Before I start today, I have a new movie review of Coraline over on Moog’s Movie Reviews.

Buttons and some scarily big tits.

That’s really all you need to know.


It’s another time for an exciting episode of “Dear Moog”

Where getting advice and having sex with me are very similar:

It’s not worth all your trouble…

… and will probably end up make you laughing.

Women can be mean.

I am not responsible for any stupid sh*t you do to yourself or others as a result of taking any of my advice seriously. There, I think that covers it.

You’ve been warned.

Today’s letter comes from BBQ and Bourbon:

He writes:

Dear Moog,

Today’s kids are just too soft and jiggly.

Aside from making them ride in recalled car seats, what do you recommend to toughen them up?

You aren’t raising veal, right?

Jesus H. Christ.

I knew this day would come sooner or later.

It’s the burden I bear being “sexy God of mint chocolate chip ice cream” to all you minions out there.

I have no idea what that means.

Here goes:


Dear BBQ,

Let’s take a look here at your finer points:

….kids…soft and jiggly…

….toughen them up….

…raising veal.


Got it.

Thank you for being my first ever letter from a pedophile and/or cannibal.

That I know of.

Is ‘cannophile’ a word? Pedobal?

Doesn’t look that way.

Wikipedia sucks.


I’m not sure how you’re preparing the children that you eat, but you may want to try cooking them a little longer.

Undercooking a child may result in that “soft and jiggly” consistency that is so frowned upon at the dinner table and on the buffet table at those fancy Kentucky weddings held at the local VFW.


I’m not raising veal.


What have you heard? Are you the FBI?

If you are, I just have to say AGAIN that those are NOT cages in my yard.

They’re ‘Maid’s Quarters’ and I have the paperwork for those stupid fucking Mexicans around here somewhere.

You know, if they’d stop they’re crying and shit, no one would bother me about this crap.

My neighbors just won’t mind their fucking business, sometimes.

Perhaps I’ve said too much.

But this isn’t about me and my army of illegal Mexican sex slave maids.

This is about you and your inability to properly cook children.

I’m thinking you can’t go wrong if you wait til the little popper thingy pops out (cooking boys only) and if you can remove the fork cleanly.

Adding BBQ sauce and drinking bourbon may also help.

But you already knew that.


…you mean they’re “soft and jiggly” in a character sort of way.


* whistling


There you go! Yet another exciting episode!

I have a “Dear Moog” link on the top right of my page, or you can email me here.

Want bad advice? Want sh*tty answers?

You’ve come to the right place.

Drop me a line.

Moog out.


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