Whenever he emerges from his impenetrable, underground stone tomb, a circa-1982 John Cougar, pop singer and small town boy who is also an immortal, shapeshifter who can transform into any animal he chooses, draws from his experience wandering the earth for thousands of millennia to help our readers solve their problems.


Dear Ol’ John Cougar:

Ever since my mother’s death a few years back, my elderly father has lived alone, but only recently has it become a problem. He’s 82, and dementia is starting to set in; he leaves water running, or the oven on, or will forget to take his medicines, that kind of thing. I’ve tried to broach the idea of assisted living but when I do, he gets very angry and refuses to give up his “freedoms.” What should I do?

Nancy L., Overland Park, KS

Ol’ John Cougar knows all about the very old, as I, John Cougar was born in a small town many thousands upon hundreds of years and months ago, ya know. I reckon I’ lost count of just how many and in what small town exactly, but it’s when a smoke was a smoke and groovin’ was groovin’, but I can speak to the desires of your whipper-snapper youngster of an 80 year old father what with his petulant refusal to do what for. 

When he needs to do what’s best for hisself and future survival, and is too dang ol’ stubborn to abide, the best course of action I have found is to threaten to devour his soul. Is what has worked for me in my unending blood feud with Bob Seger, and it worked when my own old man, whose name is unpronounceable and what would make your brain explode if said aloud, was time to meet his fate, and to join The Old Ones in The Great Void.

If’n yer old pap-pap is a shapeshifter like ol’ John Cougar is, I suggest he done transform himself real good right away into a young and virile grizzly bear or a wily fox, and head on out into the woods to do as he please. 

But if that daddy ain’t like that, y’all might wanna look into live-in home-care, what so he can maintain his indee-pendence while also being looked after real good like.


Dear Ol’ John Cougar: 

My place of employment has a vaccine mandate, and if I don’t get a jab in the next 14 days, they’re going to fire me. I’m still just not sure and doing my own research (like writing to wise people to ask for their advice). What should I do? 

—Randy P., Tacoma

Ol’ John Cougar has certainly faced the threat of gettin’ fired, both what in the literal sense like when Mr. Tastee Freez Bossman told ol’ John Cougar to git on out of the Tastee Freez and turn in his jan-i-torial buckit after I sucked down too many chili dogs in the walk-in freezer whose cold I did not feel. 

And also when some angry small town townsfolk (I am from a small town) thought I was an agent of Satan and tried to burn me so as to ensure a good harvest. That last one only made ol’ John Cougar more powerful, while the Tastee Freez incident done inspired me to pick up a gee-tar and write me a song about suckin’ on chili dogs outside that very Tastee Freez. 

But as to the weight of yer question, I am immune to all human disease and see-rinjes can’t penetrate ol’ John Cougar’s skin-like veneer, so I ain’t never had no need for no vaccine. The only medicine I ever done needed to take was when the Anointed Mystics Three revived ol’ John Cougar with an anti-silver serum made from the wings of a fallen angel and one of Judas’s bounty coins after Bob Seger got a shot off on yers truly with one of his werewolf killing silver bullets forged by his Silver Bullet Band. I lived. Get the shot, buddy.


Dear Ol’ John Cougar:

After 20 years of keeping up this nasty habit, I’m finally ready to do it, but I need your help: How do I quit smoking?

—Jeremy B., Brooklyn

Why would you want to quit smoking? Is this some kind of hee-hoo-ha-ha-jokey-jest? Ha-ha, that’s a good one, Ol’ John Cougar loves hisself a good laugh almost as much as he loves his 145th cigarette of the mornin’.


Today’s installment of Ask Ol’ John Cougar is brought to you by JOHN COUGAR’S CHERRY BOMBS. Tired of eating cherries and having to pick out the dang ol’ pits with yer tongue? Then try John Cougar’s Cherry Bombs, tiny explosive dee-vices you put up in the cherry what blows that pit right on outta there ta smithereens!

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