Protip: Having another person shave you always results in a closer shave

Dear Genghis,

My parents fight a lot and I heard them talking about signing “divorce papers.” Is it my fault? If so, how can I make them be happy again?

Frightened in Bismark

Dear Frightened,

First, you must not despair, and instead take heart in the knowledge that your parents love you very much, that love is unconditional, and their near certain divorce is definitely your fault.

How do I know? Let me tell you.

I too, if it can be believed, have been prey to the chest sitting monster that is untimely separation. We are all human, and who among us has not received a “Dear Oegdei” letter, or has been forced to set a table for one, or had to endure the pain of beheading the ones we love? In my own life I had to divorce Lornta, my beloved and only 332nd wife. We, like your parents, would argue all the time, mostly about how cowardly our son was and the great shame he brought to our household. Our wretched son was so fearful of our parting he cowardly sought advice from “Ask Attila,” a popular forum at the time on the silk superhighway.

I will tell you the two things Attila told him.

1. Your parents will always love you even if they don’t love each other anymore.
2. It’s your fucking fault you home-wrecking demon-child.

You need to impress upon your parents that their otherwise perfect (until you were born) life may come again, and that your craven attitude was but a ruse to test their strength of their bond.

Threaten to kill the weaker as a false lover and idle promiser. Then, in their presence, you should ritualistically disfigure your face in ghastly tribute to their continued love while screaming, breathlessly, “death to flatterers and false friends! I am alive.”

Try it. I promise they will be surprised, and I dare say, touched.

Dear Genghis,

I read online that due to your hundreds of wives and successful sons and brothers, you are estimated to have million of decedents.  Is that true big-daddy?

Randy in Oregon

Dear Randy
Those bitches are lying. If any one of the tens of thousands of temptresses who bundled me into the bed or onto the back of their slaughtered husbands told you that any subsequently born child was mine, they are lying. You have to understand that as a rich man, every girl who suddenly finds herself knocked up is “certain” that I’m the father. Whether they be the nuns of Khartoum; the Sabine ladies of the Khwarizmi, or one of the hundred of virgins sent to me as tribute, I assure you I have no need to “do the right thing” because those brats aren’t even mine, nor their uncounted legions of offspring. As Lord under Heaven, and master of the scepter and mace and bow, I tell you this with a straight face: I pulled out 244,000 times. I am assured that this always works. It is written in the Sutras. It is written in the Tao de Ching. It is written in the May issue of Cosmo. So it was written! So it was done!