To whom it may concern:
I do not go for Wookiee dates
I would not have one on a plate
I do not like their furry gams
I do not like them, Borsk I am.

And any so-called artist who says otherwise is a senile old witch.

Q: I've always thought of myself as an attractive Gamorrette, but lately I've been obsessed with the idea of tusk implants. Mine are a little on the small side, and I've caught my husband peeking at magazines with pictures of large-tusked females. What should I do?

A: Females were created to serve their males. If yours desires large tusks, it is your duty to provide him with them, whether it be through implants or by finding him an appropriate concubine. This is especially true for Bothan females. For instance, if a male desires shorter claws on his partner, she should immediately have herself declawed so that she cannot cause too much damage the next time they fight, as he surely does not wish to spend another week in the medcenter.

Q: What is wrong with the Times's sportswriter? Is he nuts? He keeps salvering all over the Crusaders and they haven't won a game in four years!

A: Alas, the sportswriter is a deranged human female who spends too much time admiring the player's uniforms to pay attention to the games. The last time she said anything critical about a player was when we drafted Comu MacIck, whom she referred to as a "liver-spotted saggy-assed old man. Who wants to see him in white shorts? Ew." Thankfully, the Crusaders traded him to Bespin, so we've heard no more vapid complaints.

Q: Once and for all: What's the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

A: I have no ide--Ahhhhhhhhhh!

Q: *sigh*

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