Harvard needs denim too.

SHAWN: If there are two things the kids today love to wear, they’re performance fleece and khaki. Luckily, there’s a store out there rife with both, and also red scarves—Old Navy. Not only is the store a surreal experience, filled with bright colors and insanely low prices, but the commercials are the stuff of legends. Remember the resurrection of George Hamilton and Carrie Donovan, folks? You can thank Old Navy for that! And you can also thank it for providing high-quality clothing to the masses. It’s one of the most accessible chains around, in shopping centers across the globe, where coupons fall from the heavens. Plus, they have smalls—a rare find for the slender, svelte man like myself. If there was only one clothing store in the world, it should be Old Navy.

RYAN: Kids may love to wear performance fleece and khaki, but by no means does that make either of those things good. These are the same kids who have made Miley Cyrus a star, so forgive me for not completely trusting their opinion on Old Navy. Kids are stupid, which is why most of the time they need to be told what is great. And I’m telling them all right now that New England is the greatest of the great. A quaint little corner of this little country that did, New England is rich with a history than anyone can appreciate, from the early colonial days of Johnny Tremain to the Adult Swim bomb scare of 2007. And the foliage! Oh, Lord, that sweet, sweet foliage. For reasons beyond explanation, the New England foliage is truly a site to behold. Literally, billions of people each year travel to New England each year to see the bright, colorful foliage. Half the people who go to Old Navy are returning items because they realized they just bought something from Old Navy.

Come to New England and get your fucking foliage on, bitch!

SHAWN: Let’s not completely disregard the opinion of kids just because you’re still bitter about the flaming bag of shit the kids left on your porch on Halloween. And, just saying, it probably wasn’t wise to put it out with your face. Strange, though, that you still crave their opinion so much by telling them to like New England, even though it’s a region that’s cold, wet and smelly. Plus, the residents there can’t even speak right. They call that glorious Zack Morris show Raising the Bah. It’s not about sheep, dammit! It’s about lawyers! Also, New England’s “rich history” is clearly littered with people shooting each other and flipping out over Meatwad stickers. There’s a reason billions travel to New England just to see the foliage—they don’t want to be there for more than a long weekend, tops. Now, for a place with a rich history that you can go to any time of year, head on over to Old Navy. The chain first opened in 1994, committed to providing awesome apparel to young and old alike—yes, kids love it, but so do adults—and it has since skyrocketed to international fame, the Paul Reiser of clothing stores. Since then, kitsch, a rocking soundtrack and quality clothing has allowed it to make, oh, $8 billion a year. How much does Johnny Tremain make?

RYAN: Oh, yeah, New England must be bad if billions of people can only visit for a long weekend. So in order for something to be great, they need to stay there forever, hmmm? Funny how that logic works not in any way, shape, or way for Old Navy. It’s hard enough to be in that store the 10 minutes needed to return their crappy shit, let alone actually walk through and look at the different sweatshirts they have with Old Navy prominently displayed on the front. Oh, but those sweatshirts are on sale for only $14. Old Navy can brag all it wants about its sweatshop-fueled cheap prices, but it’s just as pretentious as any other clothing store in the world. Oh, look at us, we’re going to pump the latest song by the Jonas Brothers on the loud speakers while all our employees walk around with headsets. Why the headsets? In case someone needs to get a price check on sateen roll sleeve camp shirts. Duh. While Old Navy is all about in-your-face arrogance, New England carries itself with a quiet dignity. It doesn’t need to trick you into coming with sales and annoying advertisements. Its beautiful scenery and inspiring history do the job quite nicely. In Old Navy, you can see a bunch of tweens fawn over how fierce the new half-zip fitted hoodies look. In New England, you can see exactly where the America we know and love was born.

Why, yes, I will take some khaki now, thank you.

SHAWN: Your argument would make a lick of sense if you had any idea what Old Navy actually is, which you seem to have forgotten even though you mention it several times. It’s not a state or region or whatever the hell you call New England—it’s a store. If you lived there, you must either be homeless or a lost child ready to embark on some zany adventures when two inept burglars try to break in and burgle themselves some finely crafted straight-leg jeans. But clearly people are staying for a little longer than ten minutes if it makes $8 billion annually—a fact you apparently refuse to acknowledge. And, yes, that’s profit, so quit pretending everyone goes there to return shit when the customer service line is always sparklingly clear, since the store is not only laid out wonderfully and accessibly, but the products are so good they stay safely with you forever for a couple years. And just because you get all your clothing at the grocery store doesn’t mean you have to hate every store that sells clothes. For the record, all clothes are made in sweatshops, even your Costco-brand underpants, and Old Navy still keeps its prices low and delicious. Also, I don’t think our readers will disagree that for a region (which is different from a store—look it up) to be great people actually have to want to live there year-round. Otherwise, it’s just a lame seasonal store. In other words, New England is the Halloween U.S.A. to Old Navy’s Old Navy. And why do you keep thinking New England’s history of violence and horrors is “inspiring”? Do you like shooting at people? Are you some kind of terrorist? Well, folks, looks like Ryan said it himself: he’s a terrorist.

RYAN: You’re calling me a terrorist? Me? A terrorist? That might make sense to someone if they didn’t read anything I just wrote. You know, all those things about patriotism and America’s beauty and Johnny Tremain and the birthplace of our nation. Clearly, I’m no terrorist. I’m a patriot. A hero even. And clearly, your comment was the last resort of a desperate man. Really, it’s a classic page from the Shawn playbook. False accusations that usually come after made up and inaccurate “facts”. Facts like how Old Navy makes “$8 billion annually”. I let it go once, but then you had to go and bring it up again. Google “Old Navy earnings” and you’ll see nothing but stories on how the underperforming Old Navy brand is sinking the company. I suppose if Old Navy stopped paying those Vietnamese children – they don’t really need $0.08 an hour anyways – it could get back into the black. Or they could just stop making quality clothes that last all of… a couple of years? Apparently lasting a couple of years is all it takes to be considered quality nowadays. Old Navy! Where expectations are so low they can actually be met. Oh, and remember when you said New England can’t be great cause people don’t live there year round? Hilarious stuff. Tell me. Do you know when you’re making up shit like that or do you somehow manage to justify it with your own convoluted logic? Or maybe you just forgot about all those people who call New England home. That’s understandable. It’s not like there’s a lot of them. Only 14 million. Give or take.

Next on Danger Queue: I Better Stop vs. I’ll Have One More—You’re One Button From Pantsless; What Do You Do, PUNK?!

For my next trick, I'll let this bear maul me to death.

RYAN: There are a lot of people who strut around thinking they’re God’s gift to the world. I would know. I’m one of them. But unlike me, some people actually have that right. Some people…like magicians! Whether they’re cutting their sexy assistants in half or blasting The Final Countdown while squriting lighter fluid from their hands, magicians are truly gods among men. These men (fine, and the occassional woman) literally refuse to bow down to the rules of physics that govern the rest of us. Without hesitation, they can pull a rabbit out of thin air. In the blink of an eye they can vanish, only to reappear where you least expect them to be. I’d trade everything I have for the chance to be a magician, but even that wouldn’t be enough, for magicians have an exlusive secret society and are very secretive about their secrets. The last magician who spoiled a trick was found cut in half shortly after his Fox special aired.

SHAWN: If you think magicians are bad-asses who strut around, tearing women in half, then you clearly haven’t met God’s other, better gift to the world: bears. Whether they’re stalking camp grounds, scavenging for delicious honey, climbing trees faster than they run, telling kids not to light forests on fire, or mauling documentary filmmakers, bears are truly bears among men. And you ain’t going to find many men even attempting to take on a bear, the far superior creature thanks to its acute sense of smell, carnivorous appetite, and plantigrade paws with nonretracting claws. Bears have their own secret society, too, and it’s called nature. Truly, they are the kings of this world. Magicians, on the other hand, are the talentless hacks of this world. They spend their days doing well-thought-out “tricks” that are actually simple lies or mirror stunts and pretending they have some kind of talent. Even you said they have tricks that every magician knows that can be spoiled, so they’re really nothing more than data entry specialists. Just show up to work, copy exactly what this chart says, and go home. No talent of bears can be spoiled, especially their talent of being awesome.

Dexter says no children.

RYAN: Bears aren’t God’s gift to the world. They’re God’s way of punishing us and keeping us in line. It’s no coincidence the Garden of Eden was free of bears. God knew it wouldn’t have been paradise if there were bears around disemboweling everything. Which is exactly what they’d do, seeing as how they’re ruthless beasts that kill for no reason other than to quench their unholy thirst for blood. That’s why bears are featured prominently in all those anti-forest fire campaigns you speak of. Because of fear, and fear alone. I don’t care much for scare tactics like that, which is why I love the innocent fun of a talented magician. Yeah. Talented. They’re not some dressed up data entry specialist. God knows you don’t need any more competition in your field. No, a magician’s only specialty is blowing people’s minds. Their tricks, or illusions, if you will, are way more than just simple lies where they copy exactly what some mythical chart says. Those tricks take showmanship, concentration, and above all else, scantily clad women. Cutting people in half, escaping from an underwater prison, guessing what card you’re holding; I’d like to see a bear pull off those same incredible feats. Frankly, I don’t think they could. Bears don’t have opposable thumbs, so how are they even going to hold a saw to cut someone in half? Superior creature my ass. Go back to the zoo, Smokey.

SHAWN: Whoa, whoa—where’s the Bible passage saying there weren’t bears in the Garden of Eden? Not only were there bears in the Garden of Eden, if there were MORE bears in the Garden we wouldn’t have Original Sin in the first place! The bears would’ve stopped Eve from eating that apple in one way or another. You can’t get nearer to God than standing on a bear’s shoulders. And how dare you accuse bears of lacking talent because they can’t toss around a few cards—sorry they’re not smug jerks who can get daddy to pay for enough bells and whistles and fireworks to distract people while they hide the ace. Maybe bears don’t do what magicians do because what magicians do is pathetic. And, hey, your argument can go both ways. Can magicians catch salmon rushing down the stream with only their bare hands? Tear apart a boy scout with nothing but their teeth? Sleep for six months straight? No. Bears have plenty of skills magicians could only dream of having. Maybe the magicians can invent some kind of “illusion” to fool people into thinking they’re cool or intimidating. Meanwhile, bears don’t need illusion because they’re awesome on their own. Maybe they make you tremble and wet yourself, but so do kittens and sunlight.

Another day, another murder.

RYAN: How about where’s the Bible passage that says there were bears there? Can’t find it, can you? Maybe it says animals were there, but bears aren’t animals. They’re monsters. Capable of more evil than you can possibly imagine. Bears would have stopped Eve from eating that apple, sure, but only because Eve would have been mauled long before that lousy snake came slithering around. I’ll accuse bears of lacking talent all I want because it’s true. Fetching fish rushing down stream isn’t talent. That’s just coordination, and anybody could do that. Tearing apart a boy scout with its teeth, well, that just reinforces my point that bears are heartless monsters. And since when did sleeping for six months count as a skill? For all we know, bears are just suffering from mononucleosis. Magicians could never afford to sleep for that long. There are too many people in the world who need them. From children’s birthday parties to TV specials to Vegas shows, magicians are a much-needed source of entertainment. Their mastery of tricks, from simple to mind-blowing, provides a delightful escape for all who see them perform. If entertaining the masses is pathetic, then surely your work on this blog makes you just as pathetic as any magician.

SHAWN: Genesis 1:24—And God said, “Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds…and wild animals, each according to its kind.” Yeah, despite you saying that bears aren’t animals, they most empirically are, as any scientist or three-year-old would remind you. Not that I could count on a magician-lover to care much for science…except that science is the only thing keeping magicians around. Mirrors, distractions, fireworks—all thanks to the same people who would tell you your anti-bear argument is bollocks. Too bad this blog’s interactive, or we could have some nice streaming video of you failing to catch a fish in a stream because you lack claws and massive carnassial teeth. Heck, you won’t even be able to tear a baby trout apart with those six teeth of yours. And bears mauling boy scouts and being able to veg out longer just shows how colossally disproportionate it is when it comes down to bears versus humans, thus showing bears’ superiority. Sure, you may consider magicians superhuman, but we all know they’re simply masters of fakery. And if you’d check the statistics, this “much-needed” source of entertainment isn’t as needed as you’d hope. How many magicians play outside of Vegas? How many actually sell out? How many more than three of them can you name? Yeah, the numbers are all not-so-shockingly low. Magicians pale in comparison compared to sales for actual entertainment like the hit film Precious or the hitter new Call of Duty game. And how insulting that you compare the rich, deep, intellectual entertainment we provide via this blog to the insipid dribble that is the work of the magician! I’m seriously beginning to question your commitment to this blog. Bears, attack!

Next On Danger Queue: Old Navy vs New England—Somebody Shut Those Mannequins Up!

There's only one way to get to the top.

SHAWN: Going up? How many stories do you need to go? One? Two? A million? Well, no worries, because we can just take the elevator. Is there really a greater invention? It takes you vertically as high as you dare go, all in mere seconds. Hell, without elevators, we couldn’t have skyscrapers or people in wheelchairs. Plus, have you seen those glass ones in malls and such? Oh, the views you can see while soaring up higher and higher in the safe confines of an elevator, only proving that it not just elevates you, but your spirit! And it’s really a space saver, on top of all that. You just need one small column designated to it in a building—no bulky escalating stairs taking up prime real estate. It’s just you and the sky above. It’s the Superman of vertically transporting devices.

RYAN: Yes, I am going up, but I’m in a bit of a hurry so I can’t really afford to sit around waiting for the elevator. Oh, there’s one. Wait. It’s already maxed out with six people. Looks like I’ll wait for the other elevator. Oh, wait, it’s broken. Too bad I didn’t just go straight for the escalator like common sense dictates. They are, after all, the far superior method for vertical travel. They may not be space-saving like elevators, but they more than make up for that with the fact they have no long waits and, better yet, no uncomfortable moments with complete strangers. How many times have the 20 seconds of an elevator ride felt like an eternity because of the awkwardness of a stranger? One? Two? A million? All you can do is stare at your shoes and count off the floors as you go up and pray they don’t talk to you. With escalators, you don’t need to avoid eye contact because you’re not at eye level with anyone else. Just mind your own business and enjoy the fun of traveling up stairs without all the hassle of lifting your legs.

It's like you have the entire escalator to yourself!

SHAWN: You, sir, have clearly never experienced the stick-thin department store elevator currently occupied by John Goodman and three teenage girls who only know how to walk side-by-side. You’re in a bit of a hurry, you say? Well, not any more, because you’re stuck going the speed of an escalator, which isn’t very fast at all. Have you ever stood on one of those? I’ve seen constipated old women with more rapid movements. And the escalator you speak of is only faster if you work in a building that apparently is occupied by 7,000 people and only has one functional elevator. As that building only exists in Hell, the elevator is by far the faster method. Well, unless you’re only going up one flight, in which case you might as well take the stairs and work off those 15 McGriddles you just pounded. Now, let’s say you want to get to the 17th floor where you work. You go ahead and take the escalator; I’ll take the elevator. Yeah, I’ll be the one also taking your promotion as you stumble in a half hour late.

RYAN: In theory, yeah, the elevator works great. You get a straight shot up to whatever floor you work on without any problems. But, much like communism, the elevator doesn’t work in real life. You joke about people taking the elevator up only one story, but sadly that happens every day. I work in a one-story building where people still take the elevator. And you might think the elevator will get you up to the 17th floor faster than an escalator, but when you make stops at floors 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and 18 first, well, then it’s not so fast. And although you didn’t even deny the awkwardness of elevator rides, I’m going to expand on that point even more. What about when people ignore all common decency and rip ass on the elevator? Or when someone reeks of BO? You’re trapped in a tiny box with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. You can try and hold your breath the last 10 floors, but we both know you’ll never make it. That’s not a problem with the escalator, seeing as how it’s as wide open of a space as the Great Plains. Go ahead and breathe in that fresh air. But the best part of the escalator is it’s functional even when it’s not. When an elevator breaks, you’re screwed. You’re stuck inside it, waiting for what could be days before it gets fixed, assuming of course it does get fixed instead of simply plummeting down to the bottom and killing you all. But when an escalator breaks down, oh, what’s that, it turns into a flight of stairs? As if by magic!

"So, um...anybody here like television?"

SHAWN: Like Fox News would, I’ll just direct our readers to you saying “the elevator works great” and leave it at that. I don’t mind doing that, as you seemed to pull a Hannity yourself right there by pretending that me not addressing elevator awkwardness means I’m not denying it. Have you considered that it’s so absurd it’s not worth my time? Escalators get just as crowded, but nobody expects you—in either situation—to make small talk. You’re not driving to Pittsburgh with your in-laws; you’re just going to work. Stare at the ceiling and shut the hell up, and nobody cares. Sure, someone might rip one, but that’s usually you. Plus, escalators in the subway reek just as much—just try breathing in that fresh air. Mmm, urine! We live in a world of smelly people—which last I check in previous Dangers, you are actually okay with (RYAN: “I’m in full support of smelly people”)—so I don’t know why you think they’re only bad news on an elevator. Sounds prejudice to me. You also completely ignored the fact that escalators can be equally deadly. In an actual study put together by the Consumer Product Safety Commission, escalators were found to cause three deaths every year and nearly 10,000 serious injuries. It’s like the H1N1 of vertical transportation. Finally, can you blame people for taking the elevator one story? It’s an amazing invention. Even stopping at every floor, it’s faster than slow-moving stairs, so of course everybody flocks to it. So now that I debunked every one of your myths, the fact remains that elevators are cooler, faster, less work (you still have to walk between escalators floor-by-floor, sucker), and space saving.

RYAN: Oh, yeah, you sure debunked all my “myths” with your so-called facts. For someone who just recently bragged about being able to read, you sure did a shitty job of it with that Consumer Product Safety Commission report. Escalators causing “nearly 10,000″ serious injuries, hmm? Is 7,300 nearly 10,000, cause that’s what I sure see in the report. I think you got confused and mistakenly listed the number of elevator-related injuries, which was a staggering 9,800. Now, that could more accurately be described as nearly 10,000. Oh, but you say that escalators are just as deadly as elevators since they cause three deaths a year on average. Tell me, Shawn, is three equal to 26? Cause 26 is the number of deaths caused by elevators each year. 26! Elevators kill more people each year than the state of Texas. At least Texas can argue it’s somewhat humane. Elevators, on the other hand, are cold, heartless killing machines. You think you’re stepping onto an elevator, but then next thing you know, you’re plummeting down an empty elevator shaft. Better hope your dentist kept good records, because that’s the only way your mangled corpse is getting identified. Escalators may cause a few injuries here and there, but that’s always because of user error: either sliding down the hand rails or being stupid enough to get your clothes caught. Anyone even remotely competent can safely ride an escalator. But even the smartest person in the world could be killed by an elevator. Now that I’ve debunked your debunking, the fact remains elevators are cooler, faster, and less work. When it comes to killing.

Next on Danger Queue: Magicians vs. Bears—Presto Maulo!

There's no use fighting the law.

RYAN: I love family, so why wouldn’t I love getting a whole new set of family? Of course I would. In-laws are fantastic, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a cold, heartless son of a bitch. On your wedding day, when your in-laws become officially in-laws, it’s like hitting the jackpot. Twice! Not only are you marrying the love of your life (hopefully), but you’re getting a whole new set of parents! What a grand, wonderful feeling that is. I bet orphans feel the same way when they get adopted. Except this is way better because unlike adopted parents, in-laws can’t return you if you’re too much of a handful. Once you get married, you’re in the family. No more putting on a show. The gloves can come off. Burping is fine. Shaving is at your discretion. Pants at all times becomes a mere suggestion, not a requirement. It’s not only that. With in-laws comes a whole new set of people to care for you and help you out in tough times. Yes, it would take one cold, heartless person to not love in-laws.

SHAWN: Well, you would know how orphans feel when they get adopted, on account of you wer…I said too much. But you are completely forgetting the overshadowing flaw of in-laws that makes them about as desirable as unnecessary surgeries: the fact that they seemingly have the power of your parents, but without the love. They didn’t grow up with you. They don’t know you. Yet you still have to follow their rules to make your spouse happy, whether it be not swearing around them or locking your goat porn in the attic while they’re in town. Just see the hit film Monster-In-Law and you’ll change your tune. Now, to see a life well lived—albeit short—try another fine film called Bonnie and Clyde. The life of the outlaw is the life to live—no one can tame you, you wild horse, and even though the cops are always one step behind you, you can do whatever the hell you want. Outlaws don’t have to hide their bestiality magazines or hold back their f-bombs—they’re fucking outlaws! Yee-haw! It’s a strong, right, manly way to live and gives a middle finger to the oppressive burden that is society’s rules—the same rules that mean you have to suck up in front of your spouse’s parents no matter how much they hate you. Which, for the record, they do, Ryan. You stole their little girl.

Shawn will be very disappointed with this movie.

RYAN: I may have stolen their little girl, who apparently has a very intense case of Stockholm Syndrome, but that’s pale in comparison to all the things outlaws have stolen. Purses. Money. Jewelry. Children. Government grants. Cars. But it’s not just stealing. There’s the murdering, the raping, the loitering. Those are all horrible, horrible crimes. How can you defend that kind of lifestyle when it’s based solely on not obeying the law?   It’s too bad you can’t get an outlaw to steal you a pair of reading glasses, cause that big blurry shape in my last paragraph was actually a point the nullifies your entire argument against in-laws. But I guess I have to repeat myself. Once they become in-laws, you’re home free. You’re no longer in the “dating phase” where you have to pretend to be a bestiality-hating, straight-laced young go-getter, which we all know you’re not. Once that wedding is official, you can act like the porn-addicted, dirty-mouthed lazy piece of crap that we all know you are. They’ll have to love you. You’re part of the family. If they don’t love you, it’s probably just because they think you’re the wrong guy for their daughter. But they’ll come around. The same way the mom came around in Monster-In-Law. I’m guessing on that though. I never saw the movie, on account of me having a penis.

SHAWN: Interesting that you’re so willing to “speculate” about what happens in Monster-In-Law and then be all, “Uh…uh, oh…I didn’t see it…uh, yeah, that’s the ticket.” But here’s a fact you don’t have to speculate on: more than half of marriages end in divorce. There, I said it. Don’t think that the marriage vow is the end-all for you being poised and proper. You still have weddings to attend with the in-laws, parties, holidays, and don’t even pretend you show up to those in your onesie with feces smeared all over your face (your standard home attire). You still have to impress them just as much, if not more. Heck, when your spouse has marital problems, you bet your sour ass she’s going to her parents to share those troubles, and you can bet your entire collection of Sailor Moon dolls that your in-laws aren’t going to be siding with you. Now shut your face and have a beer. You like beer, right? Well, imagine a world WITHOUT beer. Yeah, that’s what we’d live in without outlaws. Sure, there are some outlaws who shoot things up, but outlaws also often make valid statements about the state of the law in bad-ass ways. Prohibition wouldn’t have been repealed if the outlaws didn’t spit in its face. Hell, this country was founded by outlaws, tired of following King George’s petty laws and tea taxes and Kenyan birth certificate, and were willing to kill to make this great country what it is today. If democracy is outlawed, then only outlaws shall have democracy!

Another riveting performance snubbed by the Oscars.

RYAN: Oh, yeah, I really went out on a limb guessing that a J-Lo movie had happy ending. Please. It’s not like I called the plot twist to Sixth Sense or anything. J-Lo’s movies are nothing if not predictable. Girl gets guy. Girl loses guy. Girl gets guy again. Yay! How original! And just to recap: you are against in-laws because they prevent you from being able to act like yourself, which apparently involves excess amount of cursing and goat porn. And your solution seems to be to avoid in-laws by not even getting married in the first place. That’s a great idea that I’m sure your wife will love to hear. Maybe, this whole time, the problem hasn’t been with your in-laws. It’s been with you. You think you’re such an outlaw because you don’t confirm to all the rules that govern taste and decency, but you’re no outlaw. Outlaws are dangerous people who can never be trusted. You’re just a normal law-abiding citizen who pays his taxes, waits in lines, and obeys the crosswalk sign. You just happen to also enjoy watching two goats make sweet goat love. But if you really, truly support outlaws, then by definition, you must also support terrorists since they’re one and the same. Disregard for rules. Spitting in the face of authority. Willing to kill if necessary. Hmmm. Tell me, Shawn, why do you hate America?

SHAWN: Wow. Wow. You went there, huh? You went there. And you also didn’t go close to my argument about how some outlaws—those against prohibition, for example—have done great things. Convenient. Outlaws, by definition, live in a world untethered by laws. It doesn’t mean they’re necessarily terrorists, who in many cases are actually following a very specific religious law, but that they have the potential to disobey out-of-line restraints because those restraints are de-habilitating. We all know you’re illiterate (see latest Danger), but to say all outlaws are terrorists is as mind-boggling as your goat-on-goat porn (everyone knows it’s only good man-on-goat). Hell, you yourself are an outlaw every time you drive over 55 miles per hour on the highway, Maverick McSpeedy. Does that make you a terrorist? Why are you such a terrorist? Outlaws are just people who have embraced freedom, damn the cost. In-laws, on the other hand, are far more restrictive. It’s not that the in-laws themselves are bad people, but the idea of having these extra sets of eyes watching over your every move, waiting for you to fail can be a tad difficult. I never said that in-laws were a problem that needed solving—I’m simply saying that, even when you’re married, in-laws are problematic and therefore not better than outlaws. Gees. It’s like it’s all black or white to you, except that you’ve never met a black person. At least you’re close with one Hispanic. Speaking of, how many J-Lo movies do you have to watch before you can justify calling them predictable?

Next on Danger Queue: Elevators vs Escalators—Somebody’s Going Down

Me write good.

SHAWN: Nothing like taking a brisk walk. What’s that sign say? Stop? Well, I better do that! WHOOOAAAA, a car just zipped out in front of me. Good thing I could read that sign. Now, it’s off to the bench where I’ll enjoy a fine reading of the pivotal novel of the 20th century—Stephen King’s Pet Sematary. Who could I thank for this great day I’m having? Literacy, that’s who. Literacy is quite possibly the most important skill a person can possess. The swallowing of information and the subsequent regurgitation of it is what has made humans evolve so readily over the years—and now that information is even more accessible thanks to the printed page and/or computer screen. Heck, some of the greatest blogs in history such as Save Our Unicorns and Danger Queue are only so amazingly amazing thanks to literacy. From Baby Einstein’s Book of Shapes to Grandpa Einstein’s Book of Prostate Cancer, literacy stays with you from birth to death, ever-vigilant, ever-cunning, ever-important.

RYAN: I no I don’t need to bother reeding signs telling me to stop when colors do the job just good. Red. Stop. Green. Go. Doesn’t get much easeer than that. Everyone knose literacy is overrrated now a days. We have movies, music, TV shows, and celebretes to tell us what happens in the world. So why bother with a written word when a spoken word is better? Anyone who goes to park to read on a bench is just shows off to the rest of the world. “Oh, look at me, I read hoity toity books about a king’s dead pets.” Let me guess. Your one of those guys who reads a newspaper on the train too. Oh, your so enlitened and cultured with your business page and bold headlines. I’m so impressed. I dont think reeding is a skill. I think it’s an unneeded luxury. Look at all the successful people who don’t know how to read: Tracy Morgan. That one high school teacher. Nicolas Cage. All of them have fulfilling successful lives. So what if they haven’t read every page of the dictionary?

The crossing sign didn't have pictures!

SHAWN: How are you writing that? How on earth did you just write that? Granted, it’s not a seminal work, but you almost made a sentence once or twice. Clearly, you’re making a fine case for literacy. Sure, words on signs can be replaced with colors, but what if you’re color blind, hot shot? And you can’t get through The Grapes of Wrath or Infinite Jest with a color-coded system. Sure, we live in a world where a lot of stuff is told to you, but can you really trust them? More importantly, can you really bring your 40” flat-screen onto the train with you? Reading is as important today as it’s always been, even with the 24-hour news network. They didn’t put those news crawlers on the bottom of the screen to cover Anderson Cooper’s cleavage. Without the vital skill of literacy, you could never experience the breathtaking prose of Maya Angelou or tap into the subtle humors found tucked within the work of Perez Hilton’s captions. “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of a continent, a part of the main”—and literacy is part of man’s connectivity as you will need the skill in just about any job, even though a couple people have found success without it, which you point out are only actors and teachers. Pshaw.

RYAN: Why wast time reading about the infinite Jesus, in words or colors, when you can just go church and hear it all for yourself? And Grapes of Rath was boring. I didn’t even bother finishing that movie before returned it. See? Reading is nothing just a relic from the earler times. Like oil lamps, horse buggies, and Dick Clark. Stop holding the past and embrase the future. A future with no books, no newspapers and no reeding. Look at me. Not reading doesn’t hold me back. I drive car. I watch TV. I put together beds from IKEA. All without reeding. Am I mising anything? Not anything important. I know all about Peris Hilton thanks to the good people at E! She’s that hot sexy blonde girl with good TV show and tiny dog. And, she’s smarter than people think, just like me. Maybe if you took your eys off your books and pomes and such and stoped judging people all time, you’d know that reeding is no more nesesary than using a manual can opener. You can do all that work if your stupid, but us smart people use modern tecnolgy for the same results.

So many wasted lives...

SHAWN: Reliance on modern technology may be preventing you from being weeded out Darwin-style, as you should be, but that’s only because we have inventors to create that modern technology. And, yes, they are most assuredly literate. When was the last time you tried to program a computer or wire an electric can opener without injuring yourself (in both cases)? How can you justify defending illiteracy when you are 100 percent controlled by the literate? Reading, as it is, is also not in the least a relic from earlier times, if you even know what ‘relic’ means. Hell, it’s more important than ever! The Internet, emails, blogs, online gossip, Facebook, Twitter—they’re all thanks to a little skill called literacy. And with the Kindle ($299, Amazon), those “ancient” pieces of fine literature are as accessible as ever. Reading is on the rise. Maybe if you embraced literacy, you’d be able to afford beds that don’t come from IKEA. Plus, you may be proud of your illiteracy now, but I await the day where you get mauled by a lion at the zoo because you thought the “Do NOT Feed the Animals” sign said something about hugging.

RYAN: Ugh. Seriously? More words? Come on. We get it. You know how to read and can use a teronasaurus to find bigger words. Good for you. We’re all so prowd of you. If all you smug reading types want to fancy yourselfs as kings of everybody just because you can string a few words together without getting a headache, then be my guest. I’ll happy let you have all the fun reading blogs, Facebooks, and Twitters, which are all just wealth of great information. Oh, look, your friend Susie tryed to buy shoes but they didn’t have her size. Man, I’m so crazy jealous of you right now. I wish I could no such important things. Not being able to reed means I dont have to get bogged down with all such pointless garbage about presidents and economickeys and wartime. I just lead a happy life on my own. Who cares if a literati invented all the modern things I enjoy? That doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy them. By that stupid logic, Einstein’s thery of relatives is only excloosively for Jewish people. And only white people can participate in government. Only one of those is true, so that means your wrong. Dead wrong.

Next On Danger Queue: In-Laws vs Outlaws—Clyde Was Only That Tough Because He Had to Deal With Bonnie’s Parents

Get that dog off my property!

SHAWN: Now, I live in Chicago, where rent ranges on average from $1,200 to $95,000/month. And you know what? Most of the places here are nice, but they’re not anything special. But, don’t worry friends, for I know a place where you can get high-quality midmarket real estate for cheap. Hell, it’s so cheap to build here, the average rent is—get this—$22. That’s like four Starbucks coffees or two hand jobs from Ryan. Where is this magical place, you ask? It’s Marvin Gardens—you know, not far from that one fucking parking lot that actually has free parking. How do they stay in business? It doesn’t matter—just park your car, horse or Scottish terrier and walk on over to Marvin Gardens, and stay for a while. And you can bet your sweet ass it’s safe there. There’s a cop right next door who pretty much sends people to jail just for touching him. Even rent at the finest luxury hotel in the development is the low end of Chicago rent. I’d be hard-pressed to think of a more economical property with a better location and a more memorable name.

RYAN: I don’t know about you, but I’m not one to settle for “economical” and “cheap”, which are merely code words for “poor” and “shitty”. For those of you who enjoy living the high life, let me introduce you to a lovely place called Pennsylvania Avenue. This luxurious street offers high-quality, high-market real estate at surprisingly reasonable prices. Marvin Gardens may rope you in with promises of $22, but then at the last minute they screw you over and raise the price to $24. That’s some shady business practices right there. You might as well avoid the headache, invest the extra $4, and enjoy a glamrous stay on Pennsylvania Avenue. It’s safe, just like Marvin Gardens, but you won’t have to look out your window each morning and see that hideous Water Works next door. Pennsylvania Avenue, on the other hand, is renowned for its wonderful amenities. Ride the rails with ease by simplying taking the Short Line railroad, conveniently located nearby. Also nearby as is the Community Chest, a literal treasure chest that generously hands out money and prizes to all who stop by. Pennsylvania Avenue is such a fine place that it’s called home by the one and only President of the United States.

Community Chest doesn't look all that bad now, does it?

SHAWN: La-de-da, so the President lives on Pennsylvania Avenue. Well, you know who lives in Marvin Gardens? Marvin. And some other people. And they live there with affordable rent in a safe, quality neighborhood without dishing out the big bucks to stay in Pennsylvania. Sure, a $4 difference in rent doesn’t seem like much when you’re staying at the low-end motel run by that psychotic bastard Rich Uncle Pennybags, who runs around the place dressed in drag and smeared lipstick, yelling about how he won $15 in a beauty contest. But, let’s say you want to stay at the finest hotel on the block—now you’re paying $200 extra to stay on Pennsylvania, when the sweet and savory (and equally boutique) Marvin Gardens is just around the corner. That’s called gouging your customers, Pennsylvania, and they don’t have to take it. As a proud philanthropist, I also know that nobody at Marvin Gardens have ever complained about living next to a vital utility—if anything, they enjoy the fresh water—but I know for a fact that living next a train isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. How do your customers like the screeching whistles and pounding gears outside their windows at 4am? And beware of this “Community Chest” that Ryan’s boasting about. Word on the street is sometimes it makes you pay it, and other times it sends you straight to jail…for nothing! Yeah—sounds like some shady shit going down. In the affordable housing neighborhoods like Baltic, “Community Chest” is code for either an old hooker or a used syringe.

RYAN: Oh, yeah, beware the Community Chest next to Pennsylvania Avenue. Sure, it gives away free money like Congress in a recession—who would want that?—but there’s a slight chance it could send you straight to jail. Nevermind the police officer next to Marvin Gardens that ALWAYS sends you to jail no matter what, even if you’re just stopping to ask for directions to the Boardwalk. I’ll take my chances with Community Chest, thank you very much. And I’ll take my chances and pay the extra $200 to stay at Pennsylvania Avenue. That’s hardly price gouging considering they’ve been upfront and consistent with their prices since day one, unlike a certain other property named Marvin Gardens that seems to raise their prices for no reason. Who’s to say they won’t raise them again? Plus, Pennsylvania Avenue is a place rich with class, tradition, and history. An extra $200 is a bargain for that kind of unique experience. To be fair, Marvin Gardens is also rich with history…a history of misspelling its own name! Or did you not know Marvin Gardens is supposed to be Marven Gardens? Wow. That sounds like a lovely place to stay. Do you know if Marvin Gardens has a McRonald’s or Pizza Hat nearby? Please. If they can’t even spell their own name right, why should I think they know anything about treating their residents right?

A Monopoly movie? Have my not-so-wild dreams come true?

SHAWN: First of all, let’s clear out the elephant in the room—Marvin Gardens did in fact alter its pricing due to minor inflation in the 1950s, but so did a lot of places. Yet it remains a safe, classy, economical alternative to the overpriced Pennsylvania Avenue and has not changed its clearly posted prices since. Ryan clearly believes that it’s okay to be overpriced if you’ve always been overpriced. Maybe you should be working at Ford. And, secondly, Marvin Gardens—the fine development in the northeast Monopoly region—has always spelled its name Marvin Gardens. Sure, there’s a different Marven Gardens in New Jersey that this Marvin Gardens may have been named after, but if there was something wrong with the spelling it would have changed it. Sure, you may want to believe that branding is everything, Mr. The President Lives On Me, but Marvin Gardens believes that the experience is what matters—it provides finer services and works its ass off for its customers. Meanwhile, Pennsylvania is riding by on “tradition” and “history”—I bet you don’t even have heat over there. As for the police officer near Marvin Gardens, residents know darn well to not get in his way. Meanwhile, you’re returning to your Community Chest like a rat crashing over and over into an electrified fence—sure, there’s the opportunity to get something free, but you could also end up spending a ton or going to jail. Talk about trickery! Marvin Gardens knows what it, unlike the pretentious Pennsylvania that pretends its God’s gift to the world, while the ritzier Park Place sits right next door, bashing Pennsylvania. Why not stop picking on the little guy and finally start paying the Water Works for running water?

RYAN: So “minor inflation” led Marvin Gardens to raise their prices, hmmm? It’s funny how no other properties did the same thing, not even Baltic or Atlantic. If anyone needed a reason to charge more money, it’s those two. So either Marvin Gardens is completely full of shit, making up random reasons to jack their prices and screw over their customers, or they’re just horribly run and don’t know the first thing about money management. Maybe they should take some lessons from Pennsylvania Avenue. It’s on the east side of town, which we all know is the classiest, richest part of town where everyone wants to be. The standards are a little higher than on the north, south, or west sides. The sloppiness that’s become synonomous with Marvin Gardens would never fly on the east side. Not when you’re competing with the likes of Pacific, North Carolina, Park Place, and Boardwalk. If Pennsylvania spelled its name wrong or raised its prices without warning, potential residents would pack up and move on to the next street without hesitation. While Marvin Gardens has always spelled its name that way, it’s only out of pure laziness and ineptitude. They admitted the name was a typo back in the 90s, but they kept it spelled that way because “that’s the way it’s always been”. That’s probably the same reason why they have separate drinking fountains and restrooms. And really, the only thing that’s like a “rat crashing over and over into an electrified fence” is you in trying to convince us how going directly to jail is better than the Community Chest. No, folks, don’t try and stop him. Just let him keep going until he tires himself out.

Next On Danger Queue: Literacy vs Illiteracy—Someone Lied Their Way Through Book It!

Give me something good to eat...or face the consequences.

In honor of the recent holiday celebrations, we at Danger Queue are taking a brief hiatus from our normal string of debates to bring you a vital issue regarding the events of last Saturday. Normal posts will continue Tuesday, with the much-anticipated Marvin Gardens vs. Pennsylvania Avenue.

RYAN: When those adorable little kids—dressed as Simba, a princess, and a hilarious dog that only says “meow”—ring your doorbell on Halloween night and scream “trick or treat” in your face, it’s really nothing more than a formality. All they want is the treat. Nobody walks up to a house hoping they get to do the trick. I don’t know how it came to be that trick and treat were even lumped together into one saying, but it’s clearly time for the two of them to move on. Halloween is all about the treat, and it has been for some time now. It’s only because of treats that kids can walk around for five straight hours without complaining. Any other time, and those same kids are crying hysterically after 40 minutes. And after a long night of ransacking all the neighboring neighborhoods, the first thing kids do is race home and count all their candy. Okay, second. First they throw away any pennies, toothbrushes, and popcorn balls. But then they count how much candy they got. The only people who go home and count up all their tricks are whores, and that has nothing to do with Halloween.

SHAWN: Formality, shmormality—tricks are half the fun on Halloween. In fact, I’d even go as far as to say tricks are two halves of the fun of Halloween. Sure, treats are well and good, but you ultimately end up spending more on your costume and renting a child and blah blah blah, just to get the amount of candy you could get on sale at Target on November 1. Now, the tricks—those are something special, and they aren’t the kind Ryan pays transvestites to turn for him on weekends. We say Trick or Treat, because if don’t get a treat, the fun really begins—the egging, the mailbox slaughter, the toilet paper, the flaming poo, the genocide. Even you yourself said the first thing you do before enjoying treats is to throw away the pennies, toothbrushes and popcorn balls (to that list I’d like to add bit-o-honeys, candy corn and razor blade apples)—in other words, it’s time for the tricks. Sure, you could sit at home, getting all obese on bite-sized Kit-Kats, but you could also be sneaking around the town, in costume, all awesome and suspicious and ninja-like, letting the tricks fly. You know, having some real fun. Honestly, when I say Trick or Treat, I pray they don’t have treats.

Meow!

RYAN: You must not think much of our readers if you expect them to believe you’d rather trick than get a treat. If you really want to egg houses, kill mailboxes, and light poo on fire, just go and do that any night of any week. Why go through the song and dance of Halloween, when more people are on the streets to witness your petty crimes? That makes about as much sense as you claiming I pay transvestites to turn tricks. I haven’t had to pay a transvestite for that in years. On account of my cute face. But that’s not the point. The point is, if you’re going out for Halloween, you’re going out for all the candy. Yes, you could be a total douche and just buy a bunch of candy at the store, but there’s no fun in that. The fun comes from the mystery behind the door of every house. What kind of candy will they have? Minis? Fun size? Full size? King size? How much will they give? You don’t get any of that excitement when you just buy a bag of candy at the store and watch reruns of MTV’s Super Sweet Sixteen all night. And when you just buy your own candy, you lose out on the variety. Instead of having literally one of every candy, you’re stuck with 20 Snickers and 20 Three Musketeers. If you really pray houses don’t have treats, why even say Trick or Treat and give them the option to give you a Treat? Why not just go straight for the Trick? Is it because that was all just a lie? Yeah. I think so.

SHAWN: Wow—you really don’t understand the Halloween spirit, do you? If you went out egging and lighting shit on fire any day of the year, that’s now a misdemeanor. Do it on Halloween and you’re in the spirit of motherfucking Halloween! And of course you have to go through the formality of asking Trick or Treat first—that’s the whole point. You can’t just recklessly start defacing property without any reason. You need to know darn well that the house is owned by a bitter old man who thinks kids love Mary Jane candies before you ruin his evening. Thus, your tricks almost become heroic, vigilante, and awesome. Sure, some may like candy—as I’m sure many of our readers do—but candy is just a fattening byproduct of a night of spooks and trickery. You throw out half your candy when it goes stale in June, but the memories of those tricks stay with you forever. And you have to admit that even candy lovers have favorites, so why not stock up on Snickers at Target when that’s all you wanted from your trick-or-treating anyway? When it comes to treats, houses are just the obnoxious middlemen. When it comes to tricks, each house becomes a potential target for going all Jason Bourne and kicking some crazy old guy ass. Of course, Ryan’s clearly too frightened to do that. Scared you might get caught and have that cute face smashed in? Trust me, it might help.

Old widowed Mrs. Cunningham will think twice next time she passes out toothbrushes.

RYAN: Sorry to break the news to you, but Halloween doesn’t provide you and all your delinquent friends with a free pass to break the law. Throwing eggs at someone’s house is just as illegal on October 31st as it is on July 9th or March 24th. Even if it wasn’t illegal, you couldn’t just go and trick someone for not giving you a Ring Pop, which, for the record, you really don’t have to suck on in such a creepy way. Halloween only requires homeowners to have a readily available supply of candy for all children, or in your case, grown adult. They can’t be expected to cater to every kid’s favorite. That’d be craziness. You said yourself you trick someone if they don’t give you the treat you want. Seems to me, by that logic, treats would have to be the main point of Halloween and tricks would be nothing more than the afterthought. The treat is the whole reason why you’re even out on Halloween in the first place. It’s the reward. Tricks are the threat, and for most kids, it’s an empty threat. No kids want to hurt other people with tricks, unless they’re heartless spawns of Satan. They just want their delicious treat and to move on to the next house. You may be all about the tricks, but it’s not the memory of a good ol’ fashioned prank that stays with you the rest of your life. It’s the regret of knowing you wronged someone for no reason other than your own selfish needs. Maybe next time you’re about to hurl that egg, you should think to yourself “What would Jesus do?”. He’d probably dress as a kickass pirate and know all the houses that gave out full-size candy bars.

SHAWN: No, no, no, wrong, wrong, wrong. Sure, it’s still “illegal” to deface property on Halloween, but when was the last time someone got in trouble for it? You get your house egged—hehe, it’s Halloween! Laugh it off! Sounds like the tricks hit a little close to home for you, huh? Well, maybe you should take the hint and stop handing out Flintstones vitamins. And, sure, every house can’t cater to every desire, but that not only proves my point about going to Target the next day, but it completely ignores the fact that there are still good candies (Milky Ways, Starbursts, M&Ms) versus bad candies (circus peanuts, nickels, fruit). If you’re handing out bad candy, you’re just trying to tempt the awesome gods of trickery. Granted, treats lead to tricks, but as I said before in the argument you probably should’ve read, the candy is the middleman to determine if you get to party hard with some tricks. Plus, why do you keep pretending I’m the grown man still going out on Halloween, as you all smugly comment about candies and how “it’s the whole point of going out”? Trick or treat, Halloween’s for the kids, not you and your white van with tinted windows. Maybe you should’ve done more tricking to know that you never grow up regretting that time you toilet papered Ms. Johnson’s house—you just look back and wish you would’ve wet the toilet paper first to make it all sticky. I mean, she was giving out Necco wafers for God’s sake! If you want to know what Jesus would’ve done, he would’ve smote her. He would’ve smoted her good.