A question from Israel:

Liron wrote:

Q:

Dear dave,

I have a small colony of arctic penguins living under my bed. Every morning, they braid my hair and fry me eggs for breakfast. They say that they are preparing me to be nice, pretty and plump for sacrifice to the King Penguin.
What should I do?

Respects,
Liron

A: Well, let’s see [backs away quietly, making no sudden movements], I guess the main thing to do is take your medication…

Just kidding. Every question to daveb is a serious question. Daveb knows all! Never fear O’ braided and egg-smeared chickie-monkey, daveb is here for you!

You may or may not be aware (I’m assuming from your question that you are) of my issues with penguins. It’s true, I have had quasi-erotic dreams involving them. I’m not ashamed. It’s perfectly fine. I run Linux, it’s probably got something to do with that. No reason to call the police.

Since you claim to be in imminent peril of being eaten (assuming you’ve reached the requisite plumpness), I took your question very seriously. I needed to consult a higher power. I needed to talk to my “Spirit Penguin”.

Some people are in touch with their animal totems, be they birds, lions, bears, turtles. My spirit totem is a partially shaved obese emperor penguin with a ridge of rainbow feathers down his back. I often see him slouching about, eating fritos and belching whole sentences in Portuguese. He’s one fucked up puppy.

So, in order to prepare myself I fasted for a whole twenty minutes and climbed the highest point possible, which was the roof of my apartment building here in Brooklyn (you can’t expect me to go mountain climbing. I’m delicate, you know) and proceeded to meditate on my spirit penguin, calling out to him. Finally, after rubbing my armpits with vegetable shortening, he arrived.

I posed your question to him. After some thoughtful shuffling and crunching of deep-fried corn products, he looked me in the eyes and gave me the answer:

Titties and beer.

I know, you’re probably a bit doubtful about this and believe me, so was I. Rather than steer you wrong, I hopped down to bodega and picked up a couple 40’s and ran back to the roof. I offered the malt beverages to my penguin and he went right for them. As soon as I noticed that his Portuguese belches were starting to slur and get repetitive, I quickly tore off my shirt and ribbed my hairy man-nipples in his face.

He ran away honking and screeching like a bitch.

Good luck.

[Ask daveb anything! Either use this form or send an email to webmaster [at] davebgimp [dot] com with “Ask daveb” as the subject line. Remember, daveb knows all!]

Last night, I had a dream that I was back in Vermont, living in the house that I grew up in, standing in my backyard on a sunny day. All of a sudden, I was approached by a huge, cartoonish and fat penguin with a rainbow-like stripe of feathers running down his back. Instantly I understood, here was my penguin buddy.

Like a doting parent or the proud owner of a cute-ass kitten, I proceeded to waddle with the penguin as he zoomed back and forth, snooping, playing and doing all sorts of adorable and delightful things. At one point he turned to me and said in his gruff little penguin voice, “Hungry!” My little buddy needed food.

I took him inside to the kitchen. My flightless friend hoisted himself into a chair at the table and looked at me with hopeful enthusiasm. I rummaged through the cupboards trying to figure out what penguins like to eat for lunch. Tuna fish sandwiches, of course, I thought. I quickly whipped up a pair and sat down with him. He looked at the food, stuck his beak in and chugged back a few bites. “Good”, he said. I was exceedingly pleased with myself.

Later, back in the yard watching the little dude prance and play from the comfort of a lawn chair, I noticed he started furrowing in the ground and gathering twigs. What could he be doing, I thought? It was then that I noticed it was suddenly winter, with snow all over the ground. Aww, I thought, the little guy’s cold, he’s building a nest.

So, I took him inside the house and we took a nice warm nap. I lay there in bed, very content to be snuggling with my big, fat penguin buddy. I squeezed him in a big bear hug and he said, “Squish!” The world was perfect.

At this point, I woke up, exhausted, slightly hung-over and late for work. What could possibly cause me to have such a fucked up bizarre and totally gay dream, I have no idea. I swear to God, I do not normally dream like that. Still, it was an awesome time. I was so happy to be with my penguin buddy. I gotta stop drinking.