ASK KUNTZMAN!

After the wildly successful feature where ace reporter Gersh Kuntzman gave us the straight scoop on what it is like to shoot the terrifying AR-15 “Black Mamba Star Killer Base” rifle, we here at the New York Daily News are happy to present our new feature ASK KUNTZMAN!

Join us as Gersh Kuntzman gives valuable life advice. Send us your questions, from lifestyle choices to product reviews, and together we may peer deep into his earth mother like wisdom. From his lilac scented crying pillow to you, rejoice as Gersh Kuntzman let’s you know what’s really going on in the world.

Dear Kuntzman, big fan. I am trying to go green in order to save the Earth. Dying polar bears make me sad. Should I buy a Toyota Prius?

– Carbon Neutral in Carson City

Dear Carbon, I drove a Prius once and it changed me forever. As soon as I climbed inside the minimalist brutalist interior of this carbon fiber Japanese death machine it was as if I was driving a monster truck. I pushed start. The engine was a throaty roar like a thousand nuclear jet bombers. I immediately soiled my trousers to prevent this beast of the land of hentai from raping me. Tentacles are NOT OKAY. In my haste to escape, I touched a lever, and the windshield wipers began beating like a reaper’s sickle threshing horror. Trying to reach the escape handle, I struck a phallus-like pole, and lights began to blink. Blink. Blink. A light. A terrible, red, light! BLINK BLINK! Shrieking and flailing, I clutched desperately at the door, and tumbled, helpless, into the street. In the cold New York City rain, I lay there helpless and soiled in the gutter. The terrifying Prius looming over me, asserting its alpha dominance, and I crawled away. Forever.

Also, you may want to check out the new Nissan Leaf.

Dear Gersh,

Recently, and totally against my wishes, my wife “adopted” a kitten. I don’t have much experience with wild animals like this, and it’s truly upset the peace in our household. I’m afraid to leave the bedroom, and dash madly through the house to get to the front door to avoid the thing. I swear it must have four or five razor sharp claws on each foot! And the teeth!! Don’t get me started on the teeth!

How can I tell my obviously crazy wife how dangerous to our safety it is having a wild animal (and I recently learned PREDATORY CARNIVORE!) in our home? Or at the very least, can you please advise me, as I understand you’re a particularly capable man, on how to protect myself from this potential killer beast?

Thank you for your help,

Cowering in Concord

Dear Cowering, I am not familiar with non-vegan animal-kin, so to understand your plight I went to a horrible slave den known colloquially on the streets as “PetCo”. Whilst inside I approached a slavering brute of a man whose golden vaguely phallic shaped nametag read only “Chris” and I demanded to see one of these “kittens”. With a bazooka like explosion of PTSD “Chris” opened a cage with bars sufficient to tame a wild Alabama republican and removed a hideous creature which my sensible landlord would never allow in my upper east side rent controlled loft. Thrashing and hissing madly it tore at me with its tiny adorable claws. My eyes streaming with tears from fear and perhaps allergies, I immediately soiled myself so it would not rape me. When “Chris” asked me what was wrong I screamed for him to quit triggering me, and I fled, quivering. Disoriented by the hum of the fluorescent lights, I was unable to escape “PetCo” and I climbed upon a carpeted scratchy post to safety, where I hissed at everyone who came near—even like unto a fearsome kitten—until the NYPD removed me from the store and “Chris”—short I wonder for Christians who killed millions in the Crusades—informed me I was never allowed to return. Good. I wouldn’t anyway!

To bring such madness into your home? Leave the bitch. LEAVE HER I SAY!

Mr. Kuntzman, a recently penned op-ed indicated that a man cannot be a man without a melon baller. Could you please give us your thoughts on the best features for a baller, and perhaps some advice on how to avoid a traumatic balling?

Signed – Melon Balls to the Wall

Dear Balls

You speak of the infamous Modern Man article written by my rival Brian Lombardi and published in our rival paper the New York Times! http://monsterhunternation.com/2015/10/02/fisking-the-new-york-times-modern-man/ They’re always trying out Modern Man us, but Brian is such a bitch! I am half the man he is and I’ll prove it!

Previous to answering this question I did not own a Melon Baller, because unlike warmonger Brian Lombardi, I don’t need phallic symbols to compensate for all those times everyone laughed at my sad genitals in gym class. I DON’T WANT TO CLIMB THE ROPE AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME ANYMORE COACH CHANG!

So I went to Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and whilst there fell upon the melon baller aisle. I procured with a bit of my inheritance a melon baller of medium proportions and sleek, deadly contours, like a jaguar or a kitten, and a rubberized handle to protect my pink, delicate palms from the harsh Newtonian resistance of even the most hardened of cantaloupe.

And then, with tears in my eyes, and my underpants already pre-soiled to prevent fruit rape, because I loved my readers, I balled fruit. The gleaming stainless carbon steel bit into the delicate flesh like a steam shovel ripping through Mother Earth. One ball… Two balls… I can barely see through my tears. My landlord is pounding on the door begging me to keep the screams down so he can watch the Bachelor, but the screams must come out, because fruit, fruit is dying, dying like my hopes and dreams. Three balls. I scream louder. A cleansing scream. Four balls. And then spent, I rest the dying melon against my breast and whisper that it will be okay. But from how hard my heart is pounding, the melon knows that is a lie.

Black rubberized handle medium melon baller, $4.99 at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Four Stars.

Mr Kuntzman my 10 year old daughter shoots her AR-15 often and she has never shown signs of PTSD so I am assuming she is doing it wrong. Could you look at her picture below and please let us know what she is doing wrong? Is her wrist not limp enough? signed frustrated father

Dear Frustrated, the answer is simple. Your daughter does not have what it takes to be a reporter for a big New York City paper.