Q: What is the main difference between the public and private sectors?

A: In the public sector a certain amount of transparency is required. How you get your money, where it goes, how you make hiring decisions, whether or not you obey laws, who you've punched in the face or sexually harassed - the general public expects to know these things. All that openness and honesty, let's face it, is exhausting. In the public sector you can't even sideswipe a school bus without everyone demanding an apology. Don't even get me started on hiding dead bodies.

In the private sector all that matters is the bottom line. Make enough money to keep the stockholders happy and you can do anything in your personal life. No one will care. Make enough money so the stockholders can retire at 42 and buy their own sports franchise or Third World army and you can do anything, publicly, and no one's going to lift a finger. Sure some idealistic reporter might think they can make their name with a big expose, but those never last. Idealistic young reporters disappear every day. No one seems to mind.

So, do you really want to use those wonderful powers - flight, super-strength, super-hearing, invulnerability - that our sun gives you, to work in the public sector as a champion of the people, the same people who will turn on you in one hot second if you happen to accidentally drop a bullet train on an old folks home, or impregnate a county full of lonely cheerleaders, or do you want to come work in the private sector, where you'll be defending people who really need protection - our nation's millionaire industrialists? Did I mention that you'll be able to get away with murder? Literally? We do a lot of overseas contracting. Don't pretend you haven't thought about how many ways you could dismember someone with your heat vision.

So, what's it going to be? Are you ready to join the winning team?

I knew you'd make the right decision, Clark. You're going to enjoy your new life as Exxon Mobil Man.

Q: What do farmers eat?

A: My dad was a farmer, so I can tell you first-hand what a farmer eats: Beef. Pork. Corn. Sour Mash Whiskey. Dirt. Moonshine. Old Tires. Rubbing Alcohol. Legal Summons. Neighbor's Kids. Pepper Spray. Eviction Notices. Comic Books. Fudge. Results of Court Ordered Psychological Tests. Drywall. Shotgun Barrel.

I assume such a diet was common for all farmers.

Q: What did the troubling aspects of the Watergate scandal include?

A: That the Commutte to Re-Elect the President felt the need to break into the Democratic National Committee headquarters in Washington because of the potential threat of  Democratic nominee George McGovern, a man whose campaign included promises to give Idaho and Arkansas to the Viet Cong, make abortion mandatory for all children conceived via reverse cowgirl position, and require marijuana to be a staple of school lunch.

That the President of the United States conspired with senior White House staff to not only cover up the break -in, but to eventually turn it into an unstoppable trick play for the Washington Redskins.

That a political scandal from the early 70's, centered around the President of the United States, a power-mad  middle-aged white man from California, did not involve any sex. Creepy.

Q: What is unspecified obstruction of renal pelvis and ureter?

A: A fun game I learned at the S&M dungeon. I push something inside you, obstructing the flow of your urine,  and you have to guess what it is.

Since all I have is a Buzz Lightyear, it shouldn't be too hard to guess.

Shoot. I wasn't supposed to tell you. Oh well, you'll still get off on the pain.

Look, for S&M relationships to work, someone has to be the Masochist. The role of the Sadist has already been taken.

Q: How do you find the ghost in Skullduggery Island?

A: Yeah, about that ...

Here's the thing, when your Mom divorced me, I was awarded joint custody. I really would have preferred a custody system based on my mood, my dating prospects, and my interest in that weekend's slate of televised games. But I was overruled. As I result, I get you every other weekend, for the whole weekend, regardless of my own plans.

An old friend of mine was in town this weekend, someone who had been through a tough time. Newly divorced, wondering where she went wrong, full of self-doubt. Vulnerable. When you're older you'll understand a girl like that will do anything to feel loved. And I mean anything.

The last thing I needed was some kid hanging around, laughing and smiling, cheering her up and making her think that maybe her problems aren't so bad. Plus, the 2257 laws forbid the presence of children near an adult film set.

I needed you out of here and I needed you out of here quick. I made up some nonsense about that island in the park being an ancient pirate burial ground full of treasure and ghosts, knowing your quest would take all weekend and end with disappointment.  Along the way, I taught you a valuable lesson about trust.

Don't trust anyone.

There's no need to cry, son. I'll make it up to you the next time you visit. I hear there's a cabin deep in the woods that was built by some sort of eccentric chocolatier. Legend says it's full of candy and sweets and all the treats a boy could want. I'll go out there with you as soon as you get here.

I promise.