Ask The Monkey Monk!: Any Way You Want It

Written by Music

Popdose’s resident simian sage returns with advice for a certain hotshot guitarist…

Temptation is a fickle little thing, my children. Oh sure, it looks like a tempting ripe banana now, but reach out and grab for it and you might end up on a chain, dancing to a tune not of your own choosing, while greasy fellows stand to the side yanking their crank. It’s a horrible fate, and it might well be the one this misbegotten soul has plunged himself into.

Dear Monkey Monk;

So I was finishing up this set, letting my guitar cool off when, out of the corner of my eye in the audience, I saw this smokin’ hot blonde chick. I mean, when I say smokin’, she was four-alarm. I strolled off the stage and said, “Baby, you must be a screen door ’cause I want to slam you all night long.” She liked that.

There were a few things she didn’t tell me though. One, the most dangerous place in the world was anywhere between her and a camera. B, she had a husband, and drei, she was batshit crazypants crazy.

Now I got her blowing all my action and threatening groupies with chainsaws, and guns, and the return of Steve Perry. I’m in serious, serious trouble here, Monkey Monk! You gotta help me!

Signed, So Totally Not Neal Schon, I Swear

Oh dear, oh dear, dear, dear. Not you again, Not Neal Schon. How many times must we go through this? What was the last tryst? You suddenly had urges for strange Filipino men? Now you’re tasting the bitter forbidden fruit of another man’s tree.

When you think with Little Not Neal, you get little not good. Sometimes, when they’re talking to you, it’s not sexual. When she said she liked “crashing balls,” did you once consider she wasn’t talking about the taffy bag? I’m so very, very disappointed in you.

What you need to do is recognize that you are old enough to be this woman’s father, possibly her grandfather. You’re probably smart enough to be her therapist, but that says very little about you and her therapist. You may have some residuals coming in from the repeated broadcasts of “So Totally Not Don’t Stop Believin’,” so do yourself a favor.

Run! Run like the wind. Run back to the arms of your Filipino friend but know that nothing, NOTHING good can come from this. She’s young. You’re not. Clearly she is waiting for you to die.

To everything there is a season, and when you least expect it, she’ll be seizing the plug and you’ll be making your escape into infinity, your life eclipsed by the revelation that this trial by fire has cast you off into that most dark, and permanent, frontier. And you’ll probably get herpes too.

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