Is it more important for a "true" man to be a thoughtful, considerate husband and a caring and loving father...OR...to be desirable to a multitude of beautiful women? I'd like your thoughts on this.

Dear Bloggers,
Frank and I are wiping the sweat from our brows and emerging from our secret laboratories gratified and exhausted knowing that our groundbreaking work on the female anatomy is complete. The alphabet is covered and our test subjects sent home satiated. Women everywhere will someday benefit from our selfless research on the inexhaustable bounderies of female pleasure. There was a time there during the process that I thought we might lose Frank, having gone three nights without sleep or rest, but he got his second wind and discovered spot L, M, N, O2 and P. It was a glorious moment in our research. Farkel's P spot was abandoned altogether, we quickly realized that he was there only for the donuts.
Now that we have saved Humnanity, Frank and I are once again ready to tackle the problems of the day in that virtual wasteland you all reside in, yes Bobcatty, that means you. We are planning a few personal appearances and some charity work helping homeless Playmates, but we should have time to help you with your petty squabbles and ridiculous crisis'. Remember, as you're carving up that turkey today, to be Thankful for Frank and I, for if it wasn't for us Idyllwild would just be real estate, pawn shops and hookers. Happy Thanksgiving!!!!

Alright All you Ladies out there,
Frank and I have been holed up in our test laboratories to try to solve the problem of the mythical "G" spot. Discovered in the 70's, we've decided that there has been no new frontiers forged regarding that gloriously delicious letter in the alphabet. After putting our heads together we have broken new ground....the "F" and "C" spot. Found in the 3 o'clock and 9 o'clock position in relation to the "G" spot, the F and C spot is twice the fun and lasts twice as long as its cousin the G. Frank and I have made it our personal mission to continue our research until we find a spot that corresponds to every letter in the alphabet. With the addition of the F and C spot to lexicon of female anatomy, that leaves 21 more new worlds to discover in our quest to go where no man has gone before. Husbands, continue this groundbreaking work...and wives...you can thank us later.
As always, we're here to help,
F and C

Dear Bloggers,
I'm on special assignment deep in the bowels of Orange County. I'm talking deep cover. I will, however, be blogging from deep within my bunker. So keep those cards and letters coming. Though I am far away from you, my children, I have not abandoned you. I will always make time to disrupt the everyday madness of my faithful followers. Remember, my dirty drawers are with you always.

Alright all you fellow wise-crackers out there,

Here's the info on the play I'm doing in Costa Mesa, just in case some of you might want to come and support your favorite punching bag. Name of the play is "Saturn Returns", it opens this Friday, Oct. 23 and closes Nov 22. You can get tickets at scr.org So get off your keyboards and treat yourself to some culture.

I need some advice:
I'm busy now in rehearsal for a new play I'm doing so I'm a bit too busy to do much blogging now. I had hoped that my "partner" would pick up some of the slack but when I check our website I notice that he is asleep at the wheel. I feel that in the past that I have covered for him but now I feel that this relationship is not a reciprocal one. Should I sick "Art Farkel" on my deadbeat partner or just let it slide? After all, what's the point of having a Director of Blogland Security if you're not willing to sick on someone from time to time? Please help!!!

News Flash for all "Bad Advice" bloggers:

As it stands for now here are " The Bad Advice Cupboard Members" as appointed by the Grand Poobah himself.
Art Farkel - Director of Blogland Security
Bobcatty - Chairperson of Morale and Flattery and
Protectorate of Cute Shoes
Lou Bacher - Propaganda Minister
Yeah but Still - Wildlife Director (as in nightlife) and Purveyor of Cocktails
Anonymous (whoever you may be) - Head of the Secret Blog-Service.

There may be more appointments to round out the field but for now these are your "Cupboard Members", show them the same respect you would show Frank and me. To them I say, "may God have mercy on your souls".

So, it seems that a couple of our loyal bloggers attended the CSA 36 meeting last night. I'll give you my take on it. Obviously a number of people caught word that this was going to be an entertaining piece of theatre. It was. Bill Brown, the EDA representative, was tert and to the point. To me he was there to let ICRC know who's running the show. He proved his point. The county is holding all the cards and if you don't want the county to make your life a bureaurocratic nightmare, know who makes the rules and make sure you abide by them. Point well taken. However, if I was an elected official I would want a person with some people skills being my liason to my constituants.

ICRC has let some things fall through the cracks, nothing monumental in my opinion, and has made a couple of bad political moves (ie: not admitting Bill Brown to the notorious meeting) but other than that the people at the meeting seemed pleased with the job ICRC is doing managing Idyllwild recreation. Overall it was an education, for ICRC, for me, for many who attended the meeting; an education in the workings of local government. Now ICRC knows, cross your T's and dot your I's and let the your benefactors in your bedrooms if you want to get things done.

I want to thank our bloggers for their civic mindedness and for reporting accurately on what they saw at Democracy in Action. I think our bloggers are the ones you should trust for your information, with the exception of anything derogatory said about me, other than that you can count on our blog for all your information needs. I'd like to thank the players who put on this little drama for our entertainment pleasure. ICRC, a dynamically confused performance underscored by great restraint and self control. CSA 36, a muted interpretation of the storyline but a strong stage presence nonetheless. And the star of show, Bill Brown, a focused and intense portrayal wrought with a brooding intensity and understated hostility. Bravo to all the players and I look forward to future installments.

So, what's with all these comments referring to ourselves as "locals" and referring to them as "flatlanders". Is this a bad remake of "Road Warrior: Return to Thunderdome" we are living in? I've got news for you, being a "local" is not like being a Nobel Prize laureate. It's not like we actually accomplished something by being a local, short of just moving up here...we did absolutely nothing. And as for the "flatlanders", their only sin, implied in the moniker, is that they live in a place without mountains. I was a "flatlander" a few years ago while visiting Kaui with my family. I was driving a Dodge Intrepid rent a car. While at stop signs I kept getting honked at and flipped off by "locals" driving by. At first I couldn't figure out whose kid I ran over or whose wife I raped but then I realized that the only Dodge Intrepids on the island were rent-a-cars and by driving one I may as well had TOURIST tatooed on my ass. After two weeks of this my feeling was they could have their stinking island and they would have my vote for turning Kaui into a nuclear test ground. As for the ritual executions, I could think of a few bloggers that would top my list. I suggest that all the "locals" aspire to something a little higher than just living in Idyllwild.

Our mailboxes are filled with posts from distressed Frank and Conor fans who are distraught over the announcement of Becky Clark's impending retirement from the editorship of the Town Crier... well one post...from Bobcatty...but Bobcatty is really really upset and wonders how we can dig any deeper into our despair. Well Bobcatty, let me say I feel your pain. (or maybe it's just gas) This is a time we all must huddle together for warmth from the chilling winds of the approaching Winter... a Winter without the incessant "pot stirring" of our beloved Editor. Huddle my friends (preferably at my place) and share your burdens with each other. It is in this huddling, Bobcatty, that you will be able to sound the depth of your despair and by sounding it I don't mean recording on a cheap yard sale tape recorder and then playing it back for family and friends between the Thanksgiving turkey and the pumpkin pie, no I mean dig deep, deeper than you've ever dug before and then, and only then, will you know what it means to be and elfen-like creature. For it was the elves that first taught us to dig deep. So Huddle Bobcatty, huddle and dig... and soon at the Town Crier, just like the mighty Poseiden, there will be "a morning after".

Happy Birthday!!!!! to my friend Lenny Hansel (or is it Gretle?) I affectionately know him as the "man with the unfortunate face". You're the Bomb Lenny, here's to another great year of enjoying your awesome drumming. Keep up the Beat.

so, "get on the stick" says: "Jp's blog is looking good" More than one of you jumped on the "conor is a whining little bitch" band wagon. And now we're getting in the middle of a feud between the "Idyllbeast" and the "Taquitz Monster" ? Ok, I had a moment of self doubt, so shoot me. You want JP's blog? Fine, I'm sure he'd be happy to take our sloppy seconds. As far as this battle of the mythical creatures, go cry on David Jeromes hairy shoulder. I'm sure he'd appreciate some relief from his guitar lessons.
As for Frank and I, we're going global. It is clear we're in need of a more sophisticated, more complex thinking audience. An audience across the sea where women are allowed to sunbathe with or sans top. Where a two hour lunch is a right and an obligation not a sign of laziness. Where children are fed watered down wine at the age of 10, not twinkies and a bag of Fritos. This, my "ex-friends", is the future of "Bad Advice in the Morning". You hot chicks out there in need of our unique take on your miserable world, feel free to keep the pleas for understanding and apathy coming. As for the rest of you wrinkled old men, try JP or maybe Marshall and see how you like their style of irony and wit. Frank has been in Paris (or maybe Perris) lining up an office space for him and me from which we can storm the Bastille with vim and vigor. "How you gonna keep them down on the farm once they've seen gay old Perris?" This "whiny bitch" has left the building. When Frank returns from France we're packing up and hitting the road to the stars. It's been a fun ride but now we have to start dating other people. Abiento!!! Adieu!!..........Until that time comes......keep letters coming.

Remember, you don't just have to read the posts. There is a wealth of hidden treasures deep beneath the post in the comment section. Remember, Life is just a bowl of cherries, and after the lights go out...the cherries are gone.

Dear Frank and Conor fans:
Having been unemployed for the past 5 months has got me in a bit of a funk. I need a reality check. Jobs I used to book on a regular basis, I'm not longer booking. Is it me or the present business climate? Have I changed that much? Is the ride over? Should I just exit the car and go look for another way to make mischief and cashola? Your feedback be a welcoming light on a dark and restless sea.

"Draw thy sword, that if my words offend a noble thy arm may do thee justice". I hate to say it but Lou Bacher has sparred with nobility. He has embraced the spirit of the roast. So few have ever known the honor of being skewered, skinned and roasted by those who love you, the sheer teary eyed ecstasy of it. Thanks Lou. You like me. You really, really like me.

Hey Lou,
Bullies back in school? Did you get hazed back in the day? Now I'm beginning to understand why you're so interested in Choral Music. Maybe it was the little notes your mother put in your lunch that invited the ridicule. Here's some advice, stop wearing the short shorts and cover up those flamingo stalks you call legs, then get a real job (digging ditches or something worthy of the name "man") and then, and only then, will you hear the "silence of the bullies", sweet Clarice. Sweet Silence, something that Elaine will never know.

Dear Gump,
So you find it difficult to work at Cafe Aroma because of all the distractions? I wouldn't worry to much about, Frank doesn't seem to be able to get any of his people to work and they're there a lot more than you. Try talking your boss into learning how to kayak and he'll be to busy perfecting his river skills to notice whether you're at Cafe Aroma working or at home schtupping your young athletic husband. But the jewish lady with the I-phone will always bug you, get used to it...not because she's jewish but because she's a Mac person. They're as annoying as all get out, whatever that means.

Dear Belly-Dancing Gay-Bro
First off, I can't believe you took your date to Cafe Aroma for an intimate dinner for just the two of you. With Frank fluttering about it's wonder you could get your date to look at you at all. But it appears that it was the belly dancers that caught his eye. We in the business refer to this as a "Reverse Ted Haggard". Haggard is, by his own accounts, a straight man with "issues". I believe your date is a gay bro with "issues". I believe you can wear anything so long as it buttons in the back, if you get my drift. If belly dancing floats your boat then belly dance, but I suggest a full torso body wax first.

Please!!!! Somebody put a gun to my head and put me out of my misery. Last night I had to sit across from Lou Bacher and hear him go on and on about how insignificant we all are. Lou, I've got news for you, we're significant, you, on the other hand, are replaceable. He just kept talking like he was giving us the keys to the kingdom, pearls from his fruitful years on the planet. Lou, if you've got so much insight, insight me this, why can't you grow hair? Look Lou, I've got a small, imperceivable place in my vastly overcrowded heart for you, but please, you may be Jewish but you're not Moses descending from the mountaintop, stone tablets in hand, ready to lead your people out of bondage (a particular favorite of mine) into the land of milk and honey (mind you, I'm lactose intolerant). In the words of the Great Liberator of the Jews : "Let my people go" from the torment of hearing Lou wax philospical on a Wednesday night. Lou, leave the bad advice to the professionals.

Did anyone watch the finale of the "Bachelorette" last night? I haven't been this upset since my days as a broadway dancer in New York back in the 70's. That time I was riding in an elevator with my "bro" Enrique, a saucy little Puerto Rican with a messiah complex, when I overheard two guys talking about the death of Gower Champion. Oh my gosh, why wasn't I told. Gower was my mentor and I his star pupil. Of course I was upset, why wouldn't I be? But even that doesn't compare with emotional backwash I felt last night watching Gillian agonize over her decision of who of the two remaining guys, whom she'd known for two months, should she spend the rest of her life with. Ed or Kipton? And then Rory shows up at 11th hour. Poor Gillian. What should she do? Who should she pick? Three men she truly loves, all three her true soul mates. I felt the pain of her dilemna. I was beside myself. Greek tragedy be damned, this is the drama of our times. All poor little Gillian wants is to find someone who will love her as much as she loves herself. Isn't that what we're all looking for? In the end Gillian chose Ed and it is my true hope for them that in course of their long blissful marriage that Ed will be able to repress his homosexual tendencies and make is bride the center of the universe that only she inhabits.

I just wanted to thank all the people who submitted ideas to help me out with Marshall Hawkins' roast. (that would be none of you) Your overwhelming response to my call for help was truly touching, I'm sure Marshall appreciated it too. The totally useless nature of our readership makes me want to dig deeper than ever before to deliver advise that will truly send your world into a tail spin. Your wealth of ideas and generous spirit will not be forgotten. Step up to the podium and speak into the microphone.

I feel so inspired today. I was just listening to my idol, Rush Limbaugh, the patron saint of bad advice, the Mothership, if you will. How uplifting to hear him go on and on about public life, though he has never held public office. He dispenses his train wreck opinions like a seasoned professor, though he never graduated college. I only hope that what little I do here can bring me yet another step lower into the lofty pit of opinion where he resides. I am not fit to paint his nails, not, however, from lack of trying. Hail Rush Limbaugh. We could all take a cue from him.

Hey Frankie, as you can see, that trip to Budapest did me a world of good. I am back with a vengence. Thanks for covering my smooth, freshly oiled back with your dry, hairy one. You are the King of Bro-back Mountain.

I'm Back. As Frank informed y'all, I was in Zurich for the "Bad Advice World Symposium". This was an outright lie or Frank was sadly mistaken....I was not in Zurich!!!!....I was in Budapest for the symposium. It was spectacular!!!! I have never seen so many unqualified people assembled together in one room in all my life. The seminars were so "eye opening"...which was a life saver since I was ASLEEP most of the time. I was like a fish out of water without my "Bro-heim" Francis Machine. These people didn't have a clue. The founders of the IBOBAP (international brotherhood of bad advice practitioners) would have rolled over in their graves. These guys were sheep in wolves clothing. They cared way too much for others and possessed the insight and life experience that could make a real difference in people's lives. I've seen the future faces of this movement, that has totally screwed up the lives of so many, and it is not pretty my friends. No matter how benevolent and helpful our fellow IBOBAP members become, Frank and I will continue to destroy lives with our half baked opinions and our total disregard for the well being of others so long as the breath is still in us....this is my promise to you!!! It is good to be home.

Now let's get down to business.... In Bliss,
In what universe would you think that I would need a pump to make my lady smile. You've obviously confused me with Buddy Hackett. I am a pot stickin', heart poundin', bowl lickin', slim pickin', meat grindin' hunk of burnin' love. But my advice to YOU is to return that piece Junk back to the toothless hillbilly that sold it to you. Try an automatic milking machine, much faster and twice as effective....but it really pisses the cows off.

On another note, let's start commenting on this post site. Our original post, at the bottom of the page, now has 90 some comments and I'm tired of scrolling down. Let's start a new right HERE and NOW.

On yet another note, what's with all the thinly veiled sexual innuendos, wrapped in a question, shrouded in a connundrum? Surely y'all can do better. Sex is easy for guys like Frank and I. Give us something to work with, something we can really sink our teeth in. Let's mix it up and bring it down to the next level.

Start COMMENTING HERE. And remember the psuedonyms.

It's monday night and I need some fresh material for "roasting" Marshall Hawkins tomorrow night. Come on people throw me a bone here. Let's make Tuesday "Let's roast Marshall Hawkins Day". Give him your best shot and let him know you care.

This "bromance" thing really seems to have taken off. I think it's time to get our jargon straight. I propose we all create a lexicon of "Bromance". Submit your Bro-words and definition so we can begin to compile a record. I see a book here.

Jim Crandall has suggested that Frank and I should post a daily topic to start the day off. I think it's a great idea. The first topic of the day is: Should we start a petition calling for Jim Crandall's resignation from the Town Crier. Give us your thoughts.

Dear Rebecichica or whatever you're calling yourself tonight. If I were you I'd go with neopolitan. You could sport strawberry, chocolate and vanilla alll at the same time. Then wrap yourself in a waffle cone and you'd be a real treat on a hot summer day. Just thank your lucky stars you still have some hair to be confused about. But keep changing your hair color every week and pretty soon you'll look like Frank, then you and I could have bromance.

While comparisons to Iconic figures like Jerry Lewis and Art Carney are very flatering and words like Bromance can be aplicable in some cases. We understand that it is not uncommon for patients to fixate and develop crushes on thier physicians.Conor for instance thought he was in love with his colon therapist for almost six months last year but eventually got it all out of his system. We like to think of ourselves as Brofesionals or at the very least Bromodels for all of you out there.Remember,this column is for and about you. Although bad advice may at first glance be easy to come by. Really good bad advice is only available here.

just Testing

Trying to see if Frank is logging in correctly go dispense bad advice.

All you worried, hurting and confused; Frank and I are up and running. Come and cry on our shoulders, tell us your problems and we'll be happy to give you the worst advise possible. It may not help but it could hurt. If you have a question you need help with use the comment key and let our years of bad decisions be your guide. Below is a template to help you get started.


Dear Frank and Conor being the wise, incredibly attractive and sexy men that you are maybe you can help me with a Problem.......

It's that easy and you're on your way. We're waiting.