As seasons turn, so too do the fortunes of the desperate readers of Enthusiask.  In the depths of uncertainty, turn to me, Oliver Fiasco, your Great Pumpkin your Homecoming King, your Plymouth Rock.  Dine from my cornucopia of wisdom.

What is it about the coming of fall weather that seems to bring with it a wave of anxieties and worry?  Does the visual splendour of the many-coloured foliage create a mild seizure effect on the brain?  Perhaps the smell of burning leaves and brush triggers an instinctual, animalistic reaction of panic?  Is it the steady approach of winter that reminds of us of our inevitable end that distresses us so?  Or perhaps it’s just all the damn raking.

Speaking for myself, the raking drives me round the bend.  Most of the time, I’m thankful for all the trees in my neighbourhood, but at this point in the year they are an ongoing curse.  As the weenies in my town council are too gutless to allow me to manage a controlled burn, I’m forced to turn to manual options for leaf removal.  Landscapers for hire aren’t a possibility as my dog Cordelia is highly territorial and would drive off labourers as surely as the paperboy.  Leaf blowers are for idiots.  My nephew Foster works nights so I’m left, rake in hand, to brave the ever-deepening pile on my own.

It’s not unlike what I face each time I open my inbox to find yet more advice requests piling up from desperate, clueless people.  There’s no one here but myself to brave the storm.  I answer a dozen pleas, and another dozen replaces them before the ink is even dry.  It’s a dirty job, so the saying goes, but somebody has to do it.  If all you grasshoppers are going to survive the winter, this ant had better roll up his sleeves.

Onward! 

I’m coming to the realisation that I have a pretty serious online poker addiction. I’m spending the majority of my spare time playing, even cutting into work hours some days.  Mild hand cramps and numbness that I used to notice when holding a mouse seem to be graduating towards full blown Carpal tunnel syndrome.  I can’t seem to stop myself, and I don’t know where to turn for help. – PocketRockets

                “Online poker”….sure, my friend, if that’s what you want to call it.  I think we all know the real reason your wrists are cramping up.  Too much “Texas Hold It” has got you flushed.  You flopped the nuts straight and splashed the pot.  And now here you are, with a weak hand.

Get out there and find yourself a girlfriend.  They might seem a bit scary, but I promise they don’t bite.  Unless you’re into that sort of thing of course, then that can probably be arranged.

It might only happen twice a year but each time it sneaks up on me. The clocks need to change and I hate nothing more than having to go around to all the devices in the house (and my car) to set them right.  It’s so tedious, how can I make it easier? – TickedOff

                This isn’t really a problem I can relate to very well.  I don’t bother worrying about fixing each clock around my home as my anally retentive nephew Foster will get around to that himself.  I would suggest that you learn, as I have myself, to tell the time naturally by the position of the sun or stars.  After a while you develop an almost innate, accurate sense of time, without even having to think consciously about it.  For example, I’m entirely certain it’s now time to move onto a more worthy advice request.

A few friends of mine that work for a local charity have recently managed to trick, badger and guilt me into agreeing to be in a bachelor auction. I am single, so I guess I fit the requirements, but I’m really afraid of being sent up there and going for an embarrassingly low amount of money.  I can’t think of anything more humiliating.  I’ve always thought of myself as a bit geeky and my friends are aware of that.  Their solution is to give me a full “nerd make-over” so I look my absolute best for the event.  They tell me it will help with my confidence and that confidence will pay off in higher bids – a win-win for everyone.  Part of me worries that I’ll feel like a fraud, as this “new” version of me isn’t really me at all.  It seems like I’m going to feel anxious about this either way.  Help! – ScaredStiff

                The connection between charitable events and public humiliation is one that I’ll never wrap my head around.  I was once nominated to sit in a dunking stool at a local county fair; one of those familiar contraptions where people pay money to throw softballs at a target that, when hit, will submerge a poor sap.  For the cost of only my dignity and a mild case of pneumonia, some do-gooders raised several hundred dollars for charity.  The attraction was particularly popular among my neighbours, for some reason.  One fellow up the road had so many attempts he nearly dislocated his shoulder.

Your predicament sounds somewhat less harrowing by comparison.  I’m meant to feel sorry for a young man who’s going to be made to look less nerdy and then put up on stage to be fought over by a ravenous crowd of women?  Unless the winner bidder intends to submerge you at some point during your enforced period of servitude, I think you’ll be just fine.

Oliver, here’s a quick one for you – boxers or briefs? Actually, I should give you some context; my wife and I looking at starting a family soon and I’m concerned about my fertility.  I prefer the comfort of briefs but I hear that the fit of your underwear can affect a man’s sperm count. – GoDaddy1984

                If the price of fatherhood is to have to wear ridiculous boxer shorts, then I’ll be over here wearing my briefs in peace.  Boxer shorts are one step up from wearing a kilt, grass skirt or nothing.  Briefs are the mark of the civilized man.  Boxers are the symbol of the unemployed layabout.  The choice is clear.

         In order to keep your sperm count high, I’d suggest cutting down on activities like “online poker”, if you catch my drift. Keep the rounds in the chamber until you’re at the range.

The battery life on my wireless gaming controllers are always quitting on me at the worst possible time. I can’t even get through an eight to ten hour session without having to swap out, sometimes in the middle of an important mission.  Short of buying another set of rechargeable packs, what can I do to get more out of the ones I have? – HardcoreFragger

                Might I suggest an eight to ten hour session of something called a job, my friend?  Plug in your controller before you leave for work and voilà, a fully charged battery will await you upon your return.  If modern batteries can’t keep up with your gaming habits, the solution is to reconsider your habits, not your batteries.

Moderation in all things is the key to a happy healthy life, whether one is dealing with food, entertainment (including “online poker”) or productivity.  The one exception of course is good advice; if your question is any indication you could probably use much, much more.

This is where I leave you, dear readers, at the end of another column. Please submit your requests for advice to Oliver@Enthusiacs.com or our forum thread.  Try to be kind to each other until I return – or at least a bit less crappy than usual.  Think of that as my truncated version of the Golden Rule.