Best Indians?

Lowbrow Answer: Indians from Cleveland
God, I hate baseball. Let's sit around for three-and-a-half hours and watch overweight rednecks spit chewing tobacco at each other. Awesome. Sign me up. And as if the game weren't already bad enough, the Cleveland Indians suck at it. They haven't won the World Series since 1948. I know that everyone loves "Major League," but come on; your franchise's claim to fame is a Charlie Sheen movie? Since when was that something to brag about?

And let me get this straight. You're choosing a mascot and you go with "Chief Wahoo?" Really? I would love to have been in the room when that decision was made.

Executive 1: How about a cartoon Indian Chief who looks like a meth-addicted pedophile?
Executive 2: I like it.
Executive 3: I love it.
Jeff: Are you on crack?


Middlebrow Answer: Indians from India
If you're from India, chances are you're Hindu. Which means you pray to epically awesome deities like Ganesha and Shiva and that one that looks like a drunken chimpanzee. If I have the choice between worshiping an angry, thirteen-armed Elephant man or a boring, lives-with-his-parents carpenter from Bethlehem, I think you know which way I'm going to go. Here's a hint: it's the angry, thirteen-armed Elephant man.

Although, to be fair, India needs to get its fucking act together. They've got way too many people, way too much flooding, and way too much not enough food. How about we put down those cricket bats and start problem-solving, eh India? Oh, and I'm sorry, but there's no way that cows are sacred. God is laughing at you, I promise. Now Platypuses - that's another story. Those things are awesome.


Highbrow Answer: Indians from North America
Good lord, it must be rad to be an Indian. Have you ever seen "Last of the Mohicans?" Killing deer with a bow-and-arrow from 400 yards away, tracking people through the woods using only footprints and the smell of local flora, shouting, "Stay alive - I will find you" to hot white chicks. The closest I ever get to being an Indian is when I shop for moccasins at LL Bean.

You'll find no group of people with more broken dreams than the Native Americans. Intentional smallpox infections, genetic alcoholism, the Trail of Tears, falsified treaties, and the Washington Redskins are all part of America's giant "Fuck Off" to Native Indians. Maybe someday they'll fight back and scalp half of congress in a massive horse-ridden attack on Washington DC. It'd be okay with me as long as Orrin Hatch was in the half they got.

It's Saturday Night. I'm Super Excited to...

Lowbrow Answer: Get Drunk at a Bar.
Can somebody please explain bars to me? I don't get it. You stand in a tiny room that smells like the inside of the machine they use to pump the stomachs of freshmen girls at Florida State so that you can overpay for shitty alcohol and yell into your friends' ears from seven inches away. Man, that sounds awesome. I can see why EVERYBODY loves it so much. Sign me up.

Who are you meeting at these places? Any girl who's even remotely attractive is surrounded by three fatties and a gay dude, anyway. At minimum, talking to her will cost you four Vodka-Sodas and a healthy groping from "Paul." Gag me. Instead, why not just drink the four Vodka-Sodas yourself and watch in amazement as the ugly girls you had previously ignored transform into Penelope Cruz.


Middlebrow Answer: Dance My Face Off.
Dancing rules. It's the only social interaction that allows you to ram your junk into some girl's crotch without being maced. Plus you're on your feet and getting some exercise. Good for you. Keep at it. Maybe someday you'll loose that Freshman Fifteen and people will like you again.

Hey. Legions of white dudes in button-downs and polo shirts. Learn how to dance or stay the fuck out of my way. I don't come to your stupid football games and try to jump in at Wide-Receiver; don't come to my club and jerk around arhythmically while you make "fag" jokes and drink Corona. Ladies - you're partly to blame for this. If you see a douchebag who can't dance; don't dance with him. You wouldn't get into a car with somebody who didn't know how to drive, would you?


Highbrow Answer: Stay Home and Read Proust
Can you say, "Clinically depressed existential French repressed homosexual?" Proust can! This dude is the man. He starts writing essays at the age of eleven, he founds a literary review while he's still in school, and and he literally becomes nocturnal in his later years. He's most famous for a seven-part epic novel called, "À la Recherche du Temps Perdu," which loosely translates to, "I'm Marcel-fucking-Proust, Who the Hell are You?"

Home is great. All your shit is there, you don't have to pay for anything, and you can do whatever you want. Feel like eating a peanut butter and pickles sandwich? Go for it! Need to watch Die Hard 2? All yours! Wanna dry hump your teddy bear while listening to Michael Bolton and crying about your ex-girlfriend? Be my guest! You're in charge! Huzzah!

Best Care Bear?

Lowbrow Answer: Funshine Bear
"Funshine?" Really? Is that even a word? Somebody must have been huffing Xanex when they came up with this yellow idiot. Apparently Funshine Bear is the joker of the group, but given that this is the Care Bears, I wonder how incisive his pranks really are: "Oh, Funshine Bear. You gave me three hugs instead of two! Good one!" He should up his game and start playing some real practical jokes. Like lacing Wish Bear's coffee with Arsenic, for example. Hilarious!

I can't stand happy people. Wandering through life with vacant grins and wearing Dave Matthews Band t-shirts. Morons. Hey Funshine Bear. Why don't you go spend a year in Mogadishu and see if you're still smiling after you catch shrapnel in your knee from a carbomb and a radical Islamist rapes your wife with a copy of the Qur'an. Oh, and the Dave Matthews Band sucks balls.


Middlebrow Answer: Good Luck Bear
Good Luck Bear is a bad-ass. He's Kelly green, speaks with an Irish accent, and has a four-leaf clover on his tummy. I hear he also drinks a pint of Guinness with breakfast and has connections to the IRA. I wonder what Care Bear terrorism looks like. Probably just drive-by huggings and Molotov Cocktails made from juice boxes and peppermint sticks.

The problem with Good Luck Bear is that it's not like any of his lucky magic is being used for cool shit. He's not rolling up to Vegas with that slut Love-a-Lot Bear on his arm and winning 60-grand at the Craps tables. He's not getting any action on the Holyfield vs. Tyson fight, ya know? He's wasting all his talents on helping underprivileged homosexual unicorns or whatever the hell it is they do on this show.


Highbrow Answer: Grumpy Bear
Hey, you know what's shitty about life? EVERYTHING. People are drowning in floods in India. Oil is leaking into the Gulf of Mexico. "Glee" is doing a Brittany Spears episode. There's no sense in ignoring it; you may as well embrace it. Grumpy Bear doesn't fuck around with useless things like smiling or hugging or being nice. He's too busy stabbing his arms with a sewing needle and writing lyrics for the metal band he's in.

Grumpy Bear has a big gray rain cloud on his tummy and is described as being cynical, surly, and rarely happy. Sounds like every cultural theory professor I've ever met. My kind of man. Grumpy Bear is also famous for negative sayings like "Bumbling Bitterbugs" or "Tishie-Tags," although I like to think what he really means is "Fuck this shit" or "I need a whiskey."

Best American Tall Tale?

Lowbrow Answer: Johnny Appleseed
Little known fact - Johnny Appleseed worked as a missionary for the Swedenborgian Church. No, really. The charity apple trees were just a conversation tactic: "My apples are crunchy and delicious, just like Jesus Christ." The Swedenborgian Church is an oddball offshoot of Christianity headed by a lunatic named Emanuel Swedenborg. You may know him by his nickname, "Sir TalksToGod McCrazyPants."

I'm sorry, but wandering around the country wearing a frying pan on your head and planting apple trees don't make you a folk hero - it makes you an irrational hobo. And why apples? Couldn't you give away something useful, like five-dollar bills or loaves of bread or iPhones? I can almost hear the excited shouts of poor villagers everywhere: "Hooray! Here comes Johnny Mac-Book-Pro!"


Middlebrow Answer: John Henry
Workers build railroads. Steam engine arrives, takes workers' jobs. Biggest, blackest dude ever challenges steam engine to race. Big black dude shits on steam engine's face. Big black dude dies. This story has everything: subtle dialectic on capitalist labor issues, commentary on post-modern race relations in a technological world, and a huge black dude kicking some ass with a sledge hammer. Yes please.

Although, if you're John Henry, what the hell are you doing working on the railroad? You beat a steam engine in a tunneling race, for Christ's sake. Imagine what you could do in the NFL. Or as a Designed Hitter in Major League Baseball: "Now batting for the Boston Red Sox, with 247 home-runs this season and an average of .787, John Henry." Then you could make some money and buy yourself some actual pants to replace those vagrant overalls.


Highbrow Answer: Old Stormalong
Alfred Bulltop Stormalong was a 30-foot-tall sailor from Boston who captained a massive ship called "The Courser." The vessel was so big that a stable of Arabian horses was kept aboard for his crew to get from one end of the deck to the other. Riding an Arabian horse while on a boat is the awesomest thing I've ever heard. Imagine if you were having sex with Penelope Cruz on top of the Arabian horse on top of the boat. Or if you were watching "Braveheart" while having sex with Penelope Cruz on top of the Arabian horse on top of the boat. Man, I wish I were a sailor.

You know how most mythic heroes had some arch-nemesis they spend their whole life battling? Ahab and the Whale, Beowulf and Grendel, Billy Madison and O'Doyle. Old Stormalong had one of those too. You may have heard of it. It was called The Kraken. Like, the motherfucking KRAKEN. The best part is that he died fighting it. With his bare hands. You have to respect any person who sees the Kraken, rolls up his sleeves, and thinks, "Let's do this."

Best Way to Avoid a Speeding Ticket?

Lowbrow Answer: Don't Speed
Booooooring. What, you want me to actually drive 35 mph? Are you kidding? I'm, like, a huge deal. I have places to be. People to let fawn over me. I can't be driving no speed limit. The speed limit is for grannies and nerds and people who watch "CSI: Miami." Fuck you, David Caruso. You can kiss my 55 mph ass.

I'm not into laws, anyway. They take all the fun out of life. I can't smoke inside, I can't skateboard in the Louvre, I can't stab my obnoxious neighbor with a 15th century Japanese broadsword, I can't marry my 18-year-old Jamaican pool boy in Texas. If I followed all the laws of this world, my life would be nothing more than a dull series of meals and masturbation until I died.


Middlebrow Answer: Buy a Radar Detector
There is something pretty James Bond about a radar detector. It seems like one of those impossible gadgets that only exist in action movies. Like guns that shoot around corners or that giant battering ram that looks like a wolf from Lord of the Rings. Imagine if James Bond had one of those. Man, he'd be unstoppable: "Ms. Moneypenny. Load that giant Wolf's Head battering ram thing into the back of my Aston Martin. I have a debt to settle with Goldfinger."

Although, have you ever noticed how everyone that has one of these is a douchebag? You never see some nice homemaker with a radar detector. It's always some asshole in a 1989 Thunderbird with bumper stickers on the back that say, "Make mine veal" and "No means yes, and yes means harder." Fuck those dudes. If only there were some sort of plague that was transmitted through Ed Hardy clothing. Then we'd be rid of them for good.


Highbrow Answer: Murder the Police Officer
This is going to be awesome, I promise. When the cop comes over to your window and says, "Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" You just turn to him, squint your eyes, and say, "Not as fast as the bullets from this Gatling Gun." He'll then say, "What Gatling Gun?" That's when you pull out your Gatling Gun and spray him in the face with it. You'll be a legend forever. Not even Bruce Willis is that cold. Score!

Murder is pretty awesome. It has all the ingredients of highbrow soup: violence, emotional distress, ruined families, and heartless brutality. Now, I know what some of you are thinking. Let me just tell you that you're wrong. Murder isn't sad and terrible. VH1's television programming is sad and terrible. Paris Hilton's vagina is sad and terrible. Murder is ruthless and cruel. Hmmm, what else is ruthless and cruel? Oh, that's right. LIFE ITSELF.

Best Way to Ask a Woman for Sex?

Lowbrow Answer: "Do you want to come over and watch a movie?"
Really? You meet a pretty girl in a bar and this is the line you use? You sound like an undergraduate econ major at some bourgeoisie New England college for kids who didn't get into Harvard. You know, like Trinity or Amherst. Gross. The only women you're going to get with this line will be polo shirt-wearing, sailing-in-the-summer-skiing-in-the-winter, daddy's little girl sorority sisters who will be booooooring in bed anyway. I'd rather watch paint dry.

Let's say you do actually get a girl to come home with you. Then what? You gonna actually sit down and watch a movie? Which one? How about The Goonies? You're already acting like an infant, you may as well go all the way. Besides, nothing gets a lady more in the mood than watching Sloth and Chunk make fun of that kid who played the fat hobbit in Lord of the Rings.


Middlebrow Answer: "You look tired. You want a massage?"
There's something a little smarmy about inviting a woman to take her clothes off to let you rub her, and acting like you're doing her a favor. Like she owes you something after you cover her in scented oil and rub her jubblies. Come on. You don't see armed robbers wandering into a Wells Fargo and volunteering to take some cash out of the vault so that the bank saves storage space.

I will say this: giving massages sucks. It hurts my hands, it takes forever, and all the woman does is lie there like a dead salmon, moaning about how hard her day was. I'm happy to do it, of course; I'm just sayin'. Ladies, just be sure to reward your man after he gives you a massage with something like a blowjob or football tickets or a blowjob.


Highbrow Answer: "Do you want to have sex?"
Here's a piece of advice for all you horny men out there: woman aren't idiots. They may be emotional and they may be irrationally excited about "Sex and the City," but they're not stupid. So why not man up and just say what you're thinking? They may reject your offer, but at least they'll respect your forwardness. What do you have to lose except your pride and your ego and your self-respect? Who the hell needs those things anyway?

The other point to remember is that any girl you meet is just as horny as you are; she's just better at hiding it. Women are like French pastries; soft and dainty on the outside, dark and naughty on the inside. You meet a cute girl and want to have sex with her? Cut the bullshit and tell her. She'll probably get turned on by your directness. Trust me, later, when she's ramming a nine iron up your ass and riding you like a schizophrenic jockey, you'll be happy you didn't wuss out and ask her to come over and watch a movie.

Who Should Bella Swan Be With?

Lowbrow Answer: Edward Cullen
Hey. Broody McGee. This isn't a Calvin Klein commercial; stop staring wistfully off-camera. And what's with the anguish? You're wealthy, you're immortal, and you're dating the hottest chick in town. Why don't you take off your pouty-pants and have some fun. Go bowling. Fly a kite. Stop acting like the lead singer of some Canadian indie band that opened for the Arcade Fire once but that nobody's ever heard of.

There is literally no reason for Bella to be in love with this doofwang. He's freezing cold, he can't bone her without ripping her to shreds, he's all obsessed with marriage, he's like 158 years old, and he plays stupid mind games. (Like purposely mentioning marriage in front of Jacob. Heartless bastard.)

To summarize. Edward is a frigid, elderly, abstinent conservative who says mean things to hurt others. So, Orrin Hatch. Bella is in love with Orrin Hatch.


Middlebrow Answer: Jacob Black
Does anybody else wonder where Jacob is keeping all these pairs of khaki shorts? He morphs into a wolf, his shorts rip off, and then he's back into human form with a brand new pair. Does he have a secret butler or something? Where is he buying them? His khaki shorts budget must be huge. I sure hope he has a member card at the Gap.

Jacob is the fucking man. He's handsome, he's loyal, and he's honest. He's the human version of a Golden Retriever. Plus you could do your laundry on his abs. He's also Native American, which means if you married him, your kids would get totally sweet deals on college tuition. Bonus.


Highbrow Answer: Alice Cullen
Fuck Edward and Jacob. Stupid boys. Who wants all that male ego and testosterone when you can have Alice's sultry smile and smooth skin? Alice is hot. She's smart, she's sexy, and I bet hooking up with her would be something like riding a bull that's high on PCP. Yeee-haw.

Oh, and no big deal, but Alice can SEE THE FUTURE. Um, awesome. Think of how much easier your life would be. Hey Alice, am I going to get that job that I want? Hey Alice, will Barack Obama get reelected? Hey Alice, is this thing on my butt just a pimple or should I go see a doctor? Oh, Alice, I love you.

Best Outdated Science?

Lowbrow Answer: Eugenics
You know your "science" is in trouble when I can disprove the whole field in one short blog entry. Let's look at some of the primary tenants of Eugenics, shall we? Come on along with me.

1. Black or brown people are quantitatively dumber than white people.
Oh, yeah. Because Frederick Douglass, Gandhi, and Nelson Mandela are fucking idiots.

2. Black or brown people are physically inferior to white people.
Can you say, "Jesse Owens?"

3. People with physical deformities are lesser human beings than those that are able-bodied.
I guess you're right on that one. I mean, what did retards like Stephen Hawking, FDR, or Itzahk Perlman ever do for me?

Eugenics can blow me. Human diversity is rad. Nazis suck. And REM is the best band ever. (Okay, that last one doesn't really go, but it's still true.)


Middlebrow Answer: Alchemy
Alchemy is an ancient art that attempts to change base metals into gold. Literally, it's using chemistry to make money. And by "make money," I don't mean like how a chemist today would go into his soul-sucking corporate douche job at Pfizer and spend all day creating boner medicine makes money. I mean like taking a wad of raw Aluminum or copper or whatever and using rad chemicals like Borax to literally turn it into money. Awesome.

(Speaking of Borax, how great a name would that be for a Scandinavian Metal Band? Right?)

There is one problem with Alchemy; it doesn't work. Like, at all. So when you say you're an "Alchemist," what you're really saying is, "I'm a failure." It's the same as introducing yourself as a Cold-Fusion physicist or a member of the 1980 USSR Olympic hockey team or Lindsay Lohan. Nobody wants to be those things. Especially that last one.


Highbrow Answer: Kremlinology
No, really, this is a serious thing. I didn't make it up. It's the study of Soviet politics in an effort to understand the inner workings of an opaque central government. If you don't have a highbrow boner from that definition alone, stop reading this blog. No, I mean it. Stop reading. Why don't you go see what's happening in the Charlie Sheen case over on TMZ.com or wherever it is that you get your horrid prole news. Go ahead. I'll wait.

What's great about Kremlinology is that all of its leading scholars are obscure philosophers from the 1940's and 50's. Badasses like Zbigniew Brzezinski, Llewellyn Thompson, and Hélène Carrère d'Encausse. I think I'm going to buy a litter of puppies and name them all after famous Kremlinologists. It'll be a great way to meet women at the dog parks.

Me: "Hey, I like your dogs. What are their names?"
Hot Brunette: "Rover and Milo. How about yours?"
Me: "The little one is Llewellyn and the dalmatian is Zbigniew."

Best Judd Apatow Film?

Lowbrow Answer: Knocked Up
See, the point of romantic comedies is that you're supposed to like the main characters. I shouldn't be spending the entire film wanting to ram a Mongolian Horse into the anus of the lead actress. Can somebody just shoot Katherine Heigl already? Aryan bitch. Her continued existence is a mockery of modern cinema, just like the Transformers movies or the Wayans Brothers.

And I'm sorry, but this isn't the 1500's. You don't have to keep a baby that you don't want. You get pregnant by some dumbass with a Jew-fro, you abort that shit. Grab a rusty coat-hanger and pull it right out of there. If for no other reason than the kid is going to grow up to look like Seth Rogen. And nobody wants that.


Middlebrow Answer: Funny People
Involves death or cancer in some way: +1 point
Involves dramatic comedy or comedic drama in some way: -1 point
Involves semi-coherent conversations about existentialism: +1 point
Involves poorly-written jokes about boobs and penises: -1 point
Involves Eric Bana: +2 points
Involves Seth Rogen: -2 points
Involves watching rugby: +1 point
Involves watching Adam Sandler: -1 point

Well. Look at that. Dead even.


Highbrow Answer: There isn't one
Here's the thing. Using rambling and incoherent dialogue may make your film sound more "believable" and "realistic," but it also makes your characters look... Oh, I dunno, rambling and incoherent. Yes, your dialogue sounds real. I get it, the characters talk over each other and say "Umm" and "Ahh." But I didn't come to the movies to get closer to idiot, sex-crazed teenagers; I came to the movies to get farther away from them. Well, that and to see the previews. God, I love previews.

The biggest problem with Apatow, however, is that all of his films are the fucking same. It's just one big annoying formula:

(Dopey, Love-lorn guy + Out-of-his-league girl) X (Bathroom humor + Sexy hi-jinks) / Seth Rogen = Judd Apatow Empire

Blow me, Seth Rogen. You being untalented and "average guy" doesn't make you endearing; it just makes you untalented and average.