Q: Can the executor of an estate drive the deceased's car?

A: I chose you as the executor of my estate because you are an honorable man, you are a smart man, and because I trust you. When I am dead, you may do whatever you please. When I am dead.

You can drive my car. You catch watch my TV. You can wear my suits. When I am dead.

You see, I will be dead, deceased, passed on from this world onto the next. There's nothing I can do or say about anything. I won't care. I will be dead. When I am dead.

You can even make love to my wife. I won't know or care or be able to do anything about it. Sure, my body will be there, mounted and stuffed in my favorite chair as stipulated in my will, but I won't be there.  It won't be me watching you, but an empty shell, a simulacrum of the man I was. If it excites you to pretend that it is really me, still alive, watching you, then by all means please do so. I think my wife would appreciate it. God knows my death will be tough on her. Especially once she discovers that I've left her nothing.

That's going to be an awkward conversation for you. When I am dead. Which I am not yet.

Please get out of my bed.

Q: How do you get back your son from his grandmother who has temporary custody?

A: It's important to remember that her custody of your son is only temporary, much like your recent run of insanity. Not permanent. Not forever. Temporary.

You didn't spend your whole life running through the village, urinating in all the mail boxes, riding small dogs and picketing stop signs, did you? No. It was only a few years. It was temporary. Eventually you came to your senses, pulled up your pants, climbed off those dogs and let the stop signs be. All it took was a few court orders and some tear gas. It passed. It is now over. Nobody even remembers it. These days most people know you as the guy who talks to the old washing machine under the bridge.

Nobody sees that billboard. Hardly anybody. How many people even use that road anymore? How many people even use roads? That billboard has no effect on the unemployeds, on the shut-ins, on the agoraphobes, on the houses arrested. That has to be like half the county, any one of whom might be the judge at your custody hearing.

Okay, obviously the billboard is a problem. It's hard to move on from a bout of temporary insanity when your face is twelve feet high and smiling and holding half a chicken and that half of the chicken is the bottom half, which is kind of weird and draws you in and draws your eye right to the slogan, which is a very good slogan. "Crazy Once, Crazy Forever."  Yup, that really hurt you in the election. And on those blind dates. And all those job interviews.

But, look, just because you have no job and no income and no one who loves you and nothing in your life except a washing machine and you are famously crazy doesn't mean you can't win back custody of your son. You have something his grandmother doesn't have: A father's love. And you have something else she doesn't have, something no one has: a sexually submissive relationship with an old washing machine. I wouldn't mention the latter in court.

Q: Can a father keep a child in Arizona if the parents have not filed for legal separation?

A: I appreciate your concern, Daddy, all the hours you devoted to learning the law, struggling to read and write even the most basic sentence because you dropped out of school at 7 to support your family by pretending to get injured in city buses and the steps of government buildings. That couldn't have been easy. I understand that you wanted me to have the kind of life you never could, a life of opportunity and freedom and maybe even college. That means so much to me. It truly does.

But I'm 35 years old now. I can take care of myself.

Daddy, please stop talking to the judge and talk to me.

Q: Is it a crime to collect rainwater?

A: Getting the water the way you did is within your legal rights. Doesn't matter that you used a rusty bucket. Doesn't matter that you plan to use it to fill up water balloons. Doesn't even matter that what you collected isn't even technically rain water. It's flood water. The law doesn't differentiate.

What the law does have a problem with is your illegal streaming of the latest Hollywood movies and UFC events. That's why the cops are here and that's why you're going to prison. Has nothing to do with the rain water.

I admit, the timing is suspiciously coincidental. If I were a betting man, I would wager that someone tipped them off to your criminal activities while you were off collecting the water. Probably someone with his own bookmaking related legal troubles looking to make a deal and also settle a personal grudge.

As you know, I am a betting man. And a cinephile. Maybe you'll remember that the next time you invite half the neighborhood over to watch Magic Mike.

Q: Do you have to pay outstanding debt if in jail for murder?

A: That's a really great question. Do you have a problem with the knives you ordered? They're high quality knives, made from the finest German steel, and you seem to take such glee in sharpening them.

No problem with the knives. Just don't feel like paying for them? Is that it?

Okay.

That's really a question above my pay grade. I'm with Collections. That sounds like a problem for Legal. I'll be happy to pass your question over to them. Just as soon as I slowly back out of your home.

By the way, when you ordered those knives, did you happen to also order our DVD series "How to Become a Champion Knife Thrower in 8 Days"?

Q: Can inheritance affect your section 8 housing benefits?

A: Traditionally such questions are answered after the reading of the will and by your private attorney, not here, in such a public forum, in front of your extended family, by your late father's executor. But as you have asked the question five times already at increasing higher decibels, have ignored all attempts at shushery and calls to decorum by your fellows in grief, wrote the question on a large placard and waved it about your head whole shouting, "Look here, look here, oh please, old man, why won't you look here," and now hold in your hand a megaphone to undoubtedly ask your question again at a decibel level previously unconsidered, I will depart from tradition and answer your question first.

Your status as a recipient of Section 8 housing benefits may be affected by your inheritance, dependent on the content of your inheritance and its actual value. If you were to be awarded a plot of land or a string of upscale condominiums your Section 8 status would certainly be revoked, which would be of little concern as you could live in one of your unoccupied rentals until such time as you find suitable accommodations or have burned the place to the ground trying to make bathtub rock candy. In your case, I would assume the later to be most probable. If you were to inherit money,  your Section 8 status would depend on the amount and your plans for it. Obviously your father was a very wealthy man and there will be a lot of money handed out today, enough money for even the most profligate man to live multiple lifetimes without every having to worry about working. Inheriting one of those large sums would automatically lift you from your current dwellings in the lower lower lower class to the rarefied air of the upper class, thereby disqualifying you from ever receiving Section 8 benefits again.

I wouldn't worry too much about that if I were you. Now, I don't want to get ahead of myself and spoil everyone else's fun during the reading of the will, but I don't think anyone will mind if I come right out and say it: Your inheritance contains neither money nor property. But, don't fear, your have not been left out. During the reading of the will, you should pay attention to the sections about the care and feeding of your father's collection of Rhesus Macque monkeys. They seem to bit rather fond of biting. I hope they don't cause you any problems with the Section 8 people. Your father would hate to think that you had to care for his hundreds of genetically modified Rhesus Macque monkeys and be homeless. Unless that was his plan all along. You'd probably have a good idea of his intentions if you ever bothered to visit him at Christmas.

Now that I have answered your question, please take down your ridiculous homemade sign. The people behind you can't see, and your father's will stipulates that every family member must be able to see every other family member when I read the sections containing the transcripts of the secret wiretaps he placed on all your phones.

Q: Is throwing an object by a minor at another minor and hitting them considered assault?

A: Throwing the object is assault. As soon as it hits someone, you've entered the magical land of battery. Put them together and you have assault and battery, two great crimes that go great together, like breaking and entering, false imprisonment and kidnapping, and my personal favorite, loitering and mopery.

You're probably too young to remember, but back in '86 we had a rash of loiter/moperies back.  The foot shacks on Bowery sat dormant, the tourists dried up, the myopic were too scared to leave the house. We were a city under siege,  until some hot shot detective figured out the pattern, posed as a blind street flutist and put down roots on 3rd and 3rd, waiting for that sick bastard to show himself. The cop waited for sixteen days, and on the seventeenth, just as he was about to quit, who should come walking up to him but a cheesy vacuum salesman, whistling some made up tune and holding a handful of his dirty junk.

The detective, having found his loitering moperer, took off his sunglasses to reveal he was not blind, took out his badge and his service revolver to reveal that he was a cop, and revealed that the gun was loaded by emptying its contents -  bullets - into the stomach, head, neck and groin of the vacuum salesman.

Time stood still in the park that day, all you could here was the sound of justice, followed by the sound of screams - the moping son of a bitch was still hanging on - followed by more justice in the form of bullets, followed by the tepid applause of innocent citizens saved from a diabolical rampage that many did not know existed.

The word "hero," gets used a lot these days, but on that day, no one said it. No one even thought it,  despite the officer's pleas, not even when he passed out the commemorative t-shirts featuring a cartoon rendering of the detective standing in the 'O' of the word hero.

You might be shocked to hear that I am that police officer. I'll pause now to allow you to take in this new information and compose yourselves.

Take your time. There's no need to feign apathy. It's only natural to feel shocked and begin to doubt the very nature of your existence. If you feel the need to hyperventilate, no one will judge you.

Okay, it looks like, due to the reality-shattering nature of my admission, it may take some time for the shock to kick in. I'll just keep going and hopefully be able to finish before you succumb to the shock.

For the past few months you have all known me as Dennis, the new kid, the one with the mismatched socks, and the divorced parents, and the love of Strat-O-Matic Baseball.  I'm sure you all thought the same thing, "Sure, Dennis might smells a little and run funny and spend too much time talking to that Racquel Welch poster in his locker, but he's basically just like us, a 13-year old kid trying to figure out his way in this crazy world."

You all thought wrong. I'm nothing like you. I've been  undercover this whole time. And I know all your secrets.

You might have thought that by throwing a rock at fellow minor you'd be safe from criminal prosecution, but again you'd be wrong. You didn't throw that rock at any kid, you threw it at a cop. And not just any cop, a highly decorated 51 year old cop only three years from a pension and assigned to our new Jump Street division due to budget cutbacks. You picked the wrong day to pick on Dennis.

Dennis isn't my real name by the way. It's Detective Peter Milligan.

Anyone feeling any shock yet?

Q: What type of license is needed to start a lawn care service in California?

A: I don't really think you need a license. If you want to earn a little money so you can take your girlfriend to the movies or buy her a necklace or pay for an abortion - I was a kid once, I understand that things happen; I just don't want to know - if you want a little extra money, for whatever reason, all you have to do is start knocking on doors and letting people know that you are willing to cut their grass or trim their hedges for a reasonable price.

I would assume it would help to have some experience in that sort of thing, not a resume or anything, but a familiarity with the basics of lawn care - you know, what to cut, what not to cut, that sort of thing. People take pride in their lawn and they wouldn't want to hire someone, even someone as young and handsome and obviously fertile as yourself - again, don't want to know - without knowing that they can trust you to spruce up the lawn and not clip their prized rhododendrons by mistake or confuse their beloved cat with a weed and run over it with the mower. What I'm saying is don't tell them about what happened when I let you drive the riding mower. Just keep that to yourself.

You'll also need some tools. Sure most people will have a mower you can use, but you can't expect them to have weed-whackers and hedge-trimmers and lye and insecticide. Some of that you'll have to provide. Or steal. Whichever makes the most sense. Again, please keep me in the dark.

You may not have the experience, or the tools, but you do have a passion for lawn care, and that might be enough. When people hire a lawn care professional, they want someone who is passionate about grass. They'll be willing to overlook a lack of experience and a paucity of tools if you can show them that you are passionate about making their lawn the belle of the block. But you can take that idea too far. Too much passion for grass will turn off even the most desperate homeowner. You understand what I'm saying?

Are you sure? Because it doesn't seem like you understand what I'm saying.

Please stop fucking the grass.

Q: Why is evidence placed in a paper bag rather than a plastic one?

A: That wasn't evidence. That was my lunch.

Congratulations, you successfully "destroyed" a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, in a court of law, with the entire jury watching. I had high hopes for this case. With your clean-cut good looks and calm demeanor, the age and senility of the prosecution witnesses, the lack of corroborating physical evidence, and the awesome closing argument I wrote over the weekend, I really thought I had a good chance to win. I've never won a trial before and I thought this could be the one. But even if I didn't win, I knew I would enjoy a delicious lunch.

Thanks for ruining everything.

Q: Is it illegal to have a pet monkey in Texas?

A: I'm not a lawyer. Nor am I am a judge. I tried to be a judge once, but it turns out there are more requirements than having your own robe and gavel. I pointed out that I am also very judgmental. No one in the court room seemed impressed. A riot started, or something. All I know is there was a lot of yelling and cursing, people were fighting. A bailiff drew his gun. I got out of there as soon as I could.

What were we talking about?

Right, the monkey. You're still on about that.

Look, we can spend all day arguing back and forth about the legality of owning a pet monkey in Texas, or the morality of training the monkey to kill or the stupidity of giving a trained monkey assassin a cocktail of Red Bull, vodka, cocaine, speed and Viagra, but it won't solve anything. You can stand there and yell and scream and call me names until you're blue in the face, but it's not going to bring your poodle back to life.

Instead of pointing fingers and placing blame, maybe you should take some responsibility. Ask yourself, "Did I do anything to cause the death of my poodle? Am I responsible in any way? By dressing her in bows and ribbons and spending a fortune on grooming, did I make the mistake of making her too attractive to a coked-up, killer monkey?"

Spend some time in front of the mirror and ask yourself those questions. The answers you find might surprise you. Even if they don't, you'll have given me more than enough time to make my escape.

You should probably go look in that mirror now, my monkey found your power tools.

Q: Can you sue a sibling for parents funeral expense?

A: As an American, you can sue anyone for anything at anytime. That's your right.

You can even sue your own brother solely because he chose an expensive coffin - one made of mahogany and gilded with brass - instead of the coffin you preferred,  made of old refrigerator boxes. That is your right.

Now, this is just my opinion, but such matters ought to be handled privately, with discretion, and with the help of unbiased professionals. Your should be talking about this privately, to a lawyer, after the ceremony. Not during the eulogy.

That is not right.

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.

Q: Can chocolate kill dachshunds?

A:  Probably. If he set his mind to it, and he had a reason, he could kill pretty much anything.

Should he do it? Probably not. After all, he's new to this country, and immigration tends to keep a close eye on mail-order African husbands.

By the way, you might want to give him a less offensive name before you introduce him to people.

Q: What does it mean when you dream that someone is trying to kill you?

A: Your unconscious has been following your case and knows that all your appeals have run out. At least, that's what I think it means. I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm a priest. That's why I dress this way. And carry this book. And why everyone calls me "Father."

Now, will you make your final confession before God? Or do you want to stall some more? The guards are getting restless. They usually execute men by lethal injection. You're the first inmate to request death by bear wrestling. As you can imagine, the guards are excited. I hear there's been quite a bit of wagering.

Q: How long does it take wine to get out of your blood?

A: Depending on how much you consumed, anywhere from 30 minutes to a full day. In your case, I'm going to say about 14 hours.

You can't bleed it out of your system. That's absurd. Even if you could, you don't have time. The cop's getting out of his car right now.

I told you to take a cab.

Look, you'll be fine. Refuse the breathalyzer, get a lawyer, and  -

- Oh, dear God.

You must have hit a vein! It's all over me. Make it stop! Make it stop!

I can't wait to see how you explain this one. You, drunk as a skunk. Me, covered in blood. I hope the cop has a sense of humor. I don't think pretending to be asleep is going to help, Dan.

Dan?

Dan!

Oh boy.

What seems to be the problem, Officer?

Q: Can you sue the state of MD for a false accusation?

A: The state of Maryland did not accuse you of stealing that purse, it was a dude in a Maryland sweatshirt.

So, no, you can't sue the state of Maryland for false accusation.

You can't sue the guy either, since you're still holding the purse, and rifling through it as we speak.

Q: What is the age when you eventually start losing your memory?

A: It varies, depending on your health, your diet, your history of substance abuse, your proximity to industrial solvents and your family's history of mental illness.

No matter the age, however, most people lose their memory, gradually, over time, not all at once, on the witness stand, the moment the prosecutor begins his line of questioning.

It seems a bit ... phony.

Don't try eating your tie. No one buys it. And the deadline to file for an insanity defense has long passed.

Just pay the jaywalking ticket, get on with your life, and stop wasting this court's time.

Q: Is a lawyer a salaried job?

A: I get that question a lot. Before we go any further, let me put your mind at ease.

I don't get paid unless we win.

And we are going to win! I can feel it. I have what my grandmother used to call "law bones." Once I get inside a courtroom, these old bones start twitching and humming and I get a sense, right down here, at the base of my skull, of how the jury's thinking. Ever since yesterday, my law bones have been acting up like you wouldn't believe. There's no way we're losing this case.

At least no once that jury sees you in that wheelchair.

Didn't I mention the wheelchair?

I swore I did. Are you sure?

Well, I fear that the jury might see you as too ... healthy, and not deserving of such a large settlement, in your current, ambulatory condition. I aim to fix that, put you in a wheelchair, doctor up some medical records, post date some x-rays, and make it seem like you shattered both legs when that paper airplane hit you in the face.

We have excellent forgers. Don't you worry. They'll make it all believable.

One thing they cannot forge is an x-ray. I don't know how else to put this: I'm going to need to break your legs.

Now before you start objecting, let me explain - Hey is that Steve Guttenberg?

See, that didn't hurt too bad. That's one femur down, one more to go. By now you realize Steve Guttenberg is nowhere to be seen. I needed to distract you, so you wouldn't see my assistant swing that sledge hammer. For some reason, Steve Guttenberg always works. People love that guy.

You'll appreciate what I'm doing for you once you have that huge settlement check in your hand. It will be more than enough to cover the cost of the surgery to repair your legs.

Minus my fee, of course.

You might even have enough left over to buy a fancy wheelchair. You'll be needing one.

All right, time for the other leg.

Oh, stop whining. It can't hurt that bad. I stubbed my toe once. Barefoot. On a rock. The pain wore off in minutes.

Okay, fine. I'll just break the one leg. I'm sure the jury will find you just as sympathetic on crutches. Now, let's talk about your testimony,  - Hey, is that Michael Winslow?

I'm sorry about that. I needed to break both legs. The fake reports have already been written.

Q: How much does it cost to make a will?

A: Why do you want to make a will, Dad?

Aren't you going to leave everything to me when you die?

That was always my understanding. That's why I spent all those years running your companies, doing your dirty work, and burying the skeletons in your closet, both literal and figurative.

I wouldn't have done all that if I knew you would get remarried at the age of 82 and leave everything to your new wife and her freakish, hillbilly family.

I thought you got that hillbilly jones out of your system. That's why we opened that plant in Kentucky.

If you insist on making a will, I'll draw one up for you, free of charge. All you'll need to do is sign it. I'll take care of the rest. I'll make sure your lovely new bride gets taken care of. I'll even buy her a home without wheels on it. She'll be thrilled.

What do you say, Dad?

You better decide soon. The trains pretty close.

It's going to take me a while to untie you.

Q: What age can minors choose which parent they want to live with in a divorce?

A: As long as the court feels that the child can make an informed decision, age doesn't matter.

Even if age did matter, it wouldn't be a factor in your case.

As a 33 year old man, you do not qualify as a minor. You can choose to live with whomever you like.

However, it is the opinion of this court that you find your own place, get out of the house once in a while, and try talking to a girl.

Maybe if you had done that sooner, your parents would still be married, instead of torn apart by the constant financial and emotional strain of caring for a man who refuses to work, or help around the house, or sleep in his own bed.

I'm not saying this is all your fault. Legally, I can't.

But, if you were my son, I would have locked you in the fridge until you suffocated and told the police that you are very bad at hide and seek.

Obviously your father and I have different parenting styles.