, a local man, Ya Heydare, was cited by Fargo police for using a WWII era flame-thrower to remove snow from his sidewalks and driveway; Heydare was charged with disturbing the peace, discharging a firearm within city limits, aggravated mopery and possession of a controlled substance. He was arrested and has since been released, posting bail. When asked by RUKME Correspondent Holly Berries about the unusual approach to snow removal, Heydare replied that he was a “god-fearing, patriotic, card-carrying member of the Republican Party and an American and the 2nd Amendment says I have the right to bare arms and naked legs if I choose.” He went on to say that he would “fight the charges and emerge victorious”, and that he has plans to acquire a 108mm self-propelled howitzer in the near future, for “hunting squirrels”.


On July 4th of this year, in a burst of uber-patriotism, rapper, mogul and certified moron Mr. Kim Kardashian, err, excuse me, Kanye West, announced his entry into the 2020 Presidential election, to run as an independent, since no official political party with leadership possessing at least the IQ of a doorknob would have West as their headliner (later changed to become the candidate of the newly formed Birthday Party). Kim’s Husband went on to qualify for the ballot in 12 states, all of which were immediately removed from the rolls of official United States states and sold to Canada for $1500 and a hockey team to be named later. West’s platform had planks that called for “a chicken in every driveway and two Chevies in every pot”, as well as being in favor of legalized cannabis, free drugs for all his fellow “rap artists”, immediately signaling his ability to employ oxymorons early in his campaign, and a strong defense against “those Commie assholes over there in Sweden and New Zealand”. In an interview with RUKME Correspondent R. U. Serious, West further said that he didn’t feel that his “being IQ-challenged should be a drawback to running for President”, which was proven unequivocally by Donald Trump in the last two elections. West raised $6,771,472.66 in campaign contributions, $6,760,000.00 of which was a personal loan from himself to the campaign, with the remaining $11,472.66 coming from individual contributors. West was endorsed by Geraldo Rivera and Dennis Rodman, among others. (FYI, those numbers are true and accurate.)




A study conducted by the John Holmes Center for Sexual Mayhem and Currency Exchange, entitled “Does Frequent Sex Increase Chances of Pregnancy?”, determined that, yes, frequent sex does in fact increase the chances of a woman becoming pregnant. The study, which was released back on February 14th of this year,  did not make any claims as to whether frequent sex impacts the chances of men getting pregnant however. The report was authored by Chinese sexologist Hung Wei Lo, who is the same researcher who recently published a related article, “Woman Have Vaginas (Most of Them)”.


We interrupt this blog post to bring you a Breaking! News! Story! from the RUKME News Desk…

-Dateline Washington D.C.

“Trump Claims God Has Named Him New ‘Supreme Being’ In Recent Phone Call”

In a surprise announcement from the White House today, President (but not for long) Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump told reporters in the WH Press Room that he received a heavenly phone call last week, and that the call was directly from the Almighty Him/HerSelf. The President said that the Big Republican’s Chief of Staff, Saint Peter, left a message telling him that He/She said that being god “was a lot of work, trying to control all those left-wing libtards constantly” and that He/She had had enough and was retiring to Florida to join the rest of the “Christian Right” and play shuffleboard every day from now on. Pete went on to say that, to fill the top spot, the Almighty chose Mr. Trump to be the new “Supreme Being”, to take up his duties as SB on January 21st, 2021. When asked by RUKME Chief White House Correspondent Lucy Fur about the rumors that the call actually originated from Perdition and was placed by someone named Bee L. Zebub, Mr. Trump gave Ms. Fur the finger and stormed from the podium, Bible in hand.

More on this breaking story as it becomes available…

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.


In July of 2020, First Daughter/Secondary Wife Tonka Trump appeared in a photo with a can of frijoles negroes that was manufactured by Hispanic-owned Goya company, whose CEO, Robert Unanue, is a big supporter of President Trump’s; the endorsement was apparently in response to Mr. Unanue’s comments praising President Trump, saying how “blessed” America was to have Trump as President. The photo was featured on Ms. Trump’s Twitter page, and included the slogan, “Nobody’s beans make me fart like Goya’s…nobody’s”.




In a recent edition of the right-wing conservative rag the Washington Examiner, an article appeared telling of the resignation of the head of the federal agency that oversees meat and poultry examinations. The administrator, a man named H. Russell Cross, said in the piece that he was leaving the agency due to “repeated attacks from consumer groups” over deadly outbreaks of the e. coli bacteria in hamburger, llama spleens and calf brains.

The headline for the article? “Meat Head Resigns” and when I first saw it, my heart leapt, thinking the paper was referring to the new Supreme Being. Sadly, my hopes were quickly dashed.




Question…what is 2.2 inches in length, can fly up to 25 MPH, has a wingspan of 3” or more, a stinger the size of the Washington Monument and is said to have a very poor attitude? If you answered the Asian giant hornet, or “murder” hornet, you nailed it. That’s right, exhaust fans, in the worst infestation of a parasite since Republicans won control of the Senate, in 2020 the so-called “murder hornets” emigrated across the Pacific from various Far East countries to take up residence in the Pacific Northwest, particularly in the State of Washington, where Governor Jay Inslee, a Democrat and frequent critic of the new Supreme Being, Donald Trump, says that State employees of the Game and Wild Life Department are carefully trapping the giant bugs and having them shipped to the other Washington, the nation’s capital, and delivered to Senate Majority Leader Mitch “Turtle Boy” McConnell, to give him an graphic example of one of the few things in nature more repulsive than he is.


(Karen Customer): “I want to speak to the manager!”

(Me, looking around): “Where’s Janessa?”

Well, I can see from the counter thingie down in the left hand corner of my monitor that I have cruised right through my self-imposed word limit and have traveled to the outer reaches of long-windedness once again. Just one more thing that happened frequently in the Year of Our Lord Satan 2020.

Another year like this one and I might be tempted to join the GOP in their quest to get back to the 1950s…

Love and calendars,

Cap’n John

Post Script…



(Editor’s note: Cap’n John Krissongs, our regular contributor, informed us that he had always wanted to start one of his columns with the phrase, “Once upon a time…”.)

Once upon a time, back on September 21, 1897, long before even someone like myself was born, someone who is accumulating years like a tortoise I might add, a little girl from New York named Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of the now defunct New York Sun newspaper, looking for reassurance. She chose the paper because, as she stated in her letter, “Papa says if you see it in the Sun, it’s so”, and that was more than enough credibility for her enquiry.

It seemed some of her friends had told her that there was “no Santa Claus” and she entreated the editor, a man named Francis Pharcellus Church, to “Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?” Mr. Church responded in a now world-famous editorial that, in fact, Virginia, there is absolutely no Santa Claus, and that the little girl should stop her whining and complaining and get back out in the kitchen and get the dishes done and the floors mopped. (Mr. Church was apparently a Republican, and like most members of the GOP, was already looking for a return to the halcyon years of the 1950s, even though they were still 50+ years in the future.)

Okay, I was just funnin’ you guys…what Mr. Church actually said was, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, in a lengthy, heart-warming and poignant piece that has since become the most reprinted newspaper editorial in history. 

In counterpoint to Mr. Church’s position, we have a scene from the 1935 Marx Brothers movie, A Night At The Opera , which for my money is one of the funniest movies ever filmed, wherein Fiorello, played hilariously by Chico Marx, an agent representing tenor Ricardo Baroni, was negotiating the singer’s contract with Mr. Otis B. Driftwood, who was played by Groucho, who was (sort of) representing the New York Opera Company. (The entire runup to this scene is WAY too long to recount here…just go with the above.)

Driftwood pulls two copies of a “contract” out of his inside coat pocket, hands one to Fiorello and the two men begin, with much hilarity, to debate the various articles. (Driftwood: “The party of the first part in this contract will be known as the party of the first part.” Fiorello, in his thick Italian accent: “No, thassa’ no gud.”)

They finally get down to the bottom of the document, and the dialogue is thus:

“Fiorello: Hey, wait, wait. What does this say here, this thing here?
Driftwood: Oh, that? Oh, that’s the usual clause that’s in every contract. That just says, ‘if any of the parties participating in this contract are shown not to be in their right mind, the entire agreement is automatically nullified’.
Fiorello: Well, I don’t know…
Driftwood: It’s all right, that’s in every contract. That’s what they call a sanity clause.
Fiorello: Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! You can’t fool me. There ain’t no 
Sanity Clause!”

(Reader will please insert rim-shot here.)

Having never met the gentleman, I cannot personally attest to his existence, although I do recall being a believer when I was a mere lad, back many, many, many years ago. (Many.)

But what this debate brings to mind is the plethora (that is SUCH a good word…plethora, plethora, plethora, plethora…thank you) of the unusual and frankly rather strange beliefs and customs that surround the Christmas holiday, ones that probably wouldn’t be tolerated for a lesser holiday like Cinco de Mayo or Arbor Day.

For example:

~ Hanging mistletoe…when I was a youngster (many, many, etc.) I thought that mistletoe was a fungus that afflicted astronauts, much like athletes are afflicted by athlete’s foot; it was only later in my life that I learned that mistletoe is in fact the “common name for obligate hemiparasitic plants in the order Santalales, that are attached to their host tree or shrub by a structure called the haustorium, through which they extract water and nutrients from the host plant”, which doesn’t say much for their character frankly. Why we suspend this parasite above doors and archways in our homes, requiring two people (it used to be a man and a woman, but I think that rule has been suspended) to share a kiss when standing beneath its leafy presence, thereby giving occasion to the possibility of passing a deadly disease from one person to the other is beyond me.

~ Eggnog…I am assured by many of my friends and acquaintances that eggnog is in fact tasty and delicious, but I’m not buying into that hype. I think it’s a covert attempt by the National Dairy Council to encourage greater consumption of moo-cow products and ensure our heightened dependence on them. The point is that this “Christmas custom” of consuming copious quantities of dairy wouldn’t fly on Independence Day, which of course makes sense, when you consider all the beer that’s available for that holiday.

~ Fruitcake…it is a largely unknown fact that there have never been more than several hundred fruitcakes produced in the entire history of this country, and that they were made many, many, many years ago, when I was a youth. (Many.) Since they are never actually consumed, being largely inedible, and are merely recycled, Christmas after Christmas, after being stored all year in a pantry or cupboard by last year’s recipient and then forwarded to a new owner the following year, making more of them would be pointless. Do these things have a shelf life? Do they ever spoil? What’s the secret ingredient that guarantees their longevity? I guess it doesn’t make any difference how fresh they are, because nobody ever eats them anyway, but that solid brick of candied fruits and nuts (sounds like a description of my ex-in-laws) sitting in (on) its can in your closet may very well have been around since Colonial days. Yuck.

~ Elf on a shelf…whoever thought up this travesty ought to be taken out, drawn and quartered, stretched on “the rack” and then summarily shot at dawn. (Although I think the “goose on a moose” thing is pretty funny.)


We interrupt this blog post to bring you a Breaking! News! Story! from the RUKME News Desk…

-Dateline Washington D.C.

“GOP Senators Demand Congress Provide ‘Special’ Christmas Gift For President”

Senate Majority Leader Mitch “Turtle Boy” McConnell announced today that Republicans in the Senate are demanding that legislation be passed by Congress to give a “special” Christmas gift of 500 bajillion dollars, tax-free, to President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump, as a holiday bonus to “recognize his immense contributions to this country during his only term in office”. When Mr. McConnell was asked by RUKME Political Correspondent Joy Totheworld if this unprecedented gift was really a bribe to mollify the President and to keep him from skewering the careers of the various Republican Senators with his constant and vicious “tweets” any time they anger him, the Majority Leader said that Christmas would again fall on December 25th this year. Mr. McConnell then gave Ms. Totheworld the finger and left the podium.

More on this breaking story as it becomes available…

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.

I have received a number (a very small number) of letters, emails, texts and telegrams (an ancient form of Instagram), asking about the many unusual traditions surrounding the Christmas holiday, things like Black Friday, mall Santas and the cooking of various once-winged fowl as the Yule dinner which I thought I would share with you, my loyal readers.

“Dear Cap’n John:

                I travel a great deal for my job and I thought that I would give ‘the little woman’ an extra-special gift this year to keep her company during those long, lonely hours when I’m absent. I saw a device on one of those Internet ‘adult toys’ sites called an Extreme Uber Mega Battery-Driven 15” 20 Pound Vibrator, but the ad said it required a 12-volt Sears DieHard battery (not included). I’d love to get her this but I’m wondering if you know of any alternative power source (solar maybe?) that could run this little baby, since I don’t want to be replacing DieHards, which are expensive, very often?

                Traveling Tom from Tennessee”

Dear “Tom”:

                Get her the vibro but attach it to a pull-start gasoline generator…that oughta’ keep her electrons flowing freely.

“Dear CJK:

Is it true you can take a 10 pound fruitcake, soak it in Ty-D-Bowl overnight, apply a thin coating of KY Jelly then attach it to a pull-start gasoline generator for 3.863 hours and it will spontaneously grow an obese Republican Presidential candidate with thin blond hair, an orange face and the morals and ethics of a pedophile used-car salesman? Or is that just another holiday myth?

                Curious Connie in Cambridge

Dear “Connie”:

                That reminds me of the story about the lady that went to her doctor because she had questions about having anal sex, and when she asked the doc if she could get pregnant that way, the doctor said of course, where do you think Donald Trump came from?

“Dear Cap’n:

                My husband voted for President Trump, and now I’m wondering if I should remove our Christmas turkey from the oven early, before it reaches 165° internal temperature, which would allow any salmonella bacteria to thrive due to undercooking, and then feed it to Mr. GOP and see what develops? And how easy is salmonella poisoning to detect in an autopsy? Thanks.

                Married to a Moron in Maine

Dear “Married”:

                I don’t know about all that, but if it works, please let me know, ‘cause I’m pretty sure there are a lot of my readers who would LOVE to have that recipe.

That’s all the time I have to answer your holiday questions today, loyal readers; in the meantime, just remember the lyrics from the famous Christmas song…

“You better watch out, you better not cry,

You better not pout I’m telling you why,

Santa Claus is dead.”

Love and ornaments,

Cap’n John



(Editor’s note: Today’s post is dedicated to my good friend Sarah H., a major sweetie who, at least as far as I know, had the best of intentions and the purest of motivations. Thank you, thank you.)

Last week one of my fave “kids”, a member of the casual group of young people, mostly co-workers, that I have informally and unofficially adopted as surrogate “grandchildren”, offered to “fix me up” with a “friend” of hers, an “older lady” that she characterized as “she’s fun, interesting, single, she has no visible warts and all her own teeth” for some kind of social interaction between us that could eventually I would imagine, since the person in question here was of the female persuasion and myself of the male counterpart, lead to some form of romantic liaison. (Not that the female/male thing is a prerequisite in our 21st century, “hook up with whomever” world, a world by the way of which I whole-heartedly approve…there’s precious little love and caring in this life often times and for my money, people should be free to seek it with anyone they so choose.)

Although I was much flattered by her interest (pity) in bringing this lady and myself together, I declined in what I hope was a gracious manner. Even after she showed me a pic of her friend, I still declined, though my declination had nothing to do with the fact that the woman had an orange Mohawk and a third eye tattooed in the middle of her forehead…those things were of no consideration, believe me. (Okay, maybe a little.)

No, my lack of interest in dating at my age (ancient) is predicated on more practical matters: I can’t afford it, I have physical limitations that would, in my mind, make it difficult, I under no circumstances desire the “intimacy” of a relationship and the vulnerability that accompanies such closeness and frankly, women scare the shit outta’ me.

I like them, very much in fact, but they’re really, really scary. (I like pizza just as much, it doesn’t frighten me nearly as bad, and it’s cheaper.)

I suppose some people will find my attitude stunted and confining, limiting myself to a lonely life of romantic poverty and deprivation (gag me with a hearing aid), and they may be right. Just the same, it still ain’t gonna’ happen.

So I don’t understand, from my narrow, constricted point of view, this urge by so many of my fellow “seniors” to date. I mean, if that’s your gig, more power to you, and believe me, if the right lady walked into my life tomorrow by accident, I would embrace the opportunity (maybe); of course, I feel the same way about suddenly coming into a lot of money and buying a 2020 C8 Corvette as well, and the ‘Vette wouldn’t require an emotional attachment. (I almost made a smart ass remark here about being able to get a boner over the new mid-engined ‘Vette as easily as I could a woman, but then thought better of it…oh shit…well, too late. It’s also a sad testament to who I am as a person.)

Anyway, all of the above leads me to the mystification I felt recently upon reading an article in the Tampa Bay Times that carried the headline: “Lawsuit: Dating site refused refund despite virus”. (Fortunately I soon learned that the “virus” in question was Covid-19, not something more sinister.)

According to the report, an 86-YEAR OLD MAN brought suit against a local dating service for refusing to refund his fee (more on that in a moment) because his doctors informed him that he “should stay home during the pandemic”; since he couldn’t go out, he wanted his money back.

The dating service contracted with this guy to provide “eight introductions” to women over the course of a year, based on his specifications, for the paltry sum of $4,995.

That’s right, ceiling fans, FOUR THOUSAND, NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY-FIVE DOLLARS. A mere five-spot short of five grand. In his suit he’s asking for $8,000 in damages plus fees and costs.

The service, whose name I am not using so as to not give them any free advertising, although I’ll name them for the right amount of money, lists a number of “categories” from which clients may make their selections, including Christian, divorced, mature, over-50, alive, professional, possessing a pulse, senior, serious, Satan-worshipers, active, Republican and other. (Boy, wouldn’t you just LOVE to know what constitutes “other”…”Hi, my name is Bronwyn and I’m a three-breasted lover of Zen hang-gliding, and I’m also into nude fencing and macrobiotic Mayan cooking. I love shaggy dogs and llamas with large testicles.”)

The article went to say that another suit had been brought against the same dating service for failure to perform (couldn’t get it up, I would imagine) by a woman who alleged that she was charged $3,500 for the same eight “intros”, but only got three…#1 she had “nothing in common with”, #2 “didn’t qualify” and #3 was a “no show”. Sort of a “three strikes and you’re out” scenario, I suppose.

And how come Larry Lothario had to pay $4,995 and his female counterpart got by with only $3,500? What the hell is that all about, anyway? That’s discrimination, pure and simple.

I mean, really, are you kidding me? Really? You’re 86 frigging years old and “looking for love in all the wrong places”? Shit, the guy would be lucky to live long enough to get all eight introductions, for crissake.


We interrupt this column to bring you a Breaking! News! Story! from the RUKME News Desk…

-Dateline Washington, D.C.

*President Makes Surprise Nomination for SCOTUS Vacancy*

In an apparent effort to broaden his support base and appeal to a younger constituency, President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump today announced that he has nominated the cartoon/kid’s book star Curious George to fill the vacancy on the Supreme Court left by the recent passing of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Mr. George, whose ancestral background is somewhat murky, being referred to in both his TV shows and children’s books merely as a “monkey”, has no prior judicial or legal experience, and in fact does not even possess a college degree of any kind. When asked about this complete lack of apparent qualification to be a member of the highest court in America by RUKME White House Correspondent Alice Inchains, President Trump was quoted as saying, “Mr. George, because he is a conservative and he is, umm, great, is perfect for the position of Justice. And he isn’t a “monkey supremacist” like his critics have claimed, just because he, well, he doesn’t believe in supporting rioters, or anti-fa Dems and he’s a great, great person and Sleepy Joe Biden hasn’t been able to stop the protesting and will raise everyone’s taxes, that’s what he said just last week, if he and his VP Crazy Nancy get elected.” When it was pointed out to Mr. Trump that Kamala Harris is the Democratic candidate for Vice-President and not Nancy Pelosi, who is the Speaker of the House, the President left the podium abruptly after giving Ms. Inchains the finger. When asked to comment on the strange nomination later in the day, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell replied, “I support the President and his selection for the post. We have the votes and we will cast them for anyone that Mr. Trump nominates, qualifications be damned.”

More on this breaking story as it becomes available…

We now return you to our regularly scheduled blog post…

So for absolutely FREE, I thought I would help “seniors” find potential “mates” by answering the questions about “love in your golden years” that I get from many of my loyal readers…

And so…

“Dear Cap’n John:

                I’m a 79-year old “gray hair” single lady that is still active, mostly continent and who doesn’t want to spend my declining years doing sick things to small animals with a fork for recreation. If I had a “partner” I’d be a lot happier, at least I think I would be, although my late husband was never able to “ring my bell” if you get my meaning, but still, I’d like to try again. I can’t afford one of those expensive dating services, so can you help me find the man of my dreams, or at least one with a pulse?

                Still “Looking For The First One” Laura From Louisville”

Dear “Laura”:

                I’m sending you a “$10 off coupon” for the website Adult Toys R’ Us; they have a number of “friends” you can buy that will help you get your “bell rung” without all that messy dating shit and that you won’t have to cook for either.

“Dear Cap’n:

                Can you help a male “golden ager”, in his late sixties, find true love and companionship “among the ruins” with a lady of the same age bracket? Someone who is warm, gentle, kind and into doing sick things to small animals with a fork? I tried one of those “senior dating” websites, but they wanted $10 gazillion, the deed to my house and my first-born grandchild to get me 5 “introductions” and that’s too much by a grandchild. Any ideas, Cap’n?

                No Dates Don from Danville”

Dear “Don”:

                Danville? Home of the Danville (IL) State Prison? You sure you’re not an inmate? Is this one of those sick “prison romance” things?

“Dear CJK:

                Cap’n, I’m old, wrinkly, have a bunch of unsightly liver spots, fifty pounds overweight, have halitosis and I can’t get it up anymore; can you help me find some worthwhile lady to spend time with?

                Needs Help in Hannibal”

Dear “Needs”:

                Yes, I’d be happy to bet with you that the Dodgers make the World Series again, and that Clayton “Charlie Choke” Kershaw blows it for them one more time. It’s what he does best.

I’m sorry to say that I have run out of space to answer any more of your pathetic, err, sorry, your heartfelt letters about love in last light of your lives…but for the amazing low price of $9,995, tax, title and license not included, I’ll be happy to respond individually and confidentially to your requests for assistance with dating. Just because I have no experience doesn’t mean I’m not qualified.

Just ask Donald Trump.

Love and vitamins,

Cap’n John