Dear Californian readers,
This is your god speaking. That’s right. It’s me, Cordially Clouse, which I know is a shocker considering this section is generally my territory.
Anyway, I bet you’re wondering why I called you all here today. As a writer, I don’t ask for much. A small audience to read my column, a doughnut every Friday, a 10,000 member army so I can conquer the Baltic Islands.
And while it’s fun to mindlessly entertain myself with parallel syntax followed by an ironic twist to create humour, there is only one thing I truly need to run this column.
Many of you read my advice and think, “Gee, that’s dang hilarious. That Cordially Clouse is one funny kid. But where oh where do them questions come from?”
Well, young doofuses and doofusettes, they supposedly come from you. That’s right, I’m an advice columnist who gives advice to students who WRITE ME QUESTIONS, and I rely on the READERSHIP TO HELP ME WRITE THIS COLUMN.
This should be no big deal. I mean who wouldn’t want to be in the freaking newspaper so I can ridicule their honest inquiries for a few cheap laughs, which are double-plusly mocked by my monthly photo which exhibits me in some situation where I violate social norms.
But alas, every week I find myself BEGGING for people to ask me questions so I can complete my fridgeing assignment in newspaper and get my assignment points. That’s right, it’s a class and we get points for every issue.
Who doesn’t have a Twitter? If you’re not Amish or live under a rock then you can ask me questions at Cordiallyclouse, or post your questions as tweets if you tag them @Cordiallyclouse. It is not that freaking difficult, people.
You can drop them off in the newspaper room in 321.
Or you can just find me. I’m five foot nine, have bleached blond asian hair, and am really hard to miss.
Anyway, because none of you dipnizzits asked me any questions, we’re going to do a little experiment. I’m going to ask you, the readers of The Californian, questions. Whoever responds with the best answers will get them published and win a new iPhone 5, or whatever is left over in my lunch. My choice.
You can respond on Twitter, drop a letter off, or post a comment on my article online at www.thecalifornianpaper.com. See it’s like role reversal.
But considering you guys are too lazy to simply send me questions, this will probably be a massive failure, at the end of which I drink myself into a soda coma and pass out on the roof.
Peace out lozerz,
Cordially Clouse
Dear Readers,
Nobody will go out with me. Am I looking for love in all the wrong places? Or am I just cold.
My dad says cold things can’t feel love. But what does he know? He’s a physicist.
How should I change to get a date? Or am I amazing just the way I am?
Cordially Clouse
Dear Readers,
I just got shot in the stomach while completing a gig and am now bleeding out. How should I keep from dying?
Cordially Clouse
Dear Readers,
My birthday is coming up on May 17. What are you going to get me? P.S. I’m turning 18.
Cordially Clouse
Dear Readers,
I fill the void in my soul by crushing other people’s dreams when they write to me seeking for honest advice. That’s how I get all of my entertainment.
I respond sarcastically to hide my true self.
Because the truth is, I’m a werewolf.
And it’s that time of the month again.
What should I do to prevent myself from going on a rampage at the full moon?
Cordially Clouse
