Tevun-Krus #44 - Sword & Planet

#askmadmike

Mad Mike's Anal Advice

This month's topic is: "Swordplay."

That's right, you fuckin' nerds—swordplay. Don't cover your ears, pussies. If you want to play in the big leagues, you're gonna need to learn how to flail around your sword. And those of us who've mastered the art of our swords know there's a difference between an expert swordsman who can take you down with two lightning-quick thrusts and some young buck who's just discovered the art of polishing his puny little stabbing end.

There's more than meets the eye when it comes to swordplay. You might not know it, but a polished end does more than make your weapon nice and shiny. It lubricates that first stab, helping it slide into whatever orifice—already existing or not—you've selected, which will be compounded by your victim's fresh blood. Perhaps most important: Polishing your sword will reduce wind resistance, thus allowing for cleaner thrusts, and it also comes with a nice whistling sound as you slay those virgins.

I received a question via robotic pigeon the other day, which is what triggered this month's topic. John Juan asked if it was true that women like men who can make waving their swords look like some perverse dance, or perhaps like foreplay.

Yes, obviously, you fuckin' idiots. So save your pennies. Buy a long, fat sword. Sharpen it every single day. Go take some lessons. Maybe learn how to dance to a Bridgette Spears song, too. Practice in your spare time. Pretty soon you'll be crossing meat-sticks—I mean, swords—with the best of them.

Mad Mike's Madder Mail

"Yo, Mad,

My girlthang is unimpressed with my sword. She says her old mate Dan's sword was bigger and better. What can I do? Do I get a new one? Is there any way to make my existing sword longer, sharper and harder?

Reply swiftly. I know not how much time I have left."

—The Man with the Shorter-Than-Average Sword

Yo, dude. Don't get a new sword. Never get a new sword. Many a good men have wasted their entire lives trying to find the perfect sword. Pro tip: It doesn't exist. You've gotta fashion it from what you've got. So jam your thing into the fires of Elron and forge it anew. If you don't have the tools or means to do so, pay somebody to do it for you. If it breaks during this procedure, then it means it was a piece of Chinese shit to begin with. Don't settle for mediocre Chinese steel. Get the best. Buy American, or at least Argentinian.

I've got a sword guy. Let me send him your way. He does it all. He can tell if what you've got to work with is Chinese or not. His prices are decent and I, of course, earn a commission on giving him a new customer. Shit, it sounds like you don't mind paying out the nose for quality, secondhand black-market goods.

"Sir,

I wonder if might find it in your heart to offer a little assistance. You see, I am truly, madly and, as one might expect, deeply, in love with a Venusian Princess whom I met on a recent, if somewhat unexpected, excursion.

The issue, of course, is that the wormhole I used to inadvertently travel to that particular planet, one that took me back to a time when Venus was a lush and fertile world, is closed, and I now have no way to get back to my truest of true loves.

I am well aware you have contacts, shady individuals who have their fingers and toes in an inordinate amount of pies. I can pay whatever it takes. Money is no object when it comes to matters of the heart. Yours,"

—A Slightly Suicidal Nobleman

Sure thing, champ. Let me just call up my buddy with a time machine and we'll mail it Xpress Post to you pronto. Then you just hop on in and go back to a time when that intergalactic bunghole was open wide and awaiting your nocturnal transmission.

Hey, while I'm at it, why don't I sell you some prime waterfront property on modern-day dead-and-dry-as-fuck Earth? That'll be fifteen billion Galactic Credits, please. Hope you like make-believe water, fuckin' idiot.

Time machines don't exist, dumbass. You're screwed.

"'Sup, Fella?

Ever eaten goose?

It's fuckin' delicious. A bit like beef but y'know, it ain't a cow.

Anyways, I only ask 'cos apparently Martian Goose actually does come from a cow an' I was thinkin' you might be in the right frame of mind for a lil' Red Planet safari.

Smell ya' later"

—The Dude with the Big Fucking Gun

Howdy, pardner. I do, from time to time, like to indulge in a little goose, yes. I've never had Martian Goose, though I have had Mercurian Pig, which is actually a dish made from finely ground rocks and deer shit. The taste leaves something to be desired.

When you planning on hittin' up the ol' Red One? My schedule is free from now until September, so I wouldn't mind exterminating a life-form with you 'til then.

I'll bring the ammo. Got a doomsday stockpile I need to get rid of. Feel mighty stupid for thinking the world was gonna end from massive solar flares way back in March.

You bring some whores from Rigel IV. I'm not allowed to show my face or my dong there anymore.