If I Could Transplant Dead Elvis’ Head Onto My Body And Still Be A Contributing Member of Society

If I could transplant dead Elvis’ head onto my body and still be a contributing member of society…well, I think a lot of people who weren’t fans of Elvis would still be pretty damn impressed with my abilities.

See, there would of course be a slew of Elvis fans who would come from miles around just to meet me, if not simply because they’d finally be able to put to rest that old “I wonder what Elvis would look like if he was alive today” debate. Of course, technically, they’d be looking at a dead Elvis head (which looks pretty old and unkempt) but they’d be looking at a well-toned body with bulging muscles from the neck down, and that would at least convince people that although Elvis might have been bloated before…he’d be looking pretty damn fit in the present.

That being said, it’s the non-Elvis fans who would be even more impressed because they’d come to the table with zero Elvis baggage. They’d show up to meet the contributing member of society with the dead head on his shoulders. They’d probably try to have conversations with me and my dead Elvis head, and due to the fact that I would be a contributing member of society — I would obviously have conversations with all of them.

Because you can’t be a contributing member of society if you don’t communicate with society itself. Duh.

And although science and medical technology has not yet reached the point where they allow someone like me to transplant dead Elvis’ head onto my body, just knowing that if it was possible…that I would be a contributing member of society even with the dead crusty head bobbling around on my shoulders…

Well, that makes me feel good about people in general and their ability to accept others, no matter the ailment, disease or dead skull atop their shoulders.

So yeah. I’m feeling good.

WFME’s Male-Centric You Decide: A Painless Nail In The Head or A Weekly Pedicure?

Today’s decision is almost a non-issue.

And when I say that today’s decision is almost a non-issue, it means that there’s really no question whatsoever as to which choice most of the male WFME readers will choose. Faced with having a nail painlessly lodged into our heads (and a really cool story to tell) or having to face the humiliation of getting a pedicure on a weekly basis…well…

We men know which one to choose.

I will come straight out and tell you that I had a horrific pedicure experience recently. I was blindly forced into this “right of passage” by being convinced that it would be the most amazing experience I would have ever had. There would be massages given to me by women, who would be fawning all over me, rubbing oils and creams over my body parts. Shoulder massages, neck rubs and attention the likes of which I had never had before.

An Open Letter To ‘Elbow Sandpaper Guy’

Hey guy.

I just thought that you should know that when I was standing behind you the other day at the video store and you reached into your pocket to get your wallet that your arms sort of shifted in your short sleeve shirt so that when you reached into your back pocket your normally covered elbows peeked out from underneath your shirt sleeve. And it was in that one moment that a hybrid horror and home improvement panic washed over me and caused me to drop my Hot Tamales.

Thing is, your elbow looks like sandpaper.

Just Call Me The Freckle Lancer

Burning would be my bag, baby.

You, with your moles and your freckles and your skin covered in dark abrasions would come to me looking for help. Fed up with having to be one of those people without pure un-marred skin, you would come to my office (which would be out of the back of my mini-van) and hand me the cash as fast as you possible could. I would pull out my steaming, crackling metal devices, approach that freckle that looks like Antarctica on your forearm and get down to business.

You would call me The Freckle Lancer and it would all make sense.

Words For Your Enjoyment: Animated Toe Fungus

Can you smell it?

Friday is here. A combination of buttered popcorn, vodka tonics, fresh air, old three-hole punched paper, burned rubber, licorice, beer, garlic bread, pizza and sushi all wrapped up into one very exciting day. At least, that’s what I smell when I think of Friday. You, as your own distinct living organism, may smell something completely different.

But can you smell today’s “Words For Your Enjoyment?”