Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  Why does it take you so long to answer people’s questions?

- LBB

Dear LBB,
  Because I’m a slack-ass.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  How many paper cuts would it take to kill the average human being?

- Mike B., Reading, England

Dear Mike,
  Although I’m sure the total would vary based on weight and height, and conditions or medications which inhibit or encourage clotting, you would need to make enough incisions to cause a fatal loss of blood. I’d say your target is somewhere around 400, paying particular attention to any visible blood vessels. And keep in mind that I’m always wearing my “paper-proof” clothing, so if this is a sick stalker revenge thing, it won’t work.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  If it’s a dog-eat-dog world, then is it okay to eat my best friend?

- Ralph

Dear Ralph,
  Don’t you know anything? This is America. In America, the dog never dies! The next time you find yourself stranded in the wilderness with your best friend, starvation breathing down your neck, remember this; if your best friend is the kid who grew up next door, then by all means, chow down. If your best friend is a terrier named Dodger, you’ll just have to starve. After all, what good is surviving, only to be beaten to death by outraged pet lovers upon your return to civilization?

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
How do you keep your head so nice and bald? I’ve heard rumors that you used to be a longhair and you then you cut it. Is this true?

- Whitley Supreme

Dear Whitley,
True enough, I did once have hair that was longer and prettier than your sister’s. Truth is, I got tired of having to wash it. Now, it’s an occasional clipping, irregular shaving, and lots of bleeding scalp wounds that keep my head so fresh and so clean.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  Someone recently asked me if I was good in bed. How can I tell if I am? How do you know you are?

- Vexed

Dear Vexed,
  You know you’re good in bed if, after sex, you and your partner collapse in a sweaty, exhausted, satisfied heap, arms and legs akimbo, and lie there together for a few minutes, savoring the afterglow.

  Also, if she says something complimentary and gives you your $100 bill back, that’s a good sign too.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  I enjoy Taco Bell’s bean burritos because they’re fast, cheap, and tasty. The thing is, every time I eat them, they disrupt my digestive system and turn my intestines into angry, quivering tubes full of toxic poop. What should I do?

-Runs For the Border

Dear Runs,
  You have a few options here.

1) Supermodel Diet: Eat as much as you want, and then puke it all back up before it has a chance to malign your digestive tract or your waistline.

2) Night-Before-Prom Diet: Chew as much as you want, but don’t swallow. (Sometimes referred to as the Blowjob Gone Wrong.)

3) Glutton For Punishment Diet: If you can’t quite keep yourself from indulging fully in pseudo-Mexican goodness, simply amuse yourself by leaving a major watery bowel movement in your neighbors’ litter box. Sit back and watch the hilarity ensue as they try to figure out how that came out of poor Fluffy.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  If Jimmy cracks corn and nobody cares, then why does he keep doing it?

-Just Wondering

Dear JW,
  The Jimmy referred to in the song is actually James Gunther Groatcluster, a Scotsman who emigrated to the United States in late 1841. He planned to make a living selling cakes of homemade cornmeal recipe, which he worked on day and night during the long trans-atlantic voyage. Unfortunately, the cakes were so unpalatable that Groatcluster earned a reputation on the ship, and the ship’s crew made up the tune to express their disdain for the lethal concoctions. Later verses detail the crew’s disinterest in the mixing of the cracked corn with milk and spices, and the cooking of dollops of the mix over a smokey fire.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  If you could be Madonna from any pop-culture time period, which would you be?

- Desperately Seeking Something

Dear Desperately,
  That’s a tough call. There’s the early “frilly white dress and innocent sexuality” Madonna. There’s the “I’d really like to be Marilyn Monroe” Madonna. Most recently, there’s the “I’m so happy to be a British mum” Madonna.

  I think, though, that I’m holding out for “dried-up old crone” Madonna. If she has any decency at all, she’ll stop performing in public. If not, then watching her drag her craggy ass around a stage like Mick Jagger’s little sister will be pathetic enough to be a must-see.

Dear Mister Bald Bastard,
  Why did the dish run away with the spoon?

- Jimmy, Washington Twp.

Dear Jimmy,
  It’s simple, really. She was looking for a good forking.

Dear Little Baldy,
 Who’s da man?

- Just Kidding, It’s Me

Dear Kidding,
  I am a caucasian, male, heterosexual, who was raised Protestant. Hell, I even have blue eyes. It looks like I’m the man. But don’t sweat it. I’m going to stop holding everybody down as soon as I get a couple million dollars and a harem of supermodels.