The scornful, all knowing answers to everything.

Hi! I am LostJunkShot. Some of you know me as LJS, Junk, or the J-Bomb guy. But I have a secret... I know the answer to everything. Sad but true, about 4 years ago, I developed the ability to derive a true* answer for every question that it is possible to be asked. (*note- true sometimes meaning vague, but still technically correct.) And now, I offer these services to the members of suicidegirls.com for the low low price of... fuck all.
That's right. Nothing. Nada. Not a fucking dime out of your greedy tightwad pocket.
Oh, yeah, there's the catch. It's called scorn. I am full of spite, hate, anger, strife, wratch, malice, piss and vinegar. And I will probably let you know this. How? Say you give me a stupid fucking question. I will give you a scornful fucking answer. Say you think you can stump the all knowing?!? Scornful answer.
Prepare for enlightenment, and bolster your egos. The time for nirvana and kevlar is at hand...
FIRST QUESTION?

will you marry me?

This will not stand, this, uh you know, this aggression will not stand, man.

Will I marry you? Well the answer is... yes!
I will. I am an officially ordained minister of the Universal Unitarian church, and as such, when legally recognized by any municipality, I can conduct weddings. So when you decide between quasimodo and a sasquatch which you want to be your life partner, I will be more than happy to conduct the ceremony. Provided you pay the $500 fee for my services. And provide booze.

aw... but quasimoto and sasquatch have already turned me down.

Hmmm, hard one... let's see, it's because I'm, oh... I dunno.... ALL FUCKING KNOWING, perhaps?!?
What are you? You are hot. Yes, I admit. You are sexy. You are damn near all powerful, but I.... I AM the all knowing one. My answers are not wrong. And I have plenty of drunk irish mind to back me up. So with all do respect, until I develop huge tatas, a badonkadonk, and decide to try to model better than you, do not question the all knowing answers! This is my realm!

No, this is not jeopardy. Yes, it still needs to be in the form of a question. Dismissed!
*Avalyn11 is disqualified. And now knows no more answer*
NEXT QUESTION!

Alright Mr. shot, I've got a question for you: what's the deal with Sting?

Thanks for your prompt reply.

Hmmm... this doesn't look like a question... but perhaps I can infer it...
You are distressed because my services were available, but you cannot think of how to utilize them. You should not have asked that question then, but a different, more suitable, and more distinct question.
Shove the cobwebs out from between your ears, drag your cute ass back to the top and try again, punter!

Sting. Sting is the given "artist" name for a musician, formerly of The Police. He has had several records he has produced, and several successful singles. He has turned from rock pioneer to piano playing pussy and nutless "mod rocker" much the likes of Paul McCartney. Continuing with the given profession title and the fact that several fuckwits out there [including 45 yr. old women who thought he was sexy when they were 18, middle age wall street fuckos who want to seem like they are "hip" and know "rock", and your parents] still listen to him, he makes music on major record labels. So the answer to the question: What is the deal with Sting? Multimillions in record company dollars.

Holy fuck, Lostjunkshot. That was like 5 minutes! I have another question: aside from being all-knowing, are there any special methods you employ to come up with such informative, thoughtful answers?

Yes, I'm online right now, thus it is fast. I am the fucking McDonald's Drive Thru of all-knowing gurus.

Methods to come up with my answers eh? Well the answer to that is I have trade secrets. See, when someone, usually corporately, has a good thing going, they continue it for profit/gain/power, and do so to exclusivity. Take delivering all knowing answers. If every fuckhead (like your father) could do it, I would be out on the street quicker than you would nut on the inside of your prom tux if the head cheerleader decided to ignore your looks, personality, and smell and let you take her to the prom. So I develop the trade secrets: the methods I employ which are enigmatic and yet effective, thus allowing me to continue the gain of my non-profit business and keep my title while your father keeps wondering my secrets and another bottle of whiskey vanishes into his stomach.
NEXT QUESTION!

[Edited on Jun 10, 2003 by LostJunkShot]

On the topic of McD's...what is the special sauce anyway?

Ahh, the famed special sauce. When McDonalds developed the Big Mac (not named for your prison boyfriend, but rather as the "Big MacDonald's Hamburger") they needed a competitive edge. Adding extra bread to a double cheeseburger was not going to cut it, as McMoreGone's tried in the 50's with their big burger, and they went bankrupt like your sex drive. No, they developed the "special sauce" a trade secret for decades. Some have claimed it to be 1000 Island Dressing, both from its taste and coloration. Others have believed it is snot, or a salad dressing/ketchup medley. Still, McDonalds holds dear the secret of their special sauce. So what is it?
It is a mayonnaise-based sauce which was added to the Big Mac hamburger to make it unique and allow McDonalds to maintain a competitive edge in the burger market, you business genius, you.
NEXT FUCKING USELESS QUESTION!

*Whores his all knowing ass out to you ungrateful basta'ds*

[Edited on Jun 10, 2003 by LostJunkShot]

Okay, LostJunkShot, where did this LOST junk shot GO, anyway?

Ahhh, the age old trick question. Quite simply, it became lost. If we knew WHERE it was, it would cease to be lost, and thus it would be a "junk shot", thus the ever continuing enigma (much like how the fuck can you be so hot and not an SG, you crazed drunk, you) persists, and it stays simply: Lost

And I explained how I would do it. I would be all knowing, and thus, my answers would be superior. You mispercieved the answer, and perception is not my fault, therefore your answer to my answer is flawed. By not having flawed answers such as this, I will keep better answers then you. If I want a pissing contest with you, I'll sit down. Until then, the how's and why's and other semantics you may fret with will all be in the same answer and it will be all-encompassing and I will still be the scornful, all knowing guru.
THANK YOU, DRIVE THRU! NEXT QUESTION!

how might i persuade quasimoto and/or sasquach to be my lawfully wedded husband, thus enabling myself to utilize your most generous and all-knowing abilities as a minister in the ceremony?

Will love find a way?

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Is the answer to life, indeed, 42?

I'm still alive, do i deserve to be?

is that the question?
and if so.... if so, who answers?
WHO ANSWERS!!!!!