Q: Is it bad to have really long hair in the army?

A: If there's one thing the Army loves, it's long, lustrous hair. That, and personal expression. We feel that every soldier should have two basic rights:
               
                   1.) The right to express their personality in any way they see fit.
                   2.) The right to proudly display their glorious, flowing locks of hair.

What would cripple the morale of an opposing army faster,  an overwhelming display of force by wave after wave of bland, generic, clean-cut drones, or a six hour long interpretative dance performed by a merry band of colorful free-spirits?

Clearly the free-spirits would have the edge.

In fact, I think your hair isn't long enough. We ought to put in some extensions - really style it up, make you look fabulous.

Have a seat in this chair and we'll get to work. This will be great. We could even frost your tips.

Close your eyes, I want this to be surprise.

I don't hear any buzzing. You must be hearing something.

Electric razor? I don't even know what those words mean.

KEEP YOUR EYES CLOSED, MAGGOT!

Q: How do you stop a horse from fighting you when putting on a bridle?

A: Approach her real gently, all quiet-like. Stroke her neck softy. Whisper into her ear. Tell her it won't hurt a bit. That it's for the best. That she'll grow to love it.

Give her a sugar cube.

Show her the bridle. Let her smell it, touch it, get comfortable with it.

Make large, slow movements. Nothing sudden. Nothing jumpy.

Slide the bridle on, slow as can be. Maintain eye contact the whole time. Once it's all the way on, fasten the snap, stoke her neck one last time and give her a kiss on the lips.

Hand the reigns over to the stranger who's about to mount her, collect the money and start the camera.

That's how it works with my wife. I figure it should be about the same with a horse.

Q: What would happen to the license of a driver who has involved in an accident and did not stop to help persons who got injured?

A: Is this a hypothetical question?

Or, is there something you want to tell me? I ask because you seem to be upset; you're shaking, you're sweating and you've been hysterically crying since you walked in the door. That's not like you.

It's also not like you to park in the yard. Usually, you park in the garage. So, that's odd.

I also find it odd that you tracked all that blood and broken glass into the house. You know how I feel about broken glass in the house. It makes it hard for me to walk around barefoot. You know that. I assumed you knew how I felt about blood in the house. But, since I never sat down and told you, I can't hold it against you.

For the record, I am against it.

Based on the blood, and the broken glass, and your hysterical crying, and the child stuck to your bumper, I'm going to assume that the driver in question is you. If that's the case, if my assumption is correct, your license will be revoked.

Not that you'll need a license where you're going.

You're going to the basement, to hide for a few years until this whole thing blows over. It will be just like when you were a kid, except we won't have to worry about your mother badgering me with all those questions about where you are. I hated having to lie to her.

Now, get down in the basement. Your cage is exactly how you left it. I didn't touch a thing. Not even your cat. She's probably dead now. But, at least you'll have something to eat.