A Sunday Cup Of Joe: The Answer Man

Time to relax and enjoy the Sunday with Joey B. Here Joey solicits the blogosphere his ability to to solve many of life's pressing problems. Joe is evidently a direct descendant of the Answer Man (the original Steverino) and Carnac: No contracts. No commitments. Yet still and all I’m prepared to deliver a product to your soulful site that has been sorely lacking since its pseudo inception. The bald fact of the matter is that even pseudo-intellectuals have problems and need a place in which they can reliably repair to receive the balm of appropriate counsel. I am prepared to offer just such an oasis of common sense and good guidance. I will in no strict cadence, but still and all usually on a fortnightly rhythm, supply the commensurate questions - as have been forwarding to me - with the coherent responses which they require. Pseudo-intellectuals find them live in real binds. Let’s face it. For example, as a neighbor in the shelter in which I currently abode has jotted on a lined note paper and slid under my door - he writes forthwith and I quote thereof, “Dear Joey B., Recently my cousin, Laurent, contracted a rare and fortunately not life threatening version of the same blasted virus that disabled the entire community of Noho in early 1983 before spreading to Soho and being conquered by noted epidemiologist, Maxwell Nono. As soon as they checked Laurent into Montefiore I breathed a sigh of relief until I realized they had housed him in the pediatric unit. He is seventy-three but very young looking for his age. But still. This I knew was a mistake. By the time I got it corrected, needless to say, the viral episode had passed, he was back to being the same pain in the you know what and where that he’d always been and I was thoroughly ex aspirated. Here is my question then: While he was staying in the hospital I was given a ten-digit phone number with which to contact him. Area code was three digits, and then the seven-digit phone number that followed. Ten digits in all. Now that he’s out of the pediatric unit what do you suggest I do with the number? Signed, Damasiado Numeros.” This is an example of the kind of query I get. The answer to this pseudo-problem, as you probably can guess, is simply for him to save the phone number in a file in the event that at some future time his malingering relative should return to the same room in the pediatric unit. Am I the only one who saw Ground Hog day and learned something? Or what? Okay. Get the gist of how this thing works.
Signing off for now,
The answer man,
Joey B.
aka Joe