Best Book About Talking Animals?

Lowbrow Answer: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

Dear C.S. Lews,

Please take your poorly veiled attempts at Christian morality and shove them up your ass.

Your pal,

Jeffrey

p.s. Naming your heroic lion character "Aslan" makes him sound like a gay bartender in Soho.


Middlebrow Answer: Animal Farm
George Orwell's parable about Stalinist goverment is a classic. Using vicious dogs as secret police, power-hungry pigs take over a farm and basically enslave the other animals. What a fun adventure! I like to imagine little kids mistakenly picking this book off the shelf and reading it. I can just picture a seven-year-old terrorizing his family at the dinner table with socialist rants and an empassioned coups d'état of the mashed potatoes.

The whole thing's a little obvious, though. We get it, George. You're talking about human beings. The genius of satire is that it's subtle, but you've chosen to beat us over the head with it. Reading Animal Farm is like going to one of those new age plays where actors are running across the stage every ten minutes shouting, "This is theatre! This is theatre!" Just shut up already.


Highbrow Answer: Watership Down
This shit is so intense. I cried like eight times the first time I read it. The rabbits in this story are more cultured than I am. They speak their own language, enjoy a rich history of poetry and mythology, and practice democracy and leadership better than any regime that's been in charge of this country. Maybe we should elect a bunny in the next presidential election. At the very least he'd be smarter than George W.

The myth in the story is that all rabbits are descended from a demi-god rabbit called El-ahrairah, or, in English, "The prince with a thousand enemies." I'm sorry, but that's the coolest thing I've ever heard. I'm not religious, but I'd definitly convert if I got to pray to a epic mythical rabbit with an Arabic name.

Best Historical African Flag?

Lowbrow Answer: Lesotho (in use 1989 - 2006)
This thing looks like it could be the flag on the 12th hole at Augusta National Golf Course. I can just picture a group of overweight white bankers shitting themselves when they step off the plane in Lesotho and realize that it's a war-torn and AIDS-infested African country and not a massive golf resort.

And what's the deal with the crest? It looks like they've stabbed a penguin and stretched its skin out on a cutting board. That's the image you've chosen to represent your country? A flayed penguin? You bastards. I'm surprised Antarctica hasn't declared war on you just on principle.


Middlebrow Answer: Tunisia (in use 1574–1831)
Okay, the weird design is sort of cool. I like flags that aren't rectangles. I think more countries should do it. America could change our flag into the shape of a big hand giving the middle finger. Or maybe a cross. Either one would be accurate.

Other than the shape, however, this flag is boring as shit. Blue, red, and green technicolor stripes. It feels like it was designed with something that has an 8-bit video card, like the original Nintendo. I can just imagine this flag flying over Bowser's castle.


Highbrow Answer: Mozambique (in use 1975 - 1983)
Here's a flag that doesn't fuck around. Let's put an AK47 right on there. With a bayonet. None of this symbolic bullshit. This country was forged in blood and that's how it's always going to be. No use hiding it. I appreciate the honesty, Mozambique. Full highbrow points awarded.

Just imagine if other countries were as truthful with their flags:

Iceland - A small picture of the island sinking back into the ocean.
Saudi Arabia - An oil derrick.
China - A group of Tibetan monks bound in chains.
Ireland - A drunk leprechaun passed out on the street outside the Guinness factory.
USA - Uncle Sam sucking on the King of Saudi Arabia's balls.

Best Place to Keep your Money?

Lowbrow Answer: In a Wallet
This may surprise you, but I have no desire to sit on an awkwardly shaped and uncomfortable stack of my own credit cards and money all day long. I already have to lug this massive cock around, do I really need another thick leathery thing weighing me down?

At best, your wallet is a clearing house for useless shit you don't need. There are more expired condoms, pictures of your obnoxious nieces, and old movie tickets for "X-Men 2" than there is usable currency. Do yourself a favor and ditch it. Your nieces are ugly anyway, you shouldn't be showing those pictures to anybody.


Middlebrow Answer: In a Money Clip
It's sleek, it's metal, and it hides in your pocket. It sounds like some sort of futuristic vibrator. It's also only meant for money and credit cards. None of this extra bullshit, just the bare necessities. It's every man's fantasy: sex without the foreplay.

Of course, most people who use these have some sort of engraving on them like their name or the crest of their school. So as if I didn't already know you were a douchebag for going to Yale, now you have to prove it by putting the Bulldog on the thing that holds your money and your parent's credit card. You should just cut to the chase and put a bumper sticker on your car that says: "Avoid me, I'm a dickface."


Highbrow Answer: In your Majordomo's pocket
You think when Wagner went to an ice cream stand he pulled out a few Francs and paid for it himself? Fuck no. His Majordomo took care of that shit. You know how many grubby proletariat hands have been on a ten dollar bill? I want to throw up just thinking about it.

What ever happened to these guys, anyway? They're hardcore. It's like having a bodyguard who has a Ph.D. from the Sorbonne and speaks more eloquently than you do. I can't wait until my book about Obstructionist Poetry in 13th Century Mongol Europe is published and I can afford a Majordomo of my own. I'm going to name him "Fenwick."

Best Fashion Designer?

Lowbrow Answer: Prada
I thought the point of high fashion was that it's exclusive. Everyone I know has something by Prada. My little 7-year-old cousins have wallets, my sister-in-law has a bracelet, and I'm pretty sure my neighbors use a Prada purse as a pooper-scooper for their beagle.

And "The Devil Wears Prada?" Really? If you're going to attach your name to a film, you attach it to a surrealist Danish movie directed by Lars Von Trier and starring three French actors you've never heard of. You don't attach it to a dumb American film starring Anne Hathaway and Stanley Tucci. Are you insane? That's like sponsoring a basketball team and picking the Clippers.


Middlebrow Answer: Armani
He made all the suits for Christian Bale in "The Dark Knight." He was the first designer to ban models with a body mass index less than 18, in an effort to curb Anorexia. He has twice designed the jerseys for the English national soccer team.

Of course, he's also started opening restaurants with his name all over them. And he teamed up with Samsung to make a cell phone with his logo. Armani is like that annoying cousin that we all have. You know the one. He's always eating melted Snickers bars and he smells like pee. And you want to like him, but for every thing he does that's cool, there are three things he does that aren't.


Highbrow Answer: Valentino
If you're having a party to celebrate the anniversary of 45 years of your work and you hold that party at the Temple of Venus in Rome (built in 135 A.D.), then you can be highbrow. Until then, go back to Chuck 'E' Cheese and play your stupid ski-ball. Oh, and no big deal, but there's a color named after this guy. Like, a color in the spectrum. Called rosso Valentino. The only thing with your name on it is that terrible drawing of a moose you did in 2nd grade that still hangs on your mom's fridge.

Basically, here's the analogy. Valentino:Modern Couture Fashion :: God:Existence. Except God dresses like shit. Cut that beard and ditch the white robe. Get yourself an Italian suit, for Christ's sake. (Get it? "Christ's" sake? I'm hilarious)

*Holiday Break*

Hi Kiddos-

"Not Our Class, Dear" is off in New Hampshire for Memorial Day. New posts resume on Tuesday, May 26th.

Snuggles,

Karl

Best Way to Get a House?

Lowbrow Answer: Buy it
(Imagine happy 50's music playing in your head while you read this first paragraph.) Look at you, all domestic. Is that a white picket fence you've got there? And a golden retriever? And here comes your wife and two sons with some lemonade. How wonderful. Are those your Toyota Priuses in the driveway? Smart thinking. You could drive to three months of soccer practice and still have half a tank! Ha, ha, ha. Isn't life grand? Way to go, Dad.

Hey, newsflash. Domestic life blows. Your golden retriever will get run over by some sleepy neighbor and your white picket fence will rot. The lemonade has too much sugar in it and your sons will grow up to play lacrosse, major in investment-banking at a state school, and date-rape freshman girls at frat parties. All you've done by buying a house is lock yourself into all of that for the next 20 mortgage-paying years. It's like chaining yourself to the Titanic. Way to go, Dad.


Middlebrow Answer: Rent it
Sweet, sweet freedom. At least you are only ever committed to this for a year. You don't like it after twelve months? Go somewhere else. Something breaks? Call the landlord. Imagine if all of life were this simple. You could date a new girl each year, move from country to country your whole life, and always have different friends. Basically you'd be James Bond. I'm sure he rents.

Of course, renting is like having sex with a prostitute; you get some satisfaction now, but it's pretty wasteful spending in the long run. A better use of funds might actually be to invest in a permanent mistress, if you understand my metaphor.


Highbrow Answer: Build it Yourself from Scratch
I know that Nivea Skin Cream ads will tell you differently, but having weathered carpenter's hands is money. And possessing the technical know-how to construct an entire house is pretty badass. It's like those math kids you knew in high school that could do the proof that shows that 1=1. Most of us just assume it, but they can actually do it.

To stay with the prostitute metaphor from above, building your own house is like paying a hooker to let you give her head. Why do it? Because you can, that's why. Sure, it's probably more fun and less work to just have sex with her, but fuck that. You're an intellectual. You derive pleasure from impressing other people, not from getting pleasure yourself.

Best Summer Olympic Sport That's No Longer Played?

Lowbrow Answer: Tug of War (contested 1900-1920)
Really? This is the Olympics, guys, not recess at a kindergarten. How do you expect anyone to take these games seriously if next to the tennis matches there is a large group of men playing Tug of War. That's like trying to take the SATs while a drunk circus clown juggles saline breast implants at the front of the room.

And where did they get the athletes for this? Open tryouts? It's not like there are any professional leagues from which to pull team members. I'd like to think they put ads in the newspapers and just hired the first seven guys through the door that weighed more than 200 pounds. "Here's your ticket to Stockholm, bring us back the gold!"


Middlebrow Answer: Roque (contested 1904)
While this sounds like the name of about nine different Brazilian soccer players, it's actually a version of croquet that's played on a hard, smooth surface. Athletes wear slacks and collared shirts and there is no time limit. Classy. Any game that allows for tea breaks instantly rises above the proletariat.

Of course, this was only contested once and the only competitors were four Americans. Lame. No wonder our medal count was so high that year. Hey, I have an idea. Let's make "Run-around-my-roommate-Dave's-room-like-idiots-playing-laundry-polo-with-t-shirts-and-a-mini-soccer-ball" an Olympic sport. My friend Tommy and I will be the only two participants and the US will be guaranteed another gold medal. Awesome.


Highbrow Answer: Basque Pelota (contested 1900)
Tennis and squash are for pussies. Fuck rackets, let's use our hands. And let's have the ball be made of thick, hard rubber. I feel like this sport, which is still played today in Spain's northern regions, started as a joke and then people began taking it seriously. Kind of like Queen Latifah's acting career.

The best thing about Basque Pelota is that everybody who plays it has a seriously intense name. The champion in 1900 was José de Amézola y Aspizúa. Current top players include Oinatz Bengoetxea, Kepa Peñagarikano, and Inaxio Errandonea. Just imagine if NBA players had those names. I can just picture Marv Albert screaming, "Bengoetxea for three!" Then maybe I'd watch basketball.

Best Bodily Fluid?

Lowbrow Answer: Throw-Up
I'm sorry, but I'm not calling it "vomit." Just hearing it called that makes me want to throw up. There are three times in people's lives when this stuff comes up: when you're drunk, when you're sick, and when you're Bulimic. So let me address each.

Drunk: What are you, a freshman at Florida State? If you can't keep it down, then don't drink. Frat boy jerk-off.

Sick: Toughen up, you pussy. Maybe if you stop using all that hypo-antibacterial soap and avoiding anything with dirt on it then you'd get sick less often and you wouldn't be such a wuss.

Bulimic: Get over yourself, sweetheart. We like you because you're interesting and smart and funny, not because you're thin. Stop fleeing to the bathroom every time you eat. You're great just the way you are. Dumbass.


Middlebrow Answer: Semen
It is the juice that carries all life. The bringer of future generations. To coax it out, you must engage in passionate love-making, clutching at the panting body of your partner while clinging to waves of pure ecstasy. I have an emotional erection just thinking about it.

Or it's just cum. Splooge. Cupid's toothpaste. Chunky homestyle man chowder. And you can get some just by polishing the old dolphin. Semen is the most versatile liquid on earth. You can create a human life with it or you can shoot it onto the curtain of your dorm room. Either way, it's pretty fun making it.


Highbrow Answer: Gastric Acid
It's amazing to think that there's a liquid in your body that's strong enough to melt things. It's only one pH level below battery acid. Badass. If only I could scoop some out and put it into a spray bottle, I could finally get rid of that annoying cat next door.

I wish other things in your body were as dangerous. Imagine if your heart were actually a rabid mini-wolverine that popped out at villains if you were ever in trouble. Or if your blood could cause a special kind of Anthrax that only affected bad guys. I should sell that idea to Marvel. They could add Bloodthrax to the X-Men.

Best Video Game Controller?

Lowbrow Answer: Nintendo Game Cube
I'm pretty sure this is what sex toys will look like in the future. There are like, 27 buttons on this thing. I need 13 thumbs just to make it work. How complicated are the games on this system?! I want to play a video game, not operate a NASA spacecraft.

And do we really need all the color? Is this controller built by the Playskool Company? The vivid colors are supposed to be on the screen, not in my hands. I feel like I'm holding a chew toy for developmentally disabled puppies.


Middlebrow Answer: The Sega Genesis
Black on black is classy. I'm also pretty sure that Batman throws these things at bad guys. It has a good number of buttons, a simple directional pad, and a start button. No bells and whistles here, folks, just reliable fun. This is the Toyota Camry of the controller world.

Of course, who the fuck cares about the Genesis? The only Sega game I can even remember is Sonic the Hedgehog, and that sucked. You spent the whole game just watching Sonic ricochet off of things like a fuzzy pinball. The controller might be great, but it's useless if it's attached to a shitty console. Kind of Kevin Garnett before he came to the Boston Celtics.


Highbrow Answer: The Atari 5200
Is that a number pad? You bet your ass it is. Complete with pound sign and star buttons. It's everything you'd ever want in a controller. You could probably call 1953 with this bad boy.

What games require a number pad and a joystick? "Bank Teller Boxing?" "Math Team Extreme?" Whatever they are, they're decidedly highbrow. No racing or action-adventure games here, thanks. We'll stick to using the Atari to do long division at an alarmingly quick rate.

Best Country That Doesn't Exist Anymore?

Lowbrow Answer: Troy
Let me get this straight. You head down to the beach one morning for some surfing and body-boarding, and sitting there in the sand is a massive horse. So you take the horse inside your city and then a bunch of Greeks pop out and kill everyone. Nice work. How's it feel to get beaten by a giant My-Little-Pony?

And of all the baddasses living during this time, your leader was Hector? Just "Hector?" The guy who runs the fruit cart at the end of my block is called "Hector." The enemy has warriors with names like Ajax, Odysseus, and Achilles, and you've got "Hector?" Who are your other heroes? Tobey, Steve, and Justin? No wonder you were destroyed.


Middlebrow Answer: Carthage
When your leader is Hannibal and your warriors ride on elephants, you could be a race of talking Cupcakes and I'd still be terrified. You also somehow managed to occupy like, 4,000 miles of coastline along the Mediterranean Ocean, in the most beautiful part of the world. There must have been some pretty sweet Carthaginian Club Meds.

Of course, you fell to the Romans. The fucking Romans. Come on, Carthage, can you be any more cliche? Having your empire fall to Rome is like contracting herpes from that slutty cheerleader in your high school with the lazy eye. It's like, dude, you knew she had been with everybody. So don't act all surprised when you bone her and then your junk is suddenly itchy. I don't care how many times she winks that lazy eye at you, just stay away from her.


Highbrow Answer: Vermont
Didn't see this one coming, did ya? In 1777, Vermont declared independence and existed as an independent country for fourteen whole years until it finally chose to join the United States in 1791 as the 14th state. Suck on that, New Hampshire.

The whole independence thing was spearheaded by a guy called Ethan Allen. In case you weren't aware, he's the single most amazing dude ever. He chewed on nails to scare English soldiers, he started the American Revolution by taking Fort Ticonderoga, and he hung out with mountain men with names like Remember Baker and Gershom Beech. Hey Trojans, I bet if your leader were called Gershom Beech, you'd still be around. Morons.

Best Cereal Mascot?

Lowbrow Answer: The "Me Want Honeycomb" Furball
This little guy is the cartoon version of Kid Rock. On four kilos of methamphetamine. And with no legs. This is what happens when you let rednecks inbreed. I bet half the children in Arkansas will look like this by 2090.

This thing doesn't even speak proper English. "Me Want Honeycomb?" You sound like a five-year-old who's been huffing Elmer's all morning. Get a haircut and get a real job. Uneducated swine.


Middlebrow Answer: Snap, Crackle, and Pop
You know these dudes have a swinging bachelor pad somewhere. They get off work, hit a club or two, and then get hammered and pick fights with the Keebler Elves. They're the cereal version of the Hanson Brothers. The Hockey ones, not the singing ones.

That being said, their cereal is boring and their clothes are ridiculous. Who the hell dressed you? You look like backup dancers for Rosie O'Donnell.


Highbrow Answer: Count Chocula
Now this is class. Look at that suit. That, my friends, is fine Venetian silk with an Armani tuxedo shirt and custom-cut collar. And who rocks brown anymore? Count Chocula, motherfuckers, that's who. Brad Pitt couldn't even pull off this look.

Have you ever watched one of this dude's commercials? Check him out here. What a badass. His basement is full of cereal treasure and all he's got guarding it is a dopey spider. Why? Because would you fuck with Count Chocula's treasure? I didn't think so. Now sit down and shut up.

Best Chess Piece?

Lowbrow Answer: The Rook
Look at you. All thick and stout with a flattop haircut. You're the chess version of a Duke Lacrosse player. You're the piece most likely to date-rape one of the female pawns: "Come back to my square later, baby, we'll have some boxed-wine and Captain Morgan."

And you can only move in straight lines? What are you, six? You move like a donkey wearing blinders, only you aren't wearing any blinders. You're the opposite of having Cerebral Palsy; your body works just fine but your mind is an idiot.


Middlebrow Answer: The Bishop
He hangs out right next to the king and queen, which means he's kind of important by association. It's like how those people you always see in the background of pictures of the president are the ones who are really running shit. He's religious, however, which immediately loses him points. The highbrow elite don't spend Sundays in church, they spend Sundays outside the church, making fun of those that are inside.

Moving diagonally is kind of awesome, because it means the bishops are the only pieces that stay on one color square for the whole game. None of this mingling with the masses shit. I'm perfectly happy on just the black squares, thanks. Although, is it ironic to anybody else that the bishop is the piece that looks the most like an erect penis? I smell a lawsuit.


Highbrow Answer: The Knight
This dude is so highbrow that he doesn't even believe in normal geometry. No straight lines for me, thanks, I'll just move in "L's". He doesn't stand next to the King and Queen because fuck the King and Queen. They can take care of themselves; he's got women to bone and non-linear movements to make.

Oh, and jumping other pieces? No problem. You really think he's going to let the proletariat keep him from going where he pleases? If only life were like that. The highbrow elite could have special cars that let them leapfrog the idiots. Then we would always get to work on time for our jobs as sit-around-and-think-of-highbrow-stuff-and-publish-books-that-nobody-will-read-ers.

Best Place to go when you Die?

Lowbrow Answer: Heaven
The problem with Heaven is that it's full people who are either really boring or totally insane. Just think about all the Evangelical Christians that will be up there with you. Or those kids you knew in college who spent all day playing Warcraft and used ping-pong tables to actually play ping-pong. Boooring.

And I don't care how nice Heaven itself is. I don't care if you spend all day watching action movies, eating buffalo wings, and getting fellated by Joan of Arc. It's all about the people you're with. Kind of like how a Caribbean Cruise would be horrifying if you were on a boat full of Dick Cheneys.


Middlebrow Answer: Hell
Whether you were fucking too much, drinking too much, or killing too much, at least you had fun on earth. Sure, fire and brimstone might be kind of intense, but you'd probably get a great tan. Plus, pain is kind of sexy. It's like how you used to get a boner when that nun in 4th grade would smack you with a ruler.

And if Heaven is full of boring people, just think of who you'd meet in Hell. Hitler, Charles Manson, Judas, those Velociraptors from "Jurassic Park." There'd be no shortage of good conversation down there. I can't wait to play "Risk" with Franco, Atila the Hun, and Pol Pot. Now THAT would be interesting.


Highbrow Answer: Nowhere
You believe in an afterlife? Please. Name me three top-level philosophers or cultural theorists who weren't atheists or agnostics. See, you can't do it. Believing that our souls go somewhere after we die is like trying to argue that The Barenaked Ladies are an awesome band: you just sound like an idiot.

If you think this one through logically, it basically means that you become a plant. Your body rots in the ground, eventually becomes soil, and then becomes some natural florae. High. Brow. You can go off to heaven and fly fighter jets all day, I'm just gonna chill here as a fern and contimplate the meaning of life.

Best Soda?

Lowbrow Answer: Mountain Dew
I try to avoid ingesting anything whose color does not occur in nature. Although, on second thought, I think large portions of Chernobyl were neon green after the meltdown, so I guess the color of Mountain Drew isn't entirely fabricated.

I love that the marketing strategy for this stuff is four morons doing extreme sports and then telling you to "Do the Dew." "Do the Dew" sounds like something a liquid ecstasy-peddling drug dealer would advise, and do I really want to drink something that's going to make me more like the spikey-haired Arizona State dropout that's standing alone on a plateau wielding an orange mountain bike? How the hell did he get up there in the first place?


Middlebrow Answer: A&W Root Beer
Started in 1919, this root beer was originally the "house wine" of the A&W restaurant chain. It was made by hand and served on tap. Getting root beer on tap is one of those things you dream about when you're an eight-year-old kid, along with chewing 100 pieces of bubblegum at once and watching an angry dinosaur eat your school.

While it's tasty indeed, this shit is peddled by The Great Root Bear. Sorry, but anytime you humanize an animal to sell your product, you're going to lose points. What species of bear is it anyway that wears an orange sweater and cap, and is always carrying a mug of root bear? I feel like he wouldn't survive very long in Northern Alaska. Although, he's probably always warm and rarely thirsty.


Highbrow Answer: Moxie
This shit is disgusting. It's basically carbonated motor oil. Created in 1884, it's older than Coke or Pepsi and is the grandfather of all carbonated beverages. And like most highbrow things in this country, you can only really find it in New England. Ahh, good ole New England. Home to Harvard, Clam Chowda, Yale, MIT, Yankee Swaps, Robert Frost, and Moxie. Impressive, eh?

Still not convinced? Then consider the fact that Calvin Coolidge, E.B. White, and Ted Williams were all avid fans of the drink. How's THAT for celebrity sponsorship. Any drink that prides itself on the affections of an early 20th century president is definitely highbrow. I can just imagine other companies turning to historical figures for their marketing. Nike could create a line of running shoes based on Moses' travels in the desert: "Just Jew It."

Best Pet?

Lowbrow Answer: A Dog
Owning a dog is like having a child that never gets older than two. Newsflash: two-year-old children suck ass. They run into stuff, they poop in your yard, and they can't be left alone. I don't get it. Is having a golden retriever bring you back a tennis ball every time you throw it really that rewarding? If I threw a tennis ball and he brought me back a 17th century oil painting, then maybe I'd be impressed.

I'm also not down with the whole eternal optimism thing. You come home, the dog is happy. You turn on the TV, the dog is happy. Your father's face melts off in a horrible mining accident, the dog is happy. Sorry pooch, but the world is not full of smiles and rainbows and ice cream. It's full of suffering and disease and circus clowns with AK47's. Have the sense to be depressed once in a while. Dumb dog.


Middlebrow Answer: A Box Turtle
Reptiles rule. You don't think so? I'm sorry, are your ancestors dinosaurs? Is anyone on your family tree three stories tall with jaws that could crush a Buick? I didn't think so. These guys are low maintenance, they look pretty, and they spend most of their time chilling in the sun. Man, that actually sounds pretty good. I should start dating a Box Turtle.

Box Turtles are, however, a little wimpy. If shit goes bad, they just hide in their shell and hope it all works out? Fuck that. I want a pet that will fight for my honor when bullies call me names, not one that will retreat inside his shell while I get wedgied and noogied by the lacrosse team. Grow a pair, Box Turtle.


Highbrow Answer: A Slow Loris
This, my friends, is a pet. You can only really get them in Southeast Asia, so pack your bags for Jakarta. They're pre-evolutionary chimpanzees that hang out in trees and slowly eat oranges. And their defense mechanism is something called Dynamic Locomotion, which is when they move with the same pace and rhythm as the leaves around them to blend in and go unseen by predators. So, basically, they're Mini Monkey Ninjas. I want one. Or twelve.

They're also endangered, which makes having one illegal in most places. But having a pet Loris is like owning artifacts that were plundered from The Pyramids: you shouldn't really have it, but it's kinda cool that you do.

Best Way to Get Lunch at Work?

Lowbrow Answer: Bring it from home
What are you, eight years old? Did your mom pack that for you? What do you have there? A ham and cheese sandwich on white bread? And a Jello cup? How precious. Let's go play on the monkey bars after you finish those Dunkaroos. (If you just got nostalgic when I mentioned Dunkaroos, punch yourself in the face for me.)

The best part here is that your food sits in a Tupperware container all day so that when you finally eat your crappy sandwich, it smells like sterilized old people. Mmmm, tastes like geriatric care.


Middlebrow Answer: Buy it at a restaurant
At least here you don't have to do any work. You just hand your hard-earned dollars to some acne-faced prole making minimum wage and he'll whip something up for you. He might spit it in your food first, but hey, just think of it as an added shot of protein.

Of course, any restaurant in a business district will be packed during the lunch rush, so you're forced to stand in line with a hundred other people who are dressed identically to you and just as unhappy in corporate America as you are. And you get that same depressing feeling like when you show up at an orgy and everyone in the room, including you, is a little overweight. It's just sad.


Highbrow Answer: Don't eat lunch
Even the absolute best lunch foods are horrifying. Who invented this shit? It's all sandwiches or fried meat. Or both. You aren't some mushy-brained invalid; you're highbrow. You don't need a break three hours after you get to work to surround yourself with morons munching away on personal pizzas from Papa Gino's and talking about whether the Boston Red Sox made the right decision to pull David Ortiz from the lineup. Kill me. And the Red Sox.

And what's with lunchtime turning everything into a salad? Potato salad, macaroni salad, seafood salad. Don't we just eat food anymore? Do we need to dress it up in salad every time? Look, let's say I'm getting into bed with a naked girl. Sure, some kinky role-playing or lusty foreplay is fine now and then, but at the end of the day, I just want some simple, meat-and-potatoes fucking. Call me old fashioned.

Best Olympic Winter Sport

Lowbrow Answer: Men's Ice Hockey
Do we really need another chance to watch toothless morons run into each other at 45 mph? Already nobody watches the NHL, you really think people are waiting with baited breath for that awesome match between Estonia and Belarus? I doubt it. Maybe they could spice it up a little and use a live puppy instead of a puck. Then I'd watch. Or at least maybe set my TiVo.

Keeping Ice Hockey in the Olympics is like putting a goat skeleton in a natural history museum. Sure it makes sense, but if we're going to the natural history museum, we're going to see the Velociraptors and tyrannasaurs, not the lame goat skeleton. Fucking goats with their gross cheese and crazy facial hair.


Middlebrow Answer: Bobsledding
Hey guys, I have an idea. Let's dress up like condoms, stick a big ice skate in our asses, and shoot down a long frozen tube as fast as we can. It'll probably feel something like being birthed by a polar bear. Oh, and if we crash, there's a good chance our necks get broken.

Okay, I can talk shit about Bobsledding all I want, but we all know that it's kind of awesome. It's like every 11-year-old boy's dream: to ride in a rocket with your three best friends. That and seeing a boob. Just one is fine. They're only eleven, they aren't greedy.


Highbrow Answer: Biathlon
Combining weapons with sports is the best idea I've ever heard. Let's add land mines to the NFL or use hand grenades instead of baseballs. Then maybe I'd feel like professional athletes' inflated salaries were deserved.

This sport started in 1861 when Norway's Trysil Rifle and Ski Club began training soldiers to ski and shoot as a form of national defense. So let's just get this straight. In 1861 America, we're blowing the crap out of each other in the first year of the Civil War. In 1861 Norway, they're skiing all day and then shooting at targets. Now that's highbrow. I gotta move to Scandinavia. Get myself a little hut in the snowy woods where I can read Engels all day and masturbate to lurid pictures of Arctic Foxes.

Best Flightless Bird?

Lowbrow Answer: Turkeys
Was somebody making a joke when these things were invented? Huge fat body, little tiny bald head, and a goatee made of skin. Consequently, I'm pretty sure "Skin Goatee" is the name of Jenna Jameson's latest project. The turkey did get a bit unlucky with the whole Thanksgiving thing. Imagine if there were a holiday that was basically dedicated to eating you. Probably sends your life insurance premium through the roof.

And what's with the gobble? It sounds like somebody trying to play a trumpet underwater. Of all the scary animal noises in the world, from growls to roars, the turkey gets the gobble? That's some genetic misfortune if I've ever seen it. Kinda like being born with only one eye or having Paris Hilton as a sister.


Middlebrow Answer: Penguins
Instant points for always wearing a tuxedo and for hanging out in an environment that can get as cold as 1800 degrees below zero or some crazy shit. I admire your class in the face of certain death. Reminds me of death row inmates who insist on brushing their teeth and combing the hair for their big day.

Here's the bad news, fellas. You all look like butlers. Or limo drivers. Or waiters, depending on the restaurant. You also spend most of your time sliding around on your belly and swimming, which basically means you spend all day in a water park. Highbrow people spend all day lamenting the fall of humanism, not plunging down The Geronimo at Surf Coaster.


Highbrow Answer: Silkies
Look at this thing. Have you ever seen a more arrogant-looking animal in your life? I want to beat it up right now and I've never even met one. Its feathers are soft and silky (hence the name), it has blue earlobes, and it's one of the only birds in the chicken family with five toes instead of only four. I can just see it strutting around the forest, mocking the other animals by waving its five fingers and reciting Proust.

The silkie was first discovered by Marco Polo, who wrote about "chickens with fur-like plumage" during his travels in the 13th century. Badass. Being in Marco Polo' s journals is kind of like being in the Bible. Middle school-age children will be forced to read about you for the rest of time.