Ray's Place: How To Turn a Son Into a Man; Revolutionizing Wedding DJ Tech; Modern Solution For Unrequited Love (Patreon)

I got a fun fact to start today’s column! During my research, I learned that Luther Vandross’s middle name was Ronzoni. Damn, I know which brand of dried pasta I’m feedin’ my lady next time the bedroom ain’t the only thing that boils over! Hooray for an astonishing universe! 

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Ray, my son has a penchant for risky behavior and injures himself just about every chance he gets. Can you drop some nuggets of wisdom from a knucklehead-from-back-in-the-day to a knucklehead-of-today? — Lohohonez

My Dear Lohohonez, 

Heh! I thought you said “whisky behavior,” but that ain’t exclusive of risky behavior, so I guess it’s all “of a piece,” as Connie would say. 

Anyhow, it is the accepted wisdom of the ages and Waylon Jennings that there ain’t no fix for a man, but you can mold him to certain activities, like a horse. In the case of a horse, you walk them around in a circle for several years until you sell them to the next person who will walk them around in a circle for several years, and are out about $10,000-$30,000 for the pleasure. In the case of a son, you make him work at Oil Can Henry’s because he’s turning into an asshole, but soon he’s going to coworker house parties where they snort citric acid. All you can do is hope he pulls through to the other side.        

The upshot of the Oil Can Henry’s job is that they get a neat little bow tie, and that helps build dignity. I’d even go Oil Can Henry’s one better and suggest all young men wear a shock collar for a year, and every time it hears a sound and the wearer doesn’t respond with “Yes, ma’am,” they get a little zap. I bet that could even be built into the bow tie. 

What I am saying is, make your son wear a punishment-style bow tie. Hope this helps. 

-=-=Ray=Ray=Ray=Raaaaaaay-=-

(like that Beethoven Symphony 5 sound)

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I'm considering a career change from laboratory scientist to wedding DJ, even though I don't really like people that much and I think wedding songs are hella played out. Any advice? Potential pitfalls to look out for? —Andy N.

Dearest Andy,

You are precisely what the wedding DJ industry needs, my friend! Creative Destruction from the inside, straight-up J. Alois Schumpeterin’* that hag of a biz-nisn’t! Between a high school kid in a top hat droppin’ “Old Time Rock & Roll” twice in one night, and a dance floor fulla’ people who still buy greeting cards lickin’ their lips and cashin’ in hips, it’s time to bust a move! A movin’ van to evict the old way, that is! 

You say you’re a scientist. I’m thinkin’ do a thing with pheromones. New angle. Deliver them in a foam pit context, plus play that one 350-hertz gamma wave that is proven to get an aunt rutty. You can find it on Dark YouTube. (Just be sure to broadcast that tone under a loop of Luther Vandross’ 1981 classic Never Too Much.) 

I’m Doin’ Jazz Paws For This One, People!

—The Old Rat-Matazz—

*(I was on the Wikipedia page about blenders today and came across the name of this old economist) 

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So I made the choice/mistake of getting mad flirty with a coworker. Things were reciprocated, nothing was icky. After a couple of months of hot texty action (but never anything physical beyond a couple of hugs), she said her anxiety was fucking with her bad and when I offered to step back to reduce her stressors, she accepted that offer and we decided to stay friends. It's now a month later and we're still cool (as a unit). Me as an individual, though, I'm not cool. I'm feeling somewhere between blueballed and sick with anticipation for simmering that will never happen. Plus I have to see her most days I work. What do you suggest, Ray? I am no playa, my game is quite weak--she's pretty much the first person who's flirted with me like that without a court order--so how do I get over someone I was never really under? (26 years sober, never any substances.) — John R.

Dear John, 

Whoah, an actual kinda complicated question! At first I was just gonna sic the boys at r/romance on this and do the usual copy-paste, but then I thought, Ray, sometimes you got to sing for your supper. Ain’t nobody seen me solve a real banger like this in a while, so hold my beer, Ann Landers. 

Since your situation with this lady ain’t goin’ anywhere, it’s time to fire up the apps (computer programs on the phone, not comforting, bacon-wrapped shrimp). One universally true thing about a man whose heart is all a-scramble in thwarted lust — or any man in any state of thwart, really — is that as soon as the slightest tingle of interest in or from a new lady shows itself, the one that ain’t payin’ off disappears faster than Aerosmith in cancel times. 

If you want to be less obvious about it, try Craigslist. No, not for escorts. Just try to buy stuff you find interesting, and if the person selling it turns out to be a lady you could love, you’ll already have something to get the conversation started. Like, if you’re buying an old model wooden ship, you could be like, “Did your grandpa die?” Something like that. Needs work. But you get it. 

— . ; ‘ ; . — Raynado the Summer Tomato Spider — . ; ‘ ; . — 

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Confidential to PaulBarker58: Yes, I have heard of Archimedes’ Principle, but there’s no need to take that tone with me even if I hadn’t. I will still maintain that floating (sure, you can call it “buoyancy” if that helps you feel important) can only happen if an object has sides. A rock can’t float, because it has no sides, but a ship made out of concrete (basically, rocks) can float. I hope you’re not this way with your engineering students, and were just at the computer letting off steam with some suds. 

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