Hi!
I'm Gorpo the Pretty Good (you may know my brother, Orko the
Great, who is busy saving Eternia single-handedly and with
absolutely no help whatsoever from anyone at all from Skeletor).
Anyway, I've been, uh, asked to do this as a part of my community
service after the Big Chicken Incident (don't ask, really).
So ask about life, love, poultry, whatever. Just send it my
way at gorpo@he-man.org
and I'll try to answer as best I can. By the way, you can
find all the old issues here.
Well,
readers, welcome back to another wonderful installment of the
column that time forgot. Unfortunately, Nintendo didn't forget
about the little... uh... incident I had with their yellow marketing
tool last time, and I'm coming away from a simultaneous beating
by that Italian guy, a big monkey, and some pointy-eared jerk
with a flaming sword. And he kept playing some stupid annoying
flute thing. Anyway, as luck would have it, about halfway through
the beating, Sonic the Hedgehog walked by. So the three forgot
about me and I got away with a flattened head and a barrel in
my ear. I'd say I got off lucky. Too bad for that hedgehog.
They were on him like green on Man-At-Arms. Speaking of which
(what a segue!), I might as well start answering questions now.
(sigh) Gorpo
help me!!!
Its
me, Ram-Man! U've hit one too many trees and now my helmet
is stuck! I can't get it off, I've tried everything! Help
me Obi-Wan Gorpo, you're my only hope!
Ram-Man
Dear
Ram-Man,
Gee, Rammy, that sounds like a problem. Of course, I couldn't
help you, just like you couldn't help smashing my lab table
last week. And you couldn't help bashing through my wall,
or wrecking my bed. I have to sleep in Man-At-Arms' underwear
drawer now, thanks to you. You wouldn't believe the smell.
I do get to stay in Teela's on the weekends, which wouldn't
be so bad if she washed them once in awhile. Anyway, the best
way to remove your helmet is to cut your own head off, you
reckless bastard. Maybe you could find it possible to STAY
OUT OF MY ROOM next time. Jeez, he's like the little sister
I disposed of--er, never had.
Sonny
Iverson writes:
Well, there's another problem with this situation, I don't circle-dailing
nor her mailing address. It's about a 30min. drive or so. Anyway,
her grandma doesn't live to far from me though, but I'm scared.
I also don't want her to read the story, I kinda admitted in
there, and I don't need her getting ticked off at me for not
telling her in person. If dumb enough to tell her at the funeral,
you are stupider than Orko when he first heard about me and
told me that Kerry was on Eternia the same day I got there.
OOPS, I wasn't surrposed to say that. Anyway, don't tell He-Man
and them that I said that, or he will kick my ass. I got to
run.
Sonny
Iverson(Ninjor)
Dear
Sonny,
What the hell are you talking about? I suppose being a master
of silence, language isn't your strong suit. But hey, if you
really are Ninjor, then just sneak over to her place late
at night and judo-chop her into submission. Or find a chick
that lives closer to you.
"Gorpo,
did I just hear you type 'chick'?"
Uh-oh,
Teela, Queen of Daddy's Girl Feminists, heard me. Um, hope
I helped you out! Urk! Hey, don't--OOF!--touch me there! Gurk...
next... letter... ukk... pleas--*
Andrew
Farquhar writes:
CAN YOU TELL ME IF HE-MAN SAID:
"BY THE POWERS OF GRAYSKULL, I AM HE-MAN" OR "BY
THE POWERS OF ETERNIA, I AM HE-MAN".
THANK
YOU
ANDREW FARQUHAR
Dear
Andrew,
First, I can tell you not to write in all caps. You wouldn't
believe the Trollan "All-Caps-Writer-Jokes" that
circulate around the Trollanet. Better than even Etheria's
"Pink-Hair Jokes." Anyway, He-Man said, "Not
*another* restraining order!" and, "Hey, don't leave,
I'll clean it up!" Of course, if you're talking about
what he says to transform, it's "By the power of Grayskull,
I have the Power!" Unless it's in that future thing that
we'd all like to forget about (he even left it out of his
autobiography). Then it's "By the power of Eternia, I
have the power!"
Wow,
an actual straight answer. I think that flu's coming back.
Dear
Gorpo,
It seems that management where I work (Frito-Lay--I'll say it!)
seems to be adopting a very Hordak-like style of management.
Did
someone send some of Hordak's underlings here to make life
miserable? I mean they act like Hordak--tell you stuff that
isn't true, break their promises, yada yada. Is it true Hordak's
trying to take over the Earth?
Alexandra
I. Spears
Dear
Alexandra,
Yes, I'm afraid it's true. Hordak is trying to take over the
Earth, one delicious chip at a time. Except I didn't think
he'd moved on to Frito-Lay yet. Last time I talked to him,
he was still working on Pringles. So if your co-workers start
sucking the life-force from you, I'd start looking for a new
job. Glad to be of service.
Dear
Gorpo,
I'm looking for a spot of advice, but don't tell anyone. I'm
very popular, and I don't want people thinking I'm incompetent
or irresponsible. I just won't have it. Anyway, after I moved
to the Weather Station, because of a number of circumstances
that were entirely not my fault, I've noticed a number of changes.
My voice is no longer the high-toned voice of an upper-class
nobleman, and much more like that of a cat stuck in a garbage
disposal. I find that even in the coldness of the pole, I sweat
much more often, and my face routinely breaks out into pimples.
This does not help my standing with the ladies. I also keep
finding more and more hair where no hair grew before. This is
unsettling to say the least. Finally, whenever Captain Teela
comes up for our routine inspections, I find myself unable to
concentrate. It's quite cold up here, you know. So, Gorpo, is
this some fiendish plot by Skeletor, or perhaps Icer, to deride
my high standing in the guard? Or is it something more sinister?
I swear, it's not *my* fault.
Signed,
Hairy and Harried
Dear
"Hairy",
What you're going through is perfectly, utterly strange and
abnormal. You should see a doctor right away, before these
grotesque mutations corrupt your entire body! Hurry! I think
you might be dying, or at least turning into some kind of
animal or kiwi fruit. Disgusting... it makes me sick just
thinking about it. Hair? Shudder.
Well,
I'm spent. Until next time, worship me as your new god, and
send me your lettes.
Well,that's
it for this batch of letters. I guess. Everyone with problems
(and that includes you) keep writing to gorpo@he-man.org!"
