Tag Archives: Geoff

I need some advanced economics advice about birds, bushes and squirrels. Can you help?

Stupid Advice people, I understand that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. But what should I do if I have two birds in my hand and there’s a squirrel in the bush? Please answer quickly as this is happening to me right now. I typed this on my phone with one hand and I’m very scared of squirrels.


This is a simple question of economics. The value of any given bird is based upon the limited number of available birds as a whole.The more birds there are, the less each bird is actually worth. If you have 2 birds in your hand, and there are none in the bush, then the birds’ value is going to rise infinitely. In a large scale economy, we would need to count the bushes and birds in the bushes but for our purposes here that’s irrelevant.

Now let’s talk about the squirrel. The squirrel is clearly a foreign currency. The bird price is based on the avian market and the squirrel price is based on the mammal market. This is where things get tricky, because one squirrel is actually worth about 15 birds when the market is down, like it is today.

So, to do the math, two birds in your hand with none in the bush means that the birds are infinitely valuable but since there is only one squirrel in the bush and that squirrel is not in anyone’s hand, the squirrel is worth infinity times 15, which is way higher than regular old infinity times 1.

That’s not the real question here. You’ve posed a question about economics, but there’s a deeper, more personal question that you haven’t come out and asked us. On the surface you have given us a question about avian currency and economics structures but what I think you really want to know is:

Why are you afraid of Squirrels?

Squirrels are the kindest and fluffiest animals on the planet coming in only second to bunnies. They are known for their mass storage strategies of legumes in trees and bushes. The tail of the squirrel is known as a sign of virility in more than 50 cultures. Basically, squirrels represent everything that is good about the world.

For you to be terrified of a squirrel tells me that you yourself might be, or are related to, a great evil. Based on this knowledge, and the fact that I happen to be a certified online black belt in battle church, I think that we should never meet, as I will be forced to exorcise you on the spot. That means I will douse you with holy water and beat your wet head in with a Bible until you accept squirrels into your heart.

My best advice to you is to avoid me, because no matter how much the birds in your hands are worth, I can and will perform a kung fu themed exorcism on you.

No need to thank me!


Why does my TV randomly turn off?

Hello. I have an LG 50PK550 plasma that I received used about 2 months ago. Everything was going fine, until just a few days ago the TV started turning off without warning while in use. Any Advice on how to make it stay on?


I’ve watched enough movies to be an expert on this type of problem. In my experience, this is a very simple problem with a simple solution. The fact of the matter is that there is nothing at all wrong with your TV, there’s something very wrong with you.

After extensive research on the subject (meaning I watched the Paranormal Activity trilogy back-to-back), you have a classic case of the haunties. Somewhere in your distant past, one of your ancestors sold their soul to a demon for their generation’s version of an iPhone 4S.

And now you have to pay the price.

Sure, now it’s a TV, but next week it’s a TV and your dog barking at something invisible across the room. Then it’s all of those things plus the stove turning on and pots falling from the rack. By this time next year you are going to be living in an anti-gravity war zone with everything just floating around the house like a giant snow globe.

A lot of people would go out and hire a spooky religious nut or some Spanish speaking person who knows their way around a stick of sage. Not you though, not you. You came to a place where you can get real answers and I will not let you down.

There are two ways to handle this, both described below:

1) Build a time machine and go back to whoever traded your family’s name for a crossbow or fire. Of course this will take a while but hey, you are now in possession of a TIME MACHINE…You can literally manufacture time!

2) Set yourself on fire.

The last one seems drastic and, besides, you’ll just be passing the evil demon energy on to the next person in your family anyway, but at least you won’t have to deal with it. If you survive, the demon will probably respect you a lot more any way. You might even make friends with it and go on evil demon dates where you do dark arts on innocent bystanders.

Take a moment to imagine how cool it would be to have a demon sidekick.

No need to thank me.

Dear Your Stupid Advice Peeps,

I work with this chick who ALWAYS turns a conversation into something about her hobby and I’m sick of it. She’s even tricked me into watching a 10 minute clip about it. IT’S NOT INTERESTING! How do I tell her that hearing about her dress up like it’s the 1600’s (or whatever century the Elizabethan era was in) and having some other geek “fight” for her isn’t as interesting as she thinks it is AND it’s not okay to talk to your average person about it because we DON’T CARE!

HELP ME before she convinces me to join.



I totally empathize with you on this one. There’s this guy who I work with who always interrupts our important team building exercise of gossiping about the person who just left the room. He always suggests we go talk to customers. Customers? Really???

Work is a place where we should be able to express our insecurities by criticizing everyone around us while doing as little actual work as possible. Having to stop because someone wants us to talk to stupid customers is stupid. So basically, I totally get the “having to listen to stuff you don’t want to” thing.

There’s no reason for you to be exposed to anyone else’s personal life at work. If you really gave a shit about her you would have asked her to go out for dinner months ago. Since you clearly have nothing in common with Ethel (that’s what I’ve named her in my head) you should not have to deal with her weird little hobbies.

So what do you do?

Sometimes when I’m cruising the seedy underbelly of the Internet, I come across some very strange things like flaming trapeze midget sex, unicorns doing things with that horn that no unicorn should do and Herman Cain. In the past, I have just accepted these very strange things and moved on, but now I know that they were brought to me to answer your question for you.

I have a one word answer for your situation:


Ok, I guess I need to explain with more words.

You will become a passionate, panda suit wearing, sex bomb and you will be so full of joy with your new hobby that you can hardly contain yourself. Every time Ethel brings up her strange obsession with medieval garb, simply interrupt her and tell her about how you mounted Yogi Bear last night and gave him a pic-a-nic basket he’ll never forget.

Tell her about Bugs Bunny and where you put that carrot.

Tell her about how you choked out a Chocobo and hot waxed a wolverine.

Go into graphic, disturbing detail. Log on to her work computer and look up some videos. Make sure you are on her computer because you might get lucky and get her fired for looking up furry porn videos. Find the raunchiest one you can find and tell her that it’s you. Point excitedly at the screen and tell her how difficult the positions were to pull off.




Either she’ll quit from being disgusted, get fired for looking up porn on her computer, or never talk to you again. Either way it’s a win for you. I predict you’ll get a couple of mouthed thank yous from the rest of the staff as well because you are not the only one being annoyed by Ethel.

Ok, Here’s a Physics question for you guys, in two parts. How do I answer the following problem?

You stand on the seat of a chair and then hop off.

(a) During the time you are in flight down to the floor, the Earth is lurching up toward you with an acceleration a. What is the value of a? Visualize the Earth as a perfectly solid object.

If the seat of the chair is 33 cm off the floor, how far does the Earth move while you are falling?


It’s not Your Stupid Advice’s job to do your physics homework for you, we’re more of an advice column for people who need, well, advice. That said, I think there are some very basic physics lessons that you missed that will help you with this problem, so let’s go ahead and answer this one.

First of all, Newton proved once and for all that objects with different mass will travel to Earth at different speeds. So if I weigh 135 pounds, I will arrive at the earth 32% slower than someone who weighs 190 pounds. This is a basic scientific fact.

Second, I agree that it should be called a flight even though it’s very, very short but saying the Earth is lurching towards you is ridiculous. It’s more of an outright attack on you. The Earth hates when people escape and she will come after you, with a vengeance paralleled only by Michael Myers on Halloween, should you do something to remove yourself from contact. This is also a scientific fact.

Third, the earth is 71.11 percent water, so visualizing the planet as a perfectly solid object is really dumb. This is a fact and then a critical judgement on your mental acuity.

Fourth, 33 centimeters is 12 inches. Where are you going to find a 12 inch chair to jump off of? Hobbiton? I’ve stepped off of curbs higher than 12 inches. If you were to jump off a 33cm chair the earth wouldn’t even know enough to be pissed at you for leaving (see point 2).

Clearly your physics teacher has no idea what he’s talking about. You need to take the points above and write a letter to him to let him know how far off he really is about science. Make sure you remind him that the theory of gravity is just a theory. Also, bring an IKEA catalog with you to show proper measurements for a chair.

After you do that, just sit back and wait for your A. You deserve it.


In an effort to solve this problem I turned to physical experimentation. This is a difficult procedure, because you must remember that at all times, we are hurtling through space at a ridiculous speed. When you take into account the Earth’s rotation, the movement around the sun, the sun’s movement through the galaxy and our spinning across the universe, we are travelling at an estimated speed of 2142720km/h. Once I realized this I had to go have a lie down for awhile. This was unsettling. That is too fast and it makes me queasy.

After a few hours and a light snack, I decided to once again tackle this problem. After I played Batman Arkham City for awhile. Damn that game is good. Seriously, have you tried it? A few hours and you won’t give a damn about physics anymore. I am a professional though and I chose to man up and answer this stupid question so I could get on with the important things in my life.

So…in order to take that pesky speed into account, I chose to represent it as simply R, where R stands for Really Mindbogglingly Fast. The distance from Point A (me) and Point B (Earth) is relatively simple as you have already established this in your question. It is simply 33cm. This constant shall be represented by 33. Since it is a number and already represents what it is (why complicate things?). Let’s hold on to these symbols and we can slot them into our formula later.

We’re moving right along here aren’t we? Ok. We need to establish my moving speed now. I unfortunately suffer from a genetic glandular disorder which causes me to reach terminal velocity almost immediately. This can be problematic and causes me to reach speeds of about 90m/s pretty much instantaneously. If the the chair is .33m tall, this means that it takes me only .22 seconds to crash into the ground with an impact force of 32658.62 N.

With all of these components in mind I stepped aboard the chair to gather some good old hard data. Unfortunately, when I fell, the high speeds and crushing force caused me to shatter my left leg. Currently, I am hospitalized and it looks like it is going to be a long and grueling road to recovery.

I have not answered your question.

I am in immense pain.

I hope you are satisfied with yourself.

You and physics are both assholes and you deserve each other.

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I’m glad that I happened to be sitting in front of the computer when this question came in. The fact of the matter is, anyone who has ever taken LSD, gotten so drunk they couldn’t walk or hit their head really, really hard has asked this same question. You, brave writer of the unknown language of the fucked, had the balls to write it down and I applaud you.

The only problem is that I’m not tripping, I don’t drink and I avoid banging my head on anything unless the only other option is to watch Glee. This leaves me in a little bit of a bind because I want to help you, but you haven’t helped me help you. I’m going to have to read between the line to find out what you really want to know.

“Why does Steve Miller think that flying like an eagle to the sea will answer any problems other than the eagle’s immediate hunger needs?”.

While this is a great question, one that a lot of people would like to know the answer to, it’s not really advice as much as an explanation of art, which is not my forte. I’m not sure Steve Miller himself, the master of such gems like “time keeps on slipping into the future” and “Lovey dovey, lovey dovey, lovey dovey all the time” could articulate what he meant by this, and neither can I.

What possible explanation could he give, anyway? It would probably be like those last few episodes of Lost where they tried to explain everything like a two year old making up a story on the spot. There really isn’t anything you can say about an eagle flying to the sea to tie it to putting shoes on some kid’s feet without sounding like a complete asshole.

As an aside, I don’t think two year old kids sound like assholes when they are making stories up. They just sound stupid. Kids really can’t be assholes until they are about 5. If you looked at a three year old and thought “what an asshole,” you’re probably the asshole.

Anyway, I looked it up, Steve Miller’s album sold 13 million copies. That means, after sobering up, 12 million people put this album on and thought to themselves “what the fuck is this shit???” and threw it away. The other million was split evenly between wedding DJs and Southerns. I’m pretty sure that there are some hillbillies down there in Alabama who still think Steve Miller is the second coming of Hank Williams.

At the end of the day, the only thing Steve Miller did was add waste to landfills and bring headaches to wedding attendees.You may be asking yourself how this is advice right now. I’m getting there. Clearly, my advice to you is to always have Advil on hand at weddings. Because of Steve Fucking Miller.


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I google translated this question and I actually agree with Geoff’s analysis of its true meaning.

Actually, that’s not right. Really I did better than Google. I put on a pair of 3D glasses, held it in front of a mirror and recited Klaatu Barada Keanu and the true question was revealed to me.

“Why does Steve Miller think that flying like an eagle to the sea will answer any problems other than the eagle’s immediate hunger needs?”

Again, I really think Geoff hit the nail on the head with this one. He’s really not that handy with tools, but this is clearly not a request for advice. Of course, that won’t stop me any more than it stopped my fellow advicinator. I am wisdomous and I must share my gift.

My advice to you is to stop worrying about what Steve Miller thinks.

For one, Steve Miller is so over. Seriously, check your collar and the hem of your jeans. Small and small. Live in the now.

For two, who is that guy really? Ok, so there’s a Steve Miller Band, but do we ever really get to see this Steve Miller character? Maybe sometimes he hangs out with that Jethro Tull guy and his buddy Lynyrd Skynyrd.

No. It’s all smoke and mirrors. Bells and whistles. Ebony and ivory. Chutes and ladders. The truth is…

There is no Steve Miller.

You can have your Santa Claus and your Easter Bunny and your Tooth Fairy and your Banking Code of Ethics Commission, but you cannot make me believe there is a Steve Miller.

This is a manufactured marketing ploy created by some sadist who was trying to make us call ourselves “Maurice” and take the money and run.

So stop caring what Steve Miller thinks about eagles, or the Eagles (it’s not clear whether or not the song refers to Eric Clapton), or the sea or even being hungry. Steve Miller doesn’t think anything because there is no Steve Miller.

Oh. Wait. I just checked. It turns out there is a Steve Miller.

Never mind.

Carry on.

All the best!

(Wait a minute. Does that mean there’s a Dave Matthews too?)

How do I get my co-workers to wear appropriate Halloween costumes to work?

Every year there’s an office Halloween party, and of course there’s inappropriate costumes. Susie from accounting always has something that elicits:
a: Did you see what that slut is wearing?! from a few coworkers.
b: A litany of sexual acts that they would like to perform with Susie from accounting, and of course which they are sure she is up for. From the boss and a few other neanderthals who somehow think I want to hear this.
So how do I get her to wear something appropriate? Even on Halloween I don’t think I should have to know what color thong she is wearing just because I work in the same office.



You know, some people find Santa Claus to be inappropriate. If they had their way Santa would shave that slacker’s beard, buy some clothes that are more subtle than a firetruck and take off the stupid hat that was fashionable in the fall of 1868. Other people would have Santa go on a diet to lose some of the “festively” out of his plump.

The fact of the matter is, you can talk to Santa all you want, the guy isn’t going to stop eating cookies or drinking milk. The same can be said about the costumes Susie from accounting wears and there isn’t much you can do about it. She’s probably just relieved that one day a year she doesn’t have to go home and change before going out.

In this life, the only person you can change is yourself. You can’t change the mind of an inappropriate number cruncher or the neanderthals who drool over her. Nope, the only one in your control is YOU.

That’s why, this Halloween, you’re going to out-shine Susie and shut her clam up once and for all.

I know what you are thinking: “hey, answer person, don’t you know that I’m a guy?” The answer to your question is yes, I know you are male, but that in no way should stop you from living your dreams.

Much like Martin Luther King Jr., you have a dream of an appropriately dressed work place and, also like MLK, you have the anger and vindictiveness to fight fire with fire. MLK would never let gender stop him from making a sarcastic and vengeful point and neither will you.

You need to go to the slut store (Forever 21) and get the shortest, see-through skirt you can find. This will take more effort than you might think because the store is chock full of short skirts and you need the sluttiest one they make. If you run into an issue ask one of your fellow slutty shoppers, they’ll help you. You can always pick them out by the mixed smell of Trident gum, Beauty perfume by Britney Spears and Aquanet (this last one is applicable to readers in New Jersey only).

Also, pick up some duct tape. I’m guessing you know what that’s for, but if you don’t, just remember that a drummer always puts his sticks away.

On the way into work on the 31st, stop by the makeup counter at Macy’s and tell them you want a blend of Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse (the alive version). This particular combination was highlighted in the June issue of Slutastic magazine, a division of Cosmo, and seems very appropriate for this occasion.

By the time you walk in, completely transformed into your combat slut suit, all eyes will be on you. No one will be looking at Susie in accounting and the neanderthals will have nothing to say. The best part is, if anyone complains about your costume, the office policy will be changed to address non-slut attire, so, MeetingBoy, looks like you win either way!

With answers like this maybe we should take the “Stupid” out of Your Stupid Advice!

My four year old has a phobia of Christmas trees. What do I do? -Anon

Geoff: What do you do??? NOTHING! Count your lucky stars! Unless you’re Jewish or Muslim and you have to support some other waste-of-money gift event annually, you should cancel Christmas in your house and take a nice vacation in the Bahamas with all of that money you just saved.

In fact, I’m going to use your experience as advice for other parents. If you start while your kids are young, you can avoid ever having to deal with the mall on Christmas Eve because you forgot to get the new Sponge Crabs on a Tubby Turtle talking toy, or worrying that the drunk mall Santa is going to grant your kid the wish he never made.

Here’s the annual plan to freak your kid out of Christmas and double your yearly vacation fund:

Year 3: Apply a base coat of fear. Buy or make yourself a Santa-based jack-in-the-box. Make sure that as you turn it you are humming Christmas tunes at half their normal speed to make them more creepy. When Santa/jack pops out, make sure you show complete fear, as kids learn to react by watching how you react. Also, make a Santa puppet that has a small tack in its mouth, and whenever it comes out, make a sad face and prick the child. Don’t make him bleed, you don’t want to go to jail, but do it just hard enough to make him cry a little.

Year 4: Solidify the foundation. Things are ramping up now. The little squirt is starting to think and talk coherently which means that he’s thinking and talking to other kids as well. It’s all cute, but you have to make sure you have a solid foundation of Santa-hating laid out over this year or you could lose control of the situation.

This is the year you start using serious psychological warfare on the little consumer. Sometime in August, buy a Christmas-style tree. Don’t call it that, just call it a “tree for the patio.” In the middle of the night sneak it into the 4-year-old’s room and shake it violently while doing your best T-rex/Michael Jackson combination impersonation. Make sure he doesn’t actually see you. Do this until November and then get rid of the tree.

Year 5: Seal the deal. This is the final year you should have to worry about this. Once you get through this year the phobia should be so set in that you’ll never have to stress about Christmas again.

For the first couple of months, pepper conversations with talk about Santa losing his mind and stalking young children until he finally eats them. Make sure the little kid hears you but doesn’t know you’re talking to him. Then, sometime in the May/June time frame, start leaving shreds of red cloth on his door hinges and window sill. Also, leave some unexplained long white hair near his bed. Buy a Santa costume and walk by his slightly unopened door through the night as he sleeps.

As you go into Fall, start talking about how there are missing children in the neighborhood and that Santa seemed to be involved somehow. Then, while the kid is at school, install a strobe light and a fog machine in his closet. Mount the creepiest Santa doll you can find on top of a catapult aimed right at his bed. (ProTip: Go to Etsy if you can’t find a creepy enough Santa.)

As he falls asleep, turn on the smoke. The smoke will seep out of the closet and he’ll notice. Then, flash the strobe so he gets flashes of creepy Santa. He’ll be screaming at this point, but it’s not the time to back down. In for an inch, in for a mile. Turn the strobe on constant flash and fire the Creepy Santa Catapult right at his head. While he’s freaking out run in to the room a grab the Santa so he has no tangible evidence of the deception.

There you have it! How to never worry about Christmas again…

Also, why I’m legally restricted from having kids.

How to buy the best flashlight?


Well, I guess first you want to really make sure that you adhere to due diligence and do your research. Though it is a product that is only a few years old, there are a variety of different types these days and the selection can be overwhelming.

You need to start with the main question: Which one is right for me? Seems like a simple enough question but you have to remember that we, as humans, are a fickle bunch and can sometimes not know our own desires. Do you want to go with one that has a dark flesh tone? Light flesh? Perhaps you want one that is based upon an actual known star such as Jenna Haze. This can give it that slightly more personal experience.

On top of that you have all the options of the various different body parts now. Sure…your base model is always going to be a classic, but perhaps you want something that fits a little tighter. There are models that are well equipped to accommodate you now. These can bring that extra little spice you might have been looking for.

Your research really shouldn’t end there though…maintenance can be an issue. Be sure to check out the best lubes to useas well as proper cleaning practices before purchasing. You don’t want to get something that is going to end up being a hassle in the long run. This is supposed to be something that is fun…not a chore to do. Also, make sure that you have made your choice before you even enter that store, remember…trying out the merchandise before purchasing is severely frowned upon.

I hope that I was able to offer some help and here’s hoping that you can pick the Fleshlight that is right for you!

Oh wait. I just re-read the question.

Can’t you just use your cell phone like everyone else?


I’ve been thinking a lot about cats recently. I mean, how cool are they? They are the vampires of the pet-animal kingdom, with all the style, smoothness and seemingly infinite life span. They appear wherever   they want, jump 10 times their standing height and can peer to the very depths of your soul. They are also self-sufficient for the most part, which is a bonus if you have commitment problems.

This is, of course, in complete opposition to the zombie of the pet-animal world: the dog. Canines are driven by one instinct and one instinct only: to feed. They will do just about anything to fuck you out of whatever it is that you are trying to ingest. In fact, in a recent survey I made up for this paragraph, 95% of dogs’ thoughts end in “…. and then I can get their food”. This is a dog in a nutshell.

I’ve often wondered what would happen if a vampire got bitten by a zombie. They are two totally different breeds of creature that procreate through some sort of fluid exchange. I’d like to think that the blind ambition of the zombie would feed into the smooth, beautiful vampiric lifestyle, but my guess is a Dick Clark post-stroke confused creature is closer to the mark.

What does this have to do with flashlights? Absolutely nothing, which is what you’re going to see if you buy a shitty flashlight. Don’t be cheap. Buy a Maglite, so when you’re running from zombie-vampire Dick Clark through an alley on New Years Rockin’ Eve you won’t have to pause to smack your flashlight on your palm to get it to turn back on.

Hi Crack pot team, any thoughts on how Yahoo is to stay in business on account of the fact that I have never heard anyone say “just Yahoo it”?

– Jason


This doesn’t really fit our model for personal advice questions so I have to interpret this as you sit on the board of directors of Yahoo and you need our expert advice on how to become a larger competitor to Google (and possibly find a new CEO). Don’t worry, I understand that you can’t confirm that, but I’m totally clear about what’s going on here.

In order to protect you, and me, I’ll have to answer you in metaphor.

Imagine yourself in a freezing tundra. You’re walking around, looking for food in holes. Rats and squirrels and stuff.  That’s all there is in a tundra, holes, and rocks and other ground-type things and the animals that live amongst them. I’m saying there are no trees. That’s the point here. NO TREES.

There are lots of holes, but you can only get into big holes because of your large paws. Oh, I forgot to mention, you’re a bear. You’re a cold, hungry bear in the tundra. With me so far?

Then, you see a unicorn. A majestic, stunning unicorn that’s currently shitting a large rainbow made out of golden silk. Except, you’re a bear, so all you see is a shiny, colorful  dinner. So you crouch down, and make your way over to the unicorn to eat it.

The unicorn sees you, and instead of running, it says “here, have a cream puff.” Because all unicorns have cream puffs in their pouches. I also forgot to mention that, in this metaphor, unicorns are marsupials. Marsupials who speak English. Like you. A bear.

You take the cream puff, and not knowing what a cream puff is (you’re a bear, after all), you cram it in a hole to see if it scares out a rat.

It doesn’t.

The unicorn floats away and you’re stuck with your cream puff jammed into a hole in the ground next to a steaming pile of fresh unicorn rainbow shit, still hungry and now some what pissed off.

What’s the moral of the story?

Hire me as your CEO and you’ll find out.

Why is my car coughing up hair?

I just pulled about 10 feet of hair out of my tailpipe. At first I thought something just got stuck when I saw a piece of black hairy material hanging out of it, and so I pulled it out and that was that. But the following day, I saw it again! It almost seemed like someone stuffed a black wig into my muffler! And that time, when I pulled it out, I yanked about 10 feet of it out. What is wrong with my car?? Why is it spitting hair out?

– Eartha


It must have been a shocking experience to pull that out of your tailpipe. It’s remarkable that you even look at your tailpipe often enough to have noticed this. I’m pretty sure I would have driven around with what looked like a black rat tail for days or weeks before noticing something awry with my tailpipe.

While it must have been a shocking occurrence to you to have a hair-like substance coming out of your car, I assure you that it’s not completely unheard of. There have been a few cases around major cities of this happening. I’d be willing to bet two events were occurring simultaneously during the time period of this incident:

1)Cher was between farewell tours.

2)There were horrible, muffled, top 40 love songs coming faintly to you from inside the engine compartment.

The fact of the matter is, you have Cher stuck in your exhaust pipe. Cher has been known to climb into people’s exhaust systems and hibernate in between farewell tours. The number 2 reason for people finding black, hair-like substances in their mufflers is Cherbernation. The only more common reason is Auto-Dysphoria, in which automobiles express their individuality by attempting to do things they weren’t designed to do, like, say, wig making.

When you pulled the first piece of hair out, it was her show wig. Like anyone in show business, she came prepared with a backup, just in case. The second one you pulled out was the backup. So now Cher is stuck in your engine mortally embarrassed to come out because you took her wigs and God only knows what she looks like without a wig.

Much like Frodo and the Ring of Power, you have a choice to make. If Cher is ever reunited with her wig she will come back out of retirement and poison all of our ears with an endless crooning of “Turn Back Time” and “Believe”. This can’t happen. Only you stand between a world with tolerable music and a world where Cher is turning back time simply to fix her love life.

Your choice.