Completely Serious Advice With Sam Walker #6

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Question 1:
I’m in college right now, and I don’t live far enough off-campus to warrant catching the bus. At the same time, it’s a pretty lengthy and boring walk. Have any suggestion that could make this better?

Game time! Just because you are in big boy school now doesn’t mean that you still can’t let your imagination run wild to eradicate the boring out of a situation.

  • Quick question: How do you feel about mysterious, heartfelt blues music and classic detectives? If you answered anything other than yes or have any feelings of uncertainty, prepare to be jazzed. You are going to procure a bunch of blues music, load it on to a mobile player, and blast it to set that smoking alley feel. Now, start your walk. Remember that you solve cases now, and the Don wants your head after you schmoozed his main squeeze on your last job. The Don is a dick, the kind of guy who puts hits out on schmucks unfortunate enough to make that kind of mistake. So now you have every two-bit headhunter in this bottom-shelf city hot on your heels. Keep your internal monologue strong, and try to react to your surroundings in character. Have fun playing pretend and freaking out fellow pedestrians!
  • Ready for some metal gear action? Make it to school every day without being seen. Bring a Nerf gun or something, because you’ll have to hunt down anyone unfortunate enough to see you and blast ’em up. Sure, you may be late all the time, but you’ll be so sneaky! You could say you were in the class five minutes early; the shadows merely didn’t want your presence known.
  • Break out a marathon runner outfit, cover yourself in water, and sprint madly into campus. See if and how people try to jump out of your way. Occasionally shout out something like “It’s for charity!” to see if people pay more attention.
  • Try to notice if anyone walks the same way you do. If such a person exists, choose a random day and pretend she/he is chasing you. Make it seem like a matter of life or death. Just look back, make eye contact, scream and run. Because you know the path they will take, stop sprinting when you get out of line of sight, and act like you are catching your breath. This lets you repeat the same surprised scramble to your heart’s content.
  • Hire a small band to follow you to class in the morning. Personally, I’d have the band write a theme song—your morning is just the intro to your life/sitcom!

_________________

Question 2
This government has just completely lost me. I’m done with everything, and I want to get off the grid completely. Please tell me you know how this would work.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, stranger, pump those breaks! It’s not like I can at all locate and leave a message for you, buried under the third spruce tree located to the left of the grill facing your house that may or may not be something akin to a starter kit and further instructions. I mean c’mon, that’s just borderline rude.

____________________

Question 3
My girlfriend and I stumbled into a bit of an unplanned pregnancy. I have to tell my parents pretty soon, but I have no idea how to go about this. Any thoughts?

Any thoughts? Try ALL of the thoughts ( and by “ALL,” I mean two).

Option 1: Tell your parents you’ve decided to devote your life to achieving a scientific breakthrough. Next, let them know the area you intend to study is human cloning. If they are unimpressed, tell them they should be, because, y’ know, cloning. Make up some story about getting a grant or some sort of investor, so that money won’t be a problem.
Construct a large container for your girlfriend to stand in for the duration of the pregnancy—the “spawning pod.” Your parents can’t know your pregnant girlfriend is inside. That would ruin everything. Buy a voice modifier for your girlfriend, and voila! You have instant A.I. Throw in an arsenal of blue lights. Hollywood has conditioned us to associate blue lights with “the future.”
Now that you’ve laid the groundwork, brew nine months’ worth of coffee and develop a supervillain-like obsession with your scheme. Again, Hollywood lends its aid. Any movie about cloning has the government-associated adversary whose job is to capture and destroy successful cloning subjects. After the baby is born, tell your parents that the American government will allow the clone to live on one condition: you must look after it and never let its true nature be known to anyone else.  All you have to do is lie to your child about his/her origins until the end of your days, and with hardly any effort or adverse effects worth mentioning, you have the hardest part of fatherhood miles behind you.

Option 2: Plead ignorance. Blame your parents—they were too busy watching Law & Order SVU marathons to have “the talk” with you. Combine with a vastly lacking health education class at dangerously underfunded high school (for the purposes of this option), and claim you are just an unfortunate victim of a 1920s-level understanding of the human reproduction system. Just break it to your parents that, as far as you knew, the stork was totally a thing.
To avoid lifelong ridicule, you will have to demonstrate near perfect levels of cunning to explain how all of this could be just a mild misunderstanding. With enough key phrases however, I do feel this could be possible. You could potentially explain away reckless abandon as misguided scientific belief—in other words, this is the Holy Grail of the “my bad” situation.
First off, start learning basic information about the migratory patterns of large birds over the course of a year. If you do this, you can use the phrase “migratory patterns” accurately, which makes you sound amazingly more knowledgeable about your mess up, because who just casually drops migratory patterns down in regular conversation? Next, start memorizing unrelated facts about the mating rituals of random birds and use them in out-of-place conversations about the release of pheromones. Convince the average person that human and avian cross-pheromone-simultaneous reproductive activation could totally be a thing. After fabricating enough evidence, say that there was no flock overhead, so you didn’t think your girlfriend’s ovaries were primed.

____________________

Well, I hope this has helped some people out there. Have any issues or questions you need advice on? E-mail them to CompletelySeriousWithSam@gmail.com

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32 responses to “Completely Serious Advice With Sam Walker #6

  1. Hahaha – I may have to walk to the store as just a dame trying to pick up her lunch without being hassled by a bunch of thugs.
    I’ll have to brush up on my lingo, though, and also invest in a monochrome dress and pillbox hat and possibly paint myself that weird white color of Caucasian people on black-and-white TVs . I mean, go all the way or go home!

  2. This was an unbelievably enjoyable read dude! I was dying once I reached “it’s for charity” and the “migratory patterns” rant was dangerously funny!

  3. I loved everything about the walking one – all options provided were fantastic choices!!! I actually wish I could walk to work so I could try some out.
    I also loved the unexpected pregnancy responses! Too fantastic!

  4. This is absolutely hilarious. Having a small band follow me to classes back in the day would have been hilarious.
    Great writing provided a great laugh. Following along now, can’t wait for the next mailbag of questions to come through!

  5. Hahahahaha this is funny. Reminds me of a section I used to like in the Ghanaian newspaper where people ask questions and got answers for them

  6. Fantastic article. I remember training for a marathon by sprinting every dad to campus all through the winter. Ended up looking like Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat, icicles hanging from my neck toque, backpack, and unfashionably puffy jacket. Keep up the good work!

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