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Have a problem? Why not ask The Helping Hand, America's premiere advice columnists since 1971.
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Dear Chippy and Dodd,
I have been trying for months to get pregnant but still no luck. Is there something I could be doing wrong, or is it my husbands fault?
- Infertile in Farmington
Dear Barren Broad,
Dodd's busy shellacking his Elvis fro, so let me slip you some all star advice before he busts in and get's all granny on ya. Just because I'm a hand puppet doesn't mean I haven't tossed the seed a time or two, so believe me, I know what I'm talking about. The problem is, ya got it all wrong. You're not supposed to WANT to get knocked up. You're supposed to use all of them toxic jellies and contraptions to kill off the little fuckers, see? If ya start gainging weight and knitting pink booties, just throw yourself down a hill or something. Got it?
Dear Chippy and Dodd,
Is month-old gorgonzola really good for the complexion like it says in your book "101 Ways To Improve Your Dating Skills While Cleaning Out The Refrigerator"?
- Curious in Cairo
Dear Curious Cairoid,
Well, since Dodd is still busy waxing the knob nut, I might as well try to help ya out. Now that ya mention it, not only is rotten Gorgonzola good for getting rid of spider veins and jowel pouches, it's also great for really pissing off Mrs. Dodd, especially if you put it behind the radiator right before bridge club. Holy shit, you've never seen anyone stomp around and scream so much. It's beautiful. It's even better if you can shove some soggy butter pickles in the caps of the salt shakers. Wow, last Sunday she just about burst a hemroid right in front of the reverend's wife when she couldn't salt her deviled egg. I think next week I'll see what kind of brain genius shit I can do with liquified brocoli.
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Chippy and Dodd are not licensed therapists. Chippy and Dodd are not members of any organization of prestidigitation or puppetry of any kind. “Chippy and Dodd, A Helping Hand” is for entertainment purposes only. Do not read Chippy and Dodd under the influence of psychoanalytical drugs. Under penalty of law, reprinting, repeating, or using the advice given by Chippy and Dodd is actionable by Section C, Paragraph VII of the State’s Attorney’s Office in several Midwestern and Southeastern states. Do not try sock puppetry at home without a spotter. Chippy and Dodd are not members of the Church of Scientology or The Church of Jesus Christ of Ladder Day Saints. Chippy and Dodd do not accept mail from Canada or Mexico. “Chippy and Dodd: A Helping Hand” is a free service from AmericanSideshow.org and is not affiliated with any other web site or news outlet, excepting the Fox News Channel. Dodd is not, nor has he ever been a member of NAMBLA. All material related to Chippy and Dodd is the sole right of “Chippy and Dodd Productions and Greeting Card Company Worldwide.” Direct all letters for Chippy and Dodd to SideshowContact@aol.com, or just shut your tooth hole for Christ’s sake. I mean what do you think we are, fucking brain geniuses?
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The Chippy and Dodd Archive
1/19/06
Dear Chippy and Dodd,
I have a terrible problem with spider veins and lip sweat. Do these two maladies often go together and what on earth can I do to fix this problem?
Embarrassed in Beaumont
Dear Revolting Texan,
- Chippy!
- What?!
- That is absolutely no way to address one of our advice-seekers.
- Look, Dodd, I'm a freaking hand puppet, I do what I want, see? If I wanna throw back a bottle a schnapps, smoke some stogies and play freakin' Operation with a blow torch I'll do it. No two-bit kiddie raper's gonna shut me down, understand?
- Fine. I just wish you'd be nicer to our guests, that's all.
- No problem, I'll be just as nice as punch. Now as far as spider veins go, they're disgusting and unsightly and if any broad ever approached me with purple shit all over her pencils I'd probably vomit then sock her six ways from Sunday. And lip sweat, gimme a break. Everyone knows lips only sweat on pigs, and then only if they're runnin' around chasin' rabid chickens or some such shit.
- Chippy!
- What?
- What did I tell you about using the "s" word?
- Oh you mean sugar britches?
- SSSSSSShhhhh! You know I'm sensitive about the "s" word. Mother is too.
- Dodd, you'ver wearing me out like a bad suit on prom night. Who gives a shit about spider veins anyway, now pick up that needle and darn my hole, I got a real gapper in the ankle. You heard me Wigboy, darn me up or I'm gonna tell Mother you keep candied figs in your underwear!
- Yes sir...
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12/19/05
Chippy and Dodd are off to Aruba for the
holidays with Mother, filling in will be newcomer...
"Nutty" - The Clairvoyant Arm Tumor.
For a dollar, the tumor will tell your fortune, predict the future, or just plain scare your friends.
Dear "Nutty,"
I finally have a date for the prom and I want to know if he's going to try to make me go all the way? (please note, silver dollar included)
-Nervous in New Jersey
Dear "Nervous New Jersoid,"
Finding a lump on your hand or wrist can be a frightening experience. But most of the time, these are harmless ganglion cysts that will often disappear in time. Commonly, ganglion cysts grow on the top of the wrist (dorsal ganglions). But they can also be found on the underside of the wrist (between the thumb and your pulse point), at the end joint of a finger or at the base of a finger. A ganglion grows out of a joint, like a balloon on a stalk that rises out of the connective tissues between bones and muscles. Inside the balloon is a thick, slippery fluid similar to the fluid in your joints. Usually, the more active you are, the larger the lump becomes; when you rest, the lump decreases in size.
Dear "Nutty,"
My daughter just got engaged to a man who is of a different ethnic background. I'm trying to be open minded, but my husband is very much opposed to the wedding. I've tried explaining things to him, but he just won't budge. Do you see a happy wedding in my daughter's future?
- Worried in Panatukah
Dear Panawhata?,
Your doctor may ask you how long you've had the ganglion, whether it changes in size and if it is painful. He or she may apply pressure to see if there is any tenderness, or hold a penlight up to the cyst to see if the light shines through. You will probably need to get an X-ray, so that the doctor can rule out conditions such as arthritis or a bone tumor. Sometimes, an MRI or ultrasound is needed to find a ganglion cyst hidden under the skin.
Dear "Nutty,
For the love of God, am I going to die of lung cancer? 'Ya gotta tell me!
- Terrified in Texas
Dear Texas Chicken Shit,
No one knows what triggers the formation of a ganglion. Women are more likely to be affected than men, and ganglions are common among gymnasts, who repeatedly apply stress to the wrist. Because the fluid-filled sac puts pressure on the nerves that pass through the joint, some ganglion cysts may be painful. Large ganglions, even if they are not painful, are unattractive and may need to be excised.
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11/05/05
Dear Chippy and Dodd,
I've got a real problem. My boyfriend of six years has been wearing my skirts and sweaters when I'm not around. And recently, I've even found my sling backs and mules to be stretched out and scuffed. I've confronted him with it, but all he does is down play it and say "lots of guys like to get dolled up every now and then." Is this normal behavior?
Double Cross Dressed in DeKalb
Dear DeKalber,
-My friend Chippy here is just aching to answer this one I'm sure, but he was very naughty last week so I'm not sure if I should let him. Mother was very upset that he set fire to the ladies room at the Bowl-R-Amma during the Dream Date contest. She had to pay to have it hosed down and everything....
-Hey Dodd, you know what? Yer annoying me more than a mosquito on a wombat nut, so can it! I've got every right to answer this sad ass story, so why don't you go back down in the basement and straighten your John Stamos poster.
-Chippy, Mother warned you about being mouthy out in public. Remember, she said we can do our "funny stuff" in the bedroom, but not out where others can hear.
-Whoa, whoa there "Mr. Speaking For Everyone In The Freakin' Room!" I don't exactly fit into your little "funny stuff" rituals. If you wanna beat off to cut outs of Jack Lord, well, be my guest. But don't tie me in with that creepy shit. I'm a 100% potent sex god that likes women. Women with gigantic knockers and large and lovely rumpeses. I don't go in for any of that little boy shit, see what I'm sayin'? Girls Dodd. You're supposed to like GIRLS, not little boys you meet at the gumball machine or furry little hand puppets shaped like Michael Landon's left testicle. Jesus Christ I gotta get you laid proper!
-Chippy! Honestly, the way you talk, you outta be ashamed. I do not pick up boys at gumball machines. That was only once, and it was simply a misunderstanding. Officer O'Reily was very nice to Mother when she put up the bail money. I was simply trying to trade a blue gumball for a green one.
-Ha! Trading a gumball! That's the sorriest excuse I've ever heard for trying to get into an 8-year-old's pants! Dodd, yer a whack job that's too freakball to live and too healthy to die. Yer worthless Dodd...
-Chippy!
-Dodd...listen to the hand.
-Yes sir...I know.
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10/19/05
A Dream Date Come True!
Meet the lucky winner of the dream date contest…Marjorie Bowles!
Marjorie was the 11th guest to write in to the American Sideshow dream date contest to win a double date with famous advice columnists Chippy and Dodd…and Squeezles – America’s favorite sock puppet. Let’s hear how it all went:
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American Sideshow: “Well Marjorie, how was the date? Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”
Marjorie: “Um, well…it was ok. To tell you the truth, I was expecting a little more. I mean, I didn’t even get a corsage or anything.”
AS: “Oh. Well, was Squeezles a gentleman? Did you two hit it off?
Marjorie: “Gentleman? No, he was an athletic sock. All he did all night was ask about my shoe size and try to sniff my feet.”
AS: “Uh, what about Chippy and Dodd, did they pick you up on time as they were instructed?”
Marjorie: “Not exactly, Dodd said Chippy was causing problems back at his mother’s house. Apparently Dodd wanted him to wear a bow tie, so he hid behind the radiator for 20 minutes until Dodd said he could wear the Hawaiian shirt instead.”
AS: “Oh dear. Did you get the full tour of the American Sideshow office at least?”
Marjorie: “Yeah, but that was just Mrs. Dodd’s basement. I mean there weren’t even any desks or anything. I did get to see Dodd’s James Brolin collection though. He’s got pictures of him all over the place. It’s kinda creepy really.”
AS: “Huh. Well…how was dinner? Did you try the Chicken a la Karl? I hear it’s legendary.”
Marjorie: “Yeah, legendary for being burnt on the outside and frozen in the middle. And I think my cream sauce had a mouse foot in it.”
AS: “Did you send it back?”
Marjorie: “No, Squeezles ate it. He likes anything having to do with feet.”
AS: “Did Squeezles share his poetry collection with you? I hear he can be quite romantic.”
Marjorie: “Oh boy, did he ever! I had to sit through ‘Love In a Tube Sock,’ ‘Lost In The Wash – The Argyle Story,’ and something called ‘The Tennis Booty Trilogy.’ And he kept drooling the whole time. First of all, I didn’t know sock puppets could drool. The whole thing was really pretty disturbing. And to make matters worse, Chippy kept wanting to ‘sneak a peak at my love muffin’ - whatever that means.”
AS: “I’m really sorry to hear that. So I don’t suppose you’ll be calling Squeezles again for another date?”
Marjorie: “Ha! Another date? Not after he dropped a bowling ball on my right toe and Chippy set fire to the women’s room at the bowling alley. No siree bob! I will not be seeing the likes of those freaks again, no way!”
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8/15/05
This edition featured the "Enter To Win a Dream Date With Chippy and Dodd...
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…and Squeezles! America’s favorite sock puppet." It went like this...
You could win a double date with American Sideshow’s favorite advice columnists and their very best friend “Squeezles The Sock Puppet.” All you have to do is be the 11th guest to write in at SideshowContact@aol.com. Just write “Dream Date” in the subject line. After all, isn’t it time for a little romance in your life?
Your date will include:
- courtesy pick-up in Dodd’s Ford Country Squire
- a special tour of the American Sideshow offices
- dinner at Karl’s Kountry Kitchen where you may order either Salisbury
Steak or the famous “Chicken a la Karl”
- 2 free hours of bowling (shoes not included)
- a leisurely stroll through Sherman Park where Dodd will point out many
interesting sites, including a statue of Millard Fillmore
- a last stop at Squeezles house where he will show you his poetry collection
entitled “I like Knee Socks Cause They’re Tall”
- at this point Dodd will have left early to draw Mother’s bath, so you’ll have
to arrange your own transportation home, however, you will be presented
with a complimentary gift box of Sideshow potted meats
- and lastly, experience the thrill of having your double date written up in the
very next edition of American Sideshow!
Don’t delay! Write in today and win the most *exciting night of your life!
*American Sideshow is not responsible for: lost pocket change, sweaters, eye teeth, hair, Mrs. Dodd’s carburetor, bail money, or anything having to do with Chippy setting fire to public restrooms.
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8/1/05
Due to “health problems” and a slight run in with Mother, Chippy and Dodd were off this week. Filling in was Baby Howard, a real-live 5-month-old with full pants and a lot on his mind.
Dear Baby Howard,
I recently discovered a strange goiter-like growth on the back of my neck. The doctor says it’s harmless, but I can’t help but be ashamed. Is there anything I can do to mask it or make it less noticeable?
-Embarrassed in Arkansas
Dear Arkansasian Goiter Head,
Yeah, yeah, I hear ya, lumps and bumps can be unsightly. I once threw my sippy cup at the Johnson baby so hard he had a cherry goiter growing out of his forehead like a tree knot. The little bastard had palpitations on his soft spot for weeks. That’ll show him…little bald-headed drape ape. Now what was the problem again? Wait a minute…I think I hear someone commin’. Hang on...
“Whaaaaaa, waaaaaaaa, gurrrrrglllle, gurrrrglllllp, whaaaaaaaaaa, gggguuuurrrrrrrrgllle”
Alright, alright, enough of that. That baby gurgling shit throws ‘em off every time. Now where was I? Oh yeah, goiters, no, no, the Johnson baby. So this kid says to me, “Hey, Baby Howard, how come the mailman comes by your house twice a day and we only get a delivery once?” Well, naturally my response was swift and precise and I says to him, “Yo Baby Johnson, because my mother’s as hot as Marilyn Monroe in a trough of gravy, that’s why. Now shut yer nipple hole or I’ll have to come over there and get all Elementary on yer ass.” Jesus, I swear to Christ that kid’s as useless as tits on a goose.
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Dear Baby Howard,
Recently I’ve been battling a terrible bout of incontinence. It’s difficult for me to go out and enjoy daily activities and even my wife seems to be disgusted with me. What can a man do to get his normal life back?
-Crossed Legs in Corpus Christi
Dear Soggy Pants,
Don’t go yammering at me about having damp pants. Christ, I didn’t get my diaper changed for three days once just because Grandma was too drunk to buy me some Huggies at the Arco station. Let me tell you, you haven’t seen a back side so red since Joe McCarthy nabbed Ring Lardner. Jesus, I can’t remember the last fresh diaper I’ve had, I’ve been draggin’ this one around like a damp cat for days. And hey, what does a guy gotta do to get a little powder around here! I mean Goddamn, just because a fella’s only a few months old doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get some respect. And now that ya’ mention it, how ‘bout some decent food, I can’t eat this pureed shit anymore. Carrot and Pea Delight my ass! I mean how about a six-pack and some beer nuts fer Christ’s sake!
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Dear Baby Howard,
The doctors say I don’t have much time left, in other words, I’m dying. I’ve had a good life so far, but I’m not ready to go just yet. What can I do to make the most of my precious remaining time?
-Not Ready in Rochester
Dear Dead Guy,
Hey, what do I look like, a freakin’ funeral director? What are ‘ya asking me for, I got my whole life ahead of me. I mean Christ, I got daisies to sniff, puppies to pet and broads to grope. How should I know what a dead guy’s supposed to do? Go out and have an ice cream, or go to the circus. But hey, do me a favor. When you finally do go out, take that Goddamn Johnson baby with ‘ya. I’m tellin’ ‘ya, that kid has all the smarts of a corn broom in a house fire. Believe me, you’d be doin’ all of us living people a big favor. Besides, I hear the kid’s got pin worms...
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7/15/05
Dear Chippy & Dodd,
I have a terrible problem that no one is able to help me with. About a month ago, I woke up to find my entire body covered with an ugly, green, scale-like growth. My doctor says not to worry about it, as it hasn’t really affected my health. But people point and stare at me in public and my husband is starting to treat me differently in the bedroom. What should I do about this horrible problem?
“Sad n’ Scaly in South Dakota”
Dear “Scales,”
-My goodness, that sounds like a real pickle of a problem. Now first things first, and I think my partner Chippy here will agree, no matter what, you shouldn’t feel ashamed…
-Hey, hey, hey Dodd, not so fast there shit stick. Whadda’ ya’ think this is a fuckin’ Shriners picnic? Shut yer’ tooth hole and give The Hand a minute to talk, will ya’?
-Well, alright Chippy. But please try to be nice. This sounds like a terribly serious problem…
-Hey, hey, Dodd, seal it and send it to someone who likes the smell of your shit, ok? How many times do I gotta’ tell ya’? Stop bein’ so squeeze-ass and lemme dish out some good advice here, ok?
-Well (sigh)…I don’t know…I don’t feel good about this…
-Ok, listen up lizard girl. You’re a fuckin’ side show freak and if your old man ain’t chargin’ quarters for people to sneak a peek at your revoltin’ hide then you should both be taken out back and shot. Let me make something clear - chicks DO NOT have scales. Only amphibians have scales, any dime store asshole can tell ya’ that. Take my advice and immediately check yourself into the nearest zoo. Otherwise, you’re liable to spread this shit to all the other broads which will then render them 100% unfuckable. And I ain’t gonna’ spend the rest a’ my life milkin’ the may pole by myself, if ya’ know what I mean?
-Chippy!
-What? That’s the kind a brain-genius advice I give! Now if you want to go find another goddamn hand puppet that spews shit about flowers and kittens ‘n crap, well… then I’ll guess I’ll just have to tell your mother about that jar of marshmallow Fluff you keep under your bed next to that photo of James Brolin…
-Ok, ok. I’ll be good…
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Dear Chippy & Dodd,
I’m a 46 year-old happily married man. However, recently my wife has been avoiding me due to an increased flatulence problem. I can’t seem to control myself and medication just makes it worse. Is there nothing I can do to conquer this problem and win back the misses?
“Windy in Wauwautosa”
Dear “Farts Malone,”
-Now Chippy, is that any way to address someone in need?
-Hey, fairydust, why don’t ‘cha clam it and go back to ticklin’ your colon with a jack hammer. I thought we had an agreement here? You curl up into a fuckin’ ball and cry your eyes out over not havin’ a Daddy and I answer the Goddamn questions. Understood?
-Well…
-Well what!? Well nothin’. You’re worthless Dodd and ya’ smell like Mr. Roger’s Goddamn loafer closet. What is that…English Leather? Take a fuckin’ shower! You’re turnin’ my stomach with that stench, Jesus Christ.
Speakin’ a stenches, Fart Boy here from Cheeseland seems to be turnin’ off the little lady with his high-powered ass engine. Hey pal, think nothin’ of it. A man’s gotta expel some fumes from time to time, it’s just natural. I once had a fava bean dinner that blew my ass from Elgin to El Paso, and quite frankly, I’d never felt better. So tell that two-bit ball n’ chain a’ yours to stop bitchin’ and start appreciatin’ the aroma of a real man. Not like Dodd here, Jeeeeeeeeeeeesssssss…
-Now wait just a minute Chippy…that’s Alpine Mist. Mother gave it to me for our birthday…um, I mean, my birthday.
-Hey, put a sock in it meat whistle. Ya’ reek like a goddamn salmon patty that’s been doused in Febreeze. Christ, what is that…vanilla bean?
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Dear Chippy and Dodd,
I’m an older gentleman of 83 but I feel as young and vigorous as a 19 year-old, do you know of any ways I can meet younger women without having them shrug me off as an old man?
-Fit as a Fiddle in Fort Pierce
-Well, Chippy, I think I have some excellent advice for this gentleman…
- Oh really, well that would be a first considering last week you made a man shit his pants and then jump off a bridge.
- Chippy! He did not mess himself and he did not jump off a bridge. He fell.
- Oh right, sure. He fell off a bridge after you told him he was so pathetic that even barn cats with ringworm wouldn't stop to piss on him.
- No Chippy, that was you!
- Alright look, I ain’t got time to argue with dumbasses all day, so why don’t you just let me tell Pops here what’s what, ok?
- Well…ok. But only because mother would want me to share.
- Yeah, yeah whatever numbnuts. Now look here pops, you’re old and your probably gonna die any second now. So why not leave the young hot mommies to someone like myself who can handle a nice tight ass every now and then. So instead of buyin’ new clothes ‘n shit to impress the girls, you should be doin’ stuff like finding a nice suit at Goodwill and pickin’ out the color of your coffin lining, ok? So put down the barbells and go do something decent…like drop dead, got it?
-Chippy. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a long time, but I resent how you speak to our guests. I think you’re very hurtful and mean.
- Dodd, you’re about as worthless as a rubber cracker in the ass of St. Joseph. Now, if you’ll kindly get your fist out of my crack, I think it’s about time for my foot rub…
- Oh, ok…
- Ok what?
- Ok sir…
- That’s better.
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7/4/05
Dear Chippy & Dodd,
My boyfriend and I have been going steady for three weeks now and he keeps pressuring me to “go to first base.” Now, I’m not a baseball fan by any stretch, exactly how many “bases” are there, and will I still be a virgin when I get to the 5th one?
“Out in left field”
Dear “Left-Fielder,”
-Hi there, thanks for writing in. Well, I think my little friend Chippy here would like to help out this young lady with her problem. What do ‘ya say Chippy?
-Ya, Ya, sure thing Dodd, I’ll help the broad out. Just do me a favor, fix your glasses. ‘Ya look like a freakin’ 4-eyed pedophile on parole, ya’ goddamn knob-bobber.
-Now, Chippy…you know I don’t like it when you use foul language like that. It only hurts my feelings…and what would mother think?
-Hey, can it creephead! I don’t care about your feelings and your mother is a bristle-nosed lesbian that couldn’t get a date at a Dremel Tool convention. Now if you’ll shut up for a minute, maybe I can set things straight…
-Alright Chippy, but I’m warning you…
-Yeah, yeah, whatever. Ok listen up here toots, a man’s gotta’ run the bases in a regular fashion, see, or his one-eyed cream spitter’s gonna’ fall off faster than a leg on a leper. No Zipper Lizard – no date to the prom. No ball snot - no little fuckers running around shitting on themselves…see what I’m sayin’? Frankly, I don’t know who’s colon you’ve been hiding in to be so dumb-fuck ignorant about America’s favorite pastime?
Here’s a quick baseball lesson for ya’: first base means tongue, second base means a tit squeeze, third base is a dry hump, and at home plate you’ll find his crank so far up your pole yapper you’ll be whistlin’ the National Anthem all the way to the weenie stand. Got it?
-Oh Chippy, really…that’s not a very nice way to address a young lady…
-Hey Dodd, can it! You haven’t been with a broad since you accidentally peed on Debbie Winowitz in the 8th grade. So my advice to you is shove it up your left nostril and shoot it out your right, ok?
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Dear Chippy & Dodd,
I’m 10-years-old and my Mommy says I’m still too little to stay at home without a babysitter even though my best friend Mikey hasn’t had a sitter since he was 8. What should I do to let her know I’m big enough to take care of myself?
- “Not Too Little In Texas”
Dear “Texas Half-Pint”
-Now Chippy, I know what you’re thinking and I don’t like it one bit. You need to behave yourself and take this young man seriously.
-Dodd, you’re wearing me out like the snatch of a crack whore. Who would know how to deal with this little prick’s mother better than me? Just ‘cause I’m a fuckin’ hand puppet made out of your dead granny’s underwear doesn’t mean I can’t shoot the shit like a goddamn brain genius.
-Chippy, I warned you. I don’t want to have to wash your mouth out with soap again.
-Hey, Ass Face - can it! I think we know who runs the show around here, and it’s not Mr. Handjob with the Elvis hair, so why don’t ‘ya let me handle this! Now look here ya’ little piece of Texan shit, a woman’s gotta’ know her place. I don’t care if ya’ did come careening outta’ her clambasket 10 years ago with a pine nut in yer brain pan, the broad don’t have no business tellin’ a man like yourself what to do. If you wanna’ drink a fifth of Jack and play Candyland ‘till 6 AM, that’s your fuckin’ business, see? You don’t need some Bible-readin’, zit-faced babysitter commin’ over and messin’ up a perfectly good night of getting’ dog-faced drunk and blowin’ shit up. So unless that babysitter a’ yours has knockers the size of musk melons - tell Mommy Dearest to take a flyin’ leap through Satan’s sphincter, see what I’m sayin’?
-Chippy, good grief…the language!
-Hey Dodd, you’re a retard that don’t know the short bus from a shit box so seal it, will ‘ya?
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