Winky
After yesterday's post and the overwhelming response to it, I think it's finally time that I acknowledged what it is you people want from this blog. It isn't often in an public space that such an obvious consensus is reached, but that time has inexorably, inevitably come at last. It's time for one of the long-suffering Featured Players on this blog to move up to Full Cast Member Status.

It can be a risky thing to do, I know. Remember how good Jay Mohr was on Saturday Night Live when they would roll him out once every month or two to do his Christopher Walken impression? And then what an insufferable, intolerable hack he turned out to be once he started getting real air-time later? Now you understand my reticence: it's solid Jay Mohr reticence.

But this is a question of fairness. Most of my blog traffic is generated by my association with this particular entity, so I think it's only fair we give it a shot in the spotlight to see how well it can perform under pressure.

Enough prologue. Ladies and gentlemen, Pops' Bucket is proud to present for you, for the first time ever, because you demanded it:

Ask Brad Pitt's Dick

See, the idea is... ah fuck, you get it. Let's go:

Letter #1

Dear Brad Pitt's Dick,

My boyfriend and I have been together for several years. He's very talented and very sweet and even though the other boys think he's a bird-chested girly-voiced wuss, I just love him to pieces. Until recently, that is. It turns out that he likes younger girls with giant boobs who are also whores. I've been patient, but finally I decided that nobody cheats on my 18 times in one year and gets away with it. I have my dignity. And new hair. And a new nose. So we broke up. But still, I'm so sad, that I haven't been able to share my scary deep horsey laugh with anyone since he left. I don't think I want him back, but I can't live without him either. Tell me, Brad Pitt's Dick, what should I do?

Cameron D.
Los Angeles, CA

Brad Pitt's Dick responds (mostly to warm hands and a firm touch):

Cameron, I thank you for your question, dude. I find it very gratifying that people feel comfortable enough with me to share their most private questions of intimacy, personal growth and/or sexual deviancy with me. My only regret is that nobody ever asks me a geography question. I'm really good at it. I mean objectively good, not just good for a penis. But I never get a chance to show that side of myself. I guess I can't blame them. Who really wants to hear a penis go on and on about alluvial fans or South Pacific island-nation capital cities? Almost no one, that's who.

To your problem with your boyfriend, let me just say to you, look: I'm a penis. From my point of view, relationships boil down to simple questions of how often and with what kind of vigor I'm going to be asked to engorge myself with blood and perform my primary function. It's crude, I know, but it's procreation. For the continuation of the species. At least I got him to do it once, but the fucker keeps adopting now, which I take as a personal insult.

And with your boyfriend, hell, I don't know. All I have to say is in the interim between male companions, DON'T BUY A VIBRATOR. We find that to be personally insulting.


Letter #2

Dear Brad Pitt's Dick,

I don't have the best skin, especially on my face. I wish it were only "combination skin." It's dry, it's oily, sometimes it oozes something that smells and tastes disturbingly like maple syrup. The real stuff too, not that imitation crap. And I'm not even going to try to explain what happens in my T-zone. Nothing I've tried works. I'm at my wit's end. Please help.

Edward James O.
Los Angeles, CA


Brad Pitt's Dick responds

Hey, Ed! Well, I'm not really sure which way to go here. Suffice it to say, me and moisturizers have a very... complicated relationship. Usually when one is being applied directly to me, the point isn't generally dermatological health, if you know what I'm saying. Plus any time I hear the word "facial", I immediately start thinking of something totally different that what you're asking for. Sorry. I'm just a penis. I have limits.


Letter #3

Dear Brad Pitt's Dick,

Please come back. Please. I miss you so much. Vince Vaughn? My God, what was I thinking?

Always, always yours,

Jennifer A.'s vagina

Brad Pitt's Dick responds

Baby, just stop. It's getting embarrassing. You know I'd hit that if I could, but I'm attached here. I do what I can, but occasionally he's successful at diverting blood upstairs to his brain, which between you and me, is clearly the lesser organ. He follows that stupid thing as much as he does me, maybe more. Just move on. The TRO is still binding.

PS- Hi to your mom.

...

The End of installment #1. Wow, three times in a row. Now if you'll all keep it down for a while, our star is completely knackered.

Any questions any of you might have for Brad Pitt's Dick can be directed to me at popsbucket@hotmail.com. He has no e-mail address of his own. Typing one letter at a time is exhausting for him. I'm happy to act as his mouthpiece in this matter.


Pops

Labels: sloop

- posted by Pops @ 9:26 AM