Danger Queue

March 9, 2010

Kindness vs Generosity

Filed under: Generosity, Kindness — Tags: Generosity, Kindness — admin @ 6:58 pm

No, after you.

SHAWN: Ah, life. It can get a little rough. Bad things happen quite a bit, and sometimes to good people. How can we all live together and get through it all? Well, luckily, there’s one quality that truly makes the world worth living in, and that’s kindness. Human kindness is the greatest attribute God’s given us. Like a rainbow built on the hope of swans, we are filled with great joy when someone’s kind to us. And you know what? It fills us with joy when we’re kind to others as well! Nothing bad comes from kindness, unless you count smiles, hugs and puppies as bad. Sometimes, when I think about human kindness, I want to skip and sing, and lust for life as I do every morning. Thanks to kindness, we can all live in harmony, and I don’t have to skip and sing alone. It’s just so wonderful. Now it’s your turn, Ryan, my friend. Good luck with your argument! Not that you’ll need it, as you are so very good at this, and handsome.

RYAN: How dare you call me grizzled and ugl-wait, wha?!? Friend? Good? Handsome? That doesn’t sound right at all. You always attack, degrade, and belittle me. This newfound kindness just seems off. So forced and contrived. I have a hard time believing any of it, to be perfectly honest. But I have no problem believing in generosity. Unlike kindness, generosity has a tangible element that makes it unquestionably real. Kindness gets you nothing more than a worthless compliment, usually phony or backhanded. “Oh, great job, losing that big game!” Pssshawww. That doesn’t help. But if someone says “Oh, you lost game but, here, have a pizza!”, your spirits are lifted. That’s the magic of generosity. It puts something in your hands to make you feel better. Maybe I’m giving you the last chicken wing. Maybe I’m giving you my DVD copy of Last Action Hero. Maybe I’m buying you an amazing birthday present. Regardless of what it is, my generosity makes you feel better. Your kindness only makes me wonder if you even mean what you say.

For the love of God, how can we be sure he’s sincere?

SHAWN: If you care so much about generosity, you striking young chap, where’s my copy of Last Action Hero? I don’t see it anywhere. Thinking about generosity is good and all, but it requires follow through, and you just don’t see that often, as unfortunate as it is. How many homeless people do you walk by on a daily basis? How many losing little league teams do you buy pizzas for? How many times do you plow a pedestrian down on the sidewalk and not leave a few bucks in your wake? Kindness, however, is something anyone can give. You don’t have to have millions of dollars to throw around to be kind, and it’s way easier for even those people to follow through with. Thanks for holding the door for me, homeless guy! It’s okay that you lost, little league team the South Elgin Elks, but you’ll get ‘em next time! Sure, it’s no pizza, but it still warms your heart and people are way more willing to give it up. Some people just don’t need material things to lift their spirits. They’re not shallow. Sometimes a smile or a door being held open is the greatest gift you could give—way greater than that DVD I’m still waiting for, you wonderful gem.

RYAN: I only said “maybe” I’m giving you my Last Action Hero DVD. It was purely a hypothetical, and even in the hypothetical, I wouldn’t give it to you. Maybe I’d be more likely to be so generous with my prized possessions if I for a second actually believed in your kindness. Unfortunately for you, you’ve got a history of being the exact opposite of kind—unkind, if you will—so it will take a long time for you to completely wipe that slate clean. The nice thing about generosity is its impact is felt immediately. Maybe a rich old man used to be stingy with his money, but if he chooses one day to donate a large sum of money to the town’s orphanage, then all will be forgotten. Because actions speak louder than your hollow words ever could. Kindness is easier to follow through on only because it requires you to do so very little. You can tell that team of Little Leaguers they played a good game, but everyone, including them, knows if that were true, they would have won. Your kindness is really just a bold-faced lie. Call me crazy if you must, but I just don’t believe lying to people is the best way to warm their hearts. Not when the gift of giving is much more real and meaningful.

Bet you feel better now.

SHAWN: The fact that you letting me have your DVD was just a hypothetical proves my point about the fleeting nature of generosity, you delightful little cunt. It’s all about kindness. And, hell, whether or not the kindness is real or not, kind actions are awesome. Hugs are great. Doors held open are fabulous. A few nice words make even the biggest dick like you feel like the goddess that you are. And damn straight I’m kind, even if sometimes I tease you a little because you’re such an easy target. The only slate I have to wipe clean is my ass because of all the bullshit you’re giving me. Generosity may have immediate impact, but even you just used the word “if” when describing the old man giving money. Well, douche, what if giving is too much work for him? Then it’s all moot! Generosity takes so much out of you that kindness is the easy, better, smarter way to go. You can’t run out of kindness, like how you run out of roofies every Saturday. Plus, you feel the effects of kindness immediately (also unlike roofies)—by not having a door slam on your face or feeling all warm and fuzzy inside (the same feeling Ryan gets from pictures of naked boys). And, yes, actions can be stronger than words, but there is such thing as kind actions, and it doesn’t necessarily require you giving away half of your hard-earned money. Kindness creates peace and love and goddamn relationships, and those keep this motherfucking world afloat, you filthy son of a bitch!

RYAN: Ha! Thanks for showing your true colors and proving that kindness is as fake and ingenuine as a Tiger Woods apology. And just like Tiger, you’re wrong. How can you say it doesn’t matter if kindness is real or not? That’s the only thing that matters. If it’s not real, it’s not meaningful, and if it’s not meaningful, then what’s the point? Just admit the only reason anyone is ever kind to someone is for their own selfish reasons. You only hold doors open for women so you can check them out from behind. You only hug people so you can feel the elusive warmth of physical contact. And you only share nice words with people so you can, if only briefly, feel less like an asshole. True, there may be ulterior motives to anyone’s generosity, but the difference is that generosity undisputedly benefits everyone involved. If an old man donates money to an orphanage, he feels better about himself and the children are less likely to be put down. So what if there is an “if” involved? That “if” is what makes generosity real. It’s a choice. Not some forced thing you feel like you have to do, like holding open a door. Oh, thanks for giving two seconds of your time to hold open a door I could have opened myself. Whoopity fucking doo. That doesn’t change the fact the other 86,398 seconds of the day, you’re a total dick. And really, only calling you a dick is me being generous. You’re welcome.

Next on Danger Queue: Gene Winthrop vs Akira Fakename—Which Oscar-Winning Magician/Philanthropist Will Come Out On Top?

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March 5, 2010

Briefs vs Going Commando

Filed under: Briefs, Going Commando — Tags: Briefs, Going Commando — admin @ 12:30 am

You may want to close your eyes.

RYAN: Everyone in the world needs a little support. Something to keep us up when we’re feeling down. Something to hold us close when we’re feeling lonely. That’s why each and every morning, I choose briefs. They’re the perfect way to start each day. And with a wide assortment of colors to choose from, I can always find a color to match my mood. If I’m feeling classy, I go black. Wild and crazy, I go green. Saucy, I go red. For those days when I’m feeling just blah, I go with whichever white has the least amount of stains. But I always choose briefs. They’re a magical piece of clothing that gives us men one less thing to worry about during the day. Before briefs, man bounced around every which way like a damned animal. Sorry, but that kind of stuff doesn’t fly anymore. Much like we wear shoes to ease the strain on our feet, we wear briefs to ease the strain on our balls.

SHAWN: The good news about men who love briefs is they won’t be able to create children who share their brief-loving ways. Why? Because their tight-ass underwear has all but left them sterile, with low-to-no sperm counts and an inability to procreate. Me? I like to let my junk hang free and easy, the way God intended it. That’s why I go commando. Like the great commandos of World War I, no underwear allows my genitals the ability to breathe and live. They can swing low, swing high, bounce around—and, most importantly, the ladies can see the bulge dangling right through my pants and be all, “Mmm hmm!” Man, it feels good. No restrictions, and a higher sperm count than most sperm banks. That’s the life. Plus, I’m not wasting time choosing colors, especially since, if you’re the kind of guy that wears briefs, there’s a good chance no woman’s going to be seeing them anyway. I, on the other hand, am ready at a moment’s notice for whatever challenge I need to mount.

Looks like we found ourselves a ladies' man.

RYAN: Even if briefs do lead to low sperm counts, I don’t see why that’s a big deal. Oh, no, I can’t procreate. I guess I’m stuck having as much sex as I want without having to worry about kids. Woe is me. Meanwhile, you’re stuck raising a bunch of hell-raising, bank account-draining kids because you went commando all the time. Apparently for all the wrong reasons on top of that. Going commando does not create a bulge. I don’t want to get into the inner workings of gravity, but when you go commando, everything just hangs down and disappears into the fabric of the pants (please tell me you’re wearing pants). If you really want to impress the ladies with a bulge, you need to fight gravity and cradle and lift things up. That’s where the briefs come in. Now your privates don’t disappear between your legs like a frightened turtle. They become a focal point that, with the helpful addition of a sock or two, will get the women all riled up. Also, if you’re concerned about the well being of your junk, then going commando is the worst possible decision. You’re leaving yourself exposed to all sorts of dangers. All it takes is one wrong move to turn the pencils, pens, and keys in your pockets into deadly weapons. And I sure hope you’ve got a button fly because the jagged teeth of a zipper are absolutely unforgiving. Or have you not seen There’s Something About Mary? But briefs—loyal, trustworthy briefs—not only lift things out of harm’s way, they also provide another layer of protection.

SHAWN: My favorite part is how you turned an argument for briefs into an argument pro-sterilization. Hopefully, we can just keep our species from reproducing at all, successfully ending the horrible human race that created everything from Glenn Beck to Heelys. Wait—we’re part of that race! Maybe we should get out of those briefs then. And just because I’m going commando doesn’t mean I’m necessarily having sex and not pulling out all over the damn place. I’m still a responsible, married adult, and my lack of underwear hasn’t produced any offspring for me yet. At least I have the option to procreate if I want, though. The only option you have is being laughed at in the locker room at the gym. Who wears briefs anymore, besides six-year-old boys with creepily overbearing mothers? And maybe you should read your argument again, as you just pointed out that you need to trick women into thinking you have more junk than you do with your briefs. Excuse me for not needing artificial support to make a bulge work. No one’s complained yet. What happens to you when the fake support comes off? “Oh, God, that’s it?” Plus, some of us don’t have turtles for genitals, and they don’t disappear between their fat thighs when they go commando—they sit comfortable in the crotch of their pants, swinging around enough to be free, but cradled enough to not get stabbed by all the sharp objects you apparently fill your pockets with. Maybe you should get a book bag. Or are you scared that you have so little control of your junk that you’d get it caught in the zipper of that too?

Free and easy, with a place for spare change.

RYAN: My favorite part is when you lacked any understanding of one of the most basic concepts in the world: gravity. Seriously. Do I have to explain this to you? I figured at some point in your life, you would have learned all this, but your unwavering belief that you can have a bulge while going commando says otherwise. I don’t care how much you want to lie about the size of your junk. The only way you’re getting a bulge while going commando is if you’re wearing pants that have an inseam four inches higher than it should be. And really, if that’s the case, then all your arguments about being comfortable and hanging free are complete lies. I don’t care what bad things you say about briefs, I’m way more comfortable with them. They’re supportive, but not smothering. Functional, yet flattering. People in the locker room may laugh at briefs, but I’d much rather have that than be the creepy guy in the locker room who drops his pants and has nothing on underneath. Do you go commando when you’re wearing gym shorts too? Every time you do some crunches, your genitalia plops down on the mat. Of course, that’s assuming you actually work out when you go to the gym and don’t just stare longingly at the women on the treadmill. More than likely, you don’t go commando when you’re at the gym. It’s just doesn’t work, right? It’s the same reason why you don’t go commando when you’re wearing itchy pants. Or overalls. Or shorts. Oh well. I guess not everything can be suitable for all occasions like briefs.

SHAWN: Do I need to be clearer? If your dick were bigger, you’d realize that going commando isn’t as dangerous as you think it is. Plus, you keep buying those 22-waist Wal-Mart pants with the oversized crotches that let everything dangle beyond belief, even the little guy you got hiding under there. We all know how gravity works here, but we’re not Baggin’ Saggin’ Barry with enough room for our junk to throw a block party down there. Maybe this is a matter for cut of pant, but the argument stands that God made our fine genitals to be uninhibited with the ability to dangle when they want to dangle, like the junk of the animals. As for briefs, let’s take this sentence by sentence: “Supportive not smothering”—tell that to the zero kids you will ever have. “Functional yet flattering”—tell that to every woman ever. And, as for the gym, maybe there’s a time and a place for some boxers or even boxer briefs, but regular old briefs are never worth wearing. Hell, if you wear briefs at the gym, I’d bet you’d get all kinds of sweat collected in there, which 9 out of 10 doctors will confirm causes rashes and odors. So, even in the unlikely case that you get to a girl’s bedroom and she doesn’t laugh you back out of her house with those briefs, the second they’re on the floor all she’ll have to look at is…hell, I won’t describe it. Just google “rash” and cry yourself to sleep. Look at that: briefs are actually suitable for no occasions at all. Interesting to see your whole argument in shambles. At least now it’ll match your love life and hideously scrunched tiny balls.

Next on Danger Queue: Kindness vs Generosity—The Politest Danger That Ever Queued

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February 25, 2010

Luke Wilson vs “Gimme Back That Filet O’ Fish” Fish

Filed under: Gimme Back That Filet O' Fish Fish, Luke Wilson — Tags: Gimme Back That Filet O' Fish Fish, Luke Wilson — admin @ 10:00 am

Who will fill the void left by Billy Mays?

SHAWN: Goddammit! Here I am, on my stupid Verizon phone, trying to download a full-body picture of Luke Wilson (don’t ask), and it’s taking forever. I thought this was supposedly the best 3G network in town—nay, in these United States of America! Man, I wish I had AT&T. Sure, it may not have the best coverage—all but forsaking the states west of Iowa—but nobody lives out there in Nowheresville anyway. Thank goodness some brilliant, beautiful spokesperson came along to set things right and remind me who has more little Xs next to their characteristics on a chart made by AT&T—and, surprisingly enough, it’s the same wonderful man I was trying to download earlier. Luke Wilson is a person, a mascot and an actor for our time. Hilarious, genuine, and altruistic, he could sell a Red Lobster franchise to a pair of crab legs.

RYAN: I think we’re past the point of counting Luke Wilson as an actor now that he’s resorted to commercials. Sure, others do commericials too, but actors with dignity and self-respect just do voiceovers. Only the desperate, out-of-work actors are willing to whore themselves like that in front of a camera. Maybe he should spend less time getting fat and more time honing his craft. Though, I can understand if he got fat on filet o’ fish sandwiches at McDonald’s. The only thing more addicting than those sandwiches is the commercial for them. The “Gimme Back That Filet O’ Fish” fish is a damn selling machine. He’s got it all. A catchy song that stays in your head for days on end and an in-your-face attitude that totally clicks with the hard-to-reach 18-29 demographic. And his marketing savvy is uncanny, especially considering he’s a fish. Rookies like Luke Wilson try to sell things by boring us with all the things it can do. Wrong approach. The “Gimme Back That Filet O’ Fish” sells sandwiches by creating demand and saying he wants it back. Maybe we all didn’t want a filet o’ fish before, but we do now that someone tried to take it away. Well played, fish. Well played.

If heaven does exist, it surely tastes like this sandwich.

Only the boldest of men dare combine nine Filet O' Fish sandwiches into one.

SHAWN: First of all, 2001 called and it wants its Big Mouth Billy Bass back. You should be able to find it next to your Razor scooters, Elian Gonzales and all those wasted answering machine tapes with you yelling “WHASSUP!” on them. Talk about outdated, out-of-touch, and lacking in dignity and self-respect. Big Mouth Bill Bass is way more desperate than Luke Wilson, who is still appearing in a countless number of high-profile motion pictures like Middle Men and that Death at a Funeral remake of a movie that came out two years ago. If appearing in commercials means you’re washed up, you better tell Oscar-winning actress Catherine Zeta-Jones who won the Academy Award while appearing in commercials for T-Mobile. If anything, it proves that phone company commercials actually boost one’s career, as Luke Wilson is now more recognizable that Drew Barrymore’s Mac-loving boy toy. Now, if you think “Gimme Back That Filet O’ Fish” is catchy, you need to throw out your Ke$ha records ASAP and listen to some real music. Not only is that song more annoying than people who still quote Napoleon Dynamite, but it’s repetitive, goes on forever and now haunts you on the radio and in “gifts” at Walgreen’s that nobody buys. And, speaking of haunting, I believe there’s a line where the fish contemplates a man sandwich. That makes even Luke Wilson seem warm and inviting.

RYAN: Yeah, 1997 called, it wants its joke back. So what if the Big Mouth Billy Bass isn’t as popular now as a few years ago? The very same could be said for Luke Wilson. Oh, but he’s in those no-name movies you clearly found off of his IMDB page. Movies that no one will ever see because we all know Luke Wilson is a horribly overrated actor. That’s saying a lot, because he’s not even rated that high in the first place. The only time he’s ever been believable was in Royal Tenenbaums when he said “I’m going to kill myself today”, and really, I’m not entirely convinced he knew they were filming. So yes, he’s washed up, just like Catherine Zeta-Jones. Notice how her career has gone completely stagnant since she started doing Verizon commercials. That’s no coincidence. Just like it’s no coincidence that the Filet O’ Fish is the hottest selling sandwich in the country right now (citation needed). All because of that fine “Gimme Back That Filet O’ Fish” fish and its amazingly catchy tune. Yeah. It’s catchy because it gets stuck in your head, much like the $5 footlong song or that one song about 525,600 minutes (you’re welcome). It may be annoying and you may hate it, but it works. You find yourself humming the lines (Gimme back the Filet O’ Fish. Gimme that fish!), and next thing you know you’re in line at McDonald’s. I guess that’s what happens when a spokesman actually does his job.

There was a goldfish in that bowl, but then Luke Wilson ate it.

SHAWN: Phone call for you. It’s from a Mr. 1832. It wants its hairstyle back. But I digress. How dare you call an underrated actor like Luke Wilson overrated? Did you not see Royal Tenenbaums, even though you quote it, arguably one of the best movies of the last ten years? Yeah, he made every line in that believable. Plus, apparently you missed out on such gems as Old School, The Family Stone and Anchorman—probably because you were too busy slapping around your Big Mouth Billy Bass. And, wow, you just said that Catherine Zeta-Jones’s career went stagnant since she starting doing commercials? Maybe you missed out on my last argument—still slapping the bass?—but she won a freaking Oscar AFTER she started doing the commercials. And, for the record, they were for T-Mobile. Gees—clearly you don’t have your thumb on the pulse of Hollywood. Maybe your mind’s slowed from all those filet o’ fish sandwiches. Did you know one of those has enough grease for a whole season of Mad Men, and that each has enough sodium to blind a small child? Fun facts. By the way, do you know anybody, besides yourself, that goes around humming that “Gimme Back that Filet O’ Fish” song, or are you working on citations for that, too? Everybody thinks it’s annoying. It’s the Paris Hilton of commercials. People think it’s popular because everyone’s amused at how wretched it is. And, look at that, filet o’ fish sandwiches are seeing an increase in sales…but because of a little thing called Lent. Yeah, God’s doing a better job promoting it than that damn fish. But what’s that? Sales at AT&T are just fine? Sure, you can attribute it to the iPhone, but you but your ass Luke Wilson hasn’t hurt. What a fine man. I applaud him. You would too if all those filet o’ fish sandwiches didn’t render your arms incapable of movement.

RYAN: Oh, man, Mr. 1832 is calling me on the phone? Wow, that’s incredible, considering that telephones hadn’t even been invented by that time. Oh, snap! I guess that’s just another classic case of you making up shit as you go. You know, like all those unsubstantiated claims you threw around about the Filet O’ Fish. Enough grease for a season of Mad Men? Enough sodium to blind a small child? Whatever the Filet O’ Fish sandwich did to you, you need to let it go. Just like Luke Wilson let his dreams of being an actor go. Even you can’t argue that anymore. Look at how much you struggled to even name some of his movies. The Family Stone? I can tell you never saw The Family Stone as you haven’t yet gouged out your own eyes. And Anchorman? Really? Anchorman? You’re referencing a movie in which he had maybe 45 seconds of screen time? Well, thank you for making my point for me on how far Luke Wilson has fallen. But the “Gimme Me Back That Filet O’ Fish” fish is on the rise. So what if people are asking how and why he’s popular? What matters is that he’s popular. And he’s moving Filet O’ Fish sandwiches like it’s his job, which it is. If God wants to lend a helping hand, so be it. But don’t think for a second God is the only reason why. The “Gimme Back That Filet O’ Fish” fish has gotten people talking and thinking about those delicious fish sandwiches with a simple but catchy song that is as much fun to sing as the sandwich is to eat. Meanwhile Luke Wilson looks like a fool downloading pictures of himself and telling us about a girl he used to date. Really, Luke, could you be any more vain?

Next On Danger Queue: Briefs vs Going Commando—Life Is Full Of Tough Decisions

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February 23, 2010

Beef Jerky vs The Jerky Boys

Filed under: Beef Jerky, The Jerky Boys — Tags: Beef Jerky, The Jerky Boys — admin @ 9:17 am

Taste really isn’t an issue on this one.

RYAN: As far as I’m concerned, there are two kinds of people in the world: those who like beef jerky and those who LOVE beef jerky. I fall into the latter. Beef jerky is the finest of all manmade creations. I mean, beef is already amazingly delicious. We could have stopped there and the world would still be a wonderful place. But no, someone had the foresight to realize that jerking meat is not only good, it’s fantastic. So much pleasure. So much enjoyment. I always tell people that I would be in heaven if for dessert somebody laid out a nice spread of beef jerky. They always laugh because they think I’m joking, but I’m not. That would be the best dinner party ever (hint, hint). In fact, I love beef jerky so much, I asked for some for Christmas. And I got it. Related note: It was the best Christmas ever.

SHAWN: You seem to have forgotten the third group of beef jerky-ness: those who prefer not to eat the dried innards of God-knows-what animal that’s been sitting at the front counter of 7Eleven for the last 12 years, untouched. Granted, beef is great—so it’s silly to jerk it around and mess it up and turn it into a gross-ass treat that most truckers are a little scared to touch. But you know what else is silly—and HILARIOUS—to jerk around? PEOPLE! And it’s even more awesome when they’re on the phone. And that’s why The Jerky Boys is still the best comedy/prank phone call duo in history, as relevant today as the Butthole Surfers. Sammy Cox? Jocko Johnson? Frank Rizzo? Each character just got funnier and funnier. Oh ho, that one has a lisp and is coming on to an unsuspecting dry cleaner! Brilliant! And just hearing the unsuspecting victims wonder why some guy on the phone is telling them about how his mother pours hot wax on his genitals is just the greatest humor possibly ever invented. Trust me—a Jerky Boys CD will be way more entertaining than a beef jerky dinner party, especially since you’d be the only guest at the latter.

This particular bag still tells stories of the Cold War.

RYAN: Anyone who doesn’t eat beef jerky is obviously not a person, but rather a heartless, tasteless monster that despises all things that are great. And believe me, beef jerky is great. So many delicious flavors ready to be enjoyed in a moment’s notice. Original, teriyaki, hot, spicy, black pepper, even original! But it’s not just the heavenly taste that makes beef jerky so grand. There’s also the fact beef jerky was monumentally important to the survival of early man. In a time when food would spoil almost immediately, beef jerky was a key method of food preservation. Frankly, without beef jerky, the human race might not have made it. Luckily, we don’t have to worry about a world without beef jerky. A world without the Jerky Boys, though, well, isn’t that what we’ve been living in for the past 10 years? The Jerky Boys had their 15 minutes, which somehow led to a couple CDs and a movie that I can only imagine was horrible beyond belief, and then they disappeared like so many others. Probably cause what they did got old fast and was in horrible taste. So you know, the exact opposite of beef jerky. You joke about the beef jerky in 7Eleven that’s 12 years old, but there’s no doubt that tastes just as good today as it did 12 years ago.

SHAWN: Must you alienate 90% of our readers every time you open your mouth? People who don’t eat beef jerky aren’t monsters, but humans who care about not shoving overly processed “meat” into their guts. They just care a little about themselves and don’t need to turn to a greasy meat-stick for solace. And maybe beef jerky was useful in its heyday—when the choices were apparently either beef jerky or death—but that’s not the case anymore. Now, people have other options, like actual beef or food that comes from food. However, when it comes to brilliant prank phone call-related comedy, people still only have one choice, even if they haven’t always been around the past few years—The Jerky Boys. Not everyone’s 15 minutes of fame lead to CDs and a movie, so don’t under-represent their accomplishments. You know who else did a couple CDs and then stopped? Barack Obama. So back off. And I didn’t realize you were a 60-year-old woman, calling the Jerky Boys “in horrible taste.” What’s so bad taste about a little filthy comedy? Toughen up a bit, you prude. The chicken can only cross the road so many times before it takes Jack Tors calling up a pizza place to ask for sex toys to get a laugh. And, oh, did that get laughs! I guess that’s one thing it has in common with beef jerky.

Wait. They actually made a movie about these guys?

RYAN: Don’t worry; I’m the blog equivalent of Howard Stern, where the people who hate me actually read me more than the people who like me. So hate away, you non-beef-jerky-eating idiots. Hate away. And really, you’d have to be an idiot to not eat beef jerky. What’s not to like? It takes meat, which is something that everyone obviously enjoys or at the very least should enjoy (circle of life, people), and combines it with salt and then packs mountains of flavor on top of that. You don’t have a problem with flavor now too, do you? We may have more options for food nowadays, but give me a tub of beef jerky and I’ll be good for a month. As far as I’m concerned, all other food is completely unnecessary. Just like the Jerky Boys. I don’t know if you’ve recently listened to a Jerky Boys CD, but prank phone call-related comedy does not hold up well. Listening to their CDs is like watching an Austin Powers movie. You sit there the whole time knowing that you used to laugh at certain parts, but you can’t help but wonder why the hell you used to think it was funny. At least Austin Powers had Alotta Fagina and her fake tits floating in the hot tub. Now I think we can all agree THAT is timeless.

SHAWN: First of all, the traits you share with Howard Stern end with your long, curly hair; otherwise, we’d be making way more off this blog (please click on ads). Clearly all that salted meat has gone to your head, as even you admit that the beef jerky at 7Eleven often sits there for years on end, thus demonstrating that nobody eats it. So you’re calling pretty much everyone in the world idiots for not eating beef jerky? You sure know how to win an argument. And generically calling them “flavored” isn’t helping your cause either. I believe in some cultures “bull vomit and pickled testicles” is a flavor. I’d like to see you live on beef jerky for the rest of your life and see how healthy you end up. I’d say it would result in you being pale, frail and unable to breathe readily, but how would we tell? As for the Jerky Boys, we’ve already established that your sensibilities have grown prudish and feminine, so there’s no wonder you don’t care for them like you used to. Sure, you have to use your imagine more, but the Jerky Boys have just as much vagina and tits as Austin Powers—just the verbal variety. Like beef jerky, they’re not everybody’s taste—but, if you like comedy, you love them for paving the way for everything from Crank Yankers to half of the CollegeHumor.com skits. Unlike beef jerky, though, the Jerky Boys don’t pump you full of enough high-fructose corn syrup to make you think you’re eating more than dried cow anus.

Next on Danger Queue: Luke Wilson vs The “Gimme Back That Filet O’ Fish” Fish—Whatever They’re Selling, I’m Buying

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February 18, 2010

Electric Cars vs Model Trains

Filed under: Electric Cars, Model Trains — Tags: Electric Cars, Model Trains — admin @ 10:00 am

The future is now, but it's kinda boring.

SHAWN: Hear that engine roaring? No? You mean, I’m rocking the streets of Chicago and it doesn’t sound like I’m stabbing a deer with a whooping cough while simultaneously starting a lawnmower? Why, that must mean I’m cruising in the greatest invention of the past four billion years, the age of the Earth—the electric car. Not only is it great for the environment, but it’s compact, sexy and purrs less than a dead kitten. Sure, it may not reach high speeds, but I live in Chicago, where everything’s just a few miles away, the perfect jaunt for the electric car. Maybe if more people owned them, stores would be built closer, people would stay in their neighborhoods more, the economy would rebound entirely, and the earth would be saved. Interesting that one invention could quite literally make the world awesome. What’s more interesting is that you don’t own one. Get on it, Hoggish Greedly!

RYAN: You dare call me greedy? You’re the one driving a car around Chicago, a city renowned for its vast network of public transportation. Driving an electric car doesn’t make you better than everyone else. It makes you a pain in the ass whenever someone wants to go faster than 12 mph, which is everyone all the time. Congrats on being “that guy”. I’ll gladly let you have all the electric cars in the world so long as I can have my model trains. Model trains are as timeless as they are fantastic. Each one brimming with fascinating detail. See the conductor waving his hat out the window? See the dating couple holding hands in the passenger car? What fun! Your electric car may take you to all those seedy bodegas and coffee shops you always frequent, but my model trains take me to a simpler, far more pleasant time. A time when the world wasn’t burdened with problems like Social Security, universal healthcare, and Rosie O’Donnell’s love life. With model trains, the biggest problem I have is choosing which engine to use. The GP38-2 locomotive can pull with the best of them, but boy, the GE Diesel Locomotive sure makes it look easy!

Who unplugged my Mickey Mouse nightlight?

SHAWN: For the record, the majority of electric cars can accelerate just as fast as non-electric cars (I-hate-America cars, as I like to call them), and can easily reach speeds of 50 mph, no slower than your average sedated soccer mom. Wait—and what’s this?—because of their light bodies and smaller engines, electric vehicles actually can accelerate faster? Eat my dust, I-hate-America car. Who’s “that guy” now? (Editors note: It’s you.) Plus, electric cars are vehicles that suit our time, unlike model trains. Really? When was the last time anyone ever bought a model train from anywhere other than an antique store? And when was the last time that person was less then 112 years old? Model trains are way past their prime, what with the advent of the pog, the Wii and, hell, even the ball-in-a-cup is a more contemporary, MTV-generation style of toy. Even if those model trains take you to simpler times—as you sit alone in your basement, in your underwear, watching them go in circles, alone—it doesn’t mean you’re there. You still have to snap back into a world of climate change, healthcare and owl attacks. Enjoy your rude awakening.

RYAN: I may live in a world plagued by monstrous owls and health reform, but my heart will always lie in my own model train town, which I have named Heavensvilletownsylvania. When I play with these model trains, the hours just fly by. Oh, the freight train’s passin’ through town again. Everyday at 4:17 on the dot. Look at all the townspeople watching in awe as the beautiful GE Diesel Locomotive triumphantly moves on the tracks. I wonder where it’s going and what it’s carrying. Charcoal? Cattle feed? Paper clips? See? Model trains are unquestionable fun. That’s why there’s dozens, if not hundreds, of eBay listings for model trains at this very moment. And it’s never too late to get in on the action. You might have noticed all the model train shows going down if you weren’t so busy bragging about all the “wonders” of your electric car. The electric car might be silent, but the pretentiousness that comes with driving one sure is loud. Oh, wow, it can accelerate like a normal car? And goes up to 50 mph? Wowee! It’s just like every other car, except it’s not suitable for highway driving, can’t go long distances, and costs way more. Oh, the wonders of technology!

Downtown Heavensvilletownsylvania has been booming ever since Reagan left office.

SHAWN: Wow. You should probably seek some professional help. I mean, I was glad those Narnia kids finally got institutionalized, but they’re nothing compared to your flights of fancy in Heavensvilletownsylvania. And it sure doesn’t sound like much fun, watching the same train go down the same track every single day at the exact same time, even if there are paperclips in it instead of, say, large-sized paperclips. Call me crazy, but even that probably isn’t that exciting as I’m 100 percent certain that you put those paperclips there yourself. And thanks for proving my point that there aren’t any kids today running to the toy store to buy model trains that no one makes anymore: that’s exactly why there are so many on eBay. And, last I checked, having a ton of something on eBay actually means nobody wants it. How many bids are on them? Oh, let’s check…hmm, interesting…yeah, a lot have none. None, folks. Meanwhile, electric cars are selling like hotcakes, and not just for the tax credits. When celebrities like Woody Harrelson, George Clooney and Tom Hanks are driving them, they have to be cool. How many celebrities boast about their model trains? Okay, how many celebrities under 90? Plus, 50 mph and short distances are perfect if you live in an urban environment and care about the earth—which, last I checked, you do live on. Besides, you probably don’t need to drive much anyway, with that fun model train in your basement keeping you busy. All aboard the Idiot Express! Ryan’s driving! And there’s a shipment of binder clips that need to go in circles ASAP!

RYAN: I don’t know how anyone can trust your opinion on anything right now, considering you think that driving a block and a half and going no faster than 50 mph is perfect for car. That may be enough for you, but there’s hundreds of millions of people who don’t live in an urban environment. What are they supposed to do? It’s not like country roads have electrical outlets for charging up your cute little car every time you need to make it up a hill. Electric cars might save the Earth (we’ll see), but the whole point of cars is to see the Earth. Take a road trip, roll the window down, and take in the sights. Electric cars will kill the road trip with their 50 mile limitation. But, wow, celebrities like Woody Harrelson are driving electric cars! I guess I didn’t realize that celebrites were the standard by which we judge all things. Well, if that’s the case, then maybe you’ve heard of someone by the name of Rod Stewart. Yes, the Rod Stewart. He’s not only a Grammy-award winning musician, he’s also a dedicated model train enthusiast. And then there’s the late great Frank Sinatra. If that wasn’t enough, and we both know it is, how about Phil Collins? Yeah. He delayed the release of an album because he was having so much fun with his model trains. Electric cars may be the wave of the future, but model trains actually stopped Phil Collins from making music. Yeah. You can concede now.

Next On Danger Queue: Beef Jerky vs The Jerky Boys—You’re The Jerky, Jerky.

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February 16, 2010

Uranus vs Butthole Surfers

Filed under: Butthole Surfers, Uranus — Tags: Butthole Surfers, Uranus — admin @ 8:52 am

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe.

RYAN: Deep in the far recesses of space, you’ll find somewhere that most men dare not even dream of going: Uranus. The seventh planet in our solar system, Uranus lies more than 300 billion km from the sun. Though it was first seen as far back as 1690, Uranus was not truly discovered until 1781 when William Herschel used a telescope of his own design to see further and deeper than anyone had ever seen before. While that was more than 200 years ago, Uranus continues to be a source of great intrigue and the cause of much divide. To this day, men and women empathetically debate whether or not to explore Uranus, if only as an experiment. While NASA’s Voyager 2 was able to briefly study the planet from a distance in the mid-80s, most questions about Uranus won’t be answered until we are able to do some deep exploration and probing.

SHAWN: I can totally see why nobody’s bothered exploring Uranus all that much. First of all, it’s huge and nobody wants to cover that much ground. It’ll be like a hot dog exploring a hallway. Second of all, it’s freezing cold at like -225 degrees Celsius up in there. And I don’t even want to know what those rings on Uranus are about. If you ask me, I’ll stay here on Earth, probing some helluva great music from the band to end all bands—the Butthole Surfers. These hardcore punk rockers knew how to explore space with kickass chords and extraterrestrial ditties like Bar-B-Q Pope and Kuntz and all those songs they refused to name. But did you ever see their live shows? Those were rock parties if you’ve ever seen them. Chaotic, violent and sometimes violent, a Butthole Surfers show was always way more exciting than turning your thrusters on and aiming your rocket at Uranus. And their music was way more arousing.

You should probably have those looked at.

RYAN: Wait. Is Butthole Surfers an actual band? With actual music? And songs? I always just thought that was some sort of joke that I never quite got. Like all those jokes about dead babies. But you’re telling me they exist? Wow. Though with songs like Bar-B-Q Pope and Kuntz, I can see why they’re such an insignificant, relatively unknown band. It’s hard to take a band seriously when even they don’t take themselves seriously. If you want significant, look no further than Uranus. It’s the fourth largest planet in our fair solar system, which means it’s most definitely a planet, unlike that disgraced loser Pluto. Who cares if Uranus gets cold? I’d like to see you stay warm when you’re nearly 3 billion km from the sun. Hands down, Uranus is way more important than Butthole Surfers and way more timeless. For generations, teachers have taught kids all the facts about Uranus. Nobody teaches anyone about Butthole Surfers, much less talks about them.

SHAWN: When was the last time you interacted with Uranus? When was the last time Uranus had any bearing on your life? The answer to those questions, and more, is never. Sure, it’s a planet, and sure kids learn about it, but kids learn about a lot of useless things like state history and math. Uranus is like forever away and can’t even sustain life. It just doesn’t matter. And, sure, it’s been a while since the Butthole Surfers have released any music, but they at least have the potential to matter. You can listen to them, party with them, be moved by their rock-ability. All you can do with Uranus is study it. Name one other good use for Uranus. Plus, the Butthole Surfers may not have had a number one hit in a few years, but they’re still rocking, still writing, and still possibly planning to tour again, no doubt to sold-out shows. A Taylor Swift-loving Carrie Underwood fan like you might not pay much attention to them, but for anyone with taste the Butthole Surfers make Uranus look like shit.

This Butthole Surfers concert is such a jolly good time!

RYAN: It’s funny how you criticize my taste in music considering you still listen to the Gin Blossoms and know all the lyrics to that Miley Cyrus song about partying. I guess it makes sense you like Butthole Surfers since you apparently love crap in all forms. But really, let’s not pretend the Butthole Surfers still have the potential to do anything relevant. They’ve been around for more than 20 years and still don’t matter. Why should anyone think that will change now? They’re obviously past their prime, which was what, that one day back in 1996 when they had a song played on the radio all of one time? Lame. Uranus has been a much bigger part of my life than Butthole Surfers. I can see Uranus almost every night of the week. I don’t even need an instrument. Just look into that dark abyss of space, squint my eyes a little, and there is it! A beacon of hope, tucked so far away that for many years people completely overlooked it. And let’s not assume Uranus can’t sustain life. It might be cold, but so was the planet Hoth, and the Rebel Alliance survived just fine there. At least until the Empire crashed the party. Bunch of jerks, that Empire.

SHAWN: Dear readers: Ryan is a liar. I know not the words to Miley Cyrus anything. On the flipside, if still loving the delightful melodies of the Gin Blossoms means I have poor taste, then rip out my tongue because I have no need for it. And it’s probably not wise to suggest the Butthole Surfers suck because I like them. What about the hundreds of thousands of other fans? The ones that have given them number one hits like Pepper? The ones that earned them very, VERY generous record contracts? The ones that made them the leading surfers of buttholes since 1981? And just because you don’t understand commitment, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with their songs being played less today than ten years ago. They still have the same fans, and they have the ability to stick around by being creative and making music that may not be radio-friendly, but has innovation and heart. You’ll know what that’s like when Taylor Swift goes indie and you start cutting yourself. And how is Uranus a beacon of home when I can’t find a single person who wants to go there? And what do you mean let’s not assume it can’t sustain life? It’s a scientific fact, Palin, not something you can pretend doesn’t exist because it’s snowing. Humans can’t live in -200-degree temperatures and where winds are 560 mph, way more than enough to blow your 40-lb. ass off the planet in seconds. Don’t pretend Uranus is anything more than an unexplored ball of gas that’s so far away from Earth that nobody cares about it. Yeah. Shove that in Uranus.

Next on Danger Queue: Electric Cars vs Toy Trains—Which Gets Nowhere Faster?

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February 11, 2010

Seven Wonders of the World vs This Rash I’ve Had Since Sunday

Filed under: Seven Wonders of the World, This Rash I've Had Since Sunday — Tags: Seven Wonders of the World, This Rash I've Had Since Sunday — admin @ 10:00 am

Both are fine examples of the beauty of nature.

SHAWN: Most people would feel honored just knowing they live in a world with one wonder. Some selfish pricks may want two or three. But, hell, nobody could predict that this world would be so awesome as to grant us not a-one, not a-two, not a-three, not a-four, not a-five, not a-seven, not a-six, but a-SEVEN wonders. From the Grand Canyon to Mount Everest and the rest, the Seven Wonders of the World (natural-style) have provided mankind with sites to see, goals to reach, shit to climb and stuff to make IMAX movies about. Everything about them is awe-inspiring, whether it be from staring down the edge of a 360-foot waterfall or fishing illegally in a protected reef. And the fact that there’s only seven—no more, no less—makes them all the more amazing. Such an elite club of such beauty—it’s unmatched by anything anyone ever did anywhere ever.

RYAN: Nobody needs seven wonders of the world. Like you even said, one wonder is plenty for most people. Going all the way to seven is clearly just a case of someone trying way too hard to impress. Please. We get it. The beauty of nature and all that garbage. Too bad those seven wonders are all old and stale. If new and fresh is more your thing, then take a look at this rash I’ve had since Sunday. Unlike the Grand Canyon, this newfound rash is still surrounded by mystery and curiousity. Where did it come from? How did it get there? We’ll probably never know the answers, as they’re hidden under the haze of mango margaritas and lemon drops, but that won’t stop us from asking the questions. Better yet, unlike all those wonders of the world, this rash I’ve had since Sunday is convenient and accessible. I’d have to journey across the Earth to see even a handful of those so-called wonders (more like blunders!), but I can check out my newfound rash whenever I want by simply dropping my pants.

Is the glass walkway considered "natural"?

SHAWN: Sure, nobody needs seven wonders, but can there be too much of a good thing? Have you ever complained about excess sex, or excess candy? Oh, we didn’t need seven Go Daddy Super Bowl commercials—I understood what they were going for after one. Pshaw. We should be standing in shock and wonderment over how awesome our world is to provide us with more wonders than one person could ever see. Plus, with seven wonders, spread about, everyone has a chance to see at least one. I may have seen the Grand Canyon, but Joe Penguin can enjoy the auroras whenever his little penguin heart desires. As for that rash you’ve had since Sunday, Jesus Christ is that disgusting! Have you had that looked at? No, seriously, it’s really gross and a little bubbly. And mystery works for world wonders—try explaining how a “harbor” works, hot shot—but no one wants to see a mysterious rash, except for maybe a doctor, who even then doesn’t actually desire to see it. Plus, you keep hogging that rash for yourself. What if someone in Australia wants to see it? I guess they’ll have to settle for the Great Barrier Reef then, huh? That’s too bad.

RYAN: I’m not hogging. This rash I’ve had since Sunday is a badge I wear with honor that I’d be more than happy to share with anyone and everyone. All they have to do is ask. Maybe buy me a drink first. I hardly think that’s asking too much. Really, buying me a $12 appletini isn’t anything compared to all the money you’d drop just to see one of those lousy wonders. Airfare to Australia: $9,000. Cab ride to the coast: $100. Seeing the Great Barrier Reef with your own eyes. Meh. The problem with the wonders of the world is that there’s too many for any reasonable person to enjoy. They’ve oversaturated the marketplace, just like the Guitar Hero series. The first one seems great (Sweet, they got Journey!), but each one after seems less and less impressive. By the end, we don’t even care anymore (Oh, they got Pat Benatar?). But, you’re saying, seven wonders of the world isn’t all that much. True, but that’s just one list. What if I told you there were five different lists of wonders of the world? You’d be shocked, right? Well, don’t worry. There’s not five lists. There’s 10. Fucking 10! That’s 70 wonders! This rash may not be the most beautiful thing in the world. It’s bubbling, spreading rapidly, and is extremely itchy, but disgusting? Hardly. The only thing disgusting here is the way the once honorable title “wonder of the world” has been raped clean of all dignity and pride.

This guy just totally rocked out to Elton John.

SHAWN: Have you played Guitar Hero 5? Those games only improve with age! And the big difference between the Seven Wonders and the same game being made over and over is that each wonder is very different. Plus, nobody’s making you see all seven—hell, nobody’s making you play all the Guitar Hero games, but you keep selling blood to buy those—so you can’t complain about oversaturation. And you totally contradict yourself there: How can something be oversaturated if you yourself point out how difficult it is just to get to one of them? That’s like saying you don’t want a mansion because there are too many, when the truth is you just can’t afford one. But you know what? As I pointed out earlier, you don’t have to spend millions to get a wonder. They’re spread out all over, so you could just check out the Grand Canyon for a cheap-ass flight to Party Central, Nevada. Sure, there may be other lists of wonders of the world, but I’m not sure if you noticed me talking about the natural ones. Maybe we need an eighth wonder: How an illiterate like you can write so well. As for this rash…as for this rash…call me crazy, but I have a sneaking suspicion as to why nobody’s buying you an appletini to get a look at it. I’ve seen face transplants that have more appealing aesthetics.

RYAN: Oh, I didn’t realize you were able to pick which elements we were able to argue about. Must be nice for you, being able to decide the things that make the wonders of the world a complete sham are off limits. Oh well. I guess I can’t mention that all modern lists of wonders of the world make a complete mockery of the title. Nevermind that USA Today, New7Wonders Foundation, and American Society of Civil Engineers somehow have lists; or the fact that the natural wonders of the world was put together by CNN, a news organization so ridiculous they now rely on iReports for actual news items, because apparently I’m not allowed to mention those things. I think I can argue that those wonders of the world, oh, excuse me, “natural” wonders of the world aren’t nearly as spread out as you continue to claim, so I’ll go with that. Which wonder do the people in Europe go visit? What about the people in Russia? The Middle East? North Africa? Antarctica? Maybe North America can share one of its three wonders with them. I’d share this rash I’ve had since Sunday with them, but according to you, nobody would ever want such a thing. Perhaps you don’t realize the perks of having such a fine rash on your body. First, it’s a total character builder that’s made me a better person. Second, it looks really cool when it glows at night. Third, and this is right up your alley, it gives you an excuse to rub yourself with cream. Imagine, Shawn, the next time your wife walks in on you, you can simply say you’re treating your rash. Awkward situation, avoided. Thanks, rash!

Next On Danger Queue: Uranus vs Butthole Surfers—It Doesn’t Get Any Less Mature Than This

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February 8, 2010

Sweat vs Tears

Filed under: Sweat, Tears — Tags: Sweat, Tears — admin @ 1:08 pm

I think I just wet myself.

RYAN: Making this world a better place is hard work. Doesn’t bother me though. Cause I know that you can’t make a difference without breaking a sweat. Sweat is the grease that keeps the gears of the world moving smoothly. But our lazy, TV-watching society has gone soft. The closest they get to sweat is putting on a well-worn pair of sweat paints. Not me though. I love a good sweat. In my opinion, it’s single-handedly the greatest thing that can come from your body. It’s your body’s way of saying, “Hey, you’re doing good work. Keep it up.” Whether I’m breaking down walls with my sledgehammer or typing up notes on the latest sales conference call, I’m always working hard to build up a good sweat. That’s just the way I do things. Work. Play. Sleep. I go hard whenever I do anything.

SHAWN: You know what’s more fun that sweat? Not sweating. You know, doing things like eating and watching movies. Aww, yeah, that’s a good time. Why are you working so hard? I go to the office from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day, not a minute longer, so I can relax the rest of my life—not spend it sweating. And in this crazy life of ours, sometimes we feel raw emotion, and sometimes that leads to tears. Tears say so much about the human condition, like “look at me, I’m crying,” and “this is sadness.” Maybe not everyone associates tears with good things, but they’re what make us human. Don’t you feel even better after a good cry? Why work so hard on a sweat, when you could just watch The Notebook and get the same rush, the same high, the same massive amount of liquid awkwardly streaming out of your head?

They're covered in tears.

RYAN: Not all of us enjoy sleeping on a tear-soaked pillow every night, Shawn. I know that’s your own little way of washing away all of life’s problems, but some of us have found a far better outlet. Through sweat. I know, I know. That requires either physical activity or turning up the thermostat, the two things you seem to avoid at all costs. But it’s worth it. When your heart starts pumping and those endorphins start kicking in, man, you feel like you can conquer the world. After working up a good sweat, you naturally hold your head high, as if bragging to the world that you feel great. Because sweat is a sign of strength. It lets people know that you’re not afraid of a little hard work. Tears, meanwhile, are a sign of weakness. It may be part of the human condition, but it’s most definitely the lame part that nobody really wants. It can hardly be considered a rush, unless of course you get a rush out of losing your composure and completely embarrassing yourself. People only feel better after a good cry because the act of crying is so damn pathetic, they have nowhere to go but up.

SHAWN: Whoa, whoa, whoa—the tear-soaked pillow adds to the effect of my waterbed, first of all. And, secondly, not all tears are for sadness. Ever see something so beautiful, like the sunset or Helen Mirren in a bathing suit, that you just started to cry and thank the Heavens for the gift of life? Ever have something so happy happen to you, like finding the love of your life or seeing Helen Mirren in a bathing suit, that you just couldn’t control the emotion and the tears? No? Well, that’s a sad life you lead then—a sad life that could only lead to the awesome emotional manifestation of tears. See—even a Grinch like yourself, who has never loved or been loved, can use tears. They’re so universal and delicious. And holding your head up high because of endorphins is like being “the funny guy” only because you’re stoned. It’s just a chemical reaction that has nothing to do with your actual accomplishments—making that a fake confidence you’re feeling, like the kind Taylor Swift inexplicably has regarding her terrible, terrible voice. Sweat is a sign of trickery, not strength. Tears are the true sign of strength. It takes a real man to show emotion and let the tears flow. And, hell, it can be a sign of just as much hard work, pushing your limits to painful tears. Man, show me a construction worker sweating and I’d say he’s doing his job; show me one that’s crying and I’ll say, “That man—nay, beast—has no fucking limits!”

Someone's been working hard!

RYAN: It worries me that you just described your tears as “delicious.” To get to the point of describing their taste means you’ve shed far more tears than what could be considered reasonable. I don’t care if they’re because you’re happy, sad, or shot, you need to get your emotions in check. How can anyone have even the slightest iota of respect for you if the smallest things put you on the verge of tears? If you spent just half the time you waste away crying actually doing something productive and sweating, then you might be strong enough to keep the ole’ water works in check. And you’re wrong; sweat has everything to do with accomplishments. We sweat because we’re working hard and making ourselves into a better people. Running a marathon. Pumping some iron. Helping a casual acquaintance move. Those, not crying, are what push us to our limits and help us grow. Can you get past the wall on mile 16? Can you finish off that last power set of squat thrusts? Can you successfully fit that couch through the doorway? It’s only through sweat that we can become better, faster, stronger people. Sweat drives the action of the world. Tears slow everything down. Instead of moving and doing, we’re left patting someone on the back and saying “There, there.”

SHAWN: Just because you think emotions are the worst things to happen to people since the Furby, it doesn’t mean I need to get mine “in check.” Emotions are the root of humanity, and you clearly only care about hiding them deep down inside, until it all comes out of the end of a sniper rifle above the D.C. Interstate. I can’t believe you’re condoning that! Feds, alert! And these aren’t small things putting me on the verge of tears—these are deaths, and natural beauty, and Helen Mirren. You must lead a sad, secluded life to think the only thing in the world worth crying over is being shot. One day you’ll experience the world—and not via a treadmill with a scrolling picture of a suburban sidewalk in front of you—and you’ll know. Quit being so shallow, you gym rat, and learn that you can get a rush, a thrill and a pure joy from God’s majesty. When all is said and done, when we’re both in our mid-40s and ready to die, you’ll be the one looking back and realizing how much time you spent doing squats. I may weigh 15 pounds more, but I’ll think back of all the joy and sadness and rapture I felt—you know, memorable things. If sweat really made you a better, faster, stronger person, where’s your Olympic Gold medal? Or, at the very least, the one marathon you’ve finished? Wait, what’s that? You haven’t finished any? I’d cry for you, but I don’t want to waste my tears. They’re too precious.

Next on Danger Queue: Seven Wonders of the World vs This Rash I’ve Had Since Sunday—So Much Documentary-Worthy Material

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February 4, 2010

Colts vs Saints

Filed under: Colts, Saints — Tags: Colts, Saints — admin @ 10:00 am

Coming to you commercial free!

SHAWN: Burt Reynolds. Aretha Franklin. Myself. The world is filled with beautiful, noble creatures, but even they take a backseat to the most beautiful and noble of them all—the colt. Young, nubile and stunning, the adolescent male horse is an animal to behold. With his gorgeous hoofs, trotting ability and the fact that his kind was actually the advent of all modern transportation, the colt is an unstoppable force. Today, colts still plow fields and carry Persian princes into battle, but they are also fine ingredients in food, milk and glue—a triumvirate of the world’s most important necessities. And talk about athleticism! They can jump steeples in a single bound and do so with their chests outstretched, their manes flowing in the wind, and their gigantic white teeth glistening in the morning sun. Sure, Burt Reynolds can do the same, but you can’t melt him down into a fine adhesive.

RYAN: There’s nothing beautiful or noble about a colt, no matter how nubile it may be. True beauty and true nobility come not from flowing manes and trotting ability. They come from selflessness and generousity, like that of the world-famous givers of the world—the saint. From the early days of our civilization to as recently as last Friday, saints have tirelessly worked to make our world a better place by teaching, helping, and providing. Saints are so unquestionably awesome, they’re the one thing that most religions agree on. Catholicism, Lutherism, Hinduism, Hasselhoffism—they all use the title “saint” to recognize these special individuals for their efforts. Even Judaism has something similar to a saint. Makes sense, since “saint” is a kickass permanent title that’s kept long after the individual has passed on. But colt is just a temporary label used to describe a stage in a horse’s life. Oh, you’re a colt now. That’s like bragging about being a preteen. Please. Talk to me when you’re a stallion, cause those things rock. Oh, what? You’re going to be a gelding? Too bad.

Look to St. Cassian for all your shorthand writing needs. But no long-hand. He's only one man.

SHAWN: Just because you know that if you were a colt you’d be primped for the role of gelding before you were one doesn’t mean we need to rule out all colts because they have the potential to grow into some sexless beast. Colts, unlike geldings, are still untouched and beautiful. And they have so much potential! The world’s their oyster. They could be racing horses, riding horses, grazing horses, horse horses, astronauts—the sky’s the limit! You know who the sky isn’t the limit for? Saints. Because they’re practically all dead. Sure, maybe some are now up in the sky, looking down and judging us, but the fact remains that many saints only became saints by fucking up. Getting a million arrows shot at you makes you a saint. Congrats? And many saints also end up becoming patron saints of God-knows-what. Hey, Saint Albinus of Algers, patron saint of pirate attacks, get ready for an eternity of people praying to you whenever they get raped and pillaged by Johnny Depp. He must field, what, zero prayers a day? Maybe one a year from Winona Ryder? Sounds fun! Plus, saints take the focus away from the Lord God Almighty, who can do way more than comfort you about your rheumatism (Saint Ursus of Aosta), your dysentery (Saint Polycarp) or your life as a shorthand-writer (Saint Cassian of Imola)—and His name’s way easier to spell.

RYAN: You sound like Mel Kiper Jr. talking all about the potential of the colt. It’s too bad we all know that potential doesn’t count for shit anymore. Every new movie, CD, song, television show, politician, actor, or athelete that comes along, all we hear about is all of the potential. Could be the next big thing, they all say. But all that “potential”, if it was even there in the first place, inevitibly goes unfulfilled. Talking about all the great things a colt could do is like talking about all the money you could win with the lottery ticket you just bought. Yeah, it could happen. But it won’t, and just like my wife, you’ll be left thoroughly disappointed. There’s no disappointment with the saints, seeing as how they’re already proven winners. They spent their life doing good and were rewarded with sainthood, which is why they should be looked to in times of need. And yes, that includes pirate attacks. Seeing as how your internet activity is limited to porn and porn-themed sudokus, I don’t expect you to know all about the recent surge in pirate attacks. Maybe those wouldn’t be happening if people prayed to Saint Albinus of Angers a little more often. If you really want that colt of yours to become an astronaut, you better start praying to Saint Hippolytus of Rome, the patron saint against sick horses. I’d hate to see a severe case of horse flu rob it of all that potential.

Nothing can tame that wild mane.

SHAWN: See! There’s a freaking patron saint of sick horses! Colts are so damn important that even the religious sector has to admit that they provide a much-needed benefit for society. Colts are pretty much the most vital thing humans could ever have. Saints aren’t real and just supply false hope, as you pointed out yourself when I tricked you into pointing out that there has been a recent surge of pirate attacks! Where’s your Saint Albinus of Algers now? Clearly not stopping the attacks! That’s right—he’s useless, just like all your saints. But you know what’s not useless? A wonderful colt that can provide everything from transportation to meat. Without colts, we wouldn’t have horses, and subsequently wouldn’t have cars, gambling, saddles and every other one of man’s greatest inventions. And, sure, some actors with potential don’t become famous, but you know what actor did? George Clooney. And colts are the George Clooney of the animal kingdom. They not only fulfill their potential, but they have enough money to commit only to the most important projects and only take back-end fees for The Men Who Stare at Goats. Obviously, the saints provide way more disappointment, as people across the globe pray to Saint Uncle Pennybags or whatever to find $20 and don’t. You can rely on colts: when you find one, it’s going to nay, gallop and be overall awesome. Speaking of overall awesome, porn-themed Sudokus are now a registered trademark of Danger Queue, so back off, entrepreneurs!

RYAN: Ha! I saw right through your pirate attack trap, which is why I specifically said that people haven’t been praying to Saint Albinus of Angers. If they had been, then clearly we wouldn’t be hearing about all those pirate attacks. Seems odd to me that someone like you, who foolishly believes that all colts turn into something amazing, doesn’t believe in something as simple as a saint. Not real? False hope? Try telling that to the men imprisoned in the Tower of Angers who were freed by Albinus. Funny how you think he, along with all saints, is useless when he actually proved himself to be quite the opposite. I guess we just can’t trust you as a judge of anything right now, especially after this sad, pathetic love affair you have with colts, which you dubbed the “George Clooney of the animal kingdom”. Does that mean colts are severely overrated and pretentious with a career built solely on good looks? Cause that sounds about right. I guess you can rely on colts to trot, nay, gallop, and taste delicious, but how can that make them special when that applies to every single kind of horse? Foals. Yearlings. Fillys. Mares. Stallions. Geldings. So your entire argument boils down to colts are awesome because they are reliable and act like horses? Wow. Circular logic at its finest, everybody. Though you forgot to mention how pretty colts are too. Oh, wait. You did.

Next On Danger Queue: Sweat vs Tears—Sorry, Blood, You Can Sit This One Out

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January 26, 2010

Zeus vs Hey Arnold!

Filed under: Hey Arnold!, Zeus — Tags: Hey Arnold!, Zeus — admin @ 9:13 am

Doth thou have no pride, football-head?

RYAN: Greeks are known for two things, and only two things: big, fat weddings and gods. For all the gods they had, and they most certainly had enough to go around, there was only one true king of gods: Zeus. Sitting atop his throne on Mt. Olympus, stroking his full, manly beard, Zeus ruled the land as the god of the sky and thunder. He wasn’t into the coddling bullshit like other gods (cough…cough…Ra…). If Zeus felt wronged, he didn’t hesitate in handing out punishments. He blinded men. Turned them to stone. Condemned them to eternal torture. Killed them with thunderbolts. He may have been vengeful, but it was never without reason. Because of that, people respected him. And loved him. And he loved them all back. Oh, how he loved them. Gods, mortals, it didn’t matter. He sired so many children, he could have starred in his own reality TV show on TLC.

SHAWN: It seems Zeus has found one way to earn respect—horrible, horrible murder and putting his tool in more holes than a shovel—but there’s another way to earn respect. It’s through helping your fellow children, being a kind face in your neighborhood, helping the elderly who live in your grandparents’ boarding home-type thing, sitting on your stoop, and being just nosey enough to get into everyone else’s business for 12 minutes before letting them fly. And Zeus is not the man to do that. Not when you have Hey, Arnold! (exclamation point is a registered trademark of Nickelodeon Studios). Arnold—and the whole show really—taught kids in urban centers that they can still have fun and come together to break world records like the world’s largest calzone without the added nuisance of gangs and other things that actually exist in urban centers. But it’s no wonder a gun-clinging menopause-lover like yourself would prefer Zeus, because he’s just wretched. And I believe you forgot one other thing Greeks are known for: Criss Angel. Guess they can’t all be winners.

Fear the wrath of the almighty Zeus!

RYAN: Zeus was respected long before he started murdering and sexing people willy nilly, which for the record was a right he had earned as king of all gods. Even before that, he had other’s respect because of his inspirational life. Born in secrecy and raised in a cave so his father wouldn’t swallow him whole (obviously), Zeus defeated his father, saved his siblings, and then shared the world with them. It’s an epic tale that’s been told for countless generations. So, the exact opposite of Hey, Arnold! That horribly slapped-together cartoon show made no sense whatsoever. Why was his head shaped like a football? Why was he wearing such a tiny hat? And what’s the deal with him wearing a skirt? Those questions plagued the show for its entire 8-year run, which in my opinion was eight years too long. The fact it even lasted that long just proves Nickelodeon can literally put anything on TV and enjoy moderate success. If they truly want to bring in the ratings, they should create a show about Zeus. For the comedic element, they could make his sidekick a talking thunderbolt. Now THAT sounds like a great show!

SHAWN: It was shaped like a football because he’s Jewish, he wears a tiny hat because it’s the only one that could fit on his oddly shaped head between his hair, and that’s not a skirt but a plaid jacket tied around his waist like all kids in the 90s who lived in the 90210 zip code. There—I solved every problem that supposedly “plagued” the show. Not only were you apparently not smart enough to figure out a TV show designed for inner city 10-year-olds (equivalent of suburban six-year-olds), but you clearly never understood the message of Hey, Arnold!: to help one another, no matter your race, color, or ethnic group. I guess you’d prefer to be in the clouds, mercilessly striking down random children with lightning bolts. And Hey, Arnold! succeeded for eight seasons on its own merit, no matter what you say. Nickelodeon can’t put just anything on TV and get success, or have you never heard of Space Cases, My Dad the Rock Star, or the quietly brilliant but short-lived early-90s show U2U? Oh, that’s right—nobody’s heard of those. But Hey, Arnold! transcended all of those into brilliance. Meanwhile, Zeus transcended the world into evil. Being a god doesn’t excuse you from hanging your wife upside-down from the sky, sinking ships just for shits, and condemning people to having their livers eaten by a bird for all eternity. Arnold wouldn’t stand for that.

Proof that raw brilliance isn't enough to save a Nickelodeon show.

RYAN: Arnold was Jewish? Well, there’s another problem with the show. And that most certainly was not a plaid jacket tied around his waist. I don’t see any sleeves and I definitely don’t see anything knotted. Nope, that was a skirt. A slutty, high-rising skirt that would have been quite revealing if not for the leggings he wore underneath. Maybe instead of solving everyone else’s problems, Arnold should have been tackling his own gender issues. Everyone knows Nickelodeon shows are best when kids can relate to them and nobody relates to a cross-dressing nerd with a football for a head. Look at U2U. We all loved that show and idolized the kids who were on it. Like the one where some chubby kid named Shawn made his own video game, The Adventures of Bouncy Boy in Skull City. That was incredible! Youngsters like you and I grew up wanting to meet that kid, just for the chance to shake his hand. That kind of stuff never happened with Hey, Arnold! because it was such a joke from the very beginning. There’s no joking about Zeus though. In fact, you should be careful about calling Zeus “evil”. He’s not the typical 5-year-old at the park you’re used to picking on. Zeus is strong, mighty, and easily angered. He could easily smite you like you’ve never been smote in your whole life. Maybe instead of focusing on all the bad, yet warranted, things Zeus has done, you should focus on the good things: rewarding some with long life, saving his siblings, pleasuring countless women. It shouldn’t be hard. You’re doing the exact same thing with Hey Arnold!, ignoring every sign that it was a travesty of a cartoon show.

SHAWN: Arnold wore jeans under his plaid jacket kilt thing and you know it! Nobody’s buying your libel! And how can you say nobody related to someone who starred on a hit show, with a hit movie, for eight freakin’ seasons? And, hell, even if they didn’t “relate” to him, he clearly entertained audiences. You don’t relate to Lost much, but seem to enjoy that. On another note, how’s that imaginary polar bear treating you these days? Arnold taught children fine values in a delicious and hilarious way. Remember that time Helga thought she would die from monkeynucleosis from contact with a monkey? Ho ho! It taught us how to laugh and love monkeys simultaneously. Plus, you can’t possibly compare any show to the brilliance of U2U—that’s just not fair. That’s like comparing Zeus to George Clooney. Nobody can touch that man! And I’m not going to worry about Zeus because (a) I don’t live in Greece, and (b) I don’t believe in gods who distribute ironic punishments, unless you’re one of those delightful judges who like to get in national news. Zeus is just a mythical presence who didn’t do shit to inspire his people to do good, but to fear him. Arnold taught what to do, Zeus taught not to breathe annoyingly or get sentenced to a lifetime of nasal drip. In other words, Zeus is a cult—the scientology of ancient times. Hey, Arnold! was clearly nothing close to the kind of travesty Zeus is, despite the fact that no one—not any Nickelodeon character or European myth—can compare to the gentle beauty of the chubby video game kid on U2U.

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