Easy Go, Easy Come

...Hey. So... what's goin' on? Yeah, yeah... that's cool, that's cool... yeah, nice. Good for you, man... ANNNNYWAY... it turns out I'm actually a Gay. Yeah, I know. I couldn't believe it either. But I did a lot of soul-searching these last few weeks. And yesterday, as I was cutting the backside out of a pair of leather pants, it finally occurred to me that I was a Gay. And not only am I a Gay but I've apparently been having the Gay sex for quite some time now. So... I'm gonna take some time off here and get my head together. I guess I have a bunch of things to do now, like move to the Village and get an earring and watch a lot of Joan Crawford movies and practice things like saying "fabulous" in a sing-song tone and snapping my fingers a lot. And I have to write a sequel to "Be Steele, My Heart," only for us Queers. (I think I'll call it "The Man-Love of Steele.") To bottom-line it ("bottom"... heh) I don't know when I'll get the time to do another post, if ever. But it's been fun... um, "girlfriend." (Did I get that right?) Don't worry, though: I lined up a replacement: the Empathoid! He can solve all of your emotional dilemas, romantic and otherwise. Okay, I've really got to go now. *melodramatically wipes tears away* See you at the Steisand concert, turkeys!

Greetings, denizens of the internet! I am the Empathoid, a being from a far-flung dimension, with a mind one thousand times more receptive to emotional activity than yours could ever be, and a bodyily consistency certain superheroes have compared to "Silly Putty." All shall bare their souls to the Empathoid! No, for reals. I'm not shitting around, here. You... yes you! The one in the XXL "Red Sonja" t-shirt! I sense within you doubt and suspicion. And gas. But mostly doubt and suspicion. Then behold! In the mere seconds it took you to read this paragraph, I have already garnered a sack full of letters from across the Marvelverse! Let us peruse one right now!

Dear Empathoid,

I lost a good friend while serving in World War 2. I still think about him every day. A while back I made a copy of his costume uniform. Sometimes I meet teenage boys who kind of look like my friend and I bring them home with me and I have them put on the sexy costume uniform. And then we wrestle. After I've paid them and sent them on their way I feel kind of guilty. My friend Iron Man Tony Stark Joe says I'm trapped in the past. What do you think?

Steve R.

Dear Steve R.,

Whoo boy! That's kinda creepy. I really don't know what to say here. I wish I could help you but I can't.

Regretfully,
The Empathoid.

Okay, so that one threw me. A mere fluke, I assure you. Let's read another one.

Dear Empathoid,

I am the headmaster at a prestigious private school in New England. For many years now I have had a crush on one of my students. Although we work together every day and she's a friggin' telepath quite perceptive, she is unaware of my true feelings. She's in love with another of my students, a real stick-in-the-mud type guy with zero personality. He has an eye condition and has to wear sunglasses all the time so maybe that's given him the illusion of "coolness." I really don't think the two of them are right for each other. Should I speak up or would that be overstepping my bounds as an authority figure?

Charles X.

Dear Charles X.,

Go for it, dude! What's the worst that could happen?

Encouragingly,
The Empathoid

Okay, now I'm just stirring shit for the hell of it. Have I mentioned that I thrive on human emotion? I actually eat the stuff -- the more screwed-up the mind, the better! It's-- how can I explain this so you'll understand? Ah! It's like when you-- yes, you in North Carolina with the scrubbly sideburns and the lip ring and the "Deadpool" tattoo -- it's like when you order a large Meatlover's Pizza even though your parents are out of town and you're the only one in the house and you wolf the whole thing down in one sitting. Okay, so your stomach cramps up pretty much immediately and the sodium give you heart palpitations and your stools are all screwed up for like a week but it's so damned good. It's kinda like that.

Here, let me try one more. I'll get the hang of this, I swear. No mere letter shall defeat the Empathoid! *laughs maniacally*

Dear Empathoid,

Since time immemorial, mine father hast had it in for me. Many are the grievous punishments he hast inflicted upon mine godly form, and countless be the moments in which I had no greater wish than to tell him "Lay the fuck OFF me, old man!" Yet always have I held mine tongue. For know ye this: his punishments are MOST UNJUST and are doled out, to my eyes, AT RANDOM. My heart is heavy indeed. I feel within my soul a fearful rage that, should it explode, might break fabled Bifrost in twain! The only thing staying my anger is the faint hope that I might replace him in his seat of power. Otherwise, I would be SO out of there. Verily, this is a vexing problem. What say you, Empathoid?

The Mighty T.

Dear The Mighty T.,

You clearly live in a dysfunctional home. You need to get out of there, A.S.A.P., and start living your own life! What's the worst your father could do to you? Call the cops? (Er, you are over eighteen, right?) And if you ever get your hands on the Living Eraser's dimension-spanning palm-bands, be sure to pay me a visit! Your anxiety sounds delicious!

Hungrily,
The Empathoid