---back to Elftown Comedians
This page owes a fair amount of debt to [Hedda
]'s Whoa! You Want My Advice??
]'s ask the smut god!
, Dr. Phil, Oprah Winfrey and a partridge in a pear tree. And hell with it, bob's diner
Grawwwawwwwwwwr! Hello there, everyone! I am Pauly the Anthro-Dragon! I am essentially the cartoonish alter-ego of [Paul Doyle] and share almost all of his core traits. For example, I find his real-life wife kinda hot, because she of course is the "real-life" counterpart of my mate, Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness. Also, I take pride in being myself! But we differ in some ways, too, physical differences aside. If we were to switch minds, I'd find [Paul Doyle] a bit too tense and humorless at times since he's perpetually on that hamster wheel called "trying to make it in the real world", and too easily tired. Not to mention that without his glasses he can't see for shit. And to always have to be clothed when in public, and not being able to enjoy the pure enjoyment and healthy exercise of flying? By the Primal Egg! Graawrrr . . . on the other hand, he'd find me a quicker learner than he could ever be, but way too easily confuzzled and hung-up by little things. He'd also find me completely unable to handle the kind of situations he faces at work and elsewhere, and something of a buffoonish coward. But the heightened physical senses, the skyrocketing libido, the athletic tone and sheer dragonish power kick his unscaly ass! unfortunately they'd be of no use in a world where I'd be feared and misunderstood simply by being me.
I am actually a prototype "sport" for a grotesque, genetically flawed species that will be in the last two novels of my creator's forthcoming novel sequence. I will not be in them, because George Lucas proved with the JarJar Binks character that it's unwise to derail a "serious" toned series with forced comic relief. Basically, the genetically engineered anthrodragons will be a lot uglier looking and way less goofy than I am!
With my unqualified experience, as I have revealed, I will now take it upon myself to answer any questions/advice you may have for me! Grawwr, I might as well provide samples, including my answers and what my Silly Maker would say. So here's two, just to get things started! Grawwr-Grooof!
SAMPLE QUESTION #1, asked by someone named Brad: "Is my big plastic cup of beer half-empty, or is it half-full?"
[Paul Doyle] (again, he will not answer any of your questions "as himself" unless specifically asked):
Well, I think that depends a lot on what mood you're in, but over the long term
it depends if you're an optimist or a pessimist.
Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: "Now THAT is a good question---and let me take a closer look for ya! Hmmm . . . grawwr?"
*tilts head like a confused pug dog*
*squints brow and peers deeply into the big plastic cup*
"Half-full . . . or is half empty? By the DNA of the Big Dragon That Swirled About the Test Tube! This is so simple . . . yet so profound!"
*peers ever more intensely*
*scratches hair on chin, and lifts a brow*
*tilts head this way and that*
"Maybe I ought to look at it from another angle."
*lifts cup in the air above his head, then tilts the rim to see inside the cup*
*promptly gets splashed by the rest of the beer*
"Grrawwwrrr! Why the hell did I do that for? Oh well. To answer your question, Brad: it is a moot point whether the cup is half full or half empty. The cup is now empty, any way you look at it!"
*shrugs wings, then tosses cup over shoulder and out of view, then breathes fire to vaporize the spilled beer*
SAMPLE QUESTION #2, asked by Wolfy Jack the Duck-Tiger: "I'm a really big Furry Fan---just look at my name, heehee, I'm trying to legally change it to that---and I'm the reigning Chewbacca Voice Impression champion among all my buddies on FurAffinity and Second Life. Now I'm against hunting animals beause animals are our friends and our therian spiritual mentors . . . but I'd really REALLY like to do a wild male turkey's mating call 'cause it turns me on and it will turn on all my cyber-buddies on AIM and MSN. The only problem is I don't live anywhere near Massachusetts where there's lots of wild turkeys, so I don't hear their gobbling mating calls on a daily basis. Please tell me a good way to learn? And oh, Pauly-Dragon, if you were real I'd so stroke your golden scaled thighs and yiff you like a madman. Thanks, sweetie!"
[Paul Doyle] (again, he will not answer any of your questions "as himself" unless specifically asked):
Well SHIT. man! Get a fucking life already! You people disgrace the fandom.
That's it, I am outta here . . .
Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: "Before I fell in love and married my mate, who was also a "sport". from the same experiment, I was notoriously promiscuous, rather taking after my full-sized dragon ancestors who exhibit similar behavior while mature yet barren, before they become fertile and then bond for life to a single partner. Now Wolfy Jack, I sense you're getting a stiffie as I am commenting on this stuff. But . . . NO. Find yourself a room already, and whack the night away. But before I shoo you away, I will leave you with a Youtube clip that shows a method of learning that wild turkey mating call you are so fond of. You ought to specifically look into this, because at the end he does sound like a horny wild turkey----not that I really know what a horny wild turkey sounds like."
*blushes and shrugs shoulders*
And the rest of you, DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME! Grawwr, by the Primal Egg do not do this! Hopefully, the rest of you would sooner have a shot of Wild Turkey with your wild turkey dinner. I trust the rest of you don't touch Wolfy Jack's desires with a ten-foot pole. Grooof!"
Now go ahead and ask your questions! Add little picture icons of your own if you'd like, and keep them to "img50:" if you would. The guy writing this reserves the right to delete or ignore certain questions, to alter the wiki itself (making sub-wikis or enhancing graphics, for example) and asking him questions is strongly discouraged. after all, this wiki is called Ask Pauly the Anthro-Dragon!. You are welcome to add suitable graphics, as long as they are in accordance with Elftown's rules."
(1.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: What's the difference between a hard boiled and soft boiled phoenix egg?- [Thunder Cid]
"Well, Thunder Cid, that's simple! You paint the hard boiled egg and give it to the Easter Bunny, who skips around like a dunderhead and tosses it to kids who then refuse to eat it once they realize there is no chocolate underneath the shell----hey, wait a minute! Grawwr! By the Primal Planarian! Phoenixes don't reproduce! They die by self-incinerating, and then a new phoenix literally rises from the ashes. In Middle Eastern cultures, anyway . . . and then there are the Chinese who have as many phoenixes as they have dragons. Why, in Pai Gow Dominoes there's a Player-Banker option called Long Tau Fong May which means, "Dragon Head Phoenix Tail". But you know what, Thunder Cid? That's probably a goose egg you found, not a phoenix egg."
(2.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: What's the difference between a hard boiled and soft boiled unicorn egg? - Dr. [Morgoth Bauglir], PhD
Well, Mort! I hate to burst your bubble. Pegasi may lay eggs, but unicorns certainly don't. That "egg" you found was expelled from its wazoo! And it doesn't matter if this was a boy unicorn or a girl unicorn. I blame it on the food at Bob's Diner. And since the unicorn poo is as cursed (by the food) as it is enchanted (it's magical shit, really!) I recommend you quarantine it or safeguard it in some kind of incredible containment field. If the North Koreans get their grubby hands on it, they will literally have a shitload of power at their disposal! And whatever you do, keep it away from me. Grooof!"
(3.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: If one is the loneliest number... what is zero? - [Hendercrazy]
Grawwr, what a good question there, [Hendercrazy]! if one is the loneliest number, then surely zero must be the absence of a number, though through no fault of its own. Ignorance is bliss, if zeroes could be capable of experiencing such a sensation. Maybe they do the Limbo when we aren't looking, since after all zero is a numerical limbo. Or, better yet, it's a type of nirvana, where there is no fear or social burden to be pressured to produce the highest value number possible, or the most important number. So, then: Zero is as important as it is ignorant. Zero happens because zero happens since it's a victim of mathematical circumstance, don't you know!" *nods head bobbingly* "And, well, since we're on the subject of Nirvana, do you think Courtney Love pulled the trigger on Kurt Cobain? After all, it takes a real Zero to end Nirvana." *smiles and giggles in a dragonish fashion*
(4.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: Hi. Me again. Say hypothetically an unstoppable object collided with an immovable force. What would the outcome of this meeting be? Use dirty language where necessary. - Sir [Morgoth Bauglir] IV
*tilts head a bit, narrows eyes and flares nostrils*
"You know what? I'm not going to get Stephen Hawking on the phone for this one. Even I can figure this one out. Grawwr, isn't that kind of pathetic? Anyway, here's what happened: The North Koreans failed, yet again. That magical uni-poo eluded their clutches and whizzed off end-over-end into space. Then it whisked across an Einstein-Rosen bridge until the wormhole pinched off and formed two singularities. Then the magical uni-poo reached critical mass and ripped a hole inside the already-shredded fabrics of time and space. In a nutshell, shit hit the fan on a galactic scale. All because of Bob's Diner. How elementary, my dear Watson!"
(5.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: I say you're the kind of Dragon who would question my credibility, forcing me to kill these hostages here. Am I right? - Lord [Morgoth Bauglir], Esq.
Patience, padawaan grasshopper! Did you hatch face-first from your birthing shell? Who gave you head of the line privileges when I don't have a deli ticket system available?" Let the others ask their questions, then I will get back to you. *wet dragon raspberry*
Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: Hostages are dead. Are you happy now?!
*tilts head and scratches snout, very confuzzled*
"Hostages? I don't see any hostages. What's in your drinking water, or is it simply dirty bong water? (That might explain a few things, hurrhurrgrawwrhurrhurr.) Grawwwr!! If you want hostages, first bribe random people to form a crowd. Then bring the crowd here, so you can hold it back? In that way you can recoup your losses, and then make a small fortune by releasing them on ransom while conveniently using some obscure legal loophole dating to 1794 that nobody bothered to fix in the two-plus centuries since then?"
*scratches an itch on his tail, then sighs, shaking his horned head*
"Speaking of which . . . this page is gathering dust faster than that 'Land of the lost' movie that even I had the good sense not to see. Questions and ideas, people! Let's get going, already! 'Tonight we dine in hell!' or something. Oh, wait a minute, scratch that and '86' it. Michael Jackson is in hell, and I sure don't want to dine with him. Groooff!"
(6.)[The Red Baron]: "And those growl sounds, you seem more like a Wookiee than a dragon."
*tilts head and looks confuzzled*
"So everything revolves around Star Wars, then? By the Roundness of my Tushie Cheeks, I'm frankly not sure what to make of that, seeing that most people in 2009 don't care about Star Wars anywhere near as much as they did in 1977, or even 2005 for that matter! Granted, I'm even taller than David Prowse and Peter Mayhew so I could easily wear a Chewbacca suit, were it not for my tail, my wings and my horns. I'm the size of NBA players Yao Ming and the retired Manute Bol, but unlike those guys I have a hell of a lot more muscle on my frame than they ever did. Also, putting a fire-breathing creature into an extremely flammable suit is a no-no. But that kind of goes without saying, I think. Another score for CGI!!"
*unsheathes finger claws, and clacks them on a table top*
"Now do keep in mind I am a fictional character, and generally meant to be more 'original' from a personality standpoint, than I am appearance-wise. If you want to find the source for the little sounds I make, which are as natural to me as 'huh?' or 'eh?' or 'erm?' are to humans---depending on your culture, of course---then I highly recommend you read stuff by Piers Anthony, just to break out of the Star Wars rut every now and then. Otherwise, if you want to hear my Chewbacca impression it's going to sound distinctly dragonish and not really Wookiee-ish. Why? Because I have human blood and dragon blood in me, meshed together unnaturally by a vector found in Yourubi blood. No Wookiee blood in me! And since I am a genetically engineered "sport", among the finest of my kind, you will know that I am good to my word, and my word is oh so very true."
*sheathes finger-claws and sits back with a smug grin on his face, and drinks some iced green tea*
*suddenly P-the-AD gets that "Harrison Ford Haunted Look" in his eyes, and he leans forward again, gesturing toward [The Red Baron]*
"Grawarrrrrr! Then logically, because you're the master of Chewbacca sounds---at least here on Elftown, anyhow---YOU ARE PARTIALLY WOOKIEE!!! This is too much----be back in an hour or so. I need to take a cold shower, just to calm down and let this all sink in properly. Wait till the Yourubi scientists hear about this!!!!!!"
*runs out of view, in his speedy but waddling and silly fashion*
(7.) [next person----assume Pauly the Anthro-Dragon is back from his cold shower, and the whole idea of Red Baron being a Wookiee in disguise has been completely erased from his memory]
(8.) [hanhepi] - why is it that on the night i decide on going out, my hubby comes home with our buddy's digital camera? how on earth am i going to get decent nudie pictures of me if there won't be time for pictures after i'm looking good enough to leave the house?
"Don't worry, Jes! My mate and I had a little talk, and decided to be charitable, since there's times when you can't give Randy a randy Johnson. Extenuating circumstances can be a bitch and a half. So just to hold things over we loaded a few memory cards for your digicam. There's lots of nudie pics of Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness, and there's even a few of me, even more naked than usual! *Gerrawrrchucklerufflesnort* But when the timing's better, lock the damn doors for the night, disconnect the phone and disable the doorbell. Send the kids to the in-laws bearing gifts of canned fruitcakes from 1992, or whatever. Then make Randy take nudie pictures of you . . . OR ELSE! 'Or else what?' you may ask. Or else, he gets more truly-nudie pics of Pauly the Anthro-Dragon! By the Primal Egg, motivation can be a bitch and three-quarters! *snicker-snort*"
(9.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: Why is the Wyvern classified as an African dragon? [Hendercrazy]
"Well, then!Vern is a very silly name for a dragon, even sillier than mine. Why, you mayy ask? Rumor has it that many people think my name is extremely silly since it is ridiculously mundane. In my defense, it's because if you give a cartoon character a really ornate, fancy name the mundane, straitlaced middle-of-the-road people aren't going to remember it. They will remember Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse, or Puff the Magic Dragon, even, but there's no way in the world they're going to remember Zarathusa the Zealous Zebra from Zanzibar. Speaking of which, do you stutter like Porky Pig? You only to need to ask if Vern is from Africa. Maybe you could simply ask Vern himself---'Why, Vern?' Who is Vern, anyway? Isn't there a farm town in Arkansas called Africa? After all, it seems like everyone who is named Vern is from the hills or the Ozarks . . . but wait, wouldn't it be strange to see a dragon wearing overalls with nothing underneath? Or in clothes, period?"
*Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness leans into view, whispering something into Pauly the Anthro-Dragon's ear, then giving him a wet kiss and a noogie, and then finally leaning back out of view*
"Grawwr! [Hendercrazy], you weren't asking Vern 'Why?' at All! Wyvern, as in the two-legged dragon that's somehow lesser than a full-sized dragon, which actually has SIX limbs, if you think about it. Don't forget the wings! I'm not sure why a wyvern would be considered African, since many legends are French. But wait---the last time I was in France, my wife, son and I were mobbed by salesmen selling trinkets. These people were all French-speaking people from former French colonies like Senegal and Algeria. So, using that logic . . . if French wyvern legends were actually based in former African colonies, then that legitimizes your question, [Hendercrazy]. But wait---African countries like Egypt and Nigeria and Kenya never belonged to the French . . . and if a Wyvern could fly out of former French colonial territory into something unprecedented, then . . . grawwwr?"
*tilts head and stares into spaze, speechless and thoroughly confused, to the point of being confuzzled*
(10.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: Why do you suppose I chose to ask this question on number 10, rather than number 9? - [Morgoth Bauglir] zi Brittania
*clears throat by somewhat painfully burning excess mucus with his own fire*
"Consider these song lyrics by Meat Loaf . . ."
*sings like Meat Loaf*
"'The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
All they are is dust in the wind!'"
*blinks nervously and coughs*
"Grawwwr . . . wait a minute, wasn't the first line sung by a geezer with a Jewfro whose lyrics were amazing but his singing sounded like a car engine being revved up on a really cold morning? And if memory serves me right, wasn't the second line by someone named Montana? Not Hannah Montana, but maybe it was Joe Montana?"
*tilts head and squints eyes, gazing at something peculiar off-screen*, then smiles and looks toward the viewer*
"But one thing I AM definitely sure about, is that your answer may be found simply by listening to The Beatles by the Beatles, better known as 'The White Album'. Once you get past all the randomness and Yoko Ono in the background yowling like a cat in heat, you will eventually stumble across the song 'Revolution #9' which is NOT to be confused with "Revolution #1" which is sung by John Lennon and is always on classic rock radio stations. Just keep listening to 'Revolution #9' over and over again, until the truth finally sinks in. Do not try to modify or enhance the listening experience. If you play the song backwards or do something really silly like getting drunk or stoned in an effort to get 'real deep, mannnnnn' your brain may well implode. I say this as a legal disclaimer. By the Test Tube that Fused My Blended Genetic Code, I have to cover my scaly golden ass! Grawwr!"
*stands up, then turns around so his rear faces the viewr.*
*slaps his butt, lifts his tail and moons the viewer*
Grawwr! Hello. Yes, it's the summertime so there's a REASON why Elftown currently resembles an empty furnished community cavern. (Yep, I'm a father . . . though I was genetically engineered to be sterile, hurr-hurrgroof! I sure got the last laugh on that arrangement.) Yet I can't help but notice how dead things have been, of late, and let's face it . . . this page is no exception! So in a half-assed manuever, I will now turn the tables and ask YOU GUYS a question. Please answer? February TV ratings sweeps meet the sweep of my dragony tail! Anyone, here's my question. I will keep it short and sweet, and let anyone and everyone answer . . . *clears throat*
"Why is there a recipe for chicken-fried steak, and why is there no recipe for steak-fried chicken?"
[hanhepi] says: there is, but they call it "grilled chicken".
Grawwr, isn't this illogical? So you put chicken on the grill, then toss the grill in the deep fryer? And does the chicken have to fry in the steak, too? Would butterflying the steak to secure the chicken be needed, too?
[hanhepi]: that is the exact method you use for making steak fried chicken, yes. now do you understand why it is such an uncommon dish?
From a certain point of view, yes! Can I hold the chicken inside the steak by using that ramen glue that gets boiled away when you cook the instant noodles? By the Primal egg, I'm all out of duct tape! And does the grill---I'm thinking the George Foreman Grill---lend a special flavor as it arcs and short-circuits in the deep-fry oil? Somehow, I'm not sure if Julia Child would approve of that, were she still alive. As a matter of fact, I think she might be rolling in her grave, at the mere mention of that. Grawwwr-groof!
[Morgoth Bauglir] shouts: I have a gun! Everyone slowly hand me your valuables and nobody try to be a hero! For every minute I have to wait, I'm going to kill one of you! NOW QUICKLY GIVE ME YOUR CASH! AND DO IT SLOWLY, OR SO HELP ME...!!
(12.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: Why do you think nobody is asking questions anymore? Is it because they're stupid and ugly and have a stupid ugly face? Feel free to answer cryptically. - Dr. [Morgoth Bauglir], MD, PhD, JD, DFA, STD
Mortie, I think it's because their asses are currently very unavailable. They had some of that food at bob's diner so they're sending the better part of a century perched on the Poopmobile cranking those cables. And since the lack of wiki interest bored me way beyond the Final Evolution I stole their TP! By now they have the toilet seats pressing lasting marks into the skins of their strained tushies! And hemorrhoids, too! By the Primal Shell, nobody light a match 'cause the explosion will auto-generate flash first-degree burns for everyone in a half-mile radius! But grawwr! If their asses are sealed, their gums could still be flapping! why . . . why can they be producing an unspeakable flatuent horror but they can be speaking even more evil? the evil that does not properly explain why they can be quarantined to their shitters since I stole the toilet paper 'cause I'm running low on my own supplies?
*tilts head* *ish confuzzled*
Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: Why are you trying to one-up me on picture size? Don't go there, son, because I'll put one-up so far in you, you'll be coughing up shoe. *snap snap*
Master Yoda said, "Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm." Though I respect his Jedi skills, I beg to differ with Master Yoda regarding "size". After all, ultimately Yoda is a puppet voiced by Muppets guy Frank Oz. And before you go saying, "Well, you're just an overmuscled gleeful goofball who's merely the product of one real-life human's imagination!" consider THIS. (Excluding the effect of the Force.)
---You're a penguin? So what are you, like two feet tall? Me? I'm seven foot six which does not include my horns, my wingspan or my tail. My FEET are probably longer than you are tall! And you know what they say about guys with big feet (and big noses)! And remember I have quite a protruding snout. Yes, I know penguins also have big feet and big beaks . . . for their sizes, anyhow. Does a male penguin even have a schlong to begin with? Mine's hidden from view until it's ready and then you can't miss it. I take it you don't want visual proof, but let's just say proportionately I'm better hung than my creator, even if I didn't have huge feet and a big schnozz. I'll leave the rest of it to your imagination, then. Grawwr, do I ever know how to please and be pleased! I will always one-up you in size, Penguin, simply because you're a little fat birdie and I am an anthro-dragon, dammit!
*wanders off and gets laid off-camera*
(13.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: Given that the ontological necessity of existence must be defined as essential to Being itself, how can such grounding of the epistemological function be articulated without assuming an a priori unwarranted existential premise? - [Túrin Turambar] (ex-Lowe's employee and future vagrant)
Grawwr! By the Scales of My Shapely Glutes, Turkey, don't you know even this question is beyond my considerable capabilities??? There is only one person who can give you a definitive answer to your question, and she is not active on Elftown. Her name is Sarah Palin. I beg you, nay I BESEECH you, to climb up that rocky treacherous tea-slickened mountain and ask that ex-MILF ex-governor ex-vice presidential candidate your question! Surely she will know, just as sure as she knows Paul Revere warned the British by ringing those bells!!
*roars triumphantly and breathes some fire skyward*
(14.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: since no one has addressed this problem yet, I wish to enquire how much wood could a wood chuck chuck if the wood chuck could chuck wood at the highest possible level of wood chucking ability held by a wood chuck. In short, what is the pinnacle amount of wood chucking ability by the humble wood chuck? - [Evolution X]
Groof! By the Primal Shell, [Evolution X], have I got a win-win situation for you! Screw that corporate beancounting bullshit, already. Wankers!
*breathes fire and burns all the available wood, which naturally leads to a gigantic Elftown cookout since that wood lends a distinctive flavor to grilled yummies*
Okay then, you're now probably wondering what to do about the woodchucks? since they're marginally cute enough to avoid eating, let them grow their constantly-growing incisors even though they really have nothing to gnaw on. Before it becomes cruel to let them suffer from overgrown incisors, I say we turn them on all of those brainless, whiny emo trolls who've been plaguing Elftown of late, with delusions they know how to run this site better than the current, exemplary Council does! let the hunt begin!!! (And then let's give the woodchucks lots of wood to gnaw and used, until the new groves regenerate at ludicrous speed! By the Primal Shell, Elftowners and woodchucks will be happier in the end! *nods and smiles toothily*
(15.)(i dont have an img to put in)You do now! dear pauly the anthro-dragon: i bought a scarf called a shemagh, its an arbian headwear item, but its also trendy in new york, is it normal to war it then want to blow things up? truly [American Revolutionary]
Well then, Fang! Wait . . . Fang? How does a raven have a fang? What would Edgar Allan Poe say about this? Nevermore . . . grawwrr? A raven with a fang from Russia that's actually supposed to be in Baltimore in the 1840s . . . even though the October Revolution happened in 1917? By the Egg That Hatched Me Even Though I'm a Mammal, these Bolshevik plots get ever more insidious . . . I wonder if Lenin still has a tiny bit of life, laying there in state at that mausoleum in Moscow?
*flares nostrils and squints, playing with chin beard hair*
All righty then! Onto your question! Well, let me just say the 99.999999% of all Arabs and Muslims living in New York who are completely innocent folks, have their prescribed traditions regarding what is veiled or garbed, and which is not. I'd be a terrible conservative Muslim woman because I can't stand wearing clothes even though my naughty bits stay out of view by themselves! And oh yeah . . . I'm not a female. Anyway, it's hot and humid enough in New York to make sweat build up where my hips and butt meet my tail! Let's just hope evildoers who maliciously wear keffiyeh or shemagh are denied all cold water, so the only think exploding is their own bodies through spontaneous combustion!! Grawwwr-groof! Take THAT you terrorist pieces of shit, and quit giving the rest of your people's faith and culture such horrible negative stereotypes! I couldn't really care less about politics and religion, but everyone out there needs to see through their superficial differences and come together as one, respecting each others' perspectives for the betterment of all! Hummies and woofies need not apply!
(16.) pauly, i am dreadfully outspoken in most of my relationships and most of the girls stab me in the back, what do i do? truly [American Revolutionary]
Grawwr!!! By the Primal Shell, 'Fang---the Raven' is no more! Did you shoot him, 'Scout Sniper? (not ET-name bracketed because your name might change again before too much longer) Did you literally 'eat crow'? Somewhere, an Elftown emo is crying . . . or something. But Fang is dead. Fang is dead!!!! Why---I'm flabbergasted! I'll have to take a raincheck on this one, because a powerful storm's rolling in and I might lose power here. But I'll still answer your actual question later on. By the Eggshells of the Easter Bunny, I Shall!!!!
Several power outages, six close lightning bolts, countless pebble size hailstones and eight hours of real-life work later . . .
Fang the Confederate-Bolshevik Sniper-Scout Raven (or whatever your next ET username might be . . .) you're asking a dragon-person how to charm and win over your love interest? By the Primal Shell, be careful what you ask for! Here now is my silly creator with a few words, just for contrast's sake . . .
(Okay, PaulyDragon, if I tell this guy what I think, will you promise to get your clawed hand off of my thigh and butt? You do? How can I be sure you'll fulfill your promise to get your hands off of me, and why do I sense KathyDragoness has you in the doghouse over something, and is temporarily not interested in making love to you? All right, whatever.)*clears throat* Anyway, Fang---do your girlfriend a favor and lose the Confederate flag, unless of course she has similar opinions. It's rather polarizing. Also, find out about HER. What makes her happy? what makes her tick? What turns her on and turns her off? Do you see her with you, five or ten years down the road? Is she greedy and vain and jealous (three huge red flags)And so on. Well, I think my allotted 30 seconds is up! Hope things work out . . .
Well then! All righty! Maybe you ought to charm her pants off, both figuratively and literally! I find that if I impersonate Frank Zappa and sing "Dirty Love" which has a great line about 'Dragon Lotion', while shaking my butt and dancing for her, Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness (my wife and mate) often gets hot and bothered. And no, I'm not in my mate's doghouse. By the Primal Shell, don't smite me by having a crush on my creator! Anyway, charm her pants off or get into her pants, test the bedsprings, and then later try to get to know each other! Dragon Lotion, baby! Grawwrarrr-groof! "Give meeeee, your dirty love . . . http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=dirty+love+frank+zappa+live&aq=1&oq=dirty+love+fran
(17.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon,
How would I go about creating a half-man, half-monkey-type creature?
[Viking], is it true Vikings set sail from Minnesota to some pub in England, singing for Spam? And by the Egg of Eggs, what happened to Daunte Culpepper? Anyway, I highly recommend avoiding the Island of Dr. Thoreau, an island called Walden where neckbeards and Mafia bosses seem to be demand! Grawwr, thank you Cliff Notes and Marlon Brando!
Half man, half monkey, half neckbeard . . . Henry David Thoreau!
And by the way, [Viking] . . . I think someone tried making a half-man/half-monkey before, with a diseased green monkey. He got AIDS. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marburg_virus http://www.virusmyth.com/aids/news/namonkey.htm
Now, if you stir up some serious genetic chemistry in the clunky laboratory, you can genetically engineer this shit! Grawwrr, look at me! I'm quite an achievement, though I one-upped my genetic designers by not only leaving them in the dust of my past, but also by reproducing the old fashioned way with another ex-laboratory creation, my mate Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness!
(18.) Dear Pauly: What came first...the chicken or the egg? [Midnight Butterfly]
Grawwr! Hello thar, [Midnight Butterfly]! Let's forget, for a moment, the significance of the almighty chicken boullion cube. And let's also forget the usual down-and-dirty implications of which---egg or chicken---got off first. So, then . . . *clacks pointy claws* I don't think this is a very easy question to answer, if we remove all the usual innuendo and double entendres. Are the chicken and egg organic? Or they pasteurized or homogenized? Are they free-running or are they all cooped up with their wattles and combs cut off?
Wait . . . how can an egg have wattles or combs, even if it was organic or pasteurized or---homogenized? Grawwr?
*tilts head slightly and looks off into space*
Are you there, God? It's me, PaulyDragon. By the Code of my Genes, help me on this one!
*squints and bows head but doesn't get an answer from God*
*squints even more and bows head like a holy-roller televangelist . . . and startles himself when he inadvertently farts*
Was that a divine prodding? anyway, I better answer now! Neither the chicken nor the egg came first. There is now almost irrefutable evidence modern birds are directly descended from dinosaurs. Therefore . . . the amphibian ancestors of the dinosaurs in the Permian period, like Eryops and Diplocaulus came first! By the Primal shell, they did! Grawwwrrr!"
(19.) Dear Pauly: Why should I Support the Guards when I already Support Our Council? [Lord Josmar]
Grawwr, milord! Groof! See, support is a precious commodity. Without support, boobs and thingies go jiggling around uncontrollably and are vunerable to damage. If a computer doesn't get support, it falls down by crashing. If you are an AOL user you know the hardships of not having support, or the hardships of AOL, period! If there was universal support, there would be no emos, no starving families in Africa having dozens of children, or big-time money-making talk show hosts. With universal support, would Oprah have a cable public-access show with knockover cardboard sets and a couch screaming 1972 ugly checkerboard fashion? Support! It's a good thing. By the Scraggle of My Chinny-Chin, yessss! a must. *nods*
So [Lord Josmar], wear a jockstrap with an athletic cup, and wear it proudly as you support both the Guards AND the Council. Then beat your chest, point to your nipples and crack open a cold one. You are a man, MAN, and because you wear support and have support, you get support too! Grawwwwr!!!
(20.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: I have somehow completely missed over all this drama to do with the council. While I am glad that I don't get constantly caught up in a ton of drama, I would like an explanation as to what is going on... in a nutshell if you please. Also, do you have any nuts? I like pecans.
Dear [Evolution X], this silly drama would have flown completely under the radar, had it not popped up on heavily-watched pages like Council and guards and the Elftown Suggestions forum. A clawful of pretentious little nebbishes with delusions of sainthood tried to harass the crew into doing their jobs the way the dunderheads wanted to. They even tried to threaten the crew into getting places on the Council, which met with epic failure and general amusement. One was a long-termer who hadn't even been on ET for a few years, and the other one, seemingly, was literally born yesterday. There was also a largely silent minor gaggle of geese. Then there were the usual issues with spelling, grammar, creepy wiki-solicitations for naked pictures from random Elftowners (a start-up for an offsite Z-grade amateur porn site, anyone?) and the usual Elfpackish whining, bitching, eye-rolling, Chris Crockery and simulated wrist-cutting.
It really shouldn't have, but the clamor struck a nerve with a few people, including my creator who's trying to come "full circle" regarding this website, and do a reboot of sorts. Everyone tried ignoring them at first, but they would not go away and even appeared on obscure places like era which has nothing to do with a geological period, a historical period or the Equal Rights Amendment. It has even less to do with a baseball pitcher's earned-run average. Grawwwr, where was I? Oh, that's right . . .
See, though Elftown is an imperfect website, someone show me a website that is perfect? (Sorry, www.furaffinity.net doesn't come close!) Anyway, I think the drama's largely over now. By Elftown standards it was a disastrous defeat for those who started it. By the Primal shell, was it ever! And wow was it entertaining for the rest of us who noticed.
For comparison's sake, let's consider the glam-rock era of rock music (not to be confused with 1980s hair metal) which happened around 1970-1975 which was around the same time my creator's favorite subgenre, progressive rock, was in its heyday. Anyway, glam-rock was flamboyant and bold for its day. But for every one David Bowie you had a ton of lesser talents. Also we can't forget the contributions of T-Rex, early Queen, Mott the Hoople, Gary Glitter (better known now as "Gary Jailbird"), the original Alice Cooper band (before Vincent Furnier took the "Alice Cooper" name for himself), Slade and several others. Bowie, being awesome, kept going in new phases and styles after the whole glam-rock movement went became passe'.
If Elftown drama is like glam-rock, this drama we speak of is like Jobriath. It (like Jobriath) has neither flash nor balls nor talent, is totally overhyped, rapidly falls into obscurity, and nobody really has any sympathy for those behind it.
In a nutshell? ALMONDS! Raw almonds, previously soaked and rinsed several times in cold filtered water until they plump up (germinate, actually) and release a funky gross brownish-red enzyme inhibitor that would otherwise make these raw almonds very hard to properly digest. (Discard the funky stuff . . . if you drink that slightly acidic stuff, your stomach will instantly regret it.) They are very easy on the stomach, and help your body better absorb nutrients from other food you might be eating. They are also rumored to be an aphrodisiac, so you might find you have more drama in your pants, than you find on Elftown.
I hope that answers your question, [Evolution X]! *toothy goofy grin*
(21.) dear pauly, i bought an airsoft gun and suddenly feel the urge to go nuts and pelt people with plastic bbs, is that ok? truly [American Revolutionary] BTW mortified peguin is nuts
Grawwr! Huwwo, Fangy Raven-Sniper Scout! This is a question of ethics, upbringing, sensibility and proximity to stuck-up elitist snobs. It's very wrong, for example, to nail special-needs kids and anyone you deem "culturally different" like this. Similarly, it's probably not wise to pepper police, armed security or military people like this. But by Slickness of My Fireproof Tonsils, there are those who have it coming from a million BILLION miles away!
Let me share an example from my youth, if I may . . . *clears throat*
When I was but a lad, a few decades after being born in the same genetic engineering lab where my wife Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness was also genetically engineered, I was severely slighted by the uptight horseback-riding snob daughter of one of the laboratory's chief scientists. Alas, we had no guiding, motivating "Professor X" type of father figure, so we had to figure out a lot of shit on our own, seeing how there had never been genetically engineered dragon-people before. (Created from a mix of human, dragon and Yourubi genetic material, by the way, since otherwise a fusion of human DNA with the DNA of my creator's dragon subspecies is impossible, according to my creator's creative universe.) Fortunately, most of us purportedly sterile "sports" (anthrodragons who are the physical/intellectual/personality models for the rest of the much less gifted anthrodragons who were created as supersoldiers in a desperate hour in my creator's "Telkar Chronicles" universe) turned out okay.
*suppresses snickersnorting laughter*
Anyway, that scientist's daughter thought I was somehow inferior because I was neither as majestic and overpowering as the dragons of my creator's universe, nor as everyday and acceptable as homo sapiens sapiens. I was some kind of mutated freak, though by comparison to many of the regular anthrodragon soldiers I am quite handsome and refined in appearance. But I was young and unsure of myself, and though I knew of Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness even back then, there was no deep emotional attachment. So it was up to me.
Long story short? Among my toys I had an airsoft gun that someone called a "Sgt. Rock Gun." The name stuck. So one day the snotty uptight daughter came trotting by on her horse, which also seemed to have a major attitude problem toward genetically engineered anthro-dragons. So I took advantage of the situation, knowing my advanced training in multiple armed and unarmed combat styles would pay off, even though I never saw a day in actual combat. So I crouched behind the bushes, got a clear shot with my very soft-bullet BB gun, put the setting on "semi-automatic", and opened fire on that horse's gigantic twin matched moons. I didn't waste a single shot! The horse spooked like crazy, bucked around and finally threw her off. Before she hit the ground I swooped her up in my arms, which even back then were ripped and bulging. I flew her off to safety, since that horse was going nuts.
"My hero!" she said, giving me a long passionate kiss. (She was about 18, and I was roughly the same stage, though anthrodragons live for centuries instead of decades.) She told me she was a virgin, and in light of her cruelty toward me, she was heartbroken and very ashamed of herself and wanted me to end her virginity. So I tenderly held her chin, looked her straight in the eye and told her 'it takes one to know one,' By the Primal Shell, did that generality have the desired effect! She went from meekly submitting and offering herself, to actually being turned-on and thinking I was a virgin, which I most certainly was not! And though that very passionate tryst was very short-lived (she had a boyfriend already) she never ever bothered me again, and became a staunch supporter of anthrodragon issues! Even the horse was friendly to me and my kind, after that incident.
Moral of the story here, Scout sniper? There really is no moral! Use your best judgment with your airsoft gun. In my case, I went from airgun to lovegun! But where I wound up getting extremely tight juicy nookie as a result, you might wind up in real-life jail if you discharge your airsoft gun in an unlawful or inappropriate fashion! By the Primal Shell, do be careful!
(Mort is a Brazil Nut, by the way.)
(22.) Dear pauly, going back to airsoft, if you wear military ranks or patches in airsoft, or hell in general peopl get all pissed off, yet you can buy them in army navy stores for 50 cents, why do people get so PO'd? truly [American Revolutionary]
OK there, Sniper Raven Fang! Being badass merely for the sake of being badass (a watered-down version of machismo) may be a relatively new concept, but it usually pisses off everybody outside of your little circle of friends. Also, the only love interests you'll likely attract are not straight women (who are generally repelled by the whole thing, if you'll notice) but a strain of ragingly gay "manly men", men who are into body-building and weapons and survival training and steroids and AK-47s and penile enhancements, and so forth and so on and on and beyond the Shells of Avalon. So if you're looking to pick up chicks the way a conclave of basement dwellers and dweebs yearn for the near-mythical Gamer Girl ([Calico Tiger] is taken, folks!!), forget about it. If you want to be near chicks in camo, enlist in the military!
Grawwr, where was I? Oh, that's right! Groof!
Unless you are a military veteran (where you get to keep your free uniforms after you are honorably discharged, I think), the next best deal for your airsoft camo gear (or paintball gear, I think?) is going to be at the Army-Navy store. OK, maybe you won't get current digital-painted US Army camo, and you probably don't want to ruin historic Vietnam-era jungle camo (or be an idiot and run around wearing a collectible Prussian/Imperial German pickelhaube 1870-1918 era spiked boiled-leather helmet), but there's something that must be said about Desert Storm era "chocolate chip' uniforms, even if that desert camo is woefully outmoded by today's standards. Don't buy something too nice, or too ratty. Try to go for a good deal, and if it's foreign uniforms from places like Swaziland or Luxembourg there's no aura of specialness (it's not like Swaziland and Luxembourg are going to suddenly become major military powers or anything) and you could get an awesome deal since army uniforms from these countries are not in demand like American, Russian, British or German uniforms.
My point? I will say it, and I will say it again: if you forego wheeling and dealing at an Army-Navy surplus store, and buy your airsoft camo at full price from an airsoft-supported merchandising company, you are a douchebag. Why are you a douchebag? For the same price you spent on all that licensed airsoft camouflage crap (crap that might not be as durable as actual military uniforms, by the way), your buddies bought a ton of slightly used Swedish army camo fatigues, and had money leftover to buy that awesome if totally battered and somewhat rusty Imperial Japanese Army helmet from World War Two, to go along with the usual canteens, ponchos and P-38 can openers. Grawwr, doing this over a lifetime might make you afford a real P38 Walther, or (this is stretching it just a bit, just a smidgen) a USAAF P-38 Lightning prop-fighter from WWII! So don't be a douchebag, all righty?
Only Mr. T can be Mr. T, by the way. He pities the fool, but if you act all big and bad in your ripoff camo pseudomilitary gear, you are the fool that Mr. T is pitying. By the Length of My Golden-Tipped Horns, it is written! Grooofff!!!
(23.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: When kidnapping women, do you prefer girls you consider cute or ones you consider hot? What about smart women? I find they try to escape too often, but at least they can provide decent conversation... when they aren't bound and gagged, of course. - [Mortified Brazil Nut] ♥
Grrawwr? Kidnapping women? What you talkin 'bout, Willis? Kidnapping? Really? Kidnapping is the tool of the desperate and depraved . . . unless of course it is prearranged and all involved are freely willing and consenting. Yet as I've learned over these decades, it just isn't my thing! And yes, I have tried the whole kidnapping thing, but only with my mate.
By the Shells of My Saurian Ancestors, I'm not much into S and M or any kind of kidnapping, but that one time my wife Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness and I bound and gagged each other and hung each other upside down. I really did feel a Special Feeling! Unfortunately that was mostly because of the blood rushing to my brain, and the fact I really had to take a pee. But then we realized we'd accidentally chained and gagged each other, without anybody around to release us. By the Primal Shell, we'd kidnapped each other, and we were both helpless!
Some time later a small full-sized adult dragon came by and promised he'd release us after some requisite "kidnapping" and humiliation of his own. He had a great time at our expense, since my wife and I got reamed by him in the process. Never again! We've decided to never kidnap each other ever again! So now we look to the full-sized dragons for fun inspiration, and do our own version of "mating chases" where the pursuit happens in the sky, on the ground and underwater. Though we don't have anywhere near the physical endurance of full-sized dragons, we have far greater stamina that nearly all humans. So we chase each other around and keep in great shape and have a great time . . . not touching the whips and chains and gags with a ten foot pole, mind you!
Humans may consider Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness a classic "butterface" because she has a fantastic, universally sexy athletic humanoid female body and a very draconic face most humans find decidedly unattractive. I love her to pieces, from the inside out and beyond! She's all mine, and she certainly has a prettier face than mine. If she is going to wear a paper bag over her face with little eyeholes cut out, then by the Primal Shell I'm going to pretend it's some kind of kinky yet harmless fetish, and wear my own paper bag with eyeholes cut out of them! If this not an example of TRUE LOVE, then will someone tell me what is true love?
*blows wet raspberry*
(24.) pauly, i saw what kathy looks like, shes pretty aint she? im terribly jealous, why cant i geta dragon girfriend???
She makes you pitch a tent, doesn't she? *Gerrawrrchucklerufflesnort*
OK then, how do you get a dragon girlfriend? If you're really sick and depraved and actually want to do this in real life, I guess you could attempt to seduce a bearded dragon or a Komodo dragon, but you'll either wind up in jail for bestiality (the former) or rushed to the hospital with life-threatening injuries (the latter) and then sent to jail the moment you recover. If you want a dragon girlfriend online, head to your basement with enough Cheetos, soda, Spam and Wonder Bread to last you a week. Emerge from basement only to use the bathroom. Otherwise, STAY IN THE BASEMENT! Do not shave, bathe, brush your teeth, put on deodorant, change or go outside for the whole week, and sleep in the basement's computer chair. Join the furry fandom and go onto Second Life. Get onto AIM/Y!Messenger/MSN instant messaging chats with insecure gay males who cosplay and fursuit anthrodragonesses with titanic titties and (most likely) a giant throbbing cock too. Masturbate with wild abandon, I guess, and make sure you clean the screen and keyboard when you are done dispensing of the Dragon Lotion? And whatever you do, STAY IN THE BASEMENT, DO NOT CHANGE, BRUSH YOUR TEETH OR GET A SHOWER! Be mindful of your neckbeard, too.
By the Primal Shell, do you really want to do this?
Better idea: Whip out your pencil (that's PENCIL! Zip up your pants!) and start sketching or writing about your own wonderful amazing dragon chick. That's what my silly creator did, though when K-the-AD'ess was first drawn in 2006 he'd been married to the real Katherine Doyle (his wife) since 1997. In short, he didn't need a fantasy dragon babe to be gratified. I was lonely and needed a mate, though truth be told K-the-AD'ess wears the pants around my made-up home . . . that is, if we wore pants! Hurrhurrgrawwrhurrhurr!
If you really do have needs requiring your immediate attention, think of Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness while satisfying your said needs . . . and then once the pent-up feeling is gone, immediately begin trying to get a real-life girlfriend (or significant other). All the monkey-spank pictures in the world don't mean a damn thing if you have a real-life mate. Graawwwr!! *sloppily French-kisses Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness*
(25.) pauly, what lab were you created in? think theyd take requests? *tries not to admit hes drooling at the above picture*
Grawwarr! You again? All-righty then! Whenever you are done making love to a body pillow you've nicknamed "Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness", pretending to do that which happens around my house 2-3 times per 24 hours, read this and reconsider. (There would be even more monogamous debauchery happening if Patrick the Anthro-Dragon, our son, was not around at all . . . but we love him and protect him because he is our natural-born son, and we were supposed to be sterile. Once he's old enough, my wife and I will have a good bang out of his view whenever the bloody hell we want to! *snicker-snort*)
Anyway, this is straight from the old Pauly The Anthro-Dragon RPG profile. . .
Pauly the Anthro-Dragon hails from the universe the author ([Paul Doyle]) is creating for his upcoming five-novel sequence, of which the first novel Telkar Chronicles: Book One is already completed, copyright-registered st the United States Library of Congress in Washington, DC, and now awaits possible publication. See Pauly's Book Stuff for more information.
During the final fourth and fifth novels (which have yet to be written!) the (mostly) heroic, sympathetic, fully sentient dragons are nearly extinct, driven from one exile to another by the ultra-powerful, evil son of Phil Telkar (whom the entire sequence is named after!), who is himself quite powerful, and responsible for the dragons' existence in the first place.
Choked up at the devastating losses (though his own personal circle of friends---dragon and human and Yourubi)---remain mostly intact, a very aged, yet still very sharp Phil Telkar has a temporarily falling-out with Jak'edrac sel'Gury (still a very virile male and father-to-be after many decades previous on Old Earth). Phil Telkar has a confrontation with the surviving elders, and convinces to activate an emergency plan to genetically engineer a race of anthro-dragons, with equivalent subspecies derived from all nine dragon subspecies' genetic codes. The approval doesn't come easily, as the dragons have very strong ethical codes which prohibit any form of fertility drugs or contraception, since the dragons are notoriously infertile with only the "best" males (like Jak'edrac) mating and fathering children, monogamously pair-bound for life to females who are---despite being outnumbered five to one, and physically less impressive---the dominant gender. Dragons are very lusty creatures, but only a small percentage actually procreate, and then for only a relatively short time before the female becomes completely infertile. Such is the price to pay for being at the very top of the food chain, for living extremely long lives, and being exceptionally powerful.
Anyhow, after some relatively hasty debate, pressured by the ongoing onslaught by their enemies, the small, rickety alliance between the surviving dragons, their human supporters and the Yourubi goes ahead with something which would have previously been unthinkable, in the dragons' view. Human and dragon blood is genetically (and most artificially!) fused by teams of Yourubi scientists who have been doing ongoing experiments on their own species for decades.
The result is terrifyingly impressive at first glance, despite the intellectual limitations demanded by the surviving dragon elders. The anthro-dragon troops are definitely the physical superior of human counterparts, and breed efficiently and successfully like humans. They retain many of the dragons' telepathic and psionic powers (as well as their teeth, retractable claws and breath weapon!), but within strict limits, for military superiority. They are infinitely trainable, and very effective in combat. They are somewhat lacking as individuals, and are neither particularly good-humored nor chatterboxes. They are aware of their limitations, and generally find ways to constructively vent their frustrations.
Approximately 2-5% of all these anthrodragons are genetically defective, meaning they will either die young or will exhibit various incurable mental illnesses which make them a danger to themselves ans others. Even with Yourubi know-how, perfect dragon and human DNA splicing is extremely difficult. Most anthro-dragons exhibit some mild forms of odd or strange behavior, but this is tempered because their bioengineered personalities are created that way. As time goes on, and the species naturally reproduces, it is hoped the quirks and such will disappear, giving way to anthrodragons with varied personalities and intellects. For the time being they are a fairly awkward creation created on rather short notice by an extremely desperate coalition trying to fight for what is right.
After a few stunning victories spearheaded by anthro-dragon troops, the coalition has some---but not a lot---of breathing room. The research team is able to speculate on what a viable, naturally flourishing anthro-dragon race might be like. They get the go-ahead to create more advanced anthro-dragons, physically similar to the troops, but far more stable, and infinitely more complex. The catch---the BIG catch---is that these "sports" must be sterile, though of course they could express their sexuality in a more sophisticated way than the mating-to-procreate standard anthrodragons could ever hope to achieve. The dragon elders also wanted nothing to with them, because they were seen as unnecessary abominations of necessary abominations needed to reverse the fortunes of the failing interplanetary war effort.
And so, Pauly the Anthro-Dragon was created...."
"....Pauly the Anthro-Dragon was allowed to begin his life at an accelerated age of thirty years, which for the anthrodragons is like a ten year old kid (standard anthro-dragons were accelerated to 55 years old, roughly equivalent to an 18 year old human, before being allowed to procreate naturally, with females giving live birth, after 9-month pregnancy, to offspring far less helpless than human newborns).
(Yes, the anthrodragons are mammalian and do not lay eggs, unlike their dragon progenitors, who are neither mammals nor reptiles nor birds nor anything else!)
Pauly the Anthro-Dragon (he named himself that, once he learned how to speak properly) quickly showed the observers an uncanny basic athletic ability, along with a broad interest in the arts---not excelling in any particular area, but dabbling competently in all, enough to get the notice of the artistically-inclined dragons who tended to look down upon the anthrodragons as an inferior abomination of a race, and yet an indefinite buffer for the dragons' impending extinction..."
Grawwrr, [American Revolutionary], did you read that whole thing? Really---you didn't? By the Snaggle of the Elder's Fang, neither did I! I think only my silly creator has read the whole thing, too be quite honest. Anyway, to answer your question about a lab?
You'll have to build your own since the enemy destroyed the genetic research laboratory not too long after I escaped from the "Telkar Chronicles" universe, and wound up in this dimension, here on Elftown! My fellow "sport" specimen, Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness, escaped with me. Anyhow . . . if you want to build your own lab get a good lawyer, recruit some benefactors, have lots of the right chemicals and genes and equipment, and make sure you have plenty of peanut butter. Don't just randomly stir shit in a beaker and expect a chemical kind of "Weird Science" chick to pop out of the test tube. Groof! *nods earnestly*
(26.) Dear Pauly the Anthro dragon: if you have great power but all your enemies are much weaker than you, is it perfectly alright to turn normal people into a fine squidgey paste or do I have to start pulling my punches? - [Evolution X]
Grawwarwwr! Hello, [Evolution X]! *waves and smiles* Why bother stopping a cloud of annoying gnats with a shoulder-mounted rocket? Why not go to the source, and instead of wasting your precious time and energy on these little ninnies and wankers, why not turn them against each other? You may be a thunderhead and the enemy may be a dunderhead--- why not see things from that perspective? You can loom ominously in the near distance, sending out a stray lightning bolt or two too keep them submissive (see Lightning#Positive_lightning ) but nothing truly representative of your violently superior power. Let them kneel and bow down before you, like General Zod! Grawwrr-groof!
*tilts head and breathes a little fire in a safe direction, spreading wings for added effect*
Turn your enemies against each other, and then let them come to YOU to be the arbiter of the peace. The true warrior knows to be a true diplomat. You may not have the respect and skills of Otto von Bismarck, but at the same time you don't have a Kaiser Wilhelm II waiting in the wings to make your diplomatic wheeling and dealing fucked up beyond all recognition, either! So, after studying Bismarck and maybe reading essential "Diplomacy 101" stuff like Henry Kissinger's Diplomacy as well as Valley of the dolls by Jacqueline Susann, sit THEM down, sit your enemies down to your table, surrounded by none-too-subtle symbols of your power. In the background play loosely-themed dominance-threat music like "One of These Days" by Pink Floyd and "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin. Oh, and don't forget Iron Maiden's "Iron Maiden" by Iron Maiden.
Grrawwr! By the Primal shell, where was I? *scratches tilted head, mildly confuzzled*
Oh, that's right. Dinner. That's all part of a diplomatic function, too, but since they're little pieces of shit they don't deserve the royal treatment. Save the good stuff for yourself, your loved ones and your friends. Serve them up some fine squidgey paste, and if they behave (slapping each other around, but pulling their punches) they can have that which is normally reserved for the in-laws: Spotted Dick and head cheese. Hell, somebody's got to eat infamous British food. It might as well be them, right? treat them well, but make sure they are ceaselessly reminded of their subordinate position! Your mercy and your clemency brings forth the peace process. No matter what, it sucks to be them. By the scales of my shiny golden ass, it does! Grawwrr!
At the end of the day your prestige is strengthened in the eyes of your peers. *grins*
(27.) Dear Pauly the Anthro dragon: while I found your last answer both entertaining, truthful and thought provoking, there is one issue with the entire idea. That is that the powers and abilities had by the intimidator are in fact the kind that people find intimidating enough to wish to take the peaceful path, like being able to breath fire and the like. Unfortunately I am not an anthro-dragon; as you can see from the picture, I am a sheep. And no one likes to bow before sheep apparently. Is there any way to cure this general non-threatening demeanour? - [Evolution X]
[Evolution X], consider short-term cosmetic upgrades. Look at me! Were it not for my muscular form, my clawed hands, my mouth's pointy yet varied heterodontism, my sheer size and a few other things nobody would take my physical appearance too seriously. After all, my predominant scale color is gold, not red or black. Granted, it's a more "masculine" shade of gold (like the toned gold shade found on old/ancient gold coins, but it's still not an intimidating color, really. And though I'm generally not cowardly, I in fact have a yellow belly (though I'm not a yellow-bellied lizard, mind you!) which only underscores the reality people are generally neither instantly repelled nor frightened by my appearance.
However, in one of my Elftown incarnations I am Darth Paranoia, Dark Lord of the Sith despite still being my goofy basic self. So what did I do to look scarier? As you can see, I donned a cape (somewhat unmanageable because of my wings), Vader gloves, darkening anthrodragon-hair gel, Darth Maul underglove summoning-probe keyboard thingies . . . and nail polish, contact lenses and some gooey cherryFruit Roll-Ups material wrapping my horns, just to look "evil".
Yep, this is some ludicrous shit, but not half as ludicrous as the plot of "Episode I: the Phantom Menace"
Anyhoo, how does a well-meaning sheep guy strive to look menacing? By the Shell of Karma'tsara's Great-Grandnephew's Adopted Twin Sister, this is not an impossible task! First of all, get fire-proof fur or fleece. Gwawwarrr, it can be done! (Though it would help if you were some kind of X-Men type of mutant. They've already had Squirrel Girl. Fireproof Sheep Guy shouldn't be a stretch!) Or . . . *drumroll please* Baphomet! Whether or not this is a symbol of Satan (By My Clawed Toe-Jambs, I couldn't care less since I've been accused more than once of appearing satanic), you do have to admit this is a major badassery upgrade to your current appearance. (Though be warned, Baphomet is likely a hermaphrodite!)
I hope this helped. Grawrr? *looks uncertain, scratching ear with wing-claw*
(28.) Dear Pauly the Anthro dragon: therein lies the problem however. The suggestion that I wear clothes to make myself more intimidating is a valid one, if not for the fact that the moment a sheep-man puts on anything spandex/leather/form fitting then he looks like an S&M fetishist gone wild. While able to live with that, it still does not quite inspire fear; something to do with the eyes I believe. While suggesting that being the spawn of Baphomet is valid in producing large amounts of bowel emptying fear in the enemies, that form is way too associated with Satan by the general public; how would I keep up the whole 'spawn of satan' guise if I was helping cats out of trees? It appears that this venture would lead me to either looking ridiculous or looking like a devil child.... oh yes, this was meant to have a question wasn't it? Ummm... Do you know of any good horn wax? Mine get rather knocked around and the stuff I use now really just doesn't cut it.
Grawwr! Well then, Evolution . . . there are plenty of precedents here,for evil-appearing characters who are in fact good-hearted souls. We both already know about Nightcrawler_(comics) who is very religious but isn't too annoying about it. Also, "Beast" from Beauty and the Beast, but I'm specifically thinking of the one called Vincent on the late-80s TV show "Beauty and the Beast" that also starred Linda Hamilton the "Terminator" chick . . . by the Primal Shell, I wonder what a crossover might have been like? Sarah Connor and Vincent fighting a T-800 . . . and imagine if they were the parents of John Connor . . . maybe their love-child John in this parallel fictional universe would have looked like someone from GWAR. *snarflechuckle* But then again, would that mean Skynet needs to send a Cyberdyne Maria Shriver to exact vengeance on the T-800 since the T-800 is the Cyberdyne Arnold Schwarzenegger? Grawwwr? *tilts head and looks skyward, confuzzled*
Anyhoo . . . don't be too concerned about what people think about your appearance. As Frank Zappa famously sang . . . "You are who you are/You are what you is . . . " So you have curving sheep horns, possibly fireproof fur and cloven hooves that go clippety-clop. (My very draconic feet's nonretractable claws go clickety-clack, by the way). You probably have mutant powers which I'm not aware of. That's fine! If people really give you a hard time, hand them copies of Arthur C. Clarke's classic Childhood's End and say you are one of the benevolent (though scary looking) Overlords. (If you have that illustrated book by Wayne Barlowe, you know what an Overlord looks like even if you haven't read the actual Clarke novel.) In the meantime, if you want to wear clothing that isn't too restrictive, maybe you could dress up like a baggy douchebag circa 1990 . . . you know, like MC Hammer or Vanilla Ice? That may inspire the most respectful civil fear of them all, with or without blue-tinted sunglasses! Grawwawwrrr! Groof.
Oh, yes! Your "horn polishing advice". *snarflesnickergrawrrfle* See, I usually don't need to polish my horn! My mate's sex drive is roughly the same as my own, which means that more often than not---providing it is appropriate, given the situation---we are the quivering two-backed, twelve-limbed beast. But sometimes we get sore from overexertion. Since our unmentionables are distinctly humanlike (though more dynamic and toned and without 'beards'!), KY Jelly and other typical human lubes do a great job! What would work for a demonic sheepman? I'm not sure since I don't think they make marital aids for livestock---and frankly, I'd rather not know o__O. I don't want to jump to conclusions about your sexual orientation based on your physical appearance alone! That might be insulting, if I ask you if you you not only fancy humans, but demons and *snarflesnort* sheep and goats as well. That's like asking me if I'm not only into anthrodragons, but also those three sentient species whose genetic material made my species' genetic engineering possible . . . full-sized dragons, humans and Yourubi as well---oh, damn it! I am, and I have repeatedly been into all three of them in the past, before getting married to my dearest Kathy the anthro-Dragoness! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to stick my foot in my mouth until whenever someone asks the next question...*MMMMMMPH!*
(29.) Dear Pauly the Anthro dragon: do to a mixture of not wishing you to have athletes tongue, an impromptu tongue piercing from the claws, or any spare time to yourself, I would like to first raise a statement and then raise a question. The first being, stupid dragons getting all the ladies... the second being a question as to where and how you have apparently found an entire range of humans, creatures and demi-gods to stick your draconic knob in? I know sheep lads aren't lady killers, but by the sound of it one dragon's gone through an entire pantheon of female creatures, leaving absolutely nothing for others without massive claws, sharp teeth and smooth scales. Stupid lizard. Stupid wool.
*Hmpphgrwrammph-POPP!!!* Ah, OK then. I guess if I keep putting foot in my mouth I will eventually get that forked tongue that's so common in other kinds of dragons and anthrodragons, but exists neither in my kind nor the full-sized dragons I'm derived from. And now I understand why Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness likes my feet so much . . . they really are lickable, so strong yet so slippery but scale-bumpy when wet and they even taste kind of nice. . . though I'm still wondering why she likes licking the hollows behind my knees so much . . .
*blinks and exhales, then doubles over as his calf muscles cramp up*
By the Primal Shell! I ought to be careful the next time I stick my foot into my mouth! While I stand up and walk this off, now that the rest of this Charlie Horse is galloping back to the pasture with Mr. Ed and Wilbur, I guess I'd better answer your question.
*walks slowly about in circle, slightly waddling*
See, [Evolution X], there's a few things you need to keep in mind about my origins. My makers (besides the author/artist wannabe [Paul Doyle], of course), had a rather uneasy alliance. By this time there were only a few Old Earth humans left. Though these survivors had emigrated to the New Earth which was already populated by half a billion humans and several thousand futuristic, fully sentient dragons of several subspecies (not just convenient telepathic horselike Thread-killing compound-eyed mounts for the humans, mind you!) within a few decades all were displaced by the corrupted son of Phil Telkar, who had powers even stronger than those of his (literally) world-building father.
Almost from the beginning the alien (but also of unnatural origin) Yourubi were also involved, since they did not have a homeworld of their own. Were it not for Yourubi ingenuity and knowledge of advanced genetic engineering techniques, my species would not exist. Dragons had to succumb to tremendous pressure and the spectre of their possible extinction to let this happen, since they are adamantly opposed to any kind of genetic manipulation or fertility enhancement (this is a very long story).
Sexuality was to be allowed among my genetically engineered species, but only a few of us (the 'sports' which also included my future wife) were allowed to be truly advanced-thinking and not merely sentient. The penalty, of course, was that all "sports" were to be sterile. The designers really couldn't avoid that topic with us, since we weren't comparatively brutish, lesser anthrodragon warriors who procreated out of lust and biological necessity only . . . so they let us explore our sexuality any way we wanted, provided all involved were willing adults of sound mind.
Why, you say? Consider the reality sex is a huge factor in the everyday lives all three species (homo sapiens sapiens, the New Earth dragons and the Yourubi). Humans are humans, have their own varying sex drives, morals and levels of personal responsibility. The dragons from the "Telkar Chronicles" sequence have an even stronger sex drive because (one reason of many) nearly all male dragons and some female dragons are sterile and/or unfit to breed. Dragons also know their limits, and after long period of infertile yet very promiscuous physical maturity, the rare (1 for every 5 male) female dragon actually comes into heat (just like a lower animal!) and chooses her mate-for-life based on numerous physical and emotional factors. The mated pair is monogamous for the rest of her fertile period, and even after she becomes barren the pair remains strongly monogamous. (Those males who don't get chosen tend to form sexual/emotional bonds with other rejected male dragons.) Meanwhile, the Yourubi are so promiscuous and potentially depraved (only a strong, intelligent leader can keep their sexual discipline focused!) they even invite their non-Yourubi friends to join in. (And I admit I did so, initially out of pure curiosity and then several times afterward because they were so GOOD!) All in all the Yourubi are not popular among the New Earth humans and dragons since they are perceived to be utterly perverted, unnatural and physically scary looking. This, despite the Yourubi are fiercely reliable allies with amazing powers and abilities and a truly visionary leader. All three bloods run through my being (even though the Yourubi genetic vector is only a small percentage of the full DNA equation.)
So . . . long story short, I witnessed and experienced a LOT and all in all acted very much like the unmated full-size dragons and the Yourubi, until I fell in love with Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness. This was my first real relationship, after many decades of philandering, and though it was very awkward at first, we stuck together. And then the unthinkable happened . . . she became pregnant with our son. Remember, we were both supposed to be sterile! By the Primal Shell was this as shocking as it was all I needed to stay with my K-the-AD'ess forever after!
anyway, I hope that explains a few things about me, anyway. But now, [Evolution X], I dare you to do uncensored image searches of furry-fandom places like FurAffinity and VCL. You will see plenty of "scalies" getting indiscriminately laid, but you'll see that with any other anthropomorphic species. But . . . normally the boys are shagging other boys! Now like my full-sized dragon ancestors I am not 100% straight by a LONG shot, so though there's yet to be a pre-marriage picture of me made with another male character I just want to make sure you understand I'm not a babe magnet simply because I am dragonish, and simply because my silly creator [Paul Doyle] has certain needs. (He's happily married and does indeed 'get some'! though maybe not as much as I do--*snarflegrawwfle*)
Sexiness is as sexiness does . . . why would the average male prefer Mary Ann over Ginger on "Gilligan's Island?" It's because Mary Ann isn't a snotty uptight bitch like Ginger. Mary Ann is for real, the real deal, and she comes exactly as how she is. Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness is a Mary Ann, though she's physically stronger than most of the TV show's cast put together! I don't care if K-the-AD'ess eschews makeup and the rest. She basically keeps herself clean and couldn't care less about looking 'pretty' for me since her athletic supple form alone makes me pitch a tent without canvas. In the end, it's all about personality and good attitude! I do practice what I preach, by the way, I use my personality more than my physical features to woo a lover, and I'd like to think people in the real world do the same. It doesn't matter if you're a silly inconsequential drawing like myself, or a real person. If you want to make love happen, you have to make the first step and not be self-conscious of what you perceive to be your own shortcomings. So what if you're a goat-sheep-demon boy. Surely there's someone who drools over your (presumably) fire-proof fleece? Keep your chin up. Even Jar Jar Binks got laid. That should be encouragement enough! In the meantime, play the field, but stay in HER comfort zone (or if you're gay, HIS comfort zone). You don't know what the future will bring until you stup up to make it happen! By the Primal Shell, I will swear upon the manuscript of my silly creator's first novel that this is so!! Grooff!
(30.) Dear Pauly the Anthro Dragon, I have recently become quite smitten with wikis and have made several including Lord Josmar's Emporium Of Useless Information, I <3 Rubber Duckies, and The Elftown XBL Directory along with a few RPGs. However, I am thinking about making a banner or something similar to put on my wikis in a sort of "A Lord Josmar Production" way. I just can't think of anything good that will capture the "Lordiness", "Josmariness", and the "Wikiness" of the wikis and myself, and that won't look like something a mist named fellow would make. Any advice?
Grawwr, Jozzz! I think this calls for a rather simple solution. Think outside the box! Come up with a fictitious yet enticing identity! Group all these under a collective wiki-index (and wiki-banner, too) called something like "Rubber Lordie's XBL-Rated Emporium of Useless Duckie Josm---For Informational Purposes Only." So what if it sounds like a place where Bud Bundy gets his rubber woman? it gets their attention, right?
Grawwr? *tilts head and squints, flaring nostrils* Wait . . . this would NOT do on Elftown. In fact, the innuendo is better suited for Elfpack, to say nothing of FAKE . . . but everyone knows Elfpack's a vile piece of shit that should have been killed with fire and then nuked from orbit a long time ago, sort of like Elf12. Fuck Elfpack! Elftown is not supposed to be for kids. Elf12 is the place for soccer moms to take their kids . . .
But . . but . . . everyone hates each other on Elf12, the absentee person-in-charge "doesn't want to do official work stuff today. :P" for more than a year running, there aren't any kids, there's inappropriate R-rated ads, and there are more open contests than there are active users. And, let's not forget . . . THERE ARE NEITHER ELVES NOR UNDER-12 KIDS ON ELF12! Fuck Elf12! Grawwarrrrr! *breathes fire skyward!*
All righty then . . . where was I? Um, Toto? Oh, not THAT adventure. Grawwr, that's RIGHT! "Rubber Lordie's XBL-Rated Emporium of Useless Duckie Josm---For Informational Purposes Only." That might be a good wiki-index name, though the "For Informational Purposes Only" part might be omitted from the wiki name and added as an instantly forgettable subtitle, kind of like how "From the Adventures of Luke Skywalker" was an instantly forgotten subtitle for pre-movie release merchandise for the original "Star Wars" movie, prior to being dubbed "Episode IV: A New Hope". and if you don't believe me, do a Google search . . . my silly creator used to own the gold-colored paperback that's nearly the same shade of my golden scales . . .
I do hope I'm making sense here!
Grawawrrr! My turn to ask you guys a question! Please answer . . .
"All of these are colors, fruits AND flavors: orange, cherry, lime, raspberry, cranberry. Why aren't green, brown, and black fruits and flavors?"Be sure to give a really stupid, funny and entertaining answer, folks! Grawwr. And leave your ET user name, too!
A.) Why, that is a very simple answer my dear Anthro-dragon named Pauly....ITS A GIANT CONSPIRACY!!! The big candy companies hold those colors in a vice grip of greed and hatred for the color blind! It all started back when Russia was really the USSR, but here in the United States, back when everything was entirely in black and white. The small candy companies were releasing candies off all sorts of colors and flavors (that didn't necessarily match either), but since it was in black and white, no one would accidentally pick a grape thinking it was a cherry. During this glorious time there was frolicking in the streets and the jelly bean and gum drop crops grew plentifully.
But then the golden age of candy was brought to a violent end when the world turned to color, mainly because those stores were destroyed in a freak candy explosion. Many believe it was the work of the Rainbow Brigade (who were not gay because gays didn't exist back then, just like teen pregnancy), an extremist group of color/fruit fanatics who felt that color/flavor-ism should be enforced heavily now that identification was could be done easily based on color. That is when one large candy company came into being and used the Rainbow Brigade's ideology in making their candies and to make matters worse this company started making different candies under the disguise of "competing companies" and none of these companies used the same color scheme for their flavors, for watermelon one would use green while another would use pink.
This has continued ever since and now all the candy companies are really the one evil corporation using its puppet companies to spread color/flavor-ism across the Earth and deep into the farthest tendrils of the Milky Way Galaxy.
Sincerely, [Lord Josmar] your fellow candy freedom fighter.
By the Primal shell, Josm, I just had an epic brainstorm! Maybe the answers can be found in these bags of M&M's and Skittles that I bought at the Elftown Wal-Mart!
*tears off end and peers in, fascinated at all the groovy colors, mannnnn*
So the green ones are supposed to make you horny. Pick a green one . . win a prize? Is green the flavor of horniness? But I thought 'It Isn't Easy Being Green'. So was Kermit the Frog alluding to being hard to get? And what of the Skittles? Grawwwr? *tilts head and squints, thoroughly confuzzled*
B.) Put simply Pauly, they were. These fanciful fruits were actually the cause OF the colours, because everyone knows that no colour can exist without there being some corresponding physical thing (those people who name the colours 'desert sky' and 'cotton wool' aren't lazy bottom feeders, oh no, they're pioneers who have searched out the direct correlation between this shade of off off white and a physical object, allowing for an entire spectrum of shades to appear that greatly baffles anyone trying to paint their living room. Seriously, how was I to know that 'cotton wool' was a colour? I just got off white and stuck loads of cotton balls all over the walls. The affect was the same, and it made it nicely padded for when my parents through a hissy fit.)
Anyway... what? Oh yes. The problem was that these colours and their corresponding fruits were so sought after that they were cultivated into extinction! The first one to go was the black I believe, hunted to death by the Visigoths as they ransacked and murdered all across the lands; they got so madly enthralled by the fruit that they would smear their bodies with the juices, and make long, incredibly hot coats out of the skins.
The next to go was Guava I believe, but do to some hidden monks in the mountains of Tibet the fruit made a come back, though now its support had waned. The colour had faded, the name forgotten as an old vegetable of the past which wasn't quite as great as it had once been, but still worth your time if it was touring near you and the prices weren't that high.
As for the brown, that lives on, but in privately owned sectors where it is handled by only the best farmers in the world. Seriously, these guys could cure world hunger in a few days. It's said that they are able to SMELL when a Brown is ripe without even breaking the skin, they're called Brown nosers I believe. Anyway, these brown nosers look after massive crops of Brown, growing them from little pods until they are great brown bushes, then plucking the fruit to serve up at only the highest of society parties. As payment the Brown nosers are allowed to take some fruit home, to pay for their secrecy; I'll tell you, I used to know a brown noser, and there is nothing quite as good as biting down into a succulent and freshly picked brown...
I need to go get my fix of Brown. Later. [Evolution X]
The cotton boll which protects the seeds on the cotton plant, is technically a fruit. I guess "cotton" could be an offwhite shade not found in anyone's Crayola set. But I wonder what it tastes like?
*nomnoms a random plain white 100% cotton T-shirt*
Wow, this is kind of gross and it isn't quite going down my gullet the way I want to. Grawwwrrrr? maybe I should toast it.
*breathes fire on rest of shirt dangling out of mouth*
Grawwr! Crispy . . . so much better! But I wonder how they make candy out of this stuff. Maybe if I mix raw cotton with raw sugar and strawberries I'll get cotton candy? stirring vigorously at medium heat on a rangetop and providing anthrodragonfire as needed, of course. And maybe a little bit of olive oil, too. I want to make sure the final product doesn't taste like chicken. Groof!
The only brown fruits I can think of are cow patties and buffalo chips, [Evolution X]. You can have all the buffalo chips and cow patties you want, but I'll pass on that one and hold out for some spicy Buffalo wings and chicken patty melts instead . . . even though "chicken", "Buffalo", "melt" and "patty" are neither fruits nor colors nor flavors. Now "spicy" IS a flavor, so it's only a matter of time, logically speaking, that it also becomes a color and a fruit. Genetic engineering gone amok, anyone?
By the Primal Shell! Cow patties and buffalo chips are poopies, so does that make them bowel fruits? Not that I really want to now the answer to that, mind you! *slowly backs away, cringing*
(32.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: Why? - MortPen(cil)
“Why”? By the Primal Shell, the semantics are overbearing! Grawwrr. A typical answer to “why” is “because”. So then we have to explore the cause of the be, or that which is happening, or about to happen in a given period of time. “Why can also be a Y”, and we can literally go on a tangent exploring the Y-axis of where we happen to be, relative to each other’s position. So let’s forget about the X-axis, the Y-axis and the Z-axis even if we do happen to be the center of the universe! Maybe we can pass on Y-Wings, too since they’re barely mentionable (after all, the Rebel Alliance produced replacement B-Wings for that very reason) and the YMCA.
By the Length of My Tail, I’m now starting to sound like Dan Quayle or George W. Bush! Grawwrr?
*tilts head, somewhat confuzzled*
*stretches wings and sighs, exhaling a beneficial lick of flame*
Why, then? Why Y? “Why ask why—drink Bud Dry?” (Old lame beer commercial) “You wanna know why? <Why?> Cause I’m a LIAR!” (Henry Rollins lyrics)
By the Primal Shell, I really don’t know why, though I like how “Y” rhymes with “thigh”, which is definitely one of my favorite readily showable body parts. I really REALLY like my mate’s lower body, and when her butt and hips are clothed I can always leer at her thighs. We’re married, so it makes her feel special when I’m checking her out. I’d be a fool if I denied the truth it makes ME feel special . . . even right now, kind of! *licks chops*
All righty, then! Back to it! Heh . . . “back”. My baby got back, all right . . .
Shakespeare! It doesn’t matter what you think of him personally, or what you think of his various plays and sonnets. He spoke in the dialect of the time, 16th Century England on the Old Earth. I won’t have you decipher “Get thee hence, I prithee” so instead let’s focus on the archaic term “wherefore”?
Wherefore, grawwr? That’s an obsolete English word for “why”, as immortalized by Shakespeare in “Romeo and Juliet." When Juliet asked, “Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” she wasn’t asking him about his location. She wanted to know “WHY?” She was getting deep, getting groovy, getting introspective and metaphysical, and perhaps she was smoking something, too. But allegedly she merely had the hots for Romeo.
If I don’t really know why and Shakespeare didn’t know why, and Juliet didn’t know why, perhaps Romeo did know why? Being a sort of Romeo myself, though my marriage to Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness has very much “soothed the savage beast” or at least streamlined it into monogamy . . . wait a minute, grawwr?
*tilts head, scratching well-defined golden-scaled shoulder*
I’VE GOT IT!! EUREKA! Even if I don’t smell too good myself, sometimes . . .
*jumps up and down, flapping wings for emphasis!*
Maybe I should know “why” after all? I have dragon blood in me, and the dragons of my creators universe are extremely intelligent and get only more intelligent after their brains continue developing long after their physical forms decline and their sex drive resembles Silly Putty. So if I don’t know the answer now, perhaps I definitely will know decades from now, though the brains of anthrodragons are not 100% patterned after those of dragons? The human blood and even the Yourubi vector must be heard and witnessed, after all! In the meantime, rather than bore you to tears, I will go back to my rhyme—why/thigh.
“Why?” At the moment, it’s because I’m thinking of my lifemate’s strong and wonderfully sexy thigh . . . thighs that are greatly influencing my size! there will be no compromise, the ceiling beyond the skies, all because of marital ties that will lead to unavoidable cries. O fie---why?
*shields normally hidden private areas with clawed hands*
Oh boy . . . better get to it now, since she’s nearby, just offscreen and our son’s at school so it’s just the two of us right now if you know what I mean! Toodles . . . and post some more questions since she’s so responsive when I catch her offguard in a private setting ! After all, just as a reminder it might be decades before I have the intellectual capacity to finally, firmly and decively ask “why?”
Heh, heh, I said “firm.”
*waddles hastily offscreen, still shielding private parts with clawed hands*
(33.) Dear Pauly the Anthro dragon: is the rumour that the true curse of voodoo is the fact that you have a horrible hair-do after all the pieces have been collected for the doll true? Because the only thing that seems to be happening to my victim after I threw the doll into the woodchipper is a mild cold from being half-bald. - [Evolution X]
Hello there and grrawwrarr, [Evolution X]! By the Primal Shell, I think the true voodoo curse is on the grammar. Your sentences have been smited by the run-on juju! Anyway, do not sweat the small stuff. In these situations do as I do, and breathe fire in intense, surgical-strike fashion though a laser-guidance system is generally not necessary if you know where the hell you're breathing your personal dragonfire arsenal. In the absence of personal breath weapons try any of the following: (1.) Exorcism; (2.) Duct taping a quarter stick of dynamite to the evil doll, lighting the fuse and running like hell cause there's gonna be evil voodoo doll parts flying everywhere; (3.) in the absence of the first two options, give the evil doll to the next evangelizing knuckleheads who show up at your home, stick their foot in the door and generally act like self righteous asshats; (4.) Force the evil doll to watch Zardoz or Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo or some half-assed shit like that, and if that does not scare off the evil voodoo spirits then by the Genetic Engineering Lab Tube That Grew Me, maybe that really isn't a possessed doll? Maybe it's just a plain old doll less-than-skillfully constructed by a demented circus clown? In that case, it is no less unnerving and creepy than the average Tickle Me Elmo doll, and can simply be sent to the nearest convenient despised in-laws or stepfamily member, along with that same old canned holiday fruitcake that's been making the pass-along rounds for so long now that there's rust on the bottom of the fruitcake tin. Or, more happily, the evil voodoo doll can be lashed to a lightning rod on a very stormy day and you can get an amazing close-lightning Youtube clip of your own filming! (Just make sure you don't get indirectly struck, or nailed by one of those tin but nasty stepped-ladder leader streamers!)
And your hair? Grawrrr . . . what to do, oh what to do?
*tilts head and taps muzzle with clawed but beautifully articulated fingers*
*squints and flares nostrils*
Grawrrr-GROOF! I've got it! By the Power of Gay-Skull, I have the power! Well not really, but you know what I mean? Grow your hair back in naturally, and until the clear and present danger has passed after the induced lightning strikes and all of that, wear a girlie swimming cap to hide your hair! And should you be bald anyway, get a toupee or (you really need to be on vacation here, and sort of on your own) spread the seeds, water them, and before you know it----"Ch-Ch-CHIA!!!!!"
(34.) Holy Shit that was allot of work just to ask "when am i going to get laid!?" maybe i'm just a noob and everyone else knows how to post to wikis :/ Oh and the 8ball says "you may rely on it" Yippie ! [Fruit Loops]
By the Primal Shell, [Fruit Loops] . . . you have eight balls???? How can you expect to get any sleep or rest when you have eight balls but you still can't get laid? And what the hell kind of specialized underwear do you need, to support eight balls? Do your undies have pouches on them like a female marsupial to accomodate your extra-endowedness? Do your personal parts resemble one of those Fruit of the Loom characters while you are wearing your Fruit of the Loom undies, or what? Grawarrr! Groof. (If you don't know what I'm referring to, Google image-search "Fruit of the Loom dudes" or something similar.)
But just so you don't accidentally explode pondering the implications of what I've just said (and hopefully you aren't staring at my sleek golden-scaled anthrodragon body too much!), let's focus on the practicality of Elftown wiki-pages, or the lack thereof. They are extremely confusing. As you might expect, I was initially beyond confused . . . I was downright CONFUZZLED. By the Power of My Loins, was I confuzzled! And my dear wife and soulmate Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness got my reactions on film. I was tilting my head this way and that, setting standards for pug dogs everywhere. She even had the nerve to post it on Youtube, and it almost immediately went viral. Later on that evening after Patrick the Anthro-Dragon (our son) went to bed for the night, since it was a schoolnight. My dear anthro-dragoness decided to show me her forgiveness by carrying me over her shoulder and hauling me off to our personal lair where she gently body-slammed me to our bed and started intense heavy-duty forgiveness . . . but still, I was confuzzled by the Elftown wiki-pages. They distracted me though I will still able to keep my mate satisfied! My bearded horned muzzled face gleamed in the bluish moonlight streaming into our bedroom window, reflected on the ceiling mirrors. Even while she was in the throes of intense passion and I tried to get into it by staring at her body from various reflected angles, I kept thinking of those Shelled website functions! I also kept seeing my head tilting this way and that, tilting regularly like a metronome, and not at all in response to her heavy-duty loving. As a result, I kept her going till the crack of dawn. Then we had to stop temporarily because Patrick was abouut to wake up and get ready for school. In a very rare occasion, I needed to wear a loincloth for modesty's sake.(Normally it's all hidden from view inside the scale-plates than run from the front of my neck down my torso and underneath my tail. There's only a slight bulge that does not require modesty clothing.) As Patrick got ready for school I finally figured out to use the Elftown wiki-pages. So after he left for school I was finally able to concentrate on my dear mate, and finally rewarded her patience and endurance though the racket shook the windows. Then we both fell asleep, and by the time I woke up again it was almost dinner time! My mate was too tired so we just ordered some Taco Bell and KFC instead of making dinner or hunting live prey. And yes, I now possessed good, if not great, Elftown wiki skills. As my mate took a long hot bath, falling asleep in less than ten minutes, I applied the new knowledge while being serenaded by Kathy the Anthro-Dragoness's gentle bathtub snores.
The moral of the story? Don't be intimidated by Elftown features. I am very intelligent but you see how easily I get confused then confuzzled. You don't need to get thrown off the way I did!
And oh yeah . . . getting laid. Grawwrr, just be yourself and be on good behavior when you're looking for a prospective mate or lover. Try not to bring alcohol, drugs or anything else like that into the equation. Be patient, give it time, stay loyal and true, and you'll be rewarded with more loving that you'll get if you're merely looking for a "friend with benefits." Grawwrarr-groof! It is so! Heed my advice and you may yet be a happier man (and you'll have a better grasp for using these admittedly confusing Elftown features.)
(35.) Dear Pauly the Anthro-Dragon: No, seriously. Why?! - Mortifasgnsaouighaskognkl Penguin
(36.) (i think i did that right) hey pauly, its been a while since ive been on here, lol, whats new?
Borders by [Sheona] at Elftown Graphics
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