|“Who’s Doctor bloody Bernofsky?”
“He knows everything.”
“Ooh, I wouldn’t like that, that’d take all the mystery out of life.”
– Monty Python
Doctor Bernofsky (patent pending) is here to help! Got a question for the good doctor? Ask away! Or just continue to live vicariously through these people below!
Dear Dr. Bernofsky,
I recently became unstuck in time. (Long story. Let’s just say flux capacitors and tequila shots don’t mix.) I was stumbling through the harsh, dense jungles of the late Cretaceous period when I was cornered by a pack of hungry velociraptors. My question is: what’s the proper etiquette in this situation? Obviously I don’t want to be eaten alive a million years before the dawn of written history, but I also don’t want to seem stuck-up and snobbish about it. Any thoughts?
T. Logan, Esq.
I certainly understand your trepidation, if not the liquor-fueled quantum mechanics that landed you in this strange predicament in the first place. (I’m more a gin and time-tunnel tonic man myself.) As you say, one doesn’t want to be snacked upon by giant prehistoric lizards. But, when in the place that hundreds of thousands of years in the future will become Rome… I can suggest only that you use your best judgment and not rush to any hasty conclusions. How do you know, for instance, that these velociraptors aren’t vegan? Have you even asked? Isn’t that really the snobbish way to act?
Dear Dr. B,
I like to think I’m a hard worker. And more than that, I’m a team player. But recently, I lost out on a sweet promotion at the office to my own clone. And to make matters worse, I’m the one who first patented our company’s cloning process, which Johnny Doppelganger now wants to use to build an evil army to take over the world. Like that wasn’t my idea too! What are my options here?
John Smith (Prime)
Dear John Boy,
You’re making the obvious mistake here, which quite frankly may be the sort of nearsighted behavior that got you passed over by management in the first place. This is not a problem at all, but rather an opportunity. When this army of single-minded clones finally (and all but inevitably) betrays your would-be usurper, you could be right there to pick up the pieces. You, my friend, are Mr. Next Best Solution! Your doppelganger, on the other hand, is New Coke: yes, virtually indistinguishable from the original, but sure to be short-lived if only because people prefer to remain stupid and stuck in their ways. Civilization’s greater loss is your gain.
Dear Dr. Bernofsky,
I think I’m falling in love with the evil demonic spirit that’s been haunting my family’s country house the past couple of weeks. My sister says he’s just not that into me, or if he is, it’s only with a malevolence born from the fiery pits of hell. But you know, that’s just so like her. She’s always been jealous of my happiness. How can I make her understand that Azazel — that’s his name, or at least what he’s most fond of scratching in blood on the walls — is different from all the other guys?
It’s oft been said the course of true love never did run smooth. But damn, girl, that’s just some straight-up crazy. Your sister sounds like a real drag, but that doesn’t mean she’s wrong. I know you kids today, with your Twilights and your internets, think romance is dead — literally — but trust me, you’re barking up the wrong grave here. You don’t need couples counseling, you need an exorcist! Azazel — hereinafter referred to as “A.”, if only for fear that invoking the name three times will actually summon the jerkwad — sounds like the real possessive, and possessing type. You don’t need that kind of heartache. Go out, live your life to the fullest, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get to see A. in a new light…when living your life to the fullest lands you many years from now in hell. (Fingers crossed!)