Each week, Zonar the Superion loves to give advice to a few lucky readers. To submit your question about relationships, careers, or what have you, CLICK HERE

|May 4, 2001|

zonar do you like music? what is your favorite kind of music? I'm in a punk rock band and I want you to check out our music. Being from Superion I figure you would love to " rock out " as we toilet monkeys would say.
Hey also you look like Elton John when he starred in The Who movie " Tommy " you know the pinball wizard !!!!!!!!! rock on Zonar and I'll see you later

Bartron the destroyer


Indeed, I do "rock out" as you say. While we Superions are generally predisposed to pursue intellectual endeavors, this does not mean we never give in to the pounding pulse of musical mayhem.

It is unlikely you would recognize the heaviest of our metals as even being music, so primitive are your own biological audio receptors. We rock very hard on Superion. Were you to attempt to listen to Superion metal you would find yourself shaken to the very core of your being. The vibrations of our low bass notes would cause you to soil your human undergarments with the undigested portions of recently ingested libations. The explosive concussive sound waves issuing forth from our percussion instruments would shatter the bones in your legs, causing you to pitch backward and break your ass bone. Attempting to comprehend the complex structure of our songs would make your feeble brain so confused that it would attempt to eat itself to escape confusion and feelings of inadequacy.

So yes, I rock. I rock the goddamn galaxy.

Compare me to Elton John again and I shall show you.

Rock on,
Zonar the Superion

Why do women get jealous even when you do nothing? Why do men say they are listening when they are not?

Dear anonymous,

Because you are pig-brained humans. Try to ask something a little harder next time, excrement device.

Better than everyone,
Zonar the Superion

~hey there zonar~

I have a big problem. I was supposed to baby-sit for my friends' precious cat, Scaly, this weekend while she was at a sit-in with her favorite cult. When I came back from the movies with my friends, I could not find the cat anywhere in the room or the rest of the dorm. I figured that the cat would come back when it was really hungry, so I did not worry a whole lot. A few hours later, I went to go warm up a good ole' T.V. dinner in the oven, and I smelt this weird aroma comig from the oven, and I was pretty sure that it was not my chicken dinner. When I opened up the door to the oven, and the smoke finally cleared, there was a black, charred carcus that resembled my soon to be ex-best friends' cat Scaly. What do I do? Thanx.
The Dead Second Sister

Dear Sister,

Thank you for your sitcom plot submission. I'm sure this would be a hilarious episode of "King of Queens" or "Just Shoot Me." What you do next, of course, is find another cat that looks just like the dead feline and attempt to pass it off as the original Scaly when the owner returns. You nearly get away with it until, of course, the real Scaly shows up and you realize you had simply charred a stuffed animal.

Hilarity and laugh tracks ensue.

Embracing the cliché,
Zonar the Superion

|March 16, 2001|

Editor's note: Please excuse Zonar if his answers seem a little more brusk or a little less helpful than his usual friendly self. Yesterday was the Celebration of Mentality, an important holiday back on Superion, and our homesick advice columnists had maybe one or two more Mint Juleps last night while trying to cope. Here goes.

hey zonar, this is liz.

i have just ended recently with this guy called oli, he has now started to for no reason at all, make up rubbish about me and has hacked into my computer. what would u suggest i do for suitable revenge?

i also am not sure what to d about this bloke called nick, who i went out with before. i still like him and i know he likes me but he is to scared to make any moves so what should i do to suduce and get him to ask me out properly



I'm sorry, way too complicated for me this morning. Oh, my head feels like you beastly little creatures must after being treated to a crushing dose of my mental rays.


Dear Zonar:

I notice that you sometimes spell things wrong. Could that be the one weakness of your freak Superion race?

Dear spell check,

Get off my back. Try mastering the Superion language, you little toilet monkey. Oh, I'm sorry, you'd need to actually have a real brain for that.


Dear Zonar,

Heres a question which has been bugging me for the last couple of years...

why do car insurance companies insist on charging young drivers high premiums, they say it is because of the high risk of young drivers, yet they then proceed to increase the premium when we do have a crash.

Surely if they charged us a lot, because they were expecting us to crash, they should not increase the charge once we have, in fact, the likelihood of crashing a second time is less than that of the first, so the premiums should go down.

It seems obvious to me that we have all been brain-washed by some other force into accepting this, and that the corporate companies behind this scandal are obviously trying to save enough money to invent some kind of rudimentary space-craft, which they can then invade another world with.

Are my suspicions correct? and can we, as humans, do anything to stop this?

Thank you Zonar, may we be mere trained badgers compared to your intelligence.



Go. Away.


|March 9, 2001|
Dear Zonar,

My mother is always feeding me, and now I fear I'm so obese I could hardly fit through my door much less walk. I have created two hypothesises or however that goes as to why: I am being bred yet another Jerry Springer tearjerker, or it is another tragic case of maternal gluttony of unknowing offspring. I fear these may be my last words my fat fingers type out, or my fat encrusted throat give breath to before my life is made forfeit to the pains of congestive heart failure or motherly devourment.

Late Saturday Night 'n Bored

Dear Bored,

Unfortunately, due to the volume of mail I receive and my recent trip to Grove, Oklahoma, this missive has been gathering metaphorical dust in my electronic inbox since mid-February. Therefore this curious corpulent carnivore has, in all likelihood, already passed on to his great reward (should he receive one).

I can picture our portly pal being lowered into the cold, cruel earth, packed tightly inside a dumpster or piano shipping crate or some other such massive container that would be required to contain a man of his girth.

Or perhaps he was cremated and his ashes scattered to the wind. In my superior mind's eye I see them floating through the sky, so much of him that children spying his remains gliding along mistake it for a snowfall and decide not to complete their homework that evening reasoning that such a blizzard would surely result in the cancellation of their daily studies.

There is, however, the mild outside possibility that our rotund reader yet lives, breathes, and consumes nourishment. If this be the case, I offer these simple words of advice: stop eating so much, you goddamn moonface.

Svelte and loving it,
Zonar the Superion

hey zonar

i have this big problem. you see, this boy won't leave me alone. he stalks me day and night and all of the hours in between. he sends me candy and flowers and cards and other romantic things. i don't like this boy and i never have and i never will. i have told him this several times and i know that he is not deaf, so he can hear me. How do i get rid of this incessant, annoying boy, Zonar? please help me. thanx.

Thank you
The Second Sister

Dear Picky,

What difference does it make, really. I've seen an awful lot of you humans and you're all essentially revolting. You all have to ingest food and then void the unused portions your inferior bodies are incapable of processing.

The males of your race I find particularly homogenous. While to me, your entire species is clearly sub-intelligent, those of the mis-matched chromosomes seem even more idiotic.

In short, why not mate with this little poop-machine who woos you? He can't really be worse then the rest of the toilet monkeys you encounter. Unless, of course, you find yourself smitten with a certain green-skinned being from another planet, in which case I understand why you can no longer look at any human male without being stricken with a bout of the dry-heaves.

Hope that helped,
Zonar the Superion

(NOTE: the following letter has been mildly edited to remove the word "shitter.")
hey zonar

Howdy there, cowpoke! I just had a few questions fer yeh: Firstly, what's all this I heard 'bout you not takin' a crap? That's downright RUDE of yeh. Damn, man! Everbody's got to use the sh*tter now an' then, or y'all'd blow yer dumper clean off! An' second, I know that you've been a'seeing my woman without alla her womanly garmets on! Thas right! Yeh heard me! Now, are we gonna settle this like a coupla men, or aren't we? WHAT ARE YEH? YELLA? Thas what I thought! I'm stinkin' mad about alla this, an' you owe me an apologie, as near as I can figure it. Huh? I'm a waitin'...

Cowboy Pete

Dear Cowpie Pete,

A few points of clarification:

1. No, I do not take a "crap" as you so delicately put it. I don't need to. Also, I do not have a "dumper" to blow clean off.

2. As to your woman: could you please offer a description to narrow things down a tick? I cannot confirm nor deny at this point.

3. No, I am not "yella," though I do find myself amused that you would purposely type out the mangling your accent does on your language in a comically phonetic manner. I am green-skinned, as my photographs clearly illustrate.

Back to the fields of poo with you,
Zonar the Superion

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