Are we going to war with Russia?
GCWB: Yes, of course we are, Eric, but not for the reasons you think. Actually the coming carnage will be triggered not by Syria, gay rights, those offensive commercials with Shatner and the hairy-chested Russian guy, narwhal hunting, Edward Snowden being named premier of Chechnya, the leaking of Putin's gay sex tape, the destruction of Santa's Workshop by the secret police, or Joe Biden ending a speech at the UN with the not-so-subtle punchline, "in Russia, autocratic paranoid homophobic dictator-president radioactive poisons YOU!" Believe it or not, Earth's destruction will be unleashed when One Direction's sold-out Moscow show next July reaches such heights of pure musical synergy that Niall Horan's heart converts to a self-sustaining nuclear fusion source, capable of providing enough clean love-energy to fuel the world for centuries--unfortunately this will appear to radiation sensors as evidence of a nuclear attack, and a retaliatory strike will be launched automatically by B.O.R.I.S., the Soviet-era tic-tac-toe-playing defense supercomputer (which could've been easily disarmed had the Russian equivalent of young Matthew Broderick and Ally Sheedy not died in the Gulag in the mid-80s).
Is there a God? If so, do you happen to have His email address?
GCWB: There is a God, Roger, but unfortunately for humans, He's a narwhal, and created the Earth as the playground for His chosen people, the narwhals. On judgment day, religious people of all stripes will be surprised to find themselves evaluated not on their adherence to ancient precepts from the Bible, Koran, or collected works of Dave Barry, but by how well they treated our brothers and sisters the narwhals, and what steps they took, or FAILED TO TAKE, to ensure continued narwhal prosperity. All of this would be patently obvious to anyone who read the unambiguous commandments in the Book of Narwhal, brought in peace from the depths of the sea to the dwellers of the land by the great narwhal prophet Fhrzzqthm-tweeee!, who was sadly butchered and eaten and whose head was made into a funny hat by Norwegian fishermen in 865 A.D. (Using the Great Prophet's horn as a spear to kill more narwhals was an especially callous sacrilege. Good luck at the pearly gates, Norwegians.)
How much more cheese will your valet Ian have to consume before he's unable to grasp you with one hand? I mean due to your added circumference, not his.
GCWB: Jeffrey--by electing to occupy the position of Holder of the Ball, one is obligated to make whatever physical adjustments are required to ensure the GCWB is properly and proudly supported, whether this means weight-training, thumb extensions, a mechanical cyborg endoskeleton, or whatever. If this puny-handed shmoe can't hack it there are hundreds of lovely ladies out there just waiting for the chance to support my glorious volume. AM I RIGHT LADIES?!!!
Is there a Mr or Mrs Giant Cheese Wax Ball?
GCWB: David--Sadly I will never know the joys of romantic love, as I am the last of my kind, and am condemned to wander the vast emptiness of the universe alone with only my infinite knowledge and power, and immediate streaming access to the best in classic '70s TV, to console me. Which reminds me of the words of a great sage of yore, which I repeat endlessly to myself as I streak across untold dimensions of time and space: "Who loves ya, baby?"
Hypothetically, If I brought a crow, a rook, a magpie, and a raven into a Tiffany's, which one would fly off with the most expensive item? Also hypothetically, which of the birds listed above would be easiest to train to fly back to my hypothetical, criminal mastermind, lair with its hypothetically, ill gotten goods?
GCWB: Those are all basically the same damn birds. Just let 'em loose and put the video on YouTube.
Do you still smell vaguely like cheese? Or non-vaguely?
GCWB: The best description of my aroma is if you took the finest Eau de Parfum, combined it with the smell of Grandma's freshly baked cookies, fresh roasted coffee, freshly picked roses, freshly packaged Chee-tos, freshly sun-freshed laundry freshness and a jar of freshly pickled narwhal, it MIGHT remind you of the subtle yet insistent scent you detected when I breezed by you on that lazy Finger Lakes summer afternoon in 1979, leaving you with an indescribable, unfullfillable longing. Might.
Giant Cheese Wax Ball, what is your favourite Spike Lee joint?
GCWB: Although I respect the man's craftmanship, I have boycotted every one of Spike Lee's films since his disastrous decision to ruin "Malcom X" by replacing me, mid-shoot, in my innovative performance of the role of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad. Just because a couple of studio suits didn't get it, the guy drops me like a hot wax potato? Damn, Spike, I thought you had more guts than that. I wish I could have back all those hours I spent working on that weird accent.
Tune in next Friday for another exciting edition of The Giant Cheese Wax Ball Knows All!