Q: Is the red velvet cake taste sour?

A: You're still having some problems with the language. I assume you mean "Does the red velvet cake taste sour?"

Yes. Yes it does. I'm no chef, or food critic, or culinary expert of any kind, but I can guess why the red velvet cake tastes sour. Because, instead of two eggs, you used two scoops of sour cream. It was a hilarious mix-up. You, all panicked and hysterical, unable to find the eggs and substituting sour cream in the hope that no one would notice; me, all tense and agitated, my future in-laws waiting for their favorite dessert.

But that's not the only reason the cake "taste sour." You also used sour cream instead of butter. And you used sour cream instead of buttermilk. And you used sour cream instead of flour. Each subsequent mix-up less hilarious than the last. By the end, your red velvet cake was nothing but a pile of sour cream doused with red food coloring. You fooled no one.

Perhaps you noticed that. Perhaps you noticed when my future mother-in-law shouted, "Dear God, what is that thing?' and my future father-in-law vomited on the table at the first whiff and my fiance began to cry and then pushed me away when I tried to console her and then slapped me when I tried to defend your behavior and then screamed at me for "harboring an idiot man-child who uses his foreign birth as an excuse to torment those he claims to love." Her words not mine. Perhaps you noticed the departure of my fiance and her parents. Perhaps you noticed when she threw her engagement ring at my face. Or perhaps you noticed nothing. Perhaps you were too busy making a suit of armor out of a phone book and doing the Dance of Joy.

Don't "Cousin Larry" me. I have a name. My name is Larry. I'm not even sure we're cousins.  Call me fucking Larry.

No. No. Just Larry.

Just Larry.

Larry. Only say the word Larry.

Good. Thank you.

It is not time for the Dance of Joy.

Seriously. No.

I'll have you deported.

I'm not being ridiculous. You're the one who is being ridiculous.

Q: How do you get the princess skirt in club penguin?

A: I don't understand why you want to spend all that time getting a fake princess skirt in a video game when you have a dozen real princess skirts hanging in your closet. Don't you like them anymore? Are they not good enough for you?

What's the matter, princess? Why are you crying?

Look, if you don't want to wear the skirts or get called "princess" anymore, I understand. You're a big girl now, and that's a completely logical wish. But maybe you should have thought of that while you were mincing around in the pocket and throwing those interceptions in State Quarterfinals. Daddy lost a lot of money on that game. Do you understand? Do you see what I'm saying?

Good.

How about we make a little deal? I'll keep calling your princess and buying you skirts and making you play children's games and you'll do it.

How does that sound? Now, before you answer, you should realize that you have no other options.

Great. I'm glad we had this chance to talk.

Now, go put on your favorite skirt and go play in the yard. Daddy sold some tickets.

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: What films have money in the title?

A: For recent films, there's One For the Money, starring America's Sweetheart and famed appreciative collaborator Katherine Heigl. She's the girl from Knocked Up. No, not the one married to Jud Apatow, the other one. Yes, she's still starring in movies. I have no idea why either.

Of course, there's Moneyball, the story of how math turned the Oakland A's into a team that doesn't make the playoffs into a team that makes the playoffs once or twice, only to lose.  And Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps, the long awaited sequel to 1987's Oscar winning Wall Street, starring Michael Douglas and Shia LaBeuf, who is contractually obligated to appear in every sequel under the mistaken assumption that people want to see him do things other than get punched in the face or shoved into a tire and rolled down a hill into a pit of asps.

If those three films don't satisfy your "films with money in the title" craving, take a trip to the video store and rent Money Train, Money Talks and Two For the Money. After that triple feature, you'll never want to see another movie with money in the title again. Or any movie. Or people. You'll probably want to turn off the lights, crawl into your closet and have a nice long cry while your consider that the people responsible for those movies continue to get paid to act in and make movies despite the clear and overwhelming evidence that acting in and making movies are things they are bad at.

Or you could save yourself some time and some damage to your soul and watch my movie, Please Give Me Money. I made it specifically for my parents, but anyone can enjoy it.

My parents cut me off after grad school. They said that after 14 years of college, it was time for me to make my own way in the world. They said the same thing after I got my PhD in Philosophy six years ago, but when I didn't get a job with one of those big philosophy firms, they kept supporting me. I assumed they'd do the same this time. But they seem to be keeping their word.

My movie's pretty good. Here, let me show you some of it.

Here I am starving. There's me panhandling on the bus. My mother will be horrified. When I was eight she made me promise never to ride the bus. I've got some great footage of me rooting around a dumpster for food, too. And then there's the climax: Scenes of me calling all my Dad's old mistresses and telling them that my Mom is really sick and my Dad is all lonely and in need of affection. They should drop by any time.

This might turn out to be the biggest movie ever made.

Q: How do you make a Christmas greeting card?

A: I take a child's birthday card, right out of a child's hand. This method saves a lot of time and money. Why should I have to drive all the way to the store, spend minutes wading through row after row of sappy, unfunny cards when I can just wait until someone else does it, wait until the child opens it and then seize the card from his feeble hands?  Children are not as strong as some might think, and are rarely prepared for sneak attacks.

I cross out all the crap about birthdays and numbers and balloons and Garfield. Cash in the card goes in my pocket. My time's not free.

On the front of the card, I draw a picture of Jesus, a huge smile on his face, giant candy cane in his hand. Sometimes there's not enough room to draw a proper happy candy Jesus because the balloons or Garfields were too big, requiring me to draw a Garfield Jesus or a Savior with Balloon arms. This is not easy work, but it does  makes me feel less guilty about pocketing the money. I have to draw fast, as by now the child is usually crying, in only the way a child ca cry, deep sobbing breaths, eyes squeezed shut, streams of tears cascading down their face and onto the floor, alerting nearby adults.

I cross out the focus-grouped platitudes inside the card, or the heartfelt message from grandma, or any mention of birthday money - I wouldn't want to confuse the child - and  write: "Thousands of years ago, Jesus was brutally murdered by Romans because of his beliefs. Today you get presents. Congratulations!"

I hand the card back to the child. At this point I am usually asked to leave.

Q: How do you keep carbon monoxide from coming into your home?

A: Shrink wrap your home, then encase it in three feet of cement, until it's completely air tight. Nothing in, nothing out.

Make sure you wife and kids are inside the home before you start to save yourself from an awkward phone call later.

For best results, encourage one of your children to evolve into someone who exhales oxygen. You're gonna need that in a couple of days.