Can there really be a winner?

RYAN: Oh, it’s Tuesday. Time for me to call home and check in on things. Sure, it’s not the best thing in the world, but calling home puts me in the driver’s seat of the phone conversation. I don’t have to worry about being inconvenienced with the call, as I’m the one making it. Calling home, besides getting me points for putting in the effort, also gives me time beforehand to create a rough outline of discussion topics. Definitely need to have a story about my dog ready, as they eat those up like candy. And maybe a self-deprecating story about something stupid I did to make them feel like I still need them. Oh, and I always need to have an update about work. Sure, calling home requires a little more diligence, but it’s far better than the alternative of getting a call from home. Those can blindside you at any time of any day, and who knows what they’re about. It could be a TV show, an article in a newspaper, or a bird that just flew by the window.

SHAWN: Just walking home. Don’t have a lot going on. Maybe I’ll crack open a beer, chill a little bit, watch my TiVo’d World Cup game at 3x the speed so it’s vaguely interesting…wait, what’s this? A call from home? What a delight! Sure, they’re a little rare, but it’s always something good—my mom wants to say ‘hi’ or my sister just met Rob Thomas. Who knows! But the best thing about a call from home is that it’s an unexpected pleasure that can make your day, all day, any day. Plus, it’s way easier to leave the ball in your family’s court. When you’re calling every Tuesday, it’s obviously become a chore, a requirement of sorts, no fun at all. And what happens if a smoking hot concert or free porn convention comes up and you can’t make the call? Why, then your family worries like crazy! Maybe Ryan died! Maybe he’s been eaten by another crocodile! Maybe he’s a zombie! Shoot him!!! It’s way better to just let them control when they want to talk to you. A phone call from home means you can enjoy your family’s banter when you want, or send them straight to voicemail, calling them back when you have time. Yeah, it’s convenient, and delightful, but only when you want it to be.

Phoning home has become far easier these days.

RYAN: Calling back your family when you have time? Interesting, because that sounds like the exact same point I made about calling home. You should probably do a better job arguing for calls from home. Or, maybe you just can’t because deep down in your blackened heart you know that calling home is way better than getting calls from home. An occasional call from home can be an unexpected pleasure, yes, but they won’t stay that way for long. That’s the problem with letting them control when they want to talk to you. Because they always want to talk to you. Soon enough, you’ll be fielding daily calls from home about anything and everything. Either you answer the phone and get sucked into a 20-minute conversation about the latest “tip” from Suze Orman (you mean if I want to save money, I shouldn’t eat out twice every day?), or you reject their call and look like the world’s biggest dick. And don’t take that as a compliment. Your mom changed your diapers the first 9 years of your life. She knows your dick isn’t anything to call home about. I’ll stick with calling home myself because of the control it gives me over the entire situation. Maybe I only want to talk for a few minutes. Well, then I say right away: “Hey, I got a few minutes before class, I thought I’d check in.” That makes me seem sweet and thoughtful while also immediately establishing an out. Getting a call from home means you can forget about that beer and TiVo’d World Cup game, though that’s not really much of a loss anyways.

SHAWN: Whoa, whoa—by not always answering when you get phone calls from home, you establish that you don’t always want to talk and, ergo, don’t have to deal with constant calls. If there’s one way to make your family always want to talk to you, it’s always talking to your family. What side are you on now? You don’t look like a dick when you reject calls; it means you’re rightfully busy, living your own life—something that will never happen with your phone calls home all the time. Cut the cord, Ryan; it’s all black now and starting to crumble apart on its own. That’s disgusting. It’s better to let them call you if they want to talk. I mean, you’ve already given up on having any in your marriage, you might as well get some power in your family relationships. How does you calling home give you power, when you’re the one running back to them, begging to talk all the time? “Mommy, mommy, this little boy cut me when I tried to kidnap him and the bleeding won’t stop. What do I do? Waaaaaahhhh!!!” Gees, at some point, Ryan, you’re going to have to stop running to your mommy for help, especially when you keep implicating her like that. Plus, waiting for calls from home mean there’s always something fun and exciting to say. Sure, I told my mother several times that I was going to Hawaii for a week, but when she called the day before and asked what I was up to over the weekend—oh, the look on her face that I couldn’t see! That kind of fun and excitement never comes with boring phone calls home. Shit, if you’re always telling your family what you’re doing, then how can they be delightfully shocked when they see you on America’s Most Want…Got Talent.

Surprise, mom! I'm awaiting my congratulations call...

RYAN: I guess we just have different approaches to life. You like to run from your problems, hoping that if you keep ignoring them, they’ll just go away. It hasn’t worked for that obscene growth on your neck, which I like to call Steve, and it’s certainly not going to work for all those calls from home. I confront problems head on. Which is why I don’t sit around waiting for calls from home. I make the call myself. It’s called being a man, Shawn, and it’s what I do best. All those times when you ignore those calls from home, you’re not establishing you’re busy. You’re only feeding the flames, and at some point, you’re going to get burned. Maybe one time you’ll forget to look at the caller ID before answering. Or maybe your clever mom will call from her work number. Either way, eventually, you’re going to answer that call, and then you’ll immediately regret your decision, as your mom is going to go at you hard, and she’s going to do it all night long. Is that what you want? Probably, cause you’re a sick perv. And actually, that excitement over you telling your mom about your Hawaii trip, that wasn’t because of the call from home. That was because of your mom’s forgetfulness. Actually, I’m guessing it was more of her overall indifference to you in general. You told her multiple times and she still forgot? I guess she just wasn’t paying all that much attention before. I do the same thing when I make calls home. Sounds like maybe your mom views calls to her son the same way I see calls from home. Something you don’t want to do, but nevertheless have to. I guess your mom and I have more in common than we thought. And we already had plenty in common. We both like ordering the daily special at restaurants, and we both get a little reckless after a few glasses of wine.

SHAWN: First of all, this growth on my neck is clearly just another head coming through, as my one head isn’t large enough to contain my massive, brilliant mind. And you know what? That growth is my bitch. If I wanted to go to the hospital to check it out, I’d go there on my own, when it starts bulging again. It’s like a phone call from home. If I wanted to pick it up, I would, and I’d find out that my aunt’s on the bottle again. If I don’t want to pick up, I don’t, and let the growth stay. I mean, it’s not really hurting and I feel I’m smart enough to gauge when something needs to be done. In other words, I’m the independent man, unlike you, who goes running back to mommy and daddy, calling them up like they’re your therapist (what does your therapist think of that?), and seeking that self-absorption you so crave from them telling you that you are, in fact, handsome (spoiler alert: they lie). I pick up the phone when I want, and I don’t fear my mother yelling at me, like you apparently do. Still having those flashbacks to her smacking you on the playground? Well, you had it coming for running around and inappropriately touching all the other boys in your class. And, fine, maybe my mother can be a little forgetful, but she still remembers the horrifying night when she had those glasses of wine with you. Of her 60-plus years, that’s her biggest regret, and this is coming from the woman who gave birth to me. Let’s lay out the facts: We both love our families, but it’s way more fun to wait for them to call you—it gives you power, it means there’s something interesting to say, and you’ll still find out what that cousin of yours has been up to. My guess is he’s a doctor now, because he spent his time living life instead of calling home. Maybe you can get him to cut that cord for you.

Next On Danger Queue: The Book of Mormon vs The Collected Works of Justin Bieber—Just Because They’re Crazy, Doesn’t Mean People Can’t Love ‘Em

Destroying an entire planet wasn't as hard as you might think.

SHAWN: So I know what you’re all thinking: Why would I even side with Earth? It’s been a barren wasteland, filled with slumlords and sodomy, ever since 2064. Sure, BP Oil Spill IV ended up coating all of its waters, trapping in pollutants, effectively disintegrating any ozone that remained—but, as the kids these days say, cork my bitch that’s still our Earth. It gave our species life, love and happiness for like a billion years. On top of that, have you been back there lately? It’s a fucking party every day! You can loot, dance, get your stab on, and then use that new Home Stitch 3000 or whatever to stitch yourself back up and keep going. The music’s way better, the clubs are way better, and even the oil skiing is a blast. Grab your smoke mask and live it up, and then visit all the historic monuments, everything from the Great Wall of China to the Greater Wall of North Korea. It’s truly the thrilling place to be.

RYAN: Earth is so 2015. It’s time to move on, Shawn. You only think you like Earth because you’re forgetting about all the things that plagued that planet for so many years. The Wetlands. The Pacific Ocean. France. With Earth II, we don’t have to worry about any of that awfulness. Earth II is a model of perfection. It should be. It is, after all, the first entirely man-made planet in the solar system. Everything you see on Earth II is a tribute to the power of man. Sure, it took a lot of sponsorship, corporate and personal, to make Earth II what it is today, but it was damn well worth it. When you gaze out onto the AT&T Grander Canyon of western McDonaldland, it’s no wonder why it’s part of the Holiday Inn Express Seven Wonders of the Man-Made World. And I dare you to keep a dry eye as you look out onto the majestic United Airlines Great Plains as they glisten from a fresh coat of morning dew. Yes, Earth II is truly a wonderful place to call home.

The AFLAC Duck rose to power despite its controversial views on animal abortions.

SHAWN: Clearly you’ve been listening to too much of President AFLAC Duck’s propaganda, as you’re already speaking like a first-generation New Earther. Just because your favorite historical figures—Sarah Palin and Robo-Sarah Palin—spearheaded this Earth II effort doesn’t mean you have to crumble to your knees and suck its giant peninsula. Not everything about Earth II is so great. First of all, since it is manmade, everything’s filled with lead. Our life spans are like 28 years. Did you know on Earth some people lived to 50? Plus, there may be beauty in your Grander Canyons and Seven Wonders, but they’re no replacement for the originals, which you can now see for only 100 Apple dollars and a rocket pack rental down on Earth. Sure, some of those wonders have been adjusted by man, like the face of Queen Gaga that the British added to Everest, or the rubber balls that Chuck-e-Cheese filled the Grand Canyon with—but they’re only additions to the natural beauty that God has given us. God never intended for us to create some kind of Earth II. Maybe we shouldn’t have messed up Earth so badly. I’d still rather ride my hover-motorcycle with a gang of mutants in what once was Canada than sit in my sterile home pod where I have to put on a Red Bull shirt whenever I leave the house.

RYAN: God also never intended us to cross-breed a pig and a cow, but everyone knows how delicious that turned out. If God didn’t want us to create our own planet, he should have made it harder for us to destroy the one he gave us. If anything, we had to create Earth II to cover up for all the mistakes he made along the way. Putting oil that far underground? Come on. Teen pregnancies are more planned out than that. If you want planned out, then take the next rocket shuttle over to Earth II. Google Planet Engineers spent roughly 21 years planning out every detail about Earth II. Tired of all those pesky oceans getting in your way? Well, you’ll be happy to know we don’t do oceans on Earth II. They do nothing but separate us all from each other. On Earth II, with enough solar-power in your Ford Cyctro hover car, you can literally drive your way across the entire planet. Take in all the beautiful sights and sounds and smells. Maybe Earth II doesn’t have all the original wonders of Earth, but from the way you describe it, there’s not much to see. A Grand Canyon filled with rubber balls? Lady Gaga’s face on Mount Everest? That kind of stupidity made us build Earth II in the first place. We needed to get away from it all and start fresh somewhere new. Sure, people only live til they’re 28 here, but nobody has ever accomplished anything great after age 28. Except of course for Justin Bieber. I’m sorry to bring that up. I know you’re still torn up after he was assassainated during his presidential campaign. We all still wonder if his controversial “Eenie Meenie” environmental policies would have worked.

He was gonna put America on the handlebars of that 10-speed and pedal us to greatness.

SHAWN: Okay, fine, it’s tough to argue against the tastiness of a good Bacow Burger with its subtle, smoky hints of both cow and pig, but that doesn’t mean it’s still not some kind of unholy creature, unsanctioned by any spiritual being. And I think God made it pretty damn difficult for us to screw up Earth; we just did one hell of a job on it. He was all, “Here’s a bunch of trees, and an ozone layer, and all the natural resources you could need.” It took us millennia to overpopulate, waste our resources and chop down all those trees. We’re a committed species, so I wouldn’t write off any of the horrible offenses we’ve made against nature as ‘easy’. And have we even investigated the effects of not having oceans? I mean, I like McWater as much as the next guy, but can it really sustain as much life as we need it to? Most importantly, though, we all know we’re going to screw up Earth II, and soon enough the nicotine-fueled pacemaker and the fact that we still don’t have gravity here will catch up with us, and Google will be right back to the drawing board. Hell, I hear Microsoft/Wonka has already started production on a competing planet, Earth II-II. Things were way better on Earth. We had just enough of everything, but we just wanted more. And there’s one thing Earth II could never compete with Earth on, and that’s history. What do we have here on Earth II to artifact humanity? Nothing but 20 years of shitty movies starring Ashton Kutcher Jr. Earth has a deep history, one we could learn from, and one that has created some kickass tourist attractions like QVC’s Pearl Harbor and Bud Lime Presents Dachau. Things could’ve turned out so differently there. President Bieber would’ve changed it all! For the love of God, he invented both oxygen pants for interplanetary travel and ContempoPop, the greatest music form since Jazz-Rockabilly fusion, Jackabilly!

RYAN: Maybe Earth II doesn’t have all the history of Earth, but it’s not like the history of Earth is all that great in the first place. When we packed up and left that mess of a planet behind all those years ago, we didn’t just leave the tattered remains of our civilization. We also left behind hundreds and hundreds of years of war, slavery, racism, genocide, and Double Downs with it. Earth II was a fresh start for everyone. Now we can create our history without any preconceived notions about who deserves what and what someone did to someone else. That Israel/Palestine conflict back on Earth? You know, the one that lasted hundreds of years with no end in sight? Yeah, solved thanks to the wonderful vision of the amazing Google Planet Engineers. No more fighting over Israel, because they created not one, not two, but THREE Israels to keep everyone happy (the third one is a backup). And I’ll have you know, we can’t screw up Earth II like we did Earth. This new planet is completely repairable. The amazing Google Planet Engineers saw to that. Worried about the McWater level on Lake Danza rising too high and flooding nearby Danzaville? No problem. We’ll just open the drain valve, and direct that McWater through the intricate system of plumbing buried deep in Earth II’s core to get it to the great country of No. 1 China, which is in the midst of a drought. Yes, I admit, it’s easy to wonder what might have been with Justin Bieber as president. His boyish good looks combined with his Stanford Law education made him the ideal representative for our once great country. He could have single-handedly ended Trig Palin’s ill-advised war against Switzerland with one live performance of “Baby”. Instead, well, there’s no reason to revisit those dark times.

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What's that smell?

RYAN: Mmmmm…yeah….oh…dammmmnnnnn…this is some sweet ass candy, let me tell you. Packed with so much sugary goodness, this here candy sends my taste buds into a rich orgy of delicious flavors every time it tickles my tongue. It’s not just the flavors that make candy great. It’s so much more than that. Candy heightens my senses and makes me feel feelings I never knew existed. Candy provides me with a burst of energy, enough to power me through even the longest, hardest of days. Which is why even the slightest glimpse of a piece of candy makes my mouth water. I can’t focus on anything else, no matter how hard I try. I try to contain my desire by focusing on things unrelated to candy, but it never works. Within seconds, the thought of candy creeps back into my mind and I’m all worked up again for that fantastic sugary release.

SHAWN: Mmmmm…yeah….oh…dammmmnnnnn…this is some sweet ass candy, let me tell you. And I’m not talking about candy. I’m talking about the 10 to 20 minutes of pure goodness that can only be gobbled up in the bedroom: sex. You know what’s better than an orgy built on flavors and sugar? An orgy built on having an orgasm. If there’s one thing in this world that gives you power, it’s raw, sexual energy. Hell, candy just makes for a bunch of fatties who then keep eating candy without being given the opportunity to experience some really steamy, fine sex—the far superior act by any means. You feel way more fulfilled after sex, and it’s entirely free (unless you count the roofies, which have a fairly nominal cost). Plus, candy pleases all of one sensation—the tongue. I won’t get into details, since this is a family-friendly blog, but sex can please just about every part of the body if you include some foreplay and a little experimentation. Top it all off with a fine golden shower, and you’ll never forget it, unlike that Snickers bar you had last week that you already forgot about when you ate another one four seconds later.

Taste the fantastic sugary release.

RYAN: Ten to 20 minutes? Someone’s giving himself a little too much credit. From what I’ve heard (and seen through the window), it’s more like 2, maybe 3 minutes tops. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You’re just not able to satisfy your partner. If you want satisfaction, try having some candy. It can last way longer than your standard 2 to 3 minutes. Ever heard of any Everlasting Gobstopper? Of course you have. You could suck on that thing all night long and the flavors will just keep coming and coming. Sure, sex is free, but that just means you’re usually stuck with some crummy sex from someone you’re maybe half-interested in. Sometimes it’s nice to be able to pay for something cause it means you can get exactly what you want. Smartees, M&Ms, Skittles, Swedish Fish. I want it. I buy it. It’s that easy. Try doing that with sex and you’ll find yourself in prison on the receiving end of something nasty. But hey, it’s free, right? If you’re really so damn cheap you refuse to pay for anything, just go trick or treating on Halloween and get all the free candy you can carry. Just slap on one of those creepy masks you have lying around. Like that leather one with the zippers over the eyes and mouth.

SHAWN: Whether your sex is a rollicking, erotic 20 minutes or the Ryan version—a 2-3 minute harrowing experience that makes the Holocaust look like Disneyland’s 50th Anniversary—it’s still sex, and sex is awesome. We all know Ryan hates sex, particularly with people who aren’t little boys, so let’s not be shocked that he dares think candy is better. But let’s be serious here: even bad sex is still sex, and it’s the finest gift God has ever given mankind. Don’t even get me started on great sex, but that would be like explaining calculus to a three-year-old with you, huh? Either way, even a few minutes of sex equal an intense pleasure, way beyond the mild pleasures of a Gobstopper. Sure, they may last all night, but by then you’re exhausted and your tongue’s numb. I’d rather feel intense pleasure for a little bit than mediocre joy for hours on end to the point where you don’t even remember why you’re happy and end up swallowing the treat whole (that’s my wife’s job). But, hey, if paying for something legally is what you want, there are plenty of ways to pay for sex in Nevada that won’t put you ass-to-crotch with Guillermo, Prisoner #A713485. It may be more expensive than candy, but that’s just further proof that it’s better—people want it that much more. And you know what? That sex is there for you 365 days a year, and you don’t even have to wear a costume for it. Although you might still want to—you don’t want to frighten your prostitute.

Taste the fantastic sugary release.

RYAN: Your claims that I only go 2-3 minutes would be better if I hadn’t just said the same thing about you. Way to sink all the way down to the fourth grader level of “No, I’m not stupid. You’re stupid.” Speaking of fourth graders, maybe you should try coming up with some new material from time to time. You know, something other than the pedophile jokes. Given your tendency to do the same thing over and over and over, I’d hate to see how predictable and stale your sex life is. I bet it’s more repetitive than filming a Scorsese movie. The same hand placements. The same jerky movements. The same post-coital sobbing. The one difference being, with you, it’s all done at the same angle. I’ll take candy over that any time. With candy, the possibilities are endless. Chewy and sweet? Hard and sour? White chocolate? Dark chocolate? Nuts? There’s literally something for everyone. It might cost you a little bit of money, but let’s stop pretending that sex is free. Maybe the act itself is, if you find a willing participant, but getting to that point surely isn’t. First you got to dine them, get them liquored up, or if you’re Shawn, slip them some roofies. That stuff isn’t free. And then there’s protection. I doubt you want a bunch of bearded Shawns running around the house. And don’t forget about the dangers of STDs. Yeah, sex may be great, but last I checked, nobody’s getting gonorrhea and herpes from a pack of Mike & Ikes. Candy is a safe, innocent pleasure that can be enjoyed by everyone, from toddlers to the elderly. Try saying the same thing about sex without coming off like a sick perv.

SHAWN: I’m not “claiming” anything about you going 2-3 minutes, as much as proclaiming a truth. Sure, maybe the same’s true for me—I never denied that—but that doesn’t mean you get off the hook. Plus, after my first three-minute go at it, I’m right back in there, going six, seven more times. It’s better that way. In terms you understand, it’s like having six Starbursts instead of one. Wait, no—it’s not like that at all because it’s sex and so much better. And you dare accuse me of returning to the same argument? Well, then, stop using “toddlers” and “pleasure” in the same sentence. Just calling ‘em as I see ‘em. And one could only wish for their sex life to be as repetitive as Scorsese movies. Sure they’re similar, but they’re always great, always reliable, always pleasurable at the end, and, every so often, one’s award-worthy. If you’re thinking of your own sex life, you probably got Scorsese confused with Garry Marshall—slow-moving, short, and terrible, but hopefully someone will think you were being ironic. As for useless arguments, I already pointed out that roofies were a nominal cost and, if you’re married and not trolling like Ryan, sex actually is free. And, if you’re careful, you don’t end up with a disease that stays with you your whole life. As for candy, there’s no way of getting around how unsafe it is. You want a disease that stays with you forever? Try obesity. Have you ever heard of diabetes? No, it’s not the name of that stripper you keep drooling over. Oh, why am I wasting my time? There’s sex to be had. Maybe you should try it some time.

Next on Danger Queue: From the Archives—Earth vs Earth 2

Pay no attention to whether or not either of them are even still on Facebook.

SHAWN: As we all know, Facebook has all but consumed the world. We’re all on it, and we all have different groups of awesome friends. But you know what? Mine are better. My Facebook friends are better than Ryan’s by a mile. Not only do I get to learn about what delicious ethnic foods my friends are trying tonight (Mexican!), but I get to find out when their Farmville farm needs more chickens! Yet I never get too much of any of it. Sure, some use those annoying applications and constantly invite me to them, but never so much that I have to hide them. In fact, I don’t hide any of my Facebook friends—I actually like them all. From Debbie’s loving shout-outs to her husband in the military to Rick’s hilarious daily observations of social norms, they’re all worth reading over and over again. And Vicky even announced on Facebook that she’s not using Facebook very often anymore! My friends are so awesome and self-aware that your friends don’t stand a chance.

RYAN: You really think your friends are awesome? Are you delusional, or just stupid? I’ve stalked your Facebook friends, repeatedly, and believe me, they’re far from awesome. My friends, on the other hand, are the very definition of cool. They live exciting lives packed to the brim with fun and adventure. Every day when I check my Facebook newsfeed, I live vicariously through the status updates of friends, acquaintances, and people who I met one time four years ago. Look, one girl Lauren has her last day of school tomorrow. I’d write a comment, but I don’t talk to her much so I’ll just “like” it instead. Oh, and Cory’s dad just got summoned for jury duty. Poor Cory’s dad. I hope it’s not another O.J. trial. Oh, that’s funny! Maybe I’ll use that as a comment. And there’s Steve. He just got back from spending a few hours at the library. Probably studying something super important, no doubt. I’d comment on that, but Dave just posted that it’s almost time for Lost. Thanks, Dave! Good thing he posted that too, cause Lindsey just found out her DVR wasn’t recording all her shows. But she was able to watch Lost still, probably cause of Dave’s reminder, so it wasn’t a complete disaster. Informative and educational-I couldn’t ask for anything more from my Facebook friends.

Thanks for the heads up, Dave!

SHAWN: Lauren’s last day of school? Cory’s dad got jury duty? No wonder you like your Facebook friends so much: they’re all children. I see your ruse, you filthy pedophile. No wonder you click “like” instead of commenting on people’s walls: you don’t want them to realize you only friended them to see their personal photos, particularly the ones where they go on vacation to the beach. Jesus, Ryan, they’re just kids! They may be “informative and educational,” but you’re clearly in for their “nubile young child bodies.” As for me, I have fascinating grown-up friends with husbands in the military and who get called into jury duty themselves, because they’re old enough and all. You think Lindsay’s DVR problem is interesting? Well, did you know Melissa hopes Lost answers all of her questions, and Libbie hopes one of those answers is bringing Charlie back to life? Spoiler alert! Way to be up-to-date on everything, Facebook friends! And between Angelina and Natalie, the links they post are enough to entertain me for months on end. From hilarious Cleveland videos to over-the-top fashion articles, I’m sold! And, yes, Jason, the Blackhawks are doing awesomely.

RYAN: I’m only friends with so many children because we have such similar interests: playing dress up, having tickle fights, keeping secrets, that kind of stuff. It’s all completely innocent and harmless. The majority of my friends may be young and nubile, but at least they’re not as hopelessly pathetic as your friends, especially the ones that watch Lost. Melissa wants answers to all her questions? If she’s going to wish for the impossible, she might as well ask for world peace and for LeBron to resign with Cleveland. And Libbie wants Charlie back? He’s been dead for three years now, and even when he was alive, he was annoying as hell. My friends, at least the ones old enough to drive, provide wonderful insights on a daily basis. Did you know that KFC expects to sell its 10 millionth Double Down soon? I do, thanks to my super-amazing Facebook friend Kyle. And look at that, another Facebook friend just announced her engagement through a status update. That’s easily the most exciting moment in a person’s life, and she chose to share it with her exclusive group of Facebook friends. I feel honored. What do your friends share with you? Nothing but pointless links and inane statements about the obvious. The Hawks are doing awesomely? Yeah, everyone already knows that, slick. If you find that kind of “commentary” valuable, then you’re just as pathetic as all your friends.

Thanks for the heads up, Jason!

SHAWN: My friends are hopeless for getting excited about Lost? Really? You’re going with that? Very well. Dear readers, please scroll up, oh, ONE paragraph to find Ryan talking about how much he appreciated Dave posting that Lost was starting. Don’t be calling my friends pathetic for getting involved with the same things you do, and at least for them that only means Lost and not “tickle fights” and “disguising yourself as an ice cream man.” At least my friends have opinions, actual views, and—I kid you not—THOUGHTS on things, unlike your friends who post mindless statistics and TV listings. And, pshaw, my friends get engaged all the time and post it, but I didn’t even mention that because they have so many more extraordinarily interesting things to say. Everyone gets engaged, but not everybody thinks that stripping wallpaper is a pain in the ass like my awesome friend Ben does! My friends don’t just rattle off important life events like engagements or pregnancies, but add subtle gems. Brittany may be engaged, but what’s more interesting is how much she loves looking at wedding dresses while hating actually wearing them. Hillary may be seeing Conan O’Brien live, but adds that Conan’s life is about to change forever because he’ll be seeing her! That’s some fun-loving, unique commentary up in there—not boring facts. My Facebook friends are also willing to use their knowledge of being friends with the most brilliant man alive to ask for advice. You have that beer, Jeff! You get that haircut, Sarah! And you dare still call them pathetic? Sounds like your argument’s as dead as Charlie.

RYAN: Your friends aren’t pathetic for getting excited about Lost. It’s a half-decent show I readily admit I enjoy watching most of the time. The difference is your friends, after six years of disappointment, still expect the final show to answer all their questions. That’s what makes them pathetic. Oh, but yeah, they sound really unique and have tons of thoughtful insight. Like your friend who hates tearing down wallpaper? That’s crazy because everyone who’s ever torn down wallpaper usually loves it. Oh, wait. No, everyone hates it. Everyone. Your friend might as well be posting about how much he hates world hunger. Woah there, Ben, way to take a controversial stance on something. What’s next? He also thinks the end of slavery was a good thing? Oh, Ben, he’s a regular Andy Rooney! I can see why you’re friends with all these people though. They cater to your massive, swelling ego by asking for your opinion on all the trivial matters of life. Maybe they should try making decisions on their own every once and a while. Like my friends. Look at Jeremy. He went fishing today, on his own accord, and caught a 52-lb. pike, a 20-lb. walleye and a 22-lb bass. And Tim just spontaneously booked himself a three-day trip to Vegas. That’s awesome. I can’t wait to see the pictures from that trip. And neither of them asked for anyone’s opinion on what they should do. They just went out there and did it. That’s why my Facebook friends are great. They’re out there living life and only occassionally updating everyone with brief, concise messages that don’t waste anyone’s time. Sometimes its about something they did; other times it’s a random fact. I’d take that anyday over the pointless, inane banter of your self-serving friends. You’re probably only friends with them because they make you feel good by stroking your massive ego for you. Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it? Does it feel good when they stroke it for you? You’re sick.

Next on Danger Queue: Sex vs. Candy—It’s Like Every Day Is Sweetest Day

This ocean's only big enough for one of them.

RYAN: If and when I die, I have just one simple wish: to be vanquished by a worthy foe. Not some chump that just happened to get lucky. Which is why my ultimate dream would be to be sent into the dark abyss of the next world by the one and only Mega Shark. Preferrably while flying in a plane, if possible. What? Don’t think a shark can leap thousands of feet out of the water to take down a plane? Well, my friend, you clearly don’t know about the Mega Shark. Take a regular-sized shark and multiply that by 10, 20, maybe even 21! That’s the Mega Shark. It’s over 500 feet of pure terror, imposing its will on anything and everything it finds. Planes. Bridges. Submarines. If it’s even close to water, it can be destroyed in an instant by the Mega Shark. Hope you’re not planning any trips to Hawaii anytime soon. Everyone knows the Mega Shark calls the Pacific Ocean home.

SHAWN: You want a worthy foe? Try Giant Octopus, the scourge of the Northern Pacific and the true inspiration for the much-beloved and popular kraken. Sure, he may not be jumping 500 feet out of the water to take down planes, but he’s got eight different crazy mega-arms to tear your appendages out with. Who wouldn’t want to go like that? That’s a true battle. There you are, just drilling away on your drilling platform in Japan, and some creature comes along with tentacles large enough to wrap the entire drilling platform and take it down. Multiply that by eight and you got an awesome problem on your hands. He doesn’t jump and attack with his teeth like some kind of wild animals, as Giant Octopus is more calculating than that. He uses his tentacles to slowly emerge and take down his opponents like a ninja. There’s a reason it was easy for a ragtag group of scientists to lure Mega Shark to the North Pacific—he’s a roid-raging idiot. Giant Octopus would’ve never fallen for that.

The skies are no safe haven from Mega Shark!

RYAN: Those scientists were only able to lure the Mega Shark because he’s not some giant octopussy who hides in the depths of the ocean hoping no one ever finds him. He’s a fucking Mega Shark. He wants to find the action, so he goes where he wants when he wants. He’s not worried in the least about who’s going to see him and what they’re going to do to him, because, frankly, no one can do anything to stop him. He’s an emotionless and efficient killing machine. If Skynet had sent a Mega Shark back in time instead of the T-800, John Connor would have been killed long before he could lead the Resistance. His deadly combination of speed, agility, and power means he can get you no matter where you try to hide. Oh, what, you’re landlocked, so you think you’re safe? Think again. Mega Shark jumped thousands of feet in the air to take down a plane. He’ll do the same to get inland and find you. Next thing you know, there’s the Mega Shark, destroying you with its 7-inch teeth the same way Rosie O’Donnell’s periods destroy tampons.

SHAWN: No one said anything about Giant Octopus “hiding.” It’s called stealth, and he does it with ingenuity and precision, like Solid Snake or Kevin Kline. You may not see him, but he’s always right behind you, waiting to pounce with a knife and/or period drama. Mega Shark is reckless, chomping and killing everything it sees, making it easy to target when Debbie Gibson and her team of scientists need to put their plan into action. Not only does Mega Shark get himself killed, but Giant Octopus too. Look where your recklessness got you, Mega Shark! And I’m going to go ahead and question Mega Shark’s ability to kill on land. Sure, he got that airplane, but only by jumping straight up while it was above water. No one in Kansas got attacked, not even close. Granted, Giant Octopus also can’t reach Kansas, but he can use his kick-ass tentacles to take down anything within hundreds of feet of the shore, even oil rigs. Try that, Mega Shark, without drying out your precious bottlenose. Oh, and what’s that? Yeah: once Giant Octopus gets you, the tentacles descend into the water, and he’s out of there—unlike a certain Mega Shark that’s so much up in everyone’s business you know right where he is. Get that damn dorsal fin down, bitch!

Let's hope he doesn't think that submarine's a sex toy.

RYAN: The fact that no one in Kansas got attacked doesn’t mean Mega Shark couldn’t have. It just means that Kansas wasn’t all that high on the priority list. Everyone in Kansas should consider themselves lucky they’re still alive. Not all that lucky though, since they still do live in Kansas. And who cares if Mega Shark’s recklessness caused his own demise? It’s better to go out in a watery blaze of glory then live some lame life of restraint and caution. Mega Shark was born reckless. He lived reckless. And he died reckless. Anything else would have been a shame. And shame is best left to the Giant Octopus. Attacking defenseless oil rigs for absolutely no reason? That’s low, Giant Octopus. Real low. And attacking and then disappearing is even lower. You can call it “stealth” all you want, but everyone knows that’s just a fancy way of saying “hiding like a pussy.” Look at what all that hiding got the Giant Octopus: the same watery grave as the Mega Shark. If the end result is the same, why would anyone choose the lame, boring life of caution and prudence and stealth when instead they could have a bold life filled with adventure and recklessness? Oh, that’s right. They wouldn’t. Cause fun beats boring every time, which explains why I always beat you. And I’m not talking about these arguments. I mean when I physically beat you with my fists.

SHAWN: Oh, so now Mega Shark CHOSE not to attack Kansas? You mean, it’s not because he’s a fish and would die on dry land in a few mere minutes? Interesting how very much you enjoy being wrong. But that goes hand-in-hand with your assumption that being reckless is the only way to live a life without constraint. Giant Octopus killed as many innocents as Mega Shark, and was just as dangerous, all the while being reserved and stealthy. That’s the way to live life: being just as bad-ass as anyone while not getting caught. I think I’ll go ahead and tell the mafia that you don’t think that’s the way to go. Let’s see how they respond. Just hope the horse’s head you’re going to wake up next to wasn’t recently severed; you wouldn’t want to get an infection from the blood. And I’m sorry about that “defenseless oil rig,” as I forgot the plane that Mega Shark devoured was dive-bombing him. Wait, it wasn’t? Isn’t that the deadly sea-faring creating calling the other deadly sea-faring creature deadly? Plus, again, Giant Octopus would’ve just gone on, murdering mercilessly and getting the hell out of there if it weren’t for Mega Shark. Sure, they ended up in the same watery grave, but you can’t blame the smart one for getting pulled into it against his wishes. He stuck to the Northern Pacific, for God’s sake! The best part of the Pacific! Hello Kitty? More like Hello Giant Octopus! He loved it up there, alone, before Mega Shark came and ruined it. Lastly, I’m particularly interested in the way you propose violence to settle this argument. Sounds like something Mega Shark would do. You go ahead and start wailing on me with your fists and see how long it takes for the cops to pull you off me and throw your ass in jail. Meanwhile, I’m slowly poisoning you by sending you “pen pal letters” filled with “baby powder,” all stealthy. Just call me Giant Octopus, bitch, as I live to Queue another Danger.

Next on Danger Queue: Shawn’s Facebook Friends vs. Ryan’s Facebook Friends—After This Post There Will Likely Be None Left

The important thing is you're not going into work.

SHAWN: Oh, life. Oh, this gun. If somehow we could combine these two so I don’t have to deal with this crazy, terrible place. It’s the only way to get away, right? Wait! What’s that? A vacation, you suggest? You mean, there’s a way I can get away from the shit and poo of daily life, and actually enjoy pleasure from the world? Thank my lucky stars! And where should I go? Why, the sky’s the limit! All that matters is that I’m anywhere but here. I’ll spend the summer sipping vino in Tuscany, or eating fine roasted pigs on spits at luaus in Hawaii, or seeing the Eiffel Tower in Las Vegas! Vacations are great. There’s no better way to stop thinking about your responsibilities—work, school, that paternity test—than to get as far away from them as possible. And there’s no better way to do that than a vacation.

RYAN: You can get away just fine without actually getting away. It’s called a staycation, and it’s even more wonderful than a vacation. With the economy still in the shitter, who’s got the money to throw away on over-the-top, ritzy vacations to Tuscany, Hawaii, or Las Vegas? Surely not you or I. Even if we did—and let me stress again that we don’t—we all know that vacations just add to the stress of daily life. Packing a suitcase, fighting way through traffic to the airport, standing in line and waiting to be gang-raped by security, who’s got the time and patience for that kind of stuff anymore? Instead, I’ll bask in the relaxing calm of a staycation. No packing necessary, because I’m not going anywhere. Instead of waking up early, I’m going to sleep until, well, whenever I want. And when I do wake up, I’ll be free of all obligations. No alarm clocks, conference calls, meetings, or any of that junk. Hell, there’s no need to even wear pants. Try and do that with your hoity toity vacation.

Relaxation, here I come!

SHAWN: What kind of life would this be if you never experienced anything outside of your South Elgin bubble? Probably similar to your current one, but the rich experience gained from getting out and about is irreplaceable, and makes you such a well-rounded, fulfilled person, you might as well change your name to Ted Danson, the epitome of fulfillment. Sure, you have to do a little extra work with packing, but it’s all for an even greater end result—mai-tais on the beach in St. Lucia, a world-class performance at the Sidney Opera House, or weeping when you first set your eyes on the extraordinary Nortre Dame in South Bend. Trust me: it’s worth it, even the security gang rape. You know what’s not worth it? A staycation. There you are, wasting your vacation days doing exactly what you do on weeknights and weekends. How can you truly feel away from all your alarm clocks and conference calls when there’s an alarm clock next to you and your usual conference room is only a 20-minute drive away in case of an emergency? Try getting called into work from Moscow. Plus, you can sleep late, not wear pants, and abuse your wife—your favorite at-home activities—abroad, but with more to see, do and enjoy in the meantime.

RYAN: I never said anything about staying in the house forever. I’m talking about a brief one- or two-week period to unwind and escape from the stress of your daily life. It’s hardly a waste of vacation days when you’re getting just as much relaxation as you would if you took a trip. Probably more, considering all the stressful time you spend traveling for a vacation. Let’s be honest here. Vacations sound all well and good, but it takes just the littlest thing to completely ruin them. Oh, look, you missed your connecting flight, looks like you’re stuck in the airport for a good 8 hours. Oh, look, the airline lost your luggage. Hope you don’t mind wearing the same clothes for the rest of your trip. Oh, the hotel bed is a lumpy hard mess that lights up beautiful under a black light. Hope sleeping comfortably wasn’t big on your priority list. Oh, looks like some honeymooners are in the room next door. Hope you like hearing people have loud, crazy sex all night? Okay, bad example, since you clearly would like that. But why put up with all that other stuff when you can stay in the comfort of your own home? With a staycation, you can get away from it all because your alarm clock and your Blackberry are turned off. You’re still off the radar, even if you’re no more than 20 minutes from work. Those 20 minutes might as well be 20 hours, because there’s no chance you’re going into work. You’ve got far more important things to do. Like catch the final half of that Full House marathon on ABC Family.

Drew Carey, seen here next to unidentified man with a moustache.

SHAWN: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Captain Sadness, what’s with letting one little thing like a delayed flight or lost underpants ruin your vacation? If you’re that concerned, only take Southwest and stuff all your Maxi-pads into your carryon, geesh. Or buy some new clothes. Or get a nicer hotel. There are solutions for everything you’re mentioning, so stop being so cheap and whiney. Clearly, you’re not someone who can relax anywhere, so I don’t see how staying at home could possibly help you relax. What if the house catches fire? What if you’re stuck doing laundry the whole time? What if your second wife leaves you? Bad things can happen anywhere, but they don’t feel nearly as bad in Key West (because of the sunshine and beauty) or Amsterdam (because that giant dancing purple monkey is upping your spirits). Plus, you’ve clearly never had good hotel-resort sex, because it makes home sex look like masturbating to a Sears catalog. Sorry, Eeyore, but a vacation is what you make of it, so stop trying to bring everyone else down. As for a staycation, you may get some sleep, but are you really getting anything out of it? New experiences? Fun memories? Facebook slideshows? Nope. All you’re getting is the same scenery, the same white walls, the same TV shows (The Price Is Right isn’t the same with Drew Carey, no matter what you say). But maybe you’ll get lucky, though, and catch the episode of Full House where they go to Orlando or Hawaii. Bet you wish you were there. You’ll never be the Princess in the Disney World parade on a staycation.

RYAN: Sorry not all of us feel we have to justify our existence to Facebook friends with pointless status updates and narcissistic photo albums. Oh, look, a picture of you laying on the beach and the caption has a pop culture reference in it. That’s so Raven! I don’t know about you, but I take time off not to impress others, but to escape the stress of life and recharge the batteries. I couldn’t care less about adding photos to Facebook so people add insightful comments like “Jealous!” and “Looks like fun” and “OMG!”. All I want to do is relax, and it’s hard to do that when it involves taking an actual trip to some tourist hotspot like Key West or Amsterdam. It’s a sad reflection on your sex life that it takes a hotel or resort to spice things up. Do you find the semen-stained sheets and walls to be a huge turn on? That’s sick, but it certainly explains all those “drip marks” running down the side of your off-white bedroom walls. Maybe I’ll wish I was in Hawaii or in Orlando from time to time, I’m not crazy, but more often than not, when I’m at work, I wish I were at home. So why pretend I have to go through the hassle of some strenuous trip when I know I can enjoy my vacation time in the comfort of my own home?  But you take that trip of yours. Go ahead and leave the house for a week or so. Tell me, exactly what days are you gone again? And that spare key of yours is hidden where? And your neighbors, are they terribly attentive people? Would they notice if someone kept walking out of your house with armfuls of things? They wouldn’t? Good. Gooooooooooood.

Next On Danger Queue: Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus—Guaranteed To Be Better Than The Movie

Welcome to Sandpiper Air; please dispose of all frozen treats before boarding.

RYAN: Imagine, if you will, combining all the innoncent hustle and bustle of a pre-9/11 airport with the small town values of a quaint New England town. Obviously, you’d have a hilarious TV sitcom full of laughs, tears, and the occassional serious message that makes us think just a little bit. Well, dream no more friends, for this TV sitcom did exist. It went by the name Wings, and it was glorious. For seven wonderful seasons, Wings delighted us all with its lovable cast of characters. Joe and Brian Hackett operated Sandpiper Air, and through sharp writing and poignant acting, they perfectly captured the ever-changing dynamic of a brother-brother relationship. But Wings’ brilliance went much deeper than the two main characters. It soared because of its stunning ability to develop and grow lovable yet quirky secondary characters. Fay, the sassy yet adorable ticket counter agent/flight attendant/everything else. Helen, the natural beauty who worked the lunch counter but aspired for so bigger things. Lloyd, the quirky mechanic with a heart of gold. And so many more. In just 22 minutes, an episode of Wings will fills your eyes with tears, your heart with love, and your belly with laughs.

SHAWN: Wings is simply an inaccurate representation of an airport that would have long closed down by now due to economic and terrorist reasons. Did they even have security? And what kind of serious messages did a show with Tony Shalhoub ever project? Clearly not any valuable ones, as people only remember Wings for its inexplicable ability to last seven seasons longer than it should have and Fay’s single funny one-liner per episode. Now, if you want memories that fill your eyes with tears and your heart with love, you simply need to return to the most awesomely delicious ice cream treat of your youth—the Drumstick. It may not fill your belly with laughs, but it’ll fill it with a rich combination of waffle cone, ice cream, chocolate shell and nuts. But what’s that? Nuts even became optional later with some caramel or chocolate-filled Drumsticks with a crispy rice crunch on top? Drumsticks were clearly for everyone, which is the least I can say for Wings, a show that appealed to Steven Weber. Plus, for lasting power, Drumsticks made it far longer than eight seasons, succumbing children’s (and adult’s) taste for wonderment since 1928.

Ah, life in a world before shoe bombs.

RYAN: Oh, really? Drumsticks are for everyone, hmmm? Please, tell me what happens when you fill your belly with waffle cone, ice cream, chocolate shell, and nuts. Oh, oh, oh, I know! I know what happens! You die. On account of your death-inducing peanut allergy. Maybe, and more likely, you’ve never actually had a Drumstick. Maybe you’re just spinning a whole new web of lies, like you so often do, and talking about something you’ve never even had. Oh sure, you’ve probably eaten one of those newer takes on the original, but we all know those aren’t Drumsticks. Don’t worry, you’re not missing out on much. But if you missed out on all the blissful seasons of Wings, then you’d have cause for concern. But I can see from your thorough knowledge of the show (I hadn’t even mentioned Tony Shalhoub yet) that you not only watched the show, but were one of its biggest supporters. Is the show an accurate representation of today’s airports? No. But it was made in a simpler time, before the 3-1-1 rule raped us of our innoncence. It was an accurate snapshot of its time (early to late 90s), which makes it only more lovable now. Despite what lies you try to spread, Wings dealt with various serious issues on a consistent basis: murder, finding true love, the value of friendship, social responisiblities, relationships, family, the list goes on and on. If you watched an episode of Wings right now, you’d have 22 minutes of laughs and smiles. If you ate a Drumstick, you’d die. So which would you prefer?

SHAWN: Jesus Christ, you idiot, think about my whole argument before you bring up the nut allergies; don’t try to bring it up and then fix it two lines later. Drumsticks without nuts are still, in fact, Drumsticks, and are even marketed as such, so don’t play a card you don’t have. That’s like saying Wings wasn’t Wings once Thomas Haden Church left for the hit shitfest Ned and Stacey. It was still Wings, although even crappier, if that’s even possible. And knowing that Tony Shalhoub—Monk, for God’s sake—got his start in Wings is common knowledge. Don’t take our readers for pop culture retards, or else they’d never get our constant jokes about the Jonas Brothers, Justin Bieber, Sarah Palin (find us, Google!), or Camryn Manheim (this just in: ‘man’ is in her name because she ate one!). Plus, the fact that Wings was made in a “more innocent time” just confirms the fact that it’s a fossil of a show, an archaic representation of lost times. Now, the Drumstick is a delicious treat that not only throws back to more innocent times (1928, for the love of Buddha!), but is still around today, showing the importance of a common culture. The Drumstick is Americana at its best. Wings is 90s television at its lamest.

Chocolate topping? As if you can even call that a Drumstick!

RYAN: Wow. Someone got really defensive of his peanut allergy really fast. Don’t worry. No one’s judging you because you can’t eat the original Drumstick. It’s not like nuts are that good anyways. Having to eat Drumsticks without nuts doesn’t make you any less of a man, because at the end of the day, you’re still eating a lame ole’ Drumstick. It’s the Tony Danza of desserts. On face value, it sounds decent enough, but you soon realize just how horrible of a choice it really was. And yes, I suppose knowing Tony Shalhoub got his start on Wings is common knowledge…for all people who love the show. Admit it. You watched Wings religiously when it was on TV and probably own multiple seasons on DVD. But tell me the last time you even had a Drumstick, with or without nuts. I guarantee you haven’t had one in at least 12 years, probably because it’s nowhere near the top of anyone’s list of most desired desserts. Sure, an ice cream cone dipped in chocolate sounds good. In theory. But it doesn’t work when it’s low-quality chocolate and flavorless ice cream. If you’re the kind of person who loves disappointment and unmet expectations, then you should hang out with my wife, or better yet have a Drumstick. If you like feeling satisfied and happy, then pop in a DVD of Wings and get ready to laugh. It’s not an archaic representation of lost times. It’s a timeless classic that still stands strong to this day. It reminds us of the simple pleasures of life, when people could go to an airport, park their car, carry on their luggage, and board their plane with little to no hassle. Unless you consider getting caught up in the middle of a love triangle between two brothers a hassle. I don’t. I consider that hilarious. Oh, you Hacketts. Always trying to one up each other. When will they learn? Oh, I know. The epic, heart-wrenching series finale. That’s when.

SHAWN: Just because you were raised by things like books and bears doesn’t mean that only Wings fans know where Emmy-winning television star Tony Shalhoub got his start. In fact, I might go ahead and ignore all of your arguments that any reader with half of brain would immediately throw out the door. Okay, that leaves…the part where your wife ends up disappointed. Well, I have no argument against that one. Plus, your last-ditch effort to defend Wings appears to be trying to get me to admit to watching something I didn’t? Sorry, Joseph McCarthy and Arizona, but I’m not required to show you my papers. I will say that I did not watch Wings, but quite thoroughly enjoy Drumsticks, and assure you it’s true. And, you know what? That was true for me and countless other Americans even when Wings was actually on television. In other words, today, there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that Drumsticks are loved and devoured far more than any episode of Wings that you can find on their poorly selling DVDs. For the record, I had a Drumstick last year and it was delicious. Sure, it’s not at the top of the ice cream food chain, but we can all agree that Wings is nowhere near the top of the TV show chain either. Yet, still, people—myself included—would far prefer delicious ice cream dipped in chocolate to watching the Hacketts prove that at least their parents got the first four letters of their last name right. Why would you watch a show that supposedly teaches you about the simple pleasures in life when you could just up and have the simple pleasures like Drumsticks? Do you also prefer pornography to actual sex? No wonder your wife’s disappointed.

Next on Danger Queue: Vacations vs. Staycations—These Personal Days Aren’t Going to Use Themselves

Will victory be victorious?

SHAWN: Finally, after all these years, and all this hope, all my hard work has paid off. I have succeeded! Yes, success is a great feeling. Success is the perfect reward for a job well done and for all your sweat, blood and tears (you should have that blood looked at, by the way). There’s nothing greater than success. No one ever cheers on their basketball team missing the three-pointer at the last second to lose. Nobody ever gets glad when that promotion goes to your uglier coworker. Success is what we all strive for, and it’s the ultimate goal. And the best part? Success lives inside of you. We all measure it differently. While I may think your life in the suburbs with three kids is shallow, hollow and miserable, you may find yourself a glowing success. Bully for you! Bully for all of you!

RYAN: There is indeed something greater than success. It’s called defeat, and it’s as awesome as it sounds. Maybe it doesn’t get all the glory of success, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less deserving. Defeat allows us to grow as we learn from our own failures and shortcomings. It teaches us valuable life lessons we take with us for the rest of our lives. Success breeds entitlement and arrogance. Defeat teaches us about humility and respect. It grounds us and lets us fully understand our own limitations. So what if your team missed the game-winning shot? Or that the ugly co-worker got that promotion? You can still be happy for them and learn from the situation. Now you know no matter what the Cavaliers will always be losers, and that promotions are usually given to deserving people with college educations, not people who spend their time arguing whether Margaret Thatcher or Chewbacca is better.

Um...he's crying because he won!

SHAWN: If you really cared about defeat, you’d immediately concede this argument. Well? Get on it. Okay, okay, I won’t make you, since I’m a happy, successful guy, but the point still stands that even the end goal of this blog is success. Sure, it’s not a promotion at work, but winning Margaret Thatcher vs. Chewbacca is still another little white dash on the highway to success. And don’t pretend everybody’s as graceful in defeat as you are. First of all, you’re used to it. Second of all, do you remember the 2000 Presidential election, the 2004 Presidential election, the 2008 Presidential election, the 2007 Croatian Prime Minister election, Iraq, Hamlet, or any Chicago Bulls “fan” (Blackhawks were sold out) ever? Yeah—they’re all prime examples of people being hate-filled, angry losers, lashing out at whoever they can, graceless in defeat. It would be nice if we all learned from failures and shortcomings, but we don’t, and we’ll continue fighting healthcare (or whatever) to the grave. Yet, through it all, there’s one thing these defeated losers can’t take away, and that’s success. Success means that, yes, you accomplished something. Maybe the Cavaliers have a history of being losers, and they may end up back there, but a brief moment of shining success is a brief moment of shining success, and even your pessimism can’t deny that.

RYAN: Yes, some people out there may be graceless in defeat, but there are just as many people who are graceless in success. For every example you pointed out, there just as many angry, hate-filled winners insulting their opponents. Look at those Cleveland LeBrons of yours. When they get a big lead over a hopelessly overmatched team, what do they do? They dance on the sidelines, sing along to whatever music’s being blasted in the arena, and show a complete lack of respect for the opposition. If that kind of disgraceful behavior goes hand-in-hand with success, then give me defeat every day. I’d rather lose with dignity than win with that kind of shame. At the end of the day, I’ll still be able to respect myself when I look in the mirror. Will you be able to say the same? Doubtful. Not with the way you turn perfectly innocent arguments about Wookies, fannypacks, and slotted spoons into personal attacks on my character. Success may be the end goal for short-sighted, results driven people like you, who are willing to do anything and everything for it no matter the cost, but there’s plenty of value in defeat. Look at Columbus. He wanted to find an alternate trade route to India. He might not have succeeded, but he found something far better in defeat. A little place called America. Maybe you’ve heard of it.

He didn't really want this.

SHAWN: Success, graceful or graceless, is still far superior to defeat no matter what you say. And we all saw Joakim Noah douching all over the court in the one Playoff game the Bulls won, so don’t try to point fingers at specific teams for showboating. Plus, showboating is totally part of success. Let’s not forget you’re the one who brought gracefulness/gracelessness into this argument. I’m sticking to the facts. In the world of success vs. defeat, who the fuck would choose defeat? Yeah, all of us who succeed will be looking at ourselves in the mirror just fine. You, on the other hand, will be face-to-face with a loser. Call me crazy, but you’ll be the one having trouble staring into your dark, soulless eyes. It sounds like you’re just one of those defeated guys, lashing out, accusing me of berating your character. What next? You going to yell, “Well, you’re stupid!” at me and then go “Duh!” over and over behind my back? Have fun with that. I’ll just ignore you and walk away, my head held high, like a winner. And I love how you’re trying to make being results-driven a negative. How about if this government worked like that? Oh, it doesn’t matter if we defeated the British in the Revolution, as long as we learned something about it. On that note, go back to eating your fish and chips, Ryan. This is America; home of winners. And Columbus may have discovered this motherfucking awesome country in defeat, but guess what that means it turned into? Success. Yeah. Even defeat hopes to become success one day.

RYAN: Yeah, no one would ever choose defeat over success, but we all know it’s not just a simple choice. Success takes hard work and dedication, two things you know nothing about. You only think you taste success because you’re too delusional to acknowledge the never-ending string of defeats that define your sad existence. Oh, you didn’t get that job offer you wanted, but hey, you succeeded in getting an interivew. Bully for you! You didn’t win the eBay auction for the autographed poster of the Noah Wyle in The Librarian, but you succeeded in driving up the price for the eventual winner. You didn’t win in poker last night, but you successfully gave all your money to people who didn’t deserved it. Oh, look at you and the successful life you lead. So you think Columbus was successful even though he didn’t accomplish what he set out to do, huh? Will you consider the Cavs season a success when they don’t win the NBA championship then too? I guess I’m just more of a realist in that I acknowledge defeats when they occur and try to find the value and learn from them. Does that make me a loser? No. I’m a loser for completely different reasons, which may or may not included my infatuation with all things Noah Wyle, no matter how expensive. You just keep living in your little delusion world. Hey, maybe the Cavs didn’t win, but they succeeded in driving LeBron James to sign with a different team this summer. Huzzah!

Next on Danger Queue: Wings vs. Drumsticks—They Should Have Covered Lowell in Chocolate and Nuts

Make sure you pronounce the dollar signs.

RYAN: Oh, snap, yo, I love me some cash money, and I fo’ sure love this $12.53 I’m rocking in my pocket. You know bills are nice, and I got myself a couple Lincolns and a couple Washingtons. But on tops of that I got some mad coinage going on too. The way it jingles around in my pockets with every ballin’ step I take lets everyone know just how straight money I really am. I walk by them ladies and know they want to get their hands on some of this. And it puts all them homeless in their place. Yeah, they hear I got change, but guess what, son, they still ain’t getting any of it. I need that fitty-three cents, in case I want to pay for a KFC Double Down in exact change so I don’t need to break up one of them Lincolns. Gots to hold onto those big bills as long as I can. Helps make my wad look tight. Nothing sadder than a thick stack with a Washington on the end. ‘Cept maybe using a $ instead of an ’s’. That shit’s mad weak.

SHAWN: Forsooth, young man, you clearly don’t understand the grandeur that results from a $ in one’s last name. Her name’s Ke$ha because she’s money, which is more than I can say for you with your pittance. Ke$ha is way better than a mere $12.53. She makes somewhere in the field of $400 billion per show, enough to keep her bathed in Double Downs for weeks. And if you think that $12.53 makes you bad-ass, then you clearly don’t know Ke$ha. She an 8’4” white woman who wakes up every morning looking like a 5’7” black guy. And then, when that bitch brushes her fine molars, she doesn’t use toothpaste—like all those tools who don’t spell their name with dollar signs—but uses a bottle of Jack. A whole bottle! And that sexy beast knows how to put on a show, whether it be dressing in multicolored spandex or eating Justin Bieber during Blah Blah Blah. Talk about making your wad tight! Too bad you can’t even afford to go to one of her shows, you peasant.

Here's what I think of your grammar and spelling rules!

RYAN: You trippin’ if you think there’s anything grand bout using a $ in your name. Only a wannabe would try something like that. Methinks that’s what this Ke$ha person is. I dunno. Never actually heard of ‘em before this. But from what you saying, they some sort of transgendered alchoholic with horrible dental hygiene who preys on underage kids. That sound right? If you want people to think you money, don’t put no damn $ sign in your name. You show ‘em you money by flashin’ some cash and rollin’ in da bling. This Ke$ha character doin’ it all wrong. Even if that crazy fool’s worth $400 billion or not, that don’t mean a thing to me cause I’m fo’ sure not gonna see a penny of that. Nah, just gimme the $12.53 instead. $12.53, not Ke$ha, is gonna help me out. Cause it’ll be mine and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. I could buy myself a fly new DVD or go and take my lady friend out for a nice dinner at KFC. Or maybe I wanna invest that shit and turn it into hundreds, if not millions of dollars. With $12.53 in hand, the sky’s da limit.

SHAWN: Maybe you shouldn’t talk all street, good sir, when you’ve never even heard of top-selling hip-hop/dance artist Ke$ha. Something tells me you’ve just lost all street cred, and we should go ahead and ignore everything you have to say from here on out. Her hit track Tik Tok (spelled poorly for effect) was the first number one hit of the new decade by any artist, and clearly won’t be Ke$ha’s last time topping the charts. Oh, and what’s that? It also was the top selling digital single ever in a week by a female artist? Interesting. And you’ve never heard of her? Where do you live again? A cave in Afghanistan? Clearly, the dollar sign in her name is only a memorable supplement to her wondrous and crowd-pleasing melodies. She’s showing she’s money in and out, even in her name. That’s how it’s done. Maybe you should change your name to Ryăn since you’re short. Form meets meaning. And how are you flashing $12.53? You ain’t fooling nobody. Plus, seriously, how do you flash change? The sky is not the limit for $12.53; Whole Foods is. Or anywhere, really, where you have to spend a moderate amount of cash to get quality goods and/or services. Sorry they don’t have penny gumballs anymore. You should probably just eat the pennies straight.

All those haters can suck it. I got money, bitches.

RYAN: Ah, come on now. It ain’t my fault for not keeping up on all them top-selling hip-hop/dance artists. Those fools are a dime a freakin’ dozen. A new one pops up every week, and when they disappear two weeks later, another two step in their place. I couldn’t care less if she had the top selling digital single ever… in a week… by a female artist. When you got that many damn quantifiers on a stat, it only proves how much you strugglin’ to make your point. Who was she competing with for that specific week in time? Melissa Ethridge and the little known fourth member of the original Destiny’s Child? Wow, that stat is literally worth nothing. Tik Tok? That sounds like a damn nursery rhyme. We sure she not just lifting from Mother Goose? Whoever this Ke$ha person is, she’s clearly not worth a damn. But $12.53 sure as hell is. Maybe it’s won’t support your extravagant celebrity lifestyle of overpriced, organic foods, but it more than enough for all da real Americans out there who appreciate them little things in life. Lotto tickets. Candy bars. Colt 45s. $12.53 gets me plenty of all those things. Maybe I’ll take my $12.53 down to the strip club and make it rain for all those bitch. Sure, they might not like being pelted with pennies and quarters, but you ever seen a chick pick up change without her hands? When they do that, you know it’s tight.

SHAWN: For the record, Ke$ha’s been around for like two months, and even performed on Saturday Night freakin’ Live, so don’t say she’s disappearing two weeks later, you filthy lying whore. And, as for that statistic about her, do you really need me to start dumbing down stats? How about Best Opening Week for a Female Artist? Or Most Popular Song in the World (Yet Still Lost on Ryan)? And, yes, I added that last quantifier myself. And, what’s that? Ke$ha was competing with a whole host of other huge artists that week, like, oh, Lady Gaga and Rihanna—but you probably haven’t heard of them either, because they’re not Miley Cyrus, Rascal Flats, or Kenny Chesney in 3-D. Just because you can’t appreciate the adorable sounds of Tik Tok, doesn’t mean it’s Mother Goose. And what’s so bad from lifting from Mother Goose anyway? She’s just the number-one selling nursery rhyme author of all time. Wait, sorry—too many quantifiers? How about she’s just fucking awesome—is that better? Sorry to break this news to you, too: But while Ke$ha is entertaining millions, you’re not just missing out on a celebrity lifestyle, but a human lifestyle. Your $12.53 might get some candy bars, but only about 13 of them, so have fun surviving in two weeks. And I’d toss another argument out there, but when you’re throwing pennies at strippers, it sounds like you’ve already hit rock bottom. Have fun there, rolling in your “dough” and getting your copper poisoning on.

Next On Danger Queue: Success vs. Defeat—Everyone Kinda Wins!

DISCLAIMER: Wait 30 minutes after devouring human flesh before swimming.

SHAWN: Hello, Ryan. You’re looking especially…delicious today. Would you like to come over…for dinner? You can tell me where you like to shop, because you have great…taste. Ha ha! Awesome, no? It’s funny because I’m going to eat you. And jokes like those couldn’t even exist without the sassy, sweet cannibal. Cannibals are some of the most underrated and unique people around. Who eats other people? Not me, but these guys do! With exquisite, detailed taste, they throw off convention and enjoy a little neighborly potluck of neighbors. The only thing they’re offending is social norms. I mean, for all we know, human is chock-full of protein and other healthy vitamins and minerals, but we’re all too scared to dig in. Not cannibals. They love humanity, and some might say way too much. Not me. There’s nothing wrong with taking a bite out of society.

RYAN: There’s a reason why cannibalism is the last resort for people without food. It’s a despicable act that completely ignores the delicate balance of our time-tested food chain. Arrows going from every animal imaginable to humans; not arrows going from one human to another. It’s really not complicated. There’s no reading, just figures and animals, so even you should be able to grasp it. If people really want to stir things up—make a splash, if you will—they shouldn’t go to cannibalism. They should go with the cannonball. It’s only the best way to jump into a pool. That’s not an opinion. That’s science. It’s got more balls than the dive, and unlike the can-opener, the name actually makes sense. Best of all, it’s amazingly simple. All you do is jump and then tuck your legs and arms in. If it helps, just think of it as going into the fetal position, which we all know comes naturally to you.

Eating monkey is as close to cannibalism as science permits.

SHAWN: If you’re so obsessed with the food chain, you should probably just go throw yourself to the bears, wolves and dinosaurs right now, because you’re not the top of it. But, no, just because the food chain gives you a standard way to chain food doesn’t mean it always must happen that way. You and your conventions. Once again, cannibals know how to break free from the chains of oppression and do their own thing. Now, if you are into copying everyone else, and doing a diving stunt that peaked some time in the 1960s, feel free to go with the cannonball. Sure, you may look like a mentally challenged pedophile, diving into the pool with the standard move of fat 10-year-olds, but by all means go for it. And I don’t know why you think it has more balls than the dive, as you yourself compare it to fetal position. You just tuck all up so nothing hurts you, cry the name of the dive like a pussy and hop into the community pool. I know you like things simple and easy, so I won’t bother complicating them by telling you what end to dive into. Shallow’s fine.

RYAN: Why does a cannonball have more balls than a dive? I can’t believe you even asked that question. I just assumed everyone understood that, the same way I assume everyone knows it’s wrong to eat people. Dives are meek and pathetic. Like you. It’s the equivalent of saying, oh, I want to get in the water, but I want to do it in the quietest, most passive way possible. Cannonballs are aggressive and manly. Like me. Screaming “CANNONBALL” at the top of your lungs and then soaking everyone within a 20-foot radius lets people know who’s the boss. Plus, it’s way safer than a dive. I haven’t heard of anyone paralyzed from the neck down because they did a cannonball into the shallow end of a pool. As for cannibalism, I can’t even believe you’re still arguing this. Not only are you questioning the food chain, which we all know and love, but now you’re trying to paint cannibals as some sort of free-thinking revolutionaries. If you truly think cannibalism is great, then why haven’t you dabbled in it yourself? Cause you’re all talk. That’s why.

Looking manly there, dude!

SHAWN: How are dives meek and pathetic? Have you ever watched Olympic diving? Have you seen three flips, a triple sow-cow and a Rosie O’Donnell Tongue Twist lead into a flawless face-down landing? Yeah, it’s impressive, just like all dives where you actually go in head-first. Talk about balls! With a cannonball, you’re tucked all up, so as not to bruise your precious anything. Go back to your 12-inch kiddie pool, cannonball, where you belong. You even, in your heavily flawed argument, call cannonballs ballsy, immediately followed by calling them safe. And how is a children’s dive manly? Seriously, grown adults can’t be doing the cannonball, or they’ll be happily escorted from the pool, along with the child they inadvertently killed when they landed on him. And, oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t realize we were required to dabble in everything we argue on Danger Queue. I should get into cannibalism, just like you need to get into figure skating, Desert Eagles and generosity, which we all know ain’t happening. But even if I don’t participate, I can still appreciate the outside-the-box thinking the cannibal takes on. The fact that neither you nor I do it makes it even better! Not everyone can be a cannibal—you have to be special—while any idiot with a second-grade education (okay, make that first grade, so we can include you) can do a cannonball. Really innovative there, Captain Bland. You may want to spice up your argument with a little human.

RYAN: First off, everyone knows the face-down landing has to precede the Rosie O’Donnell Tongue Twist. At least if you want the full experience. Which, believe me, you do. Second off, stop distracting our readers by trying to turn this into cannonballs versus dives. All your talk of dives, while already ridiculous, is irrelevant because the real issue is cannonballs versus cannibalism. As I’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, cannonballs are nothing but great fun for people of all ages. And completely safe. You keep trying to convince us otherwise, which is funny not only because you’re failing miserably, but also because your coveted cannibalism is the exact opposite of safe. I might go as far as to say it’s unsafe. You’re eating another person, which will either leave them horribly scarred, maimed or possibly even dead. And who knows what the hell is going to happen to you. All those diseases carried in the bloodstream—well congratulations, cause now you’ve got them too. But maybe this new string of HIV will cancel out the one you’ve already got! Oh, wait, now you’re saying you’re not special enough to partake in cannibalism. Oh, that’s too bad. I know how much you wanted to try cannibalism. All you ever talk about is getting that one guy’s meat in your mouth. You know, that one young-looking guy you always see on the train. Or did you mean that in another context?

Next On Danger Queue: Ke$ha vs. $12.53—It’s Hard to Decide When They’re Both This Cheap