I've recently come to realization that I am a sea of wisdom gently lapping on the shores of the Internet. I know you're saying, "You're just coming to this now?" I know, Planet Earth, and I'd appreciate if you stopped riding my ass about it. When I receive emails with questions or concerns, I was thinking, why should I direct my answers to only one person? Why should this epic vastness of perception be directed to the inbox of only one lonely, overweight white guy living in his mother's unfinished basement watching old Larry Sanders Show reruns on Netflix and updating his Tumblr with Jack Kerouac quotes, when it could go to at least seven? It's just poor time management.

In an effort to better utilize my time, I thought I would answer questions I've received via email, Facebook and Twitter in the public forum.

Bill Dixon talking into a microphone at a computer
Bill Dixon is now live!! (This show has been previously recorded.)

1. "Yo you should do another thing about Lady Gaga."
(From Mike via email)

Dear Mike,

I listened to the new "Like A Prayer" by Madonna in 1989. Did I say Madonna in 1989? I'm sorry, I meant present-day Lady Gaga. And to be honest, I find it difficult to talk shit. It's too positive, broad and wildly uninteresting to really dig into. What made her compelling was that she would sing songs about fucking Christmas trees then playing poker and her fingers were all sappy so it was difficult to shuffle. I think that's what her songs are about. However, her new song is so middle of the road, it makes it difficult to really analyze it in-depth.

Lady Gaga and Madonna side by side in their primes
Not so much "identity crisis" as "crisis as identity."

But a brief overview is as follows:

"Be yourself, you're a good person, Cherrio's are alright, I guess (nah nah nah)

I'll paint my room beige (nah nah nah)

but I need to put plastic down first,

and always remember to put on a hair nah nah nah net,

Don't forget that Jesus is perfect and remember to drink plenty of water and also, is this 100% cotton? Because I'm concerned it might shrink in the wah wah wah wash."

Get real, Lady Gaga. I never thought I would say this but please go back to making songs about fucking on Christmas while playing Uno.

2. "Hey will you read my blog and tell me what you think?"
(From several people via Facebook)

Yes, I will. Gladly. And by "read your blog," I mean, I will glance over your most recent post and maybe the one before it. I will not go through your Wikileaks-long, 10,000-document, ten-year archive and read everything you have ever posted. I will not be writing you back, "I loved the stuff you wrote about Kevin Federline back during The Bush Administration. Also, I was literally lol'ing while reading the 15th paragraph of the post about finding your old Pogs. I know; they really were ‘the bomb'! Remember, it was the post right before that great Y2K one."

Not that I think I'm too good to read blogs but truth be told, I'm not a big reader. I know, fucked up right?

3. "You never reply to my tweets!"

(From Twitter people)

Dear Twitter People,

I apologize but I fucking hate Twitter. Find me on Facebook so I can use more than 140 characters. Wow, kinda ironic I haven't used 140 char

4. "I read that column about finding your biological father. What did he write back?"

(From email, Facebook and Twitter)

Dear People,

He never wrote back. However, a few weeks ago, he did try to tag himself in some of my baby pictures on Facebook. At least now I am becoming increasingly comfortable with the continuity of crazy. Crazy Mom + Crazy Dad = Crazy Billy. It's not an ideal situation, being a lunatic and all, but I'm making do.

I did find out, through recently discovered family, that my Bio-Dad lives back in Puerto Rico, he may or may not be able to read English, and my parents met in rehab! Now that's a Disney movie if I've ever seen one.

The ride in Magic Kingdom would be great: Before you get on, you have to surrender all personal possessions. Then, you sit in a big teapot style bowl and it rolls on tracks into a smoky room that resembles low-income housing in Queens NY. Then, an animatronic man and woman emerge from the darkness screaming at each other, you can't understand the words because they are slurring. The cup begins to shake. Then, you hear police sirens and then suddenly the roof opens up and the cup turns out to be a catapult and you are launched out of the building and into the parking lot, hurt, alone with no belongings searching to figure out what to do next! Talk about an adventure! Weeeeeee!

Teapot ride at theme park
Not so much a "tea" ride as a "pot" ride.

So anyway, no, we haven't been playing Words With Friends. But seriously, I got a lot of emails from people and it sincerely means the world to me.

5. "Will you have my babies?"

(From Lisa via Facebook)


I don't want your babies. I recommend leaving them in a mall or a grocery store. Things will sort themselves out. Oh and make sure you scratch off the VIN numbers or whatever they come with, you don't want them to get traced back to you.

With Ease,
Bill Dixon