Archive for the Comedy Category

On Being A Veteran

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Military, Politics on August 15, 2012 by deviant11b

As I write this the date is August 15 2012, I got out of the Army Nov, 18ish 2011 (and I only say the ish part because I was still with my buddies when I had my birthday so of course in true infantry fashion I can’t remember the whole week). Regardless of the fact of when how long its been (9 months and 27 days) or how many beers I’m in (8) the fact is that I am now a civilian, but I’m a civilian with a much different history that most civilians. I go to work now (Mexican chef, and massive over user of parenthesis) and hear people bitch about working 35 or 40 hours a week. I do it too don’t get me wrong, but the difference is that I’ve known 70 hour work weeks, they’ve known 35. Theirs have been in controlled environments, mine have been in a place that can only be described as the ass crack off the shit head that gets fucked in the ass by Satan (sorry mom). But this has been my experience as a veteran.

THE RETURN: Ahh the glorious return, the day when all good men come back and yearn for one thing in their own home town. The taste of the cheapest booze, the comfort of the sleaziest woman, or the brush of the hardest fist against their chin. I’m not talking about getting home from a deployment, because as any good non-NG man knows the first few nights back in the states are spent in a haze of reality and booze induced euphoria/paranoia. I’m talking about going back home to “fuckitwhocares” Indiana, or where ever you may come from. Your friends want to buy you shots, the girls want your attention, and the other men…. well they want what your about to get cuz its gonna be friggin awesome. But what no one knows is that you hate it. You hate being introduced as “my friend who was in the army and deployed and is back home”. You hate being back home because the only people you ever felt close with or thought your could entrust your fucking life with are all spread out across the country. You hate it because the people who are now talking to you and buying you shots are the people you have the least in common with. They went to college at 18, you went to war. For their 21st birthday they went to a bar and got hammered, you went on a patrol and wished for the sight of a beer bottle. They got to live their life, the government told you how to live yours. But we don’t bitch god forbid we desecrate the organization that gets more men one night stands than being the only black man in an Asian version of the spice girls. Basically the return back home is you trying to keep your head down because you don’t want unwanted attention, which after a couple of months out of the military you don’t want at all. Alas I’ve come to the end of the RETURN rant.

THE MIDDLE: Don’t lie, resentment is one of the biggest words in our inner monologue. How is this fucker who went to college making more a year than me? I went to war. I deployed. I did more in four years than anyone else in a 50 mile radius have done in their life time. I change, saved, in some cases took more lives than anyone I know. At this point were all trying to make sense of it all. How did this guy who was a fuck up all through high school suddenly pull his shit together overnight when it took me 4 years(my own time some have done longer) to realize what was really important. How did that girl end up with him rather than you? Simple. It’s because you weren’t there, couldn’t be there, and in some cases shouldn’t be there. In my own experience I shouldn’t have been there, had I gone to school right after high school I would have been offering ZJs under the bridge and believe me if you gotta ask you can’t afford it. but resentment runs high amongst us. We get in fights over it, at least I have. Some girl at a bar that I was into was talking about how she always carries a gun with her so she can “pop” who ever looks at her wrong. I called bullshit on it and had to fight her boyfriend over this stupid shit. Long story short I won, and he tried to show up with a gun later on in the night. Never fear I’m writing this so I must be alive right? my point is that I thought that being a veteran was enough to make it through whatever altercation may have occurred, but I was wrong. There are some people out there that just don’t give a fuck. They want to prove that they are the biggest and baddest piece of shit to ever walk through a set of doors ever. Rest assured I proved him wrong and he is a black eye and a sore ego away from ever proving me wrong, although it did cost me a bloody lip to prove HIM wrong. But that was in my middle stage, I’ve matured at least to my fuck it stage.

FUCK IT: This is where I’m at now. I just don’t care about what I’ve done. I know its more than anyone I know has done, but I just don’t care. Why? Cuz whats the point? So what I’ve done more than most people my age. Thats not why I joined up. Honestly I joined up cuz I watched too many war movies, and I thought that it was all noble. Guess what, it want noble, not all of it at least. A woman was left hanging cuz she tried to turn her husband in and HIGHER said cant do it, she was an American citizen by the way. So what if a week after we left the unit that replaced us lost 4 guys one of which was the same position that I would have been occupying had I been there. So what, fuck it all, I just don’t care anymore. Right now all I care about is making my bill payments and not getting evicted which I’m doing pretty good at..

CONCLUSION: Ive lost track of the point I was trying to make honestly, and I apologize, but in the end this wasn’t meant for my friends from high school, this was meant for my guys I did time with, and the guys that I didn’t do time with that might for some reason stumble upon this. We’re not alone in our hatred for humanity. It may take a certain kind of man to decide to raise his hand and say those magical words that thrust you into the role of the government’s pawn, but it takes an entirely different breed of man to live with it after the kings been captured and you go back to your role off of the chess board.


Travel Advisory: Dos and Dont’s

Posted in Advice, Comedy, Humor, Life with tags , , , , , , , on October 13, 2011 by deviant11b

We are entering the second largest travel season of the year, we’ve already gone on Spring Break and lowered our inhibitions for a week, so now its time to travel for the sheer pleasure of traveling rather than the strange people who wake up next to you after a night of doing shots and yelling “This is to my dog sparkyyy!!!!”. There are several things you need to remember when traveling and I hope to help everyone out in this post. What to pack, how to pack it, where to go, where not to go, there are several key ingredients to a successful vacay and I know at least 10% of the recipe.

What to pack: Not always as easy as you’d think it is. Take this scenario you live in Alaska, its snowing outside, dark all the time, and the polar bears are trying to break down your door to eat your young. In a panic you through a parka, snow pants, snow shoes, and a shotgun into your carry on luggage. You drive to the airport and pick up your ticket to Florida. “Fuck” you think, “What am I going to do with this parka?”. That’s not the biggest of your worries though, you forget the shotgun in your back pack that was thrown in due to an instinctual urge to protect your Eskimo tykes. You move to the security check point and wait in line until its your turn to be scanned, you toss your baggage onto the x-ray belt and move through the body scanner. The next thing you know your being tackled to the ground and hit with billy clubs as everyone else runs in terror at the sight of a shot-gun. Now if you don’t want that happening to you pay attention to what I’m about to tell you. Pack for where your going, not where your coming from. Pack shorts for Florida, jeans for chicago, and a bikini for Africa. Leave your guns at home, unless your planning on selling drugs on vacation. If that’s the case follow the rules and put them in your checked luggage.

How to pack it: Preferably in a suitcase, but a duffel bag will do in a pinch. Socks and unmentionables go in the top slots of the suit case, slacks on the bottom, and shirts go on top. Sex toys always go in dark non-see through bags, you don’t want a TSA agent holding something up asking “Whose giant 12 inch black dildo is this?” You will turn more red quicker than the tiny rabbit he missed that was in the same bag. Just don’t bring liquids at all, when you get there, buy tiny week-long hygiene supplies, 12 bucks wont kill you.

Dressing for the airport: Theres one rule for each gender. Women dress down, and men dress up. Women should wear sweats at all times in the airport because the one thing on every mans mind while in the air and sipping on their seven dollar beer is how awesome it would be to join the mile high club with the woman sitting next to him on the plane. Sweats will help you ward off those pesky fellas. Men need to dress up so they can claim they are on their way to an important business meeting in France, or Germany, or where ever sounds good at the moment. You will never see your plane neighbor again so lie your ass off about what you do. If you’re a janitor on the way to a different state because you couldn’t quite clean up to Arizona’s standards than tell them your being relocated to headquarters in New York, and that you gave up your first class ticket to a soldier that is flying home. Sure fire approach all the time.

Where to go: Well its cold outside so fly somewhere warm, California and Florida have beaches that are open all year round so go there and act like you’ve never seen the ocean before. Stare in awe at the bronzed beauties littering the beach. Women again wear sweats to the beach, especially if it’s a nude beach. It will tell men your different and that you want no part in their hotel party, which is really them raiding the mini bar and ordering pay-per-view movies from the hotel. Go somewhere where there is a good night life. Austin has a nice nightlife, but when you wake up you have to deal with the fact that you’re in the middle of fucking Texas. Vegas and Miami are good bets. Vegas is always a party, and Miami has the beaches at day and bars/clubs at nights. Guys break out your awesome dance moves, even if you suck at dancing the fact that you don’t care about making an ass out of yourselve will net you more drunk women than the thug standing at the bar with his arms crossed. He may be hard… but you party hard.

Where not to go: Be careful when booking flights to warm climates. Florida is good, Spain is nice, Southern California is beautiful, Iraq is not… If there has been a war in your country of visitation in the last 15 years just say no. Uganda, Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and now Libya. These are all horrible choices. You may see nothing but sand when looking at pictures, but that’s because there is nothing but sand there. Also if the camera turned the other way you would see nothing but bodies on the ground and police beating people in handcuffs. Would you travel to South Central LA in the early 90s? If you answered no to that question than stay away from… well the whole middle east. Your visas wont mean shit if someone shoots you.

There you go my travel tips, they should help keep you from being embarrassed or arrested at a security checkpoint, and should keep you out of danger when abroad.

Beer, and Tattoos.

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Writing with tags , , , on September 28, 2011 by deviant11b

So I guess I haven’t written anything in a while. I suppose I could say its because Ive been doing other things but that would be a lie. I certainly have more than enough time to sit down and crank out a thousand words. I guess I could say that since I’m back in the states I just don’t have anything to bitch about any more, but any one that knows me would be able to see right through that one. The reason, I suppose, that I don’t write much now that I’m back is I’m just out of ideas. The first month I had this blog I was writing as often as I could because I couldn’t stop thinking of things to write about. However, now it seems that I couldn’t come up with ideas if my life depended on it. So Ive waited, for weeks. Waiting for an idea to strike me like a blow from Ike Turner. Well today was the day I woke up with a metaphorical black eye… Beer.

If youre reading this than Im sure youve had at least one beer, and Id be willing to bet more than one of you has drank more than enough beer at once to get fairly intoxicated. Thus, Im sure I dont have to tell you each time you get drunk, you behave differently. Not just differently from your sober self, but your saturday night drunken self may act different than your friday night drunken self. In one four day weekend I experienced the full range of emotions when it comes to drinking.

Thurday night-About 11 of us went out to a bar together and took up position in the middle of the floor. This was a good night, and a good place. The music was outstanding and the drinks were cheap. That night it seemed like I was in a sports movie montage, nothing could go wrong, and nothing did. We party rocked because it was indeed in the house that night. Everybody just had a good time.

Friday night- 180 degree turn around. I might never have felt so low in the last 7 months. I was at the stage of inebriation where I decided everyone in the bar wanted to hear about the woes of my life. I basically had a sign on my chest that said if your a female looking for a good time STAY AWAY. This is the drunk I hate the most becuase its just not fun for anybody, and without a doubt you always make your self sound like a jack ass to somebody.

Saturday night-Sober, received a thank you note from my liver.

The other thing Ive been thinking about is what kind of tattoo I’m going to get next. Ive decided its not a matter or if, but rather an issue of when and of what. I don’t know what it is, but I love tattoos, most of them I see are pretty cool, and even the ones I don’t like mean something to the people that mean them. Its gone from belonging solely to war vets, and biker gangs to something that is acceptable across the board. Of course there are groups that get more tattoos than others. Soldiers will always get more tattoos than Sunday School teachers, and the lower backs of 18 year old women asserting their sexual independence will always have more ink than the Sunday edition of the NY Times. The point remains though that more and more people are getting tattoos than ever before. As it becomes  less and less taboo to open up emotionally it also becomes less taboo to wear your feelings on your sleeve… literally. As of right now I have two tattoos one on my left arm, and one of my right. I’m planning on getting a tree on my right arm to go along with the snake holding an apple in his mouth. The piece started with a simple cross, then turned into a cross with a shield, I added the snake about a year and a half ago. It just kind of turned into a garden of Eden thing. Some people ask why I got it, and some of the people I explain it to still don’t get it, but I got it because I wanted it and it has meaning to me. That’s what  love about tattoos the most, people don’t have to understand what it means as long as it means something to the person that had it done.

Hug Lady, Accidents, And My Return To Blogging.

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Military, Writing with tags , , , , , on September 5, 2011 by deviant11b

           If your one of my five die-hard, hard-core subscribers, who wait in line until midnight until the release of my newest rantings, than you may have noticed that I havent written anything in a while. I promise there is a perfectly good excuse, I’ve been enjoying my time back from Iraq. I’ve been back for a little over a week, and so far I’ve been enjoying my time back. So far my time back has been defined by a few things; the hug lady, my first car accident, and my return to writing. I will explain all in due time.

          The first thing I will have to explain to all but a handful of people is the hug lady. I don’t know her name, and I doubt many soldiers in Fort Hood do, but any one who has deployed know her. I’ve hugged her a total of four times, but some people havent been lucky enough to hug her an even number of times(that’s a one way trip to a war zone if you’re wondering). The hug lady is about 80-90 years old, and ever since the beginning of the two wars she has been there to hug every soldier to deploy out of Fort Hood before they get on the plane. Keep in mind almost every plane leaves past midnight and arrives at the same time. For a woman that old, that is a hell of a commitment. I suppose I need to supply some background information on her though. Her son was in the Army during Vietnam, he wasnt stationed in Fort Hood though, so when he deployed she wasnt there to hug and kiss him good-bye like most of the younger soldiers families. Her son died in Vietnam and she was never able to hug him again. So now she stands there at one in the morning hugging a thousand soldiers as they get on the plane to go to war. When they return, she is there again at one in the morning waiting to give them a welcome home hug. Usually there are fewer soldiers to hug, but that’s why she does it. She does it for the guys that wont ever get to hug their own mother again, and she does it for the guys who might need a hug after a year away from home. The thing that stuck to me the most though is when I stooped down to hug her, I moved my weapon away from my chest. She thanked me for that. Maybe she just doesn’t like the cold steel of a weapon pushing up against her, or maybe not wanting to feel the tool of war against her is just a motherly thing. Shortly after I hugged her I was standing behind a bus with 800 other guys, waiting on a bus to move so we could walk across a field to meet our families. I gave my dad a hug that night, and the next time I hug my mom I’ll be back for good, and she’ll never have to worry about sending me off to a piece of shit country again. Now this was probably the sappiest paragraph I have ever written, and will ever write, but oh well. If you don’t like it, fuck you.

             Two days after hugging the hug lady I was standing on the side of the highway smoking a cigarette surveying the damage of a small fender bender caused by me not seeing an SUV as I was pulling out of a parking lot. This was my first accident, and I thought I handled it rather well. The lady I hit did not handle it so well. Not 15 seconds after hitting me at 15 miles an hour(rear collision not head on) she was calling 911. The ambulance came, and she climbed in the back only to be pushed out after they realized that even a premature baby would have survived the bump. Four days after that she was calling my unit telling them that I had no insurance. For those of you not in the military, this can really fuck you. Fortunatley I had insurance, and my unit knew this. They called her and rather sarcastically told her that I did indeed have insurance, and to talk to her company to figure out what was up.

            I suppose I should touch on my return to writing. I would have written early, but I just couldn’t figure out what to write about. When I was deployed I was constantly pissed off. Now that I’m back, I couldn’t be happier. I don’t know the exact quote but there is something that says that the only time anyone ever has an opinion is when everything is going wrong.  That’s pretty much how it was for me. When everything was going horribly I had no problem figuring out what to write about. So far the only thing going on back here that I have to bitch about is that they drilled out a filling of mine just to figure out it was fine, then put the filling back in…only in the Army. Now if you think my blogs will become more docile and PC than you are wrong. You can still expect the same style from me in the future, just about other things.

            I guess what I really need to say here is that I’m happy to be back, and even happier to be out in less than two months. Also now that I have access to beer again, expect an even more tumultuous blog.

Books For Bullets, A 23 Year Old Freshman

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Military, School with tags , , , , , , on August 17, 2011 by deviant11b

        I graduated highschool in 2007, I graduated with a fairly low GPA and without taking the SATs. Why did I do this? Because the Army didn’t care what grades I made, or if I took the SATs. All they cared about was the fact that I graduated, and had a clean criminal record. Almost five years later this is coming back to bite me in the ass. As of today I’m three months away from getting out of the Army and beginning my new life.

      This may sound odd, but I’m more nervous about getting out of the Army than I ever was about joining, or even deploying. I’ll be on my own for real now, with bills I’ll need to pay, and jobs that can actually fire me for whatever reason they want. I’ll have to start watching my mouth lest I bring a harassment suit against me. I’ll have to mature even more, and stop farting whenever I feel like it. Right now short of drinking and driving my decisions don’t really have any real consequences. Yes, the real world is a daunting place to live in, and I can’t help but feel like I’m stuck in the starting block watching the other runners get a couple of laps head start.

     When I begin school this Spring I will be a 23-year-old freshman, now since I’ll be going to a community school for the first semester I wont feel so out-of-place, but when I go to the university I’m planning on going to I’ll feel like an old man. I cant help but feel like I wont be too far off from Luke Wilson in Old School living by a college partaking in its pleasures as an old man. Now if I happen to fall into bed with Elisha Cuthbert I wont ever complain again, but since that’s about as likely to happen as Israel and Pakistan giving each other a slap and tickle, I shall continue to gripe.

      Its been four years since I last used my brain for anything other than figuring out if I had enough in my bank account for a case of beer. Sine and cosine are something used for signatures and joint business ventures to me. Obtuse simply describes a leadership style, while acute is the type of anxiety I get when thinking of school, rather than describing triangles. I consider alge-bra to be just another of Victorias Secrets(how lame was that?) All the young whiper snappers I’ll be going to school with are fresh off 12 years of continuous schooling. There is an upside though, I’ll have a leg up on them on everything other than academics. I can buy beer. I have many more life experiences. My maturity level is higher than most people my age, although my sense of humor would beg otherwise. I can talk to women rather than stare at their chest, knowing that eye contact leads to skin contact later. unfortunately no schools in America have classes that grade on any of my advantages. I’ll have to relearn most of the things I never learned in the first place. Tests now will be more complicated than running for two miles or shooting off 40 rounds of 5.56. Now I’m sure I’ll succeed, if for nothing else then to never have to join the Army again, but I’m still incredibly apprehensive.

        Most of the people I graduated with are now finished with college and are off to careers not jobs. Some are doing advanced schooling to become doctors, and lawyers, and such. When it comes time to finally look for a career I’ll be 27 maybe 28 meaning I might be able to retire at 70. That’s assuming I find a job out of the gate, really though I have no idea what Id like to do. Id like to write for a living, but magazines, and newspapers are going the way of Sarah Palin’s career. Id like to have a cool job like a US marshal, or FBI but my experience in the Army has told me nothing is ever as exciting as Hollywood makes it out to be. I might like to teach, but If I come across a student that acts like I did I would be fired for beating up a kid. Id like to play a sport as a job, but I have a whole shit load of work to do for that one. Basically I’m drifting down a creek of feces with no out board motor… or something like that.

       Ahh college kids, while I don’t have a lot of experience with them, I’ve had some. Now most are alright and I’ve gotten along with them well, but others are horrible, nasty creatures that think they know everything. I once sat in on a class where a kid said all infantrymen were stoopid folk, I took offense to that one but behaved myself because I didn’t want to embarrass the girl I was with. When I’m off on my own though I’ll have no second thoughts about embarrassing myself with retaliation. I cant stand some of the kids that go to college. I’m sure you know some of them. They think they need to force their opinions on everyone. They think they are right, and everyone else is wrong. They think the government is out to conquer the world, and therefore all soldiers are evil little minions. I will not do anything to sway their beliefs, instead I will probably just act like an evil minion and give them a wedgie or hang them by their shoes and laugh. In all seriousness though, Im a grown man who has done two deployments, and should someone feel the need to insult me I wont take kindly to it.

     Dating should be fun, I know that it might be OK for Seniors to go out with Freshman, but I might be one of the older people in some classes. Everytime I would look at another Freshman girl Id feel like a guy on to catch a predator, slowly eating his cookies before being tackled and tazed by the local PD.

     When you do one thing for four straight years, you get very comfortable in the pattern you set. In a few short months I’ll have no pattern, and no safety net. I’ll be tossed to the wolves with fresh meat dangling from my appendages. While I am most certainly nervous about getting out and going to college, I am also very excited. I’ll finally get to experience college. The parties, the football games, the endless hitting on women, oh and the whole learning thing will be fun too. I know I’ll do alright though, because I know what its like on the other side. I know what its like to spend years away from family and friends. I know what its like to be 22 and have someone come into your room and tell you it’s not clean enough. I know what its like to sweat my ass off for six hours, only to have to sweat for six more. Most importantly I know that after December, I never want to do those things again. So I know I’ll do alright when it comes time for school.

Dear America, Remove Stick From Your Ass

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Life, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 13, 2011 by deviant11b

A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar… heard this one? There used to be a time in America when a joke like this might have been common place. There used to be a time in America when people could joke about homosexuality, race, religion, and other modern-day hot topics. That day is long gone, and unfortunately we most likely will never see it. Recently people like Tracey Morgan have been in the news for telling jokes. They may not have been funny to everyone, but to his audience they were funny, and if you think your gonna see the Tracey Morgan from 30 rock when he’s doing his stand up, than your just retarded. Oops can I say that? America just doesn’t seem to get “funny” anymore. Across America in every work place there are harassment seminars for everything, in fact I’m pretty sure the only people who legally cannot be harassed are white males. Not that its illegal, it’s just that we seem to be the people with the thickest skin. We never run to HR when a female makes a comment about how nice our shirt looks, or complain when we are refered to as “you people”. Now before I get a lot of hate mail let me say this, I hate both racism and sexism. Theres never a place for it, but not everything everyone ever says is out of hate.

      When I first joined the Army I thought I was entering the last great vestige for true men. A place where you worked dirty, played dirty, fought dirty, and talked even dirtier. I was wrong. There are sexual harassment seminars, racism seminars, don’t bash gay people seminars, and pretty much any other seminars you can think of. They don’t serve any purpose. The women here are so hideous that they’re not even worth harassing. More than half of my leadership is some kind of a minority, and no one is going to act so gay that Elton John is going to be in danger of losing his queen crown. So why do we have these seminars? Political correctness. Now there are some situations where being PC is a must. I can’t imagine it would work out too good if Obama made Felipe Calderon speak to him over a ten foot wall and laughed the whole time. But in the average work place a slightly off-color remark can be funny. Now dont go around throwin down the N word, whether it ends in an -er or -a it’s usually a good idea to keep that word holstered.

        America as a whole has become afraid of what other people think of it’s self. When Janet Jackson’s boob was violently ripped out of her top by my personal hero JT the FCC jumped all over it. They acted like no one had ever gone online, or to a book store, or seen an R rated movie. Its was a tit, with a pasty on it! There was nothing to see that can’t be seen at any beach in America. But America had to keep its sexuality under wraps. When Tracy Morgan made that joke about gay people, we acted like we all were offended by the fact that he wanted his kid to have an easier time going through high school. When that dude from Frasier went on that racist rant though, the outrage was justified. Why have the same outrage for three completely different acts? Because America has lost its ability to reason.

       And with all the seminars we have we are still not as PC as we think we are. Is affirmative action really all that PC? Is it politically correct to reward people for being a certain color? Is it politically correct to wear a shirt that shows off your chest, or has small letters going across your nip-line and get offended when people look? I’m not trying to stare, I’m just trying to read your boobs I swear. We have politicians that rally hard against gay marriage, and are later caught in a gay sex scandal. That is not PC, but it is funny. Why is it funny? Because I still have my sense of humor. You know whats not PC? You expecting me to have the same bland sense of humor you do.    

      I’m not even going to touch religion.

      We are the only country that feels the need to continuously apologize for its own history. Yes we had slavery, but then the country fought a civil war. Women were held down, but then there was the suffrage movement. Jim Crowe laws were around, but then they were abolished. My point is that we are one of a handful of countries that can fix whats wrong with it without any outside help. We shouldnt apologize for that, we should celebrate it. While the middle east gets in an uproar over women driving, we have women supreme court judges. While Africa kills each other, we have a black president. While pakistan stones gays to death, we have TV shows about their lives. Whether or not you believe it America is one of the better places to live if you’re not a straight white male.

     So the next time you hear a joke that offends you, just walk away knowing you have a higher moral standard and a more boring sense of humor.

Dear Deviant, My Experiment.

Posted in Advice, Comedy, Dating, Humor, Life with tags , , , , , , on August 10, 2011 by deviant11b

    I’ve decided to try a little experiment on here. Today I had  hit 500 reads so that means I have a lot of regular readers, or one stalker. Now I believe that some of you may be having some problems in your life, maybe in a relationship, maybe at work, or maybe just want to ask a random question. Serious or not, send your questions to and I will answer them in a series I will call Dear Deviant. All posts will be anonymous or as whatever nickname you choose to give yourself, hopefully this will turn out to be interesting.