It's the moment you've ALL been waiting for....
"All-Out Living! with The Viking Commando!!!!!!"
Dear Viking Commando,
The man I'm in unconsummated love with lives in Miami; the man I'm forni-dating lives here.
What should I do?
Torn Between Two Covers
Treat them as I would the enemy, The Hun.
Put each in a catapult.
If one survives, that is the one you're meant to be with.
Dear Mr. Commando
I recently took part in the pillaging of a nearby village. As is the custom during such an event, I burned downed many homes and slaughtered many people. Near the end of the day, I came upon the final hut to remain untouched by my people's savage hands and, knowing it would serve as poor precedent if I allowed it to remain standing, went inside to see if there was anyone left for me to slaughter.
There I found a young married couple who sat terrified and weeping in each others arms. I promptly decapitated them, only to hear the sound of a child whimpering nearby. After some investigation I found a young girl hidden underneath a pile of loose furs. I was about to do to her what I did to her parents when I--in the darkness of the hut--noticed that she had red hair and green eyes.
Seeing this caused me to hold my blade, as my father used to always say that a pillager should never slaughter a red-headed, green-eyed child or else they risked a lifetime of bad luck. Knowing he was the wisest man I ever knew, I threw the welp out of the hut and sent her on her orphaned way, just before I burned down the only home she ever knew.
Since then I have been bothered by two concerns for which I would appreciated your vaunted advice. The first is that as I let the child escape from me unharmed, my fellow pillager, Barry, appeared from out of nowhere and saw it happen. Since then he won't stop calling me Lil' Miss Wussypanties and Susie McSissybottom, and I was wondering just how violently I should make him suffer to get him to stop without killing him. Would severing one of his limbs be enough?
My second concern is what I should do 20 years from now when the red-headed, green-eyed girl has grown into a fierce large-breasted warrior woman who has spent her entire life training with a sword and learning how to survive in the coldest conditions with the smallest possible amount of clothing, just so that she can find me and exact a terrible revenge for what I did to her and her parents? Should I accept my fate with honour? Run like a coward? Try to get some of that? I'm sure you can appreciate my dilemma and I would appreciate any advice you would have to give me.
P.S. Meltzer rules
I can identify with your dilemma. I, too, once showed mercy . To a young Cimmerian slave boy. I gave him the day off and he never came back. In the ultimate bit of irony, he later slew my entire village. What can you do?
The approval of one's peers has become increasingly more important in today's world. I have no use for it, personally. I am without peer. I am simply the epitome of what a Viking Commando can and should be.
What you must do is defeat this woman in battle and make her yours and let her never again mistake mercy for weakness. Should this fail... flowers.
As for Barry, cut out his tongue.
Doctor Polaris states:
Dear Viking Commando Fool,
Why would you be foolish enough to try to steal my advice column schtick just like the late "Professor" Expert?
Those who tread on Polaris's ground invite their doom.
Dear Doctor Polaris,
May I ask you a question?
Do magnets prevent you from letting it go?
Bobby Flashpants asks:
Dear Viking Commando,
All Out War is obviously the most radical condition to be under. If, however, one must choose between the two evils of confined, unmanly limited war or no war at all, which would you choose?
Addled Aggressor in Atlanta
Dear Bobby Flashpants,
This is a hard question for me to answer. When it is quiet, I question the necessity of my very being. I am a Viking Commando. I will always be a Viking. Yet, if there were no wars, there would be no reason for my being a commando. Thus, war is necessary.
Dear Viking Commando,
I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or name names, but sometimes when I read a comic I'm pretty sure I could do a better job than whatever retarded chimpanzee is 'editing' the book. I'm not sure if that's mere bravado on my part, or if most of today's editors are lazy, weak-willed, or both. My question is, how do I make a kickass battleax like yours?
This reminds of a story:
Once Loki, the Prince of Lies and Mischief, visited my village upon hearing of a girl who had never laughed in her whole life. Loki came to her and nothing he did made the young girl smile, much less, laugh. Loki, at the end of his rope, spotted a goat. Loki proceeded to drop his pants and took up a length of rope, tying one end to the goat, the other to his testicles. With a crooked grin upon his already twisted face, Loki winked at the girl and slapped the goat's hindquarters. The goat took off, dragging the young prince's testicles behind him. Laughter roared throughout the village!
Bloodied and spent, The Lord of Lies untied himself from the goat and made his through the masses. In the middle of all, stood the little girl, laughing just as hard and as hysterically as anyone. His job done, Loki Odinson, bowed deep at the waist and left knowing he'd brought laughter to a place where there was none before.
.....what was your question again?
Harvey Jerwater writes:
Hail, Viking Commando.
As I myself am also a time-displaced Scandinavian with a mighty beard, I live a life not unlike that of your own. However, this has presented difficulties.
In the modern world, cleaving in twain the skulls of German men with a battle axe is no longer considered proper. (There's some nonsense about "the war is over.") What do you recommend?
Should I perhaps choose a different nationality of men to slaughter?
Or is the problem the axe? Given the tenor of these degenerate times, would I be justified in setting down the weapon of my ancestors and switching to a chainsaw or aluminum baseball bat?
Or should I embrace my inner Norseman, ignore the consequences, and continue chopping Teutonic skulls, a chopping that will only end in a hail of gunfire from German police and my own bitter laughter at the treacheries of fate?
Also, how much killing is "too much killing?" A friend recently insisted that I was killing "too much." I replied that such a thing was impossible, and stove in his brainpan with an axe. But perhaps he had a point. If one killed everyone in the world, there would be no one left to kill. Which would be sad.
The taking up of an axe, as you know, is a Norseman's right, not a privilege. Somehow, our fellow Norsemen have abandoned this most sacred of acts, choosing instead, to focus on things such as socialized healthcare and equal opportunity.
In my time, "equal opportunity" meant everyone had just as many chances of an axe to the head as the next . I miss those times.
Alas, we cannot kill everyone or else there would be no one left to clutch at our tunics, begging for mercy. Which you and I know both is what being a Viking is truly, truly all about.
Mike Neilsen writes:
Dear Viking Commando
One of my friends claims that Vikings are really wussies and that a whole dragon-ship full of them could be wiped out by one ninja. He even claims that Vikings make even Pirates look cool, which is very hard to do.
Is there any truth to this?
They are the ones who hide in darkness, waiting to slay you in your sleep? Where is the glory in killing and silently slipping into the night? No, the Viking way is best. It allows one's enemy to, in their last moments, look upon you and know they are about to die at the hands of a true man. The look on your enemy's face, alone, makes it all worthwhile. Until you know this feeling of pride in one's vocation, never again speak to me of this... ninja.
I would pray for your ninja but you will find no "ninja" in Valhalla.
So I have this...um friend. Yeah - a friend. He has recently started to experience male lactation. What can you tell me - I mean, him... about this issue.
Wet Chested in Washington
Clearly, you have been ensorcelled.
This happens often in my line of work. Raid the wrong village, sleep with someone's betrothed and some grief-stricken king/princess/prince/washer woman inevitably brings in a witch to curse your person. My ensorcellment later required my having something called a "Q-Tip" run up my shaft but I digress...
Simply ask yourself who would do such a thing to you, set your mind on their demise, slay those who would impede your quest and have the magician remove the curse set upon you.
Let me know how it all works out.
Big Mike asks:
Dear Viking Commando,
Recently, I've been crying when I watch Oprah. Is it just hormones or has Meltzer's run on Justice League turned me into an emotional pansy?
Weeping in Washington
"Whore moans" let a man know that he is doing it right. It is the other.
...and thus ends another edition of "All-Out Living with The Viking Commando!!!"