Corky with his RFF, resting fish face.

Diver: Corky Corchoran
Interesting fact:  It’s stasticially easier to shoot a hole in one than bowl a perfect game.
 

Dear Diver,
My sister is trying to convince me to go on one of these yoga/cannabis retreats. But I have trouble even touching my own toes let alone twisting into a pretzel, and any time I smoke pot I end up getting paranoid and going to sleep. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. Am I missing out?
– Reluctant Retreatist

Dear Reluctant,
OK, somehow you have convinced yourself this is a bad thing? Going on a vacation with your sister where you get to stretch out your visions, cultivate some clarity and have the courage to manifest your “highest” intentions is surely something anyone would enjoy. This kind of trip will align your red-eyes and heart and have you laughing at life like you never have. Also, after indulging in various culinary delights, you will not care if you can touch your toes. Twisting into a pretzel will be only a vision of your next snack. Go green and enjoy!
– Diver

Dear Diver,
My father-in-law is insisting that I go with him and the other family menfolk on the annual hunting trip. I have never fired a gun let alone harmed another living creature. I can’t even kill a spider and am wracked with guilt over the thought of eating a burger. But I feel like I must go to “save face” lest I endure a lifetime of ridicule for being a vegetarian animal loving sissy. Please Diver, give me some hunt camp survival tips.
– Firing Blanks

Dear Momma’s Boy,
What is happening to the men of America? A male housefly has more gonads than you. For millennia men have gathered for hunting excursions. Although the goal is to bring home a trophy or put meat in the freezer, the true reason is to have some valuable time away from everyday life and get hammered drunk. My advice to you sissy boy, is to bring the vital ingredients that will enhance any party. Here is your recipe where at least if they don’t like you they will still have a good time: one case of any bourbon; six cases of PBR (look it up, only real men drink it); one box of cigars; numerous lighters; dirty magazines (might have to look that up, too); and as much unhealthy food you can find (beef jerky works best.) Bring some extra pants, I have a feeling they will get soiled.
– Diver

Dear Diver,
I fear I may suffer from “RBF” – “resting bitch face.” The other day, a soccer mom in a minivan castigated me for giving her a dirty look at a crosswalk, but I was just minding my own business. And people are constantly asking me why I’m “so mad.” The question is, how does one change their natural facial expression? Are there exercises? Surgery? Make-up tricks? Please help before I end up getting in an altercation through no fault of my own.
– Born this Way

Dear RBF,
My original conclusion used to be based upon the need for more sex in your life. But since then, I have met many women who were “doing the deed” more than my friend’s labrador retriever and still suffered from RBF. Then it was blamed on gravity, but after liposuction, Botox, etc., came along, that was no longer a valid excuse either. My only conclusion is a curse of genetics. Either someone in your bloodline was treated so badly that the facial expression is passed down in eternity or you just got screwed in the gene pool. Either way, only remedy is pulling off a Hannibal Lector type facial swap or super glue a permanent smile and call it good. Wish you the best!
– Diver