Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  Bachelor #1: If I were an ice cream cone, how would you eat me?
- Bachelorette
Dear Bachelorette,
  Out of a cup. Otherwise, I'd be likely to drop you on the floor to be licked up by a stray dog.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  What's the best way to get rid of unwanted killer mold?
- Crossings Clueless
Dear Clueless,
  As opposed to all that welcome killer mold? First, go bang your face solidly against the refrigerator. This won't help with the mold: it's your punishment for phrasing your question so stupidly. Have someone take a picture of your broken, bloody visage, and email it to me. Once I'm satisfied that you've suffered enough, I'll help you get rid of the fanatical spores that even now are corroding your immune system.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  I am a 24-year-old single female, and I possess no porn or sex toys of any kind. Is there something wrong with me?
- Idle but Agile Hands
Dear Idle,
  If you're satisfied with your solitary sexuality, then by all means keep at it. I myself am a regular worshipper at the temple of self-loving, and I can tell you that if you don't need any tactile or visual aids, you've got a major advantage. Some of us can't even get it up anymore without watching a videotape of one woman licking something off of another woman. And really, that's just sad.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  Do I make you horny, baby? Do I?
- Austin Extra
Dear Austin,
  Oh god, yes. Nothing excites me more than verbal memes culled from goofy movies. Quote Animal House or Revenge of the Nerds to me, and I'm instantly a drippy mess.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  How can I masturbate at work without getting caught?
-X-Rated At X-Fire
Dear X-Rated,
  Unless you're a toll collector, simply grab a newspaper, find a bathroom stall and go to town. If it's a private bathroom, you're golden. Otherwise, simply groan loudly and flip through the newspaper when anyone comes in. No one will interrupt you if it sounds like you're showing Number Two who's boss.

Dear Bastard,
  Why can't you get your head out of your ass?
- Bastard Hater
Dear Bastard Hater,
  I'm fine, as long as I don't leave it up there long enough that my hair starts to grow in. That stubble hooks into my delicate rectal tissue like steel-belted Velcro. I'm then forced to wait another two weeks until the hair grows long enough that it's silky soft and bendable. Only then am I able to remove my head from my poor, distended anus.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  How much sex is considered too much sex, thereby deeming a person as a nympho?
- Crazy About Booty
Dear Crazy,
  The short answer is, more than you or I will ever get. Okay, maybe not you. It's probably just me. I'll bet you get laid on a regular basis, without having to beg or spend your rent money.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  Why is cheese so ridiculously delicious?
- Dairy Queen
Dear Dairy,
  It's squirted out of a cow, completely re-processed by busy little bacteria, and then extruded into little vacuum sealed plastic containers or pressed into tubes for eventual slicing by that sweaty guy at the deli. What's not to love?

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  What's the best cure for a head cold?
  What do you do when you're not busy being bastardly?
  How come I'm so sexy?
  How YOU doin'?
Signed,
Really Fucking Bored in Medford
Dear RFB,
  The best cure for a head cold is to simply not have a head. If you don't have access to a guillotine, simply lie down with your neck resting comfortably on the train tracks. You'll be rid of the cold, and have the satisfaction of haunting some poor Amtrak operator with the image of your exploded head for the rest of his miserable, drunken life.
  When I'm not handing out bitter, angry advice, I work in retail, and attend classes at Rowan University. Which explains why my advice is so often bitter and angry.
  You're probably so sexy because of that see-through shirt you accidentally wore to work.
  I'm doin' fine. Puttering around the Bald Cave, cleaning rotten fruits and vegetables out of my kitchen. Looking forward to another Christmas working in the mall. But hey, at least I'm not getting raped in the shower by a lifer known only as "Bulk."

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  Let's say someone you love and care about is about to be kidnapped by zombie carnival folk. That person will be forced to be their slave for the rest of her natural born life with NO hope of advancement or escape. In order to save her, you would have to get the word KRAFT (yes, that's right, as in the Mac and Cheese) tattooed on your forehead. Now, how would you break the news that she would forever be living with the carnies?
Sincerely,
John Smith
Dear John,
  I don't know exactly. Does Hallmark make an "Enjoy Shoveling Elephant Shit for the Rest of Your Life" card?

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  Too much of today's music seems too be filled with underwelming rap-metal and god-awful teen pop. There have been rays of light with such new talent as The Hives, The White Stripes, The Strokes, and Andrew W.K., but they keep getting overshadowed by crap. Is there any hope in today's music?
- Concerned in South Jersey
Dear Concerned,
  Let's be honest here. If the bands you like ever get as big as Limp Bizkit, you'll drop them in a second, and complain bitterly about them selling out. You need your favorite bands to be "overshadowed by crap" to keep your indy cred intact. Otherwise, your music store buddies will look down on you as just another populist.
  I am by no means suggesting that I appreciate much of what passes for popular music these days. The thing is, when viewed up close, the vast majority of music in any era really sucks ass. Time has a way of filtering out the crap, so that when we look at the early 90's, we remember grunge and gangsta-rap, and forget that Right Said Fred and Color Me Badd had #1 singles.
  The only thing I can really recommend is waiting about 15 years. By then, Britney and Avril and (insert boy group here) will have faded like Bobby Brown. If the artists on your list are really any good, chances are you'll be hearing about them long after the current pop-bubble has burst like an ass-pimple.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  Why the hell are you here at Rowan?
- Wondering Myself
Dear Wondering,
  I was attracted to Rowan for the spacious living areas, small class sizes, attractive campus, abundant parking, and their dedication to fostering appreciation for the arts in South Jersey.
  Obviously, I have got to stop smoking the crack.

Dear Little Baldy,
 Who’s da man?
- Just Kidding, It’s Me
Dear Kidding,
  I am a caucasian, male, heterosexual, who was raised Protestant. Hell, I even have blue eyes. It looks like I’m the man. But don’t sweat it. I’m going to stop holding everybody down as soon as I get a couple million dollars and a harem of supermodels.

Dear Mister Bald Bastard,
  Why did the dish run away with the spoon?
- Jimmy, Washington Twp.
Dear Jimmy,
  It's simple, really. She was looking for a good forking.

Dear Little Bald Bastard,
  If you could be Madonna from any pop-culture time period, which would you be?
- Desperately Seeking Something
Dear Desperately,
  That's a tough call. There's the early "frilly white dress and innocent sexuality" Madonna. There's the "I'd really like to be Marilyn Monroe" Madonna. Most recently, there's the "I'm so happy to be a British mum" Madonna.
  I think, though, that I'm holding out for "dried-up old crone" Madonna. If she has any decency at all, she'll stop performing in public. If not, then watching her drag her craggy ass around a stage like Mick Jagger's little sister will be pathetic enough to be a must-see.