Dr. Thunder Episode 302

Look Alive, Sunshine, It's time for Ask Dr. Thunder!

As Usual we begin with the latest in my ongoing series "Excuses for Why I Never Update"

It was Thursday, the Marconi brothers had just built a time machine in an attempt to prevent their own deaths, caused by a previous time machine, but they needed an expert on traveling the infinite plains of the Time-Space Continuum. That expert was me.

I arrived at the Marconi's compound deep within Mount Kilimanjaro, expecting the expedition into the currents of time to last only three hours, seeing as time travel theoretically can be done without any time passing in the timestream from whence the travelling commences. And then the owls arrived.

A flock of Great Horned Owls, genetically engineered by my Arch-Nemesis Dr. Phineas Laserpimp, attacked the Marconi's time lab, disrupting their equipment and sending us to the time of Napoleon's wars. After slaying the French Emperor we were able to jury rig a reality displacer using seventeen hamsters, a Spanish Galleon, and fourteen tons of peat moss, but the 19th century equipment was not as precise as our modern instruments and we only just recently emerged from the timestream.

Also I hate you and don't care what you think. Let's get started!

Our first email comes from Daniel Kilroy, of Rochester, Qatar. Daniel writes:

Dear Dr. Thunder,

I read somewhere recently that Canadian scientists cured Cancer! but the pharmaceutical companies refused to mass produce it. Why are corporations such dicks?

Well Steven, first of all, if there was a cure for cancer, it certainly wouldnt come from that frozen half-french hellscape to the north. Second of all, corporations are dicks, but pharmaceutical companies are dicks that make drugs, sweet, sweet drugs, which kind of keep us all alive. Hell, I'd be dead right now if it weren't for the potent cocktail of Prozac, Excedrin, Vagisil, Ritalin and Jaegermeister I consume once every three hours. More likely these crafty Canadian devils were just trying to play on people's natural instincts to despise corporations as greedy, faceless monsters in order to get themselves attention and, therefore, sweet-ass government grants.

Next email!

Dear Dr. Thunder

You look an awful lot like my friend Michael Armor. Are you related to him?

Well Steven, I looked up this "Michael Armor" person and frankly I am insulted that you would compare me to that freakishly tall Mexican with long, ape-like arms. I am told he fancies himslef a "writer" but, like most members of the Mexican race, is some sort of theme park janitor. How would he even write with those Orangutan arms? He would need some sort of special keyboard, I think. Next Email!

Dear Dr. Thunder,

When will the meek inherit the earth?

Who told you the meek would inheirt the earth? Sounds like someone trying to make you feel better after someone larger than you stole your woman and farted in your mouth without actually having to do something about it. I sort of get the thinking, that assholes are constantly murderign each other, so eventualyl the only people left will be "the meek" but the thing is, meek people rarely get laid, whereas assholes get all sorts of pussy. I should know! I am literally rolling in vagina! I'm having sex as I write these very words! Sure, it's difficult and whats-her-face isnt too happy about it, but who gives a shit what she thinks? Who am I, the meek? NO! FUCK THE MEEK.

Anyway, my point is that due evolution favoring strong-willed males, there will always be assholes, so the meek will inherit absolutely nothing never.

Well all this talk about the meek inheriting my sweet, sweet earth from me has gotten me all riled up so I am going to write some death threats to Dirk Nowitzki. If you have a question fro Dr.Thunder, send it to Xtremedoctor@gmail .com so me and my staff can laugh at you before inventing our own questions to answer. Til next time, bitches!