Puntabulous

Welcome to another edition of Puntabulous Guest Debates! Today I welcome Dave who runs the blog Life on the C-bus. It’s blog that’s dedicated to the advancement of the local music scene in Columbus, Ohio. Today we’ll tackle a topic that has plagued me since my first elementary school gym class.

TODAY’S TOPIC: TO WORK OUT, OR NOT TO WORK OUT? THAT IS THE QUESTION!

Dave: I’m a gym rat. I’ll admit it. I head to the gym for an hour every day (sometimes twice if I’m feeling particularly manic). I push the iron, pull the cable, and crunch those abs. But word has it that a certain poor, frail writer of the Puntabulous feels that working out just isn’t where it’s at. But I beg to differ. And we’re not talking bodybuilding — men grunting with their ‘roid-ravaged, testicularly diminished bodies, popping veins, and metaphorically screaming for attention — we’re talking working out. Pumping iron. Getting fit. Looking good on the beach. Reason #1: Mental health. Not only do most studies point to the positive mental health benefits of exercising, but there’s another aspect that affects it even more that needs to be strongly considered: Having the strength to open that end-of-the-day Budweiser as effortlessly — and quickly — as possible.

Craig: Oh no! You poor bastard! You’ve admitted your fatal flaw, and it was only your opening statement! How tragic! I mean, Budweiser?! Do we even need to continue this debate? Obviously Budweiser drinkers are lacking in the brainular area, so it’s clear that you make terrible choices in all aspects of your life. Your choice to work out is no different. You say that working out is good for your mental health, but what about your brain health? Instead of working out, don’t you think your time would be better spent reading a book? Taking a class? Watching a documentary? I know that’s the kind of stuff I like to do right before opening up a bottle of Yuengling. Who cares if I have to use a bottle opener?

Dave: ::sigh:: Craig, Craig, Craig. Are you not aware that Dancing with the Stars isn’t a documentary, learning how to play Mario Party isn’t really a class, and that Star Wars novel you’re reading is only a book in the sense that it has a cover, some form of written text, and more than 20 pages? Yeah…sounds like you’re brain’s working overtime there. And the fact that all of these activities require you to be sitting still completely lacks any irony whatsoever. Leading the droll, untoned existence that is clearly your life would need a Yuengling or two. Or three. Or five. I’ll be sure to alert the Flat Butt Society of America that you’re considering membership. I, on the other hand, actually have the energy to get my well-shaped butt off the couch and do something, like taking a walk, coaching soccer, or hitting the mosh pit at a rock concert. You, however, would likely have a tough time surviving the mosh pit of a Neil Diamond show.

Craig: Oh yes, let me center my life around surviving a mosh pit. By all means, moshing ability is the keystone of all that is good and wonderful in our lives. And what’s so good about having a nice butt? There is no evolutionary advantage to having junk in your trunk; it’s strictly aesthetic. It’s like someone approaching you in a bar and say: “Hey baby, nice appendix!” Those people are morons. And I don’t know about you, but I try and surround myself with people who aren’t superficial enough to care about the roundness of my booty. Me and my friends have better things to do than compare butt prints at the beach. Besides, when I go down (LOL!) in a plane crash, who do you think people are going to eat first? A skeleton draped delicately in pale meatless skin? Or the hunky slab of man beef who would go awesome in a honey-glazed Jack Daniels sauce. That’s what I thought. I’ll have mine medium-rare please.

Dave: I’ll take the fact that you want to eat me as a compliment. But all innuendo aside, let’s get back to our argument. Do you realize that due to tighter FDA regulations and closer congressional scrutiny towards CIA and FBI operations, Inadvertent Atomic Human Structural Alterations affecting strength have decreased by a whopping 87% since 1969? And Mutagenic Unnatural Selection in the U.S. has decreased by 79% in the past decade alone? Not to state the obvious, but this means that no self-respecting modern superhero can maintain his muscular status without working out. There’s a reason why Doctor Octopus is a villain and not a superhero — he simply decided that working out was “too hard.” And without a cut body — or spontaneous muscular regeneration — he fell into hero ruin and found that the only way he could get page time was to become an evil nemesis. And that’s gotta be a blow to your self esteem. And even if you don’t have superpowers, if you have muscle tone you can can still be a superhero. Hell, Dick Grayson faked it for decades.

Craig: I’m pretty sure half those words you just used aren’t real. Besides, you’re not the only person who can make up words and statistics. Did you know that the 1978 study of Human Lazification Gobledeegook proved that people who work out are unhappy and will die 17 times sooner than people who don’t work out? And if working meant getting bitten by a radioactive spider, having millions of dollars at your disposal, or coming from a different planet, by all means I would have started working out years ago! But in the real world, working out requires a lot of just that: work. It’s not fun. People who say that working out is fun are either kidding themselves or haven’t lived their life in my shoes; the shoes of a man who can work out all he wants and still be stuck in this lanky body. People who like working out only like it because genetics gave them a head start. There, I said it. The secret is out! People who like working out are faking it. Their only job is to maintain the body that genetics gave them; a much easier job than building muscle from scratch.

Dave: You want to talk lanky? How about 5′11″ and 127 pounds? That was me before working out. I had friends who had lap dogs that weighed more than me. Talk about starting from scratch. (And the Human Lazification Gobledeegook study was published in 1979, not ‘78 — it would help your case more if you’d get your made-up facts straight.) And it’s truly amazing — what with all your “brainular activity” — that you actually put together the idea that working out is indeed actually work. And I wholeheartedly agree with you. But work is a good thing! I built a 25-foot deck on our house — didn’t know how to do it, just got a bunch of books out of the library and got started. It was a hell of a lot of work. But, damn was it cool to see the finished product and that I did it myself. How rewarding is that? Working out is the same way. And what’s the alternative? Sloth. Yeah. You wanna turn into that ugly thing? Be featured on Animal Planet’s “Earth’s Laziest Mammals LIVE” now playing at 1pm, 3pm, and 5pm at a Paramount Park near you? Just remember to get manicured before trying to get into a club. That is, if you can find the energy to peel yourself off that couch.

Craig: Wow that’s great. You built a deck. Can we get back to our debate about working out please? Because building a deck is great and all, and I would love to build a deck someday, but you know what I don’t want to do someday? Build a deck, then go work out. Because the way I see it, life is too much working out as it is. Run around like a lunatic getting ready for work in the morning. Burned 407 calories! Sweat like a maniac as your drive to the train station, hoping not to miss your train. Burned 549 calories! Run around your office building like a crazy person begging people to do their work so you can do your work. Burned 625 calories! Doing all that bending to kiss your boss’s ass. Burned 75,914 calories! I’d have to eat a whole Thanksgiving dinner, and a few baby Native Americans just to gain back all those calories I burned off! The thought of going to the gym and burning off even more calories seems unnecessary, unhealthy, and ungodly!

Dave: You burned 75,914 calories kissing your boss’s ass? I think that’s what’s ungodly. If you’d work out, get all buff, then he’d be scrambling to get to your ass. And I’m sure that would burn far less calories. Not to mention saving your dignity. And the cost of a therapist. Okay, time to haul out the big guns. Let’s start by quoting David Stensel, author and senior lecturer at the School of Sport and Exercise at the UK’s Loughborough University: “The health benefits from minor fitness improvements are staggering.” Staggering. Not simply “notable” or “important,” but staggering. And a 17-year study of 30,000 men recently published in the International Journal of Cancer (the disease, not the astrological sign) showed that exercising just once a week lowered the risk of developing advanced prostate cancer by 36%. And exercising more lowered the risk even further. I don’t know about you, but I like my prostate. We go to movies together. We hang out all the time. It would be sad to be apart.

Craig: Well I’m glad you and your prostate are such good friends. Do you guys hold hands too? Be sure to wash them afterwards. I on the other hand like to have real people friends. You know, those people who are people and not compound tubuloalveolar exocrine glands? But you probably don’t have real friends because you’re either at the gym, or talking about going to the gym. As a man who is vehemently against working out, I’ve noticed that twinkle in people’s eyes when you ask them what their plans are for the evening or weekend and they say they’re going to the gym. It’s a twinkle that says: “I’m going to work out because I’m better than you. What are you going to do? Go to the bar with friends? Watch TV? Go to the park with family? Ugh, how disgusting of you. Don’t you know about your blah-bitty-blah prostate?” That twinkle isn’t a good twinkle. It turns people off and makes you look conceited. That’s why no one likes you. But hey, at least you have your prostate, right?

Dave: That hurts, Craig. That really hurts. That “twinkle,” as you call it, isn’t conceit, it’s a tear in my eye as I think of your life being cut short due to your lack of concern for personal well-being. You’re a friend and the thought of a Craigless world would be too much to bear. Hold on, excuse me for a second ::sniff-sniff:: ::achooo!:: Oh, wait, my mistake, those teary eyes are just a cold. But one that I’ll get over in a day or so due to exercise purging my system much quicker than your’s can. (And prostates don’t have hands, by the way. Is that another example of your “brainular activity”? Just asking, because, y’know, I’m sure it’s really helping your argument.) But let’s get to my final point to this debate and one that you just might not be able to surmount: Does this look like a 40-year-old body to you?

Craig: Yes, yes, we’re all very impressed. Bravo. I’m not questioning the outcome, I’m questioning the means. Is the amount of time and energy put into working out worth it? Okay, so let’s say working out does increase your life expectancy. What happens if you get hit by a car and die? (Knock on wood!) In that split second before you start sprinting down the dark tunnel with the light at the end of it, slapping the hands of all your dead relatives along the way, as if you just got picked to be a contestant on The Price is Right, aren’t you going to think to yourself: “I wish I didn’t spend so much time at the gym!”? There are literally millions of better things to do with your time than working out. And look at your first statement: “I’m a gym rat.” Don’t you think if working out was good, you would have said something like: “I’m a gym stallion”? I think rat sums it up perfectly.

So who do you guys think won? Try not to let Dave’s abs affect your judgment!

Be sure to head over to Dave’s blog: Life on the C-bus!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! If you’ve previously sent me a topic, and I never got back to you, or if we haven’t started the debating process yet, send me a reminder! I’m very forgetful! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

Welcome to another edition of Puntabulous Guest Debates! Today I welcome Avitable who has my favorite header and headline in the whole wide world. We’re going to wrestle the topic that has plagued dorky science fiction fans (are there any other kind?) since 1977.

STAR WARS VS STAR TREK!

Avitable: Star Wars isn’t just a movie. It’s a fully realized universe that has generated and inspired movies, books, cartoons, toys, comics, hairstyles, fashion, food, and military theory. Multiple generations of humans have grown up with Star Wars ingrained in their everyday lives. The John Williams score is one of the most highly recognized soundtracks in the universe, and if you put a large cinnamon bun to each ear, everybody will call you Princess Leia. The force is strong with Star Wars, and as the most recognizable franchise in the history of mankind, every other sci-fi endeavor pales in comparison.

Craig: Yeah, Star Wars is good and all. I mean, if you believe in leprechauns, unicorns, and talking trees. But for those of us who live in the real world, you have Star Trek. A franchise that doesn’t take place in a mystical galaxy “a long time ago” but rather in our civilization in the coming future. A civilization in which we can all aspire to be a part of. Sure, what kid wouldn’t love to be Luke Skywalker? But as you get older, and wiser, you realize that being Luke Skywalker is just a selfish endeavor to live out your innermost fantasies like having a neato sword, being able to move objects with your mind, and making out with your sister. For us grownups, we can aspire to be Jean Luc Picard, a man who aspires to boldly go where no man has gone before for the benefit of mankind. Have fun with your sword kiddo. Don’t play with it too much or you’ll start to chafe.

Avitable: Start to chafe? Do. You. Mean. Like. Shatner’s. So-called. Acting? Because that chafed my brain so bad I had to snort baby powder so I could think again. There are no leprechauns or unicorns or talking trees in Star Wars. There are, however, a multitude of alien races that are as vastly distinct as each individual planet. Unlike Star Trek, where you have humans, humans with bumpy foreheads, humans with really bumpy foreheads, humans with slightly different skin tones, and humans with long pointy ears. Star Wars is all about diversity and the cultural ramifications of having so many different cultures clashing in many disparate environments. Star Trek, however, is all about aliens that speak English and a quest to boldly go where no human man has gone before - mainly, in the panties of every female alien around.

Craig: You’re right. Shatner’s acting was just atrocious. Speaking of, exactly how many Academy Award nominations did Hayden Christensen receive for his portrayal of an empty pizza box in the Prequel Trilogy? I believe it’s the same number as the amount of times the letter Z appears in the phrase: “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.” I’ll let you do the math. And I apologize that weekly television shows and relatively low budget movies don’t afford the luxury of more complex character makeup. It’s a shame that Star Trek had to focus more on solid storytelling rather than wowing us with special effects. Maybe George Lucas should have spent a bit more money on the writing and acting portions of the movie making process rather than molding his stories around all the merchandise he can sell. Oh, and don’t even get me started on his lame character names. Darth Sidious? General Grievous? A fat guy named Porkins? That’s just lazy.

Avitable: The names in Star Wars are symbolic and hearken back to a simpler way of life, when Native Americans ruled their land with a bloody red tomahawk. Luke was a “sky walker”, Han was always “solo”, Chewbacca would “chew you”, and Leia Organa made boys want to “lay her” with their “organ”. See? It all points to something deeper - a symbolic and literal change in an ever-evolving society as it moves from evil to good. Star Trek, on the other hand, is all about American warmongers imposing their will on other cultures and demoralizing the women of those cultures. It’s like Star Wars is Obama and Star Trek is George Bush.

Craig: Please. Everyone knows that Obama is all about Star Trek. He even looks like a Ferengi! And what is this business about Star Trek representing American Warmongers? Are you forgetting Starfleet’s Prime Directive, which is to not interfere in the internal affairs of other civilizations? You know who DID interfere with the internal affairs of other civilizations? Luke Skywalker! When he blew up the Death Star and killed all those poor shlubs who just needed a crappy job so they worked for the Empire! You think the cafeteria staff of the Death Star deserved to be blown up? “Would you like fries with that?” KA-BOOM! Are these the kind of morals you wish to instill in the minds of impressionable viewers? I guess you’re just one of those people that believes in sacrificing innocent lives for the “greater good”. Meanwhile, back at Starfleet, we usually only sacrifice ourselves for the greater good. But you know, that’s just because we’re better people than you and those lousy rebels.

Avitable: Yeah, I remember Kirk “not interfering” by imposing his own rules on every civilization he came across, impregnating alien women with his spastic seed, and actually destroying some civilizations that were going along swimmingly until he “not interfered”. Maybe if he’d been more like a Jedi he wouldn’t have left such a wake of destruction and ugly alien human hybrid babies. And, you said “back at Starfleet, we usually only . . .” We? You see, this is the problem with Star Trek. It gets in your head and makes you think that you are on the Good Ship Lollipop Enterprise, alongside the crew of your favorite incarnation of the series. Star Wars fans know it’s fiction, and that’s why we’re much cooler than the Trekkies.

Craig: Boy, you seem to be fixated on the fact that Shatner macked it with so many different alien ladies. Are you just upset because Jedi aren’t allowed to get laid? They’re like priests, and we all know how staying celibate works out for those guys. And if a Jedi does manage to get laid, it usually means that they’re destined to walk the path of the darkside and bring down the entire galaxy along with them. And while we’re on the subject, what’s with this lightside/darkside business? Hasn’t anyone ever heard of a gray area? Is it because Star Wars fans aren’t smart enough to have their own opinions about right and wrong? Star Trek is more than just simple equations like: Jedi = Good, Sith = Bad. It’s the gray areas between right and wrong, and the moral dilemmas and personal conflicts that these situations can cause that makes Star Trek a much more intricate and involving series. And what’s so bad about imagining myself as a crewmember of the Starship Enterprise? I would look awesome in tights.

Avitable: Your hotness in tights notwithstanding, don’t you think you’d look even more awesome holding a long elongated object that glowed in the dark and hummed? The lightsaber is by far the coolest gadget out of both universes. Star Trek has some of the goofiest, lamest gadgets ever created. They manage to have a teleporter, but it has so many limitations that it’s essentially useless. Not to mention the fact that if you could teleport people, why bother making ships to go anywhere? And then you have a lame phaser, which doesn’t even match a blaster in coolness. And the tricorder? It’s a computer. You know, like R2-D2 and C-3PO. Except you don’t need a cranky old doctor to interpret results for you - they can tell you the diagnosis and analysis all on their own. When you watch Star Trek, the concepts and gadgets are actually limiting your imagination - it’s making you stupider just by watching!

Craig: Oh, I’m sorry. Is Data not a sophisticated enough creation for you? Because I actually thought that a robot, who could not only simulate human appearance and behaviors but also human emotions (thanks to his appropriately named emotion chip) was pretty darn impressive. But you know, if you like your robots clunky and obtuse like R2-D2, who can’t even use actual words, by all means, that’s your choice. And if your “cranky old doctor” comment is directed at Dr. Bones McCoy, I’m going to have to give you a verbal beat down and let you know that Bones is the coolest character in science fiction history. You Star Wars fanatics like to think that it’s Han Solo or Boba Fett, but seriously, Han Solo got his balls cut off after he got with Leia (a scoundrel who says “I love you”?) and Boba Fett died like the biggest chump in cinema history (by a blind guy waving a stick around). Bones may not have a cool blaster or body armor, but he’s an old guy with a quick wit who never let chicks or blind guys get in his way of being cool.

Avitable: With all of this semantic discussion, we’ve neglected the big picture. Both of these franchises can be compared to a dog. Let’s take a puppy, for example. He’ll bounce around, wagging that cute little tail of his, fetch toys, play tug of war, sit down and shake hands, give you kisses when you get home, and generally cheer you up with his upbeat doggy persona. This puppy is Star Wars. Now, let’s neuter the puppy. Once he loses his balls, he becomes morose, quiet, tired, and generally boring. He’ll just sit at your feet and sleep, and while that feels comforting, you know in your heart that you miss the playful dog you used to love. Star Trek is just Star Wars without testicles. And Battlestar Galactica is like a cat that jumps on your head and scares the shit out of you when you get home.

Craig: I have a better analogy for you: Star Trek is like the really powerful, top-of-the-line starship with the smart, diverse crew that travels the galaxy bringing peace and justice to the entire universe. Star Wars is like the crappy bucket of bolts flown by a grumpy shlub and his dog who only succeeds on dumb luck. Wait, what’s an “analogy” again? Let’s face it, Star Wars peeked in 1980 with The Empire Strikes Back, while Star Trek continues to reinvent itself with new and exciting characters and stories. Star Wars has been telling the same story since 1977. Is a new Clone Wars cartoon series really necessary? How about you start telling some new stories George?! What’s going on in the world of Star Trek these days? Oh, that’s right! A movie by science fiction dork extraordinaire: J.J. Fucking Abrams! BOO YA!

So who do you guys think won? His pictures are pretty incredible. You can click on them to enlarge them. The one of me imagining myself as a member of Starfleet is currently residing as my desktop wallpaper. Thanks Avitable!

Be sure to head over to Avitable’s blog: Avitable!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! If you’ve previously sent me a topic, and I never got back to you, or if we haven’t started the debating process yet, send me a reminder! I’m very forgetful! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

Welcome to another edition of Puntabulous Guest Debates! Today I’d like to welcome Casey from the awesome blog Moosh in Indy (who I think looks like the equally awesome Becki Newton from Ugly Betty, right?) And no, she isn’t the Moosh, her incredibly adorable daughter is the Moosh, who Casey says: “Carries a shovel around to help out with my early grave.”

TODAY’S TOPIC: COOKIES VS. BROWNIES!

Casey: Go ahead, search the word “cookie” on Amazon.com. Over 75,000 results. Search “brownie”? A paltry 17,000 results. And that’s being kind. Google the word “cookie” and you’ll get 92 million results (yeah, you heard me, MILLION. As in ninety two MILLION results.) And what? Oh. 9 million for “brownie” *snort* The googling amazonians have spoken. Cookies kick brownies crusty edged trash.

Craig: I’m afraid to break it to you, but Google and Amazon are actually just websites. You see, they’re made up of computer code, and countless lines of Zeros and Ones. It’s all very complicated. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. But my point is that they’re not people. They can’t eat cookies and brownies for themselves. If they could, they would surely come alive and tell you how much more awesome brownies are with all their moist, warm, wonderfulness. And by all means, do not mock the crusty edge of brownies. They are the best part!

Casey: Well honey, your website is FULL of zeros and ones who just happen to love cookies. And speaking as a culinary genius I must now break it to you that I could easily produce a cookie that embodies every so called desirous attribute your precious brownies have. You want warm and moist? I’ll give you warm and moist. You want a crusty edge? I’ll give you an infinity of a crusty edge. WITH a warm moist wonderful center. Cookies are all that and a batch of dough.

Craig: Speaking of “batch of dough”, it sounds all fun and yummy to eat cookie dough, and then BAM! Twenty minutes and fifteen “taste testings” of raw cookie dough later, you’re feeling queezy and regretting ever making cookies in the first place. But after you make brownies there’s a nice little reward waiting for you called “licking the spoon”. No, “licking the spoon” isn’t the latest dance craze, or a metaphor for masturbation. It’s a gooey preview of the yummy goodness waiting for you after the brownies are done baking!

Casey: Is it my fault that you have a weak stomach? Excuse me, has anyone ever heard of “Brownie Spoon Ice Cream”? * crickets chirping* How about cookie dough ice cream? WHOA, WHOA! Don’t all cheer so loudly, you’ll give poor gurgle tummied Craig a complex. Brownies come in one variety sweetheart. One. Sure you can add stuff in, but it’s still a chocolate square masquerading as something more. Personally, if I’m going to be monogamous to one man for the rest of my life, I don’t feel the need to be monogamous to a single chocolaty baked good. You can take the brownie out of the pan but you sure can’t take the boring out of the brownie.

Craig: Sure, yeah, brownies only come in one variety. But that’s because they’re so unbelievably awesome that they don’t need anything else to distract you from the fact that they suck the way cookies do. Where would chocolate chip cookies be without the chocolate chips? Where would oatmeal raisin cookies be without the raisins? Where would [insert delicious item here] cookies be without the [insert delicious item here]? Bleck. My mouth just turned dry and bland just thinking about it. I think you get my point. Wait, did I just agree to the fact that brownies only come in one variety? Silly me! I forgot about brownie’s sexy little sister known as blondies! Well she’s home from cheerleading camp and she’s ready to give me a delicious taste explosion in my mouth!

Casey: OH BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE? You pledge your love to a brownie and all you’ll ever get for the rest of you life is the same old brownie. Sure, the brownie could go blondie, you could maybe even put a little frosting on it, but it’s still just a brownie. You can’t take the same old brownie to every party and expect people to be impressed. Cookies allow you to MIX IT UP! Cookies allow for VARIETY! And after all, isn’t variety the spice of life? And while I didn’t want it to come to this, a nasty brownie isn’t going to look any different than my really good brownies. Brownies rarely, if ever, stand out. And I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I’m faced with a table full of questionable drone brownies I’d rather saunter on down to the guaranteed goodness of my cookies rather than risk putting a bland piece of garbage brownie in my mouth.

Craig: Just because people say that “variety is the spice of life” doesn’t mean that variety is the spice of life. It’s just one of those meaningless things that people say like “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch” and “I love you”. Besides, I prefer to think that variety is the spice of “Oh my god! Why did I try that? I should have stuck with what I knew would be delicious rather than experimenting with something new and unknown!” Yeah, you might see a pretty little cookie with frosting and sprinkles, and it might be the sexiest little cookie on the block, but haven’t you heard of the phrase: “Don’t judge a book by its cover?” Except when it comes to ugly people, I really think that’s an excellent phrase that should be taken seriously. Brownies may not be the prettiest girls at the bake sale, but has anyone ever had a bad brownie? They simply don’t exist. Why take the chance of having a bad cookie?

Casey: Craig, first of all, I love you. And if I were a little closer I’d give you a big hug, and a cookie, because you obviously have some cookie/love issues. Maybe it all stems back to a painful cookie experience you’ve suppressed. Has this ever come up in therapy? Maybe you’ve been salving an open wound with the wrong balm. While your love of brownies may be true and unwaivering, maybe your inability to see the benefits of other forms of baked goods is what’s holding you back in life. Brownies are good, but brownies can’t heal. Branch out, find a new love, and like making out, you may find something you never knew about. How about we just call cookies: “baked good Kama Sutra”.

Craig: I don’t think cookie Kama Sutra is such a good idea. Everything seems new and fun for a while, but then when it’s all over, you’re picking chocolate chips out of strange places and it burns when you pee. Besides, I don’t know about you girls, but I’m pretty sure guys would rather stick it into a pan of warm gooey brownies than a tin of hard, rough cookies. Ouch! And I can’t speak for all men, but before I stick a pastry in my mouth, I think to myself: “But would I fuck it?” If the answer is no, then by all means, put the cookie down, and put your pants back on. And don’t try and diagnose me with some post-traumatic cookie issues! What do you think? My parents shot cookies at me with some sort of batting cage ball-throwing device? Although that might explain my aversion to batting cages.

Casey: My, my, this all turned so dirty. And all we were trying to debate was whether it was better to have a little cream in your Oreo or a little frosting on your brownie. GAH! Look what you’ve done to me! If doing a pan of brownies is your thing, then you deserve to win this debate, and all of the Google weirdos that are going to come looking for brownie fetish boys. But if you care to be open to the unending bliss and happiness that is cookies in all their variety and tasty glory, come, I welcome you. And I’ll even leave a pan of those nasty things you call brownies in the guest room. You know, in case you get lonely.

Craig: First off, you’re the one that got this debate all dirtified by bringing up Kama Sutra. And it’s not my fault for pouncing on the fact that brownies are better in bed than cookies. I’m like a debating cheetah. I see an opportunity and I pounce on it! Rarr! I’m afraid to say that you’re the tasty baby zebra in this scenario. And brownies are the sexy Blanche Devereaux to your cookies mannish Dorothy Zbornak. African wildlife metaphors along with Golden Girls metaphors? Is there nothing I can’t do?! I attribute it to the brain food brownies.

So who do you guys think won?

Be sure to head over to Casey’s blog: Moosh in Indy!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! If you’ve previously sent me a topic, and I never got back to you, or if we haven’t started the debating process yet, send me a reminder! I’m very forgetful! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

Welcome to another edition of Puntabulous Guest Debates! Today I’d like to welcome Jon from GayCondo, an awesome blog run by two queer couples in Portland, Oregon who live together with their three cats and three houseplants.

TODAY’S TOPIC: WINE VS BEER!

Jon: MMMmmm wine! The delicious nectar of the cultured class! A fruity ambrosia of pure enlightenment! Truly it is the alcoholic beverage of the gods! Oh wait, I mean of god, singular. That’s right, wine is the blood of Jesus/God. (as I understand it, they are somehow mystically the same person). Can you imagine beer as blood (hello anemia!) Truly wine is a heavenly delight!

Craig: “Cultured class,” huh? Are all wine drinkers as elitist as yourself? Because I for one am a fan of the People’s beverage. Beer! Wine may be born from the blood of baby Jesus, but beer is born from the sweat and tears of the working class! Besides, who wants to drink blood anyway? Um, vampire much? And the blood of Jesus no less! But I guess that makes sense. After all, the cultured class (read: upper class) only got there by sucking the life (read: blood) out of those that came before them (read: Jesus).

Jon: I assume that by “the people” and “the working class” you mean “the poor”. How interesting, the poor drink beer… I wonder if there is some causational graph on the internet somewhere that may add a new perspective on the subject… Oh yeah, there’s this. That’s right, poor people are more likely to be OBESE! I wonder why? Could it be that a pint of beer has: 15 grams of carbs and 200 calories, while a 6 oz glass of wine has only 1.4 grams of carbs and 120 calories? That’s right, drinking a couple of beers at a party is like eating a mound of sandwiches, and everyone know that pretty girls don’t eat a pile of sandwiches at a party. Oh, and they also don’t fart from a puffy carbonated belly.

Craig: First things first: farting is hysterical. To me, farting is like that Janet Jackson song “Anytime, Anyplace”. So don’t try and use farting against me. Your efforts are futile. Besides, pretty girls DO eat a pile of sandwiches because they just throw it up a few minutes later anyway. That’s why pretty girls drink beer too. Beer leads to burping, and a good solid burp is practically halfway to a good solid vomit. And poor people are only obese because they can’t afford personal trainers or plastic surgery. It’s a shame you’ve resorted to picking on the poor and fat of this world to make your arguments. As the wise Anheuser Busch once said: “Give us your poor, your fat, your huddled masses longing for a cold one.” You can keep your rich, snobby wine drinkers. Beer drinkers throw better parties anyway.

Jon: I may sarcastically jest about the poor and overweight, but it is just in light fun. Devil’s advocate if you will, dear Craig, you however have tread on truly offensive ground. Insulting and devaluing the experiences of those with eating disorders is just sick, sick, sick. Why just open any issue of Jane, Cosmo, or Teen Vogue, flip to page 173, and there it is: a serious article detailing the very tragic truth about those living with this terrible demon. Oh, and while on the topic of “vomiting”, “parties”, “beer”, and “girls with eating disorders”, only one scenario comes to mind: dumb straighty college parties. Wanna get laid Craig? Well it’s only gonna happen at one of those parties with a developmentally stunted, drunk, closeted oaf who punches you in the neck after he cums (oh, and you Craig will not be cumming in this scenario, you’ll maybe be dead from a collapsed trachea). Wine drinkers, however, are all fags. It’s a fact. Mention “viennese actionism and it’s relation to the postmodern body oriented performance art of early 1970’s New York” at a wine party, and you’ll get fucked by, like, 15 guys by the end of the night.

Craig: Wow. I’m speechless. Is this a debate about beer vs wine? Or a debate about the dangers of letting punchy straight guys experiment on your ass? (Which you appear to be an expert on the ins and outs (and ins and outs) of.) My neck is far too delicate for such activities, so I will leave that up to you. Besides, us beer drinkers aren’t getting drunk enough to let our ass become the playground for future ex-gays. After all, the alcohol content in an average beer is 5% while the alcohol content in the average wine is 11%. And one serving of beer is an astounding 12 ounces while one serving of wine is a meager 5 ounces. So us beer drinkers can drink and drink and drink, and be social and laugh and have a grand old time all night long. Wine drinkers on the other hand have 2 glasses and are completely wasted, lying in a corner drenched in their own pee, and probably crying.

Jon: Okay. Let’s actually do the math here… According to the numbers you have given above, a serving of wine has .55 ounces of alcohol, and a serving of beer has .6 ounces! AND BESIDES!! Who has a “12 ounce” serving of beer? Last I checked Craig, most beer is served in a pint glass. Which is 16 ounces, which is .8 ounces of alcohol per serving versus the .55 for wine!! HA! And have you ever known anyone (Patsy and Edina excluded) to chug wine? No, people take delicate sips of wine. Beer drinkers however, like to get totally wasted and vomity doing “keg stands” like boorish thugs! You know who else are thugs? Nazis. And where are Nazi’s from?? Hmm… let me think… GERMANY!!! Now why does mentioning Germany make me feel like there is some sort of deeper connection going on here… Oh, that’s because the biggest beer drinking orgy known to man is the German Oktoberfest (read: Nazifest). Maybe they will invite your hero Janet Jackson to perform this year. I hear that her career is so over, she’s willing to perform anytime, anyplace… including stupid Nazi chug parties.

Craig: The math in your last statement makes my brain hurt, but let’s just assume you’re wrong. Besides, out of the two of us, only one of us was on their High School Math Team. That’s also a very wide brush that you paint your evil little pictures with, isn’t it? All Germans are Nazis? Does that also mean that all Muslims are terrorists? And all blondes are dumb? And all Star Wars fans are 35 year olds who live in their parents’ basements, blogging all day, while their parents yell at them for having a crappy job, when all the poor guy wants is to catch his big break and write the next big science fiction epic? Geez. What an insensitive bastard you are! And let’s get one thing straight: Beer doesn’t make people do keg stands; people make people do keg stands. Should we blame beer because there are stupid people out there in the world? And anyone knows that if you’re gonna play a game with beer, it better be Beer Pong and Flip Cup: The two best games known to man. Not only are they fun and challenging, but they’re also team-building! I’ve woken up many a college mornings with a sore throat from cheering on my Flip Cup team while waiting anxiously at the end of the line for my turn to flip. What game can you play with wine? Guess the Year? Snooze!

Jon: First things first, “beer pong”? Don’t you mean “germ covered plastic ball in a cup I’ll drink from” game?! Oh, and also, I didn’t need to be on the dorky high school math team, I was bred for math (interesting side note: my mother is a highly respected/published mathematician. She began drilling complex math theories and equations into my head when I was about four. So no, I wasn’t on the lame math squad in High School, I was too busy getting laid for being super hot/awesome)! Speaking of math, did you know that according to a study done by The Annals of Internal Medicine, wine drinkers are 1/3 less likely to die over a period of time than beer drinkers! Another fun factoid: studies have shown that the flavanoids in wine slow the aging process AND help in the prevention of Alzheimer’s! So when you, dear simple Craig, are a dementia zombie or dead with all your beer drinking frat buddies, I’ll be 95, wrinkle free, and discussing postmodernism at weekend wine tasting forays in France with all my Beaujolais loving friends! (PS: if you didn’t get that last statement, let me translate it into “beer talk” you may understand: “I’ll be a 95 year old straight dude, and be discussing NASCAR at afternoon keggers in Milwaukee with all my Bud Light chugging buddies.”)

Craig: You’re a dick. Wait wait wait. Let me translate that into “wine talk” for you: You’re a douché. Where did this misconception that beer drinkers are brutish NASCAR watching morons come from? Go to any bar in New York City at 6:00 PM and it will be covered wall to wall with men and women in expensive business suits with beers in their hands discussing the hard days they had at their big-time, money-making, stress-inducing, world-changing jobs. And did you know that beer is the oldest known alcoholic beverage (yes, even older than wine!) and dates all the way to the Ancient Egyptians? You’ve heard of them right? They’re the geniuses who built the pyramids. And scientific studies have shown that moderate usage of ANY alcoholic beverage is associated with a decreased risk of cardiac disease, stroke, and cognitive decline. So it’s not just a wine thing. You know what is just a wine thing? Sulfites. Otherwise known as sulfur dioxides. Otherwise known as the stuff that spews from volcanoes. But I guess you missed that lesson in high school Earth Science class since you were too busy getting laid. I, on the other hand, was in class, learning, and saving myself for marriage.

Jon: Well, it looks like the dementia has already set in! Examples:

1. You have the delusion that you are some sort of doctor, because you think you know more about medical science than all of the researchers at The Annals of Internal Medicine, a leading medical magazine. Geez.

2. You live in some sort of magical dream land where Ms. Bradshaw and Co. haven’t taught us that all New Yorkers drink Cosmos and other mixed drinks. (side note: many wines are blends, and therefore “mixed”… sort of)

3. You pathetically believe anything National Geographic tells you. Egyptian geniuses? I don’t think so Craig. They “wrote” by drawing pretty pictures. You know who else does that? Children… and retarded people.

4. You think volcanoes are anything but wonderful land machines. You know what sulfites created? Every island on the planet. I’ll make sure to let my Filipino friends know you would rather have there culture sunk to the bottom of the ocean. (beer drinkers are so racist…)

5. You think any smart person worth laying “saves” themselves for marriage.

Precious, precious Craig. Wine is divine! It keeps you classy, beautiful, young, and thin! What does beer do besides make you fart and get you date raped? Oh, and for all you wonderful Puntabulous readers out there, in case I haven’t swayed you to my side just yet, I have left the best for last. I present for you one of the best TV moments of all time.

Craig: Best TV moment of all time? Puh-lease. Every beer commercial ever created is the best TV moment of all time. Remember that sexist (read: hysterical) Miller Light commercial that caused quite a stir a few years back? Amazing! Even those annoying “Wassup” Budweiser commercials started quite a phenomenon when they spawned a series of parodies including this completely adorable Milk parody played out by a bunch of toddlers. Would a wine commercial ever be so groundbreaking? Do they even have wine commercials? Oh that’s right, wine drinkers probably aren’t watching TV to see the commercials anyway. They’re too busy having their hoity toity (wine talk for: “we’re better than everyone else”) parties where they talk about how smart they are were in college and continually try and one-up each other with their fake geniusness. Beer drinkers on the other hand are all about love and friendship. Whether we’re cheering each other on during a fast-paced game of Flip Cup; meeting at a local bar to discuss our long and fruitful days at work; or gathering around the television for a Battlestar Galactica Potluck Dinner; beer drinkers are all about community. A community where everybody knows your name.

So who do you guys think won?

Be sure to head over to Jon’s blog: GayCondo!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! If you’ve previously sent me a topic, and I never got back to you, or if we haven’t started the debating process yet, send me a reminder! I’m very forgetful! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

Welcome to another edition of Puntabulous Guest Debates! Today I’d like to welcome a very special guest, someone I’ve known my whole life, and is my certified awesome movie-going partner: my cousin Michelle!

TODAY’S EDITION: WHICH IS THE BEST MUPPET?!

Michelle: Of all the Muppets that I have loved (and there have been many) I have to say that Cookie Monster holds the dearest spot. I still recall the first time we met ‘neath the Christmas Tree and locked eyes to googly eyes. I remember seeing him in all his gluttonous glory on Sesame Street. Cookie embraces life to the fullest- with unabashed enthusiasm & gusto. He’s completely unapologetic about his desires. Cookie lives entirely in the moment, the Now. Big, blue, furry - with a heart as big as well… his appetite, he is without a doubt the best Muppet ever.

Craig: Let’s see…yup…blue…furry…googly eyes. That sounds about right. Wait a second! Cookie Monster?! Don’t you mean Grover? Because obviously Grover is the best Muppet ever. What does he have that Cookie Monster doesn’t, you ask? Besides a bottom lip, Grover is also the proud owner of a normal, healthy appetite. You said it yourself, Cookie Monster is a glutton! That’s one of the seven deadly sins! Right up there with Greed, Lust, and Evolution! You know what isn’t one of the seven deadly sins? Being completely adorable. And having a bottom lip. How does Cookie Monster eat all those cookies without a bottom lip anyway? Creeeepy!

Michelle: So what if Cookie is a little overweight? He’s never hidden the fact that he is a monster. He’s the only Muppet who calls himself Cookie Monster, unlike other monsters I could mention. He’s big and proud of it! The Muppet equivalent of Queen Latifah. Not only does he make Obsessive Compulsive disorder seem normal, he makes it seem good! Furry, blue… even adorable, I’ll grant you but droopy eyed Grover does not have Cookie’s very distinctive googly eyes. Cookie has opposable thumbs AND he has opposable eyes - 360 vision, able to see around and behind him at any time. Plus, who doesn’t love a sinner? Cookie makes us feel better about our own imperfections, our own foibles. Grover is uptight, a worrywart and can’t hold down a job. Grover has is-sues.

Craig: GASP! How dare you use my love of Queen Latifah against me! Besides, no one should be proud to be a monster! Would we favor Osama Bin Laden if he called himself Osama Bin Terrorist? “Oh, he’s not bad! At least he’s proud to be a terrorist!” Grover doesn’t refer to himself as a monster because he’s working to get past his monster ancestry. He’s practically the next step in the evolutionary chain! He’s the golden retriever to Cookie Monster’s untamed rabies-infested wolf. Cookie Monster is like one of those Bengal tigers that people keep as pets and then one day turn on their owners and eat them. You know how many kids have lost their hands while trying to feed Cookie Monster cookies? Me neither. But I’m sure it’s a lot!

Michelle: Craig, Craig, Craig…you have to look at the WHOLE monster. Sure he has this wild and a bit crazed side, but Cookie Monster also has an incredibly civilized, cultured, and sophisticated side. He’s a very well rounded monster and no! I don’t mean his physique. He’s a painter, an inventor… note particularly his duty as host of MonsterPiece Theatre. With long red robe, lounging on his velvet chair with classical music playing in the background, Cookie is the very picture of elegance - tres debonair! His introductions of “Chariots of Fur”, “Me, Claudius”, and “Monsters with Dirty Faces” show true wit and panache. When the Muppets went to the Met, they named the special: Don’t Eat the Pictures. Surely, the people at Sesame Street, wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t have complete faith in Cookie as a spokesperson. What has Grover done that can beat that?

Craig: MonsterPiece Theater? Seriously, does Cookie Monster have to keep throwing his monster-ness in our faces? He can be a monster all he wants behind closed doors, but I can’t stand it when he insists on throwing his deviant monster-like behavior in my face! It’s simply unnatural! But you’re right, Grover hasn’t done anything quite like MonsterPiece Theater. You know why? Because he’s too busy saving lives. He is a superhero after all! I mean, you have heard of Super Grover right? It’s right up there with Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. I heard they even wanted to give him a spot in the Justice League, but Aquaman filed a discrimination against lame superheroes with useless powers lawsuit and took the last available spot. And granted, a name like Super Grover isn’t exactly the best way to maintain a secret alter-ego, the important thing is that he’s out helping people! He helps lost children, resolves conflicts, and even fixes computers! Is there nothing he can’t do?!

Michelle: Landing would be nice. Correction: Landing without crashing into anything or anyone. And you’re right, Grover doesn’t even try to maintain a secret identity. He wants everyone to know he’s SUPER Grover. A little narcissistic aren’t we? Did you ever listen to his theme song? “Smarter than a speeding bullet”. That’s comforting. As for helping people, just listen to the piteous sighs of the poor children when they realize that it is Super Grover. I’ll give him an E for effort but an M for mucking things up. The children always end up solving their own problems, while Grover honestly believes that he has helped them. They have another word for that too: delusional. As I said, Grover has issues. Cookie Monster on the other hand has dedicated his life to teaching children the alphabet, on his exceedingly informative letter of the day segment. What kid doesn’t know the timeless classic “C is for Cookie”? And what is it that causes Grover to talk so formally - he refuses to use a simple contraction. Cookie always gets straight to the point - “Me want Cookie.” Perhaps Grover’s cape is a little too tight.

Craig: One person’s “delusional” is another person’s “optimistic”! Grover has such a positive attitude, that he can’t help but think that his valiant (read: very valiant!) efforts are doing good. And while he might not be directly helping people, his attempts to help them give them the push they need to solve their own problems! And what’s so bad about not using contractions? One does not need contractions when they are making valid points! And what is so bad about speaking with a little flair? If everyone spoke as bluntly as Cookie Monster, English teachers all over America would be out of a job since Romeo and Juliet would be reduced to a single line: “Me no like love.” Although I guess they would be busy enough trying to teach their students the rest of the alphabet. If we left it up to Cookie Monster to teach our children their ABCs, we’d have an entire generation of children reciting the CCCs! What a Completely Careless Calamity that would be!

Michelle: If Grover is such a successful super hero - why does he have to work at so many other jobs to supplement his income? Did you ever think of that? Waiter, Door to Door Salesman, Elevator Operator. Will the real Grover please stand up? Besides, Grover can hardly even call Sesame Street his home anymore. He has spent the last few years traipsing around the world - what is he trying to be - the prodigal Muppet? Contrary to popular belief, Cookie Monster has not limited himself to the letter C. He has gone through the entire alphabet on Sesame Street. Admittedly, he always ends up eating the letter of the day but it just makes the lesson that much more memorable, ingraining itself into little children’s brains until the end of time. The song “C is for Cookie” is also indicative of Cookie Monster’s magnificent musical ability. Along with other songs, he has not one but two disco classics: “C is for Cookie Disco Mix” and “Me Lost Me Cookie at the Disco”. Watching Cookie, perform is like watching any true artist - James Brown, Aretha and Queen Latifah! That monster has soul! What songs can Grover lay claim to?

Craig: What’s so bad about having loads of different jobs? It shows a thirst for new challenges! For adventure! For snazzy new uniforms! And look at all those jobs: Waiter (serving people), Door to Door Salesman (giving to people), Elevator Operator (helping people get to and fro). Not only is G for Grover, but it is also for Giving. He has devoted his entire career(s) to helping people! Maybe that’s why his eyes are so “droopy”. It just goes to show how the burden of all those years of service have affected him. Kinda like, um, let’s see, Frodo and the One Ring! He is a shell of his once former greatness! But he continues to persevere! To put on a happy face for the sake of the children! It’s only a matter of time before Gollum… I mean Cookie Monster mistakes his finger for a furry, blue cookie and bites it off!

Michelle: Well, there you have it - who is better: A whole, very well rounded Muppet? Or a shell of a former Muppet? I think the choice is clear. Furry, blue, embracing life and his monsterness, enthusiastic educator, distinguished host, disco diva, a true cookie connoisseur! I didn’t even get to mention that he is a master of disguise and an outstanding game show contestant. He always manages to “Beat the Time” with mere seconds left. So what if he eats the prize? He’s earned it! Lastly, Cookie Monster is still with me, still my friend after all these years. He now visits my Godson Patrick, who gives him hugs, kisses and yes - cookies! (And he hasn’t lost a digit yet). Me say Cookie Rules!

Craig: Well Patrick is my Godson too! So there is only one reasonable thing we can do: Use him as a weapon against each other! I’ll be sure to give him a new Grover toy for every occasion! Birthdays! Christmas! St. Patrick’s Day! Flag Day! By the time Patrick is 10 I will have brainwashed…I mean shown him the true path of Grover awesomeness! And how can he not see the truth? Grover is lovable, giving, and most importantly a superhero. Not a crazy-eyed overeater with a penchant for talking like a caveman, like someone else I know. And there’s still that issue of a bottom lip. I’m pretty sure he’s the only Muppet to have a lip, which also makes him an excellent kisser. Um, not that I know from personal experience or anything, I’m just assuming.

So who do you guys think won? These pictures were so much fun to make! We hope you folks liked them!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! If you’ve previously sent me a topic, and I never got back to you, or if we haven’t started the debating process yet, send me a reminder! I’m very forgetful! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

Welcome to another edition of Puntabulous Guest Debates! Joining us today is the always fabulous and chic Suburban Kamikaze from the blog Suburban Kamikaze. As she says on her blog: Her address says suburbs, but her shoes scream “get me out of here…”

Her idea for a debate is something I feel very passionately about. One might even say I get all hot and bothered.

Summer vs Winter: Let’s get this party started!

Suburban Kamikaze: Don’t fall for what you see on the postcards Craig; winter is dirty, nasty and cold, and I don’t mean dirty and nasty in a good way. Do you know who came up with the idea of hell as a high-temperature kind of place? Well neither do I, but I can tell you who didn’t: anyone who ever lived through February in Chicago.

Craig: So you admit that Hell being a high temperature place proves the amazingness of Winter? Are you sure you’re not on my side of this debate? And while we’re on the subject of Hell, why don’t we bring up Heaven as well? (RHYME!) You know heaven, right? That place where all good people, I mean Christians, go when they die? That place way up in the sky? (RHYME AGAIN!) Do high altitudes mean anything to you? Well they do to me! Nice, brisk, refreshing, cold weather! It’s like winter all year round! There’s no better way to be rewarded in the afterlife than skiing with Jesus.

Suburban Kamikaze: I think maybe the altitude is a little too high in the Puntabulous corporate offices. There is absolutely no way that you will be doing any skiing with Jesus in the afterlife. For one thing, as any parochial school kid could tell you, the guy sports an all-over tan and hair down to his shoulders. He’s definitely a surfer. Speaking of sports, let me just throw out some statistics: I have been hit in the face with a lump of frozen water three times today already. That is an accuracy rate of 100 percent for my 12-year-old son, who only pretends that he is not aiming for my head. If I complain about the fact that my Wonderbra is now filled with snow melt and the side of my face is sporting a welt the size of a baseball, I am called a “bad sport”. When did hitting your mother in the face become a sport? I’ll tell you when: winter.

Craig: Don’t blame me for your son being straight. Maybe you should have raised him a little gayer and you wouldn’t have to worry about dodging anything. The way I throw, the snowball would surely have melted in the warm spring air by the time it reached you. Us gay kids always liked making snow angels and snazzily dressed snowmen instead. What can you make in the summer? A grass angel? Be careful of grass stains! A sandman? Good luck with that! Speaking of sand, it’s pretty much the worst substance on the face of the planet. But what’s worse than sand? Water THEN sand. And when does that happen? Oh right, the big summer hang out! The beach!

Suburban Kamikaze: Craig, I’m sure your snowmen were fabulous. But I am starting to wonder if maybe back indoors, in the closet perhaps, you were secretly studying the box scores and teaching yourself to make fart noises with your armpits. What else could explain the fact that you somehow failed to notice that in addition to sand and water, the beach is crawling with hard-bodied men wearing very little clothing?

Craig: Please. Who needs to go to the beach to see hard-bodied men wearing very little clothing when I already have them in the comfort of my own home on my computer screen? And at the beach none of the hard-bodied men say: “Hey dude, nice surfboard” “Thanks, but I’d rather be riding you instead” and then start making out. Speaking of getting naked in public. Outside of porn, it is socially unacceptable. In the summer, if it gets hot, you can’t just keep taking off clothes. So you’re stuck in sticky clothes being hot and miserable. But in the winter, if you’re cold, you can just keep adding clothes and get nice and cozy and warm!

Suburban Kamikaze: “If it gets hot you can’t just keep taking off clothes?” That would be news to the folks in South Beach, Craig, or even Fort Lauderdale, popular destinations for scads of actually gay men, as opposed to fans of the video game. I can sum up summer’s superiority in one word: “circulation”. It’s a good thing Craig, responsible for much of what makes life pleasurable, and like rum, it’s also better in the Bahamas. Do you know why your fingers start to burn and go numb when the temperature drops? It’s the beginning of what is known as “death”, Craig. But that doesn’t sell a lot of Currier & Ives prints, does it? Winter, on the other hand, is responsible for countless cases annually of what is now known as “seasonal affective disorder”. Which used to be known as the “winter blues” until Winter’s sleazy, high-priced, Washington lobbyists had it changed. They can call it what they want, Craig; nobody was ever depressed drinking mojitos under a palm tree.

Craig: Don’t even get me started on mojitos! Whoever’s idea it was to take perfectly good alcohol and add mint to it should be shot. If I wanted mint, I’d brush my teeth! And you act as if nobody ever suffers in the summer. Ever hear of heatstroke? If I look in my handy dandy home medical dictionary, it says heatstroke is “characterized by cessation of sweating, severe headache, high fever, hot dry skin, and, in serious cases, collapse and coma”. That’s right! A coma! Suddenly the winter blues don’t sound so bad! It’s like a fun jazz song! Shoobity shoobity shoo! My girl left me in the winter, I’ve got the winter bluuuueees! Yeah!

Suburban Kamikaze: You know what is also like a fun jazz song Craig? An actual fun jazz song. Maybe you have heard this one?

“Summertime, and the livin’ is easy,
Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high.
Oh yo’ daddy’s rich an’ yo’ ma is good lookin’
But Craig would prefer that the cotton all die….”

I don’t know what you have against fish and cotton Craig, but I can tell you this: If you are brushing your teeth with rum and sugar water, you are doing it all wrong.

Craig: Um, yeah, maybe I hate cotton. Maybe I hate cotton because it reminds me of 1800’s plantations. Maybe I hate 1800’s plantations because they remind me of slavery. But you know, if you like slavery, then yeah, by all means, cotton is awesome. I guess I just have a higher respect for humanity than you do. You know where they never had plantations? In the north. Where it isn’t hot and summer-like all year round. Just sayin! And yeah, fish is gross, because, well, you know.

Suburban Kamikaze: And who do you suppose was buying all that slave-produced cotton Craig? (Hint: blankets do not exactly fly off the shelves in Miami…) But your respect for humanity aside, Craig, I think we have gone a little off track. A discussion of the cotton trade would be relevant in a debate called “North vs. South, circa 1860,” but our assignment is “Winter vs. Summer.” Remember? (Maybe you should put a sweater on. Try to get your circulation going.) Along those lines, I will conclude with a few literary points. When novelist Edith Wharton produced her breezy tale of a young woman’s sexual awakening, she did not title it “Winter”. Can you guess what she called it Craig? When winter-logged Russian writer Leo Tolstoy took up the theme, the result was “Dreary, Vodka-Soaked Russian Woman Throws Herself Under the Train”. Now I am not saying that I am ready to throw myself under a train exactly. But it is no coincidence that the website and corresponding book of short stories I began in Miami, (“Suburban Happiness: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tupperware”) evolved along somewhat darker themes. It’s cold here, Craig. That’s all I’m saying.

Craig: Yes. It is cold. But it’s a clean cold. It’s a refreshing cold. You come in from the snow, you pull off all your wet clothes and you enjoy a nice big mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. And you’re happy. Summer makes you gross. You come in from the heat, you are a sweaty mess. You make lots of noises that sound like “Uuughghhhghhh” and you plop down on the couch until your body temperature levels itself out again. If you ask me, a snowball in the face every once in a while is well worth not having to make the “Uuughghhhghhh” noise ever again.

So who do you guys think won? Her pictures are incredible! The high heels in the snow are so chic! Be sure to head over to her blog: Suburban Kamikaze!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! If you’ve previously sent me a topic, and I never got back to you, or if we haven’t started the debating process yet, send me a reminder! I’m very forgetful! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

Welcome to another edition of Puntabulous Guest Debates! Joining us today is Juliet from the awesome (and super fun to say!) blog Evolving Revolver. Her idea for a debate was RIDICULOUSLY genius, I couldn’t wait to get it on. And by “get it on” I mean debate, of course.

Martha Stewart vs. Oprah. Let the battle begin!

Juliet: Without a doubt, Martha Stewart could OWN Oprah. Really. How many people can go to prison and make a come back as hot as she? Oprah wouldn’t last one week in the clink. Without her personal trainers, dietitians and plastic surgeons she would inevitably eat too much and literally burst at her *ahem* seams. But Martha came out fresh as a daisy!

Craig: And by “come back as hot as she” do you mean host the worst season of The Apprentice ever? A season so bad that they only gave her one? Is that what you mean? Or are you referring to the god awful knitted poncho she wore? Because yes, Oprah would never come back as “hot” as that. Plus Oprah would never wind up in prison because she is such an upstanding individual! Hello?! They don’t send people to prison for building beautiful schools in Africa! Last I checked they gave out Nobel Peace Prizes for that, not orange jump suits and shivs!

Juliet: AHEM. Knitted ponchos are SO in, or haven’t you noticed? Especially ones you knit yourself from the finest organic fair trade alpaca wool. I would guess you wouldn’t know that, though, since you watch OPRAH and lord knows that she’s been wearing the same power suit since she was fat! No, no, no, Martha is classy. Martha is about the finer things in life. For instance the shiv she carried in prison: This is no ordinary shiv! Martha’s shiv was fashioned out of a vintage French chandelier, brought to her from her Summer home in Bedford by one of her very trustworthy Omnimedia. And that orange jumpsuit was made of 600 thread count Egyptian cotton.

Craig: Please! Martha could have whatever freaky-deeky shiv she wants! If Oprah ever went to prison (which would never happen because (as discussed) she’s so upstanding) she wouldn’t need a shiv for three reasons: A) People would be lining up around the cell block to be her Gayle… I mean bitch, and wouldn’t even think about harming her. B) If Oprah drops the soap, the soap picks itself up so she’s never vulnerable. C) She can kill people with the power of her mind. Not physically of course, just emotionally. Like she did with Stedman. And James Frey’s career. Who has Martha killed lately? A turkey? Ooooo! I’m skurred!

Juliet: Wait wait wait. Did you just admit that Oprah is a murderer? Of careers and emotions and souls! This is exactly why the plastic surgery miracle can’t be trusted!! And what’s with all that makeover every two months anyhow? She’s more stapled and stitched than Frankenstien’s monster! You know what all the nip / tuck is about? It’s a disguise. To mask her true identity as the devil. Her and her evil minion Dr. Phil are plotting to steal the souls of children and spoil all that is good and innocent in this world. She’s been trying to book a show with Martha for years now. She wants to do a segment on ritual sacrifice.

Craig: Let’s get one thing straight, of the two people in discussion, one of them has gone to prison, one has not. Oprah only uses her murderous (and ability to emotionally rip someone a new asshole) powers for good, not for evil. James Frey needed to be put in his place! He was a liar and a phony! Just think… Lindsay Lohan almost starred in a movie based on one of his books! Oprah saved us from another Lindsay Lohan movie! Thank you Oprah! What has Martha done for us lately? Mmmm, that shepherds pie she cooked me was really good. Oh wait, no, she just made it on TV. At least it smelt good! Oh wait, no, smell-o-vision hasn’t been invented yet. And speaking of getting stuff done, I wonder what Martha’s hair color really is?

Juliet: Craig. DARLING. I think you missed what I said. “OPRAH is the DEVIL.” As in, soul snatching, hell fire, pointy tailed corrupter of the honest and good. As in, Dante’s nine levels of hell she is at the very bottom gnawing on those people who couldn’t make it to heaven ( i.e. - those who don’t believe in all that is MARTHA!). Lucifer, Damien, Beelzebub, SATAN. Here, let me draw you a comparison:

Notice how her flabby thighs so closely resemble wings? And I don’t think I’m mistaken when I say that her pouf of black hair is covering up her horns. The evidence is undeniable. And you’re trifling on about jail? People don’t go to hell for embezzlement anymore. It’s just a thing you do, you know? Like noticing keenly that no one else is going to take the last slice of Chestnut Cake with Chocolate-Armagnac Glaze and helping yourself - because you wouldn’t want that to go to waste. Or haven’t we spoken yet about how much Martha dislikes waste?? She’s all for saving any poor, distasteful soul she can! That’s downright saintly!

Craig: Martha only dislikes waste because it proves that no one likes what she’s cooking! If her cooking was so wonderful, why would there ever be an ounce left over to go to waste in the first place? Who the hell wants Chestnut Cake anyway? And I don’t even know what the fuck Armagnac is. Oprah only eats wholesome American food, like pizza and cheeseburgers! Yeah, so her weight might fluctuate a bit, but it only acts as a symbol of Americana! When I see her body wrapped in fat, I envision that her fat is the American flag, and it is draped over her oh so eloquently. It brings a tear to my eye. Oh say can you see Oprah kicking Martha’s ass?

Juliet: Wait, did you just call all of America FAT? Because I think I can speak for all of America and take offense to that. And besides that is further proof that she is Satan because everyone knows that fat is the devil and if she is like this big wavy fat flag thing, then she is INDEED the devil!!! I think that you are going to have to concede that Martha Stewart is far superior to Oprah. Look at the facts: She survived prison with class and Egyptian cotton, she has an Omnimedia and is a bajillionaire, she’s being canonized as a saint - even Mother Theresa hasn’t been canonized! - and there is word on the street that Jesus (as in THE Jesus) was seen in her creme fraiche. She’s TOTALLY the God’s Chosen One. Whereas - I think I have pretty well supported - OPRAH is the devil and she eats kittens for breakfast, she makes America look fat and she’s terrifying in red spandex. C’mon Craig. I think we both know who wins this throw down.

Craig: Canonized, eh? Yes, I think it’s an excellent idea to shoot Martha Stewart out of a canon! I mean really? Who needs her? She cooks all that fancy stuff you’d never be able to cook in a million years, so you sit at home, sad and alone, thinking “Boy, I’ll never be able to cook like that. I suck. Mom was right, maybe I should just kill myself.” But then right as you’re about to throw yourself on your sword, your samurai-enthusiast roommate (who’s sword you borrowed to throw yourself on) changes the channel to Oprah. And you see Tom Cruise jumping on a couch professing his love for Katie Holmes, and you think: “Hmmm, maybe my life isn’t that bad after all. Thank you Oprah.”

So who do you guys think won? She did an awesome job with the Oprah/Satan diagram. Why didn’t I think to bring visual aids? Be sure to head over to her blog: Evolving Revolver!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! If you’ve previously sent me a topic, and I never got back to you, or if we haven’t started the debating process yet, send me a reminder! I’m very forgetful! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

Welcome to another edition of Puntabulous Guest Debates! Bossy of I AM BOSSY fame has stepped up and offered her debating services to my humble little Puntabulous. Holler! Bossy is awesome. Her suggestion for a debate topic? So simple yet so genius…

Chocolate vs. Vanilla. Let the battle begin!

Bossy: Clearly chocolate is the best flavor because chocolate is associated with romance. For instance, what do you give your loved one for Valentine’s Day? A box of chocolates. A box of vanillas? Not so much.

Craig: A wise man once said: “Love stinks! Yeah! Yeah! Love stinks! Yeah! Yeah!” As does romance and anything to do with romantic gestures. That’s why vanilla is is the far superior flavor! Besides, if someone really loved you they’d give you nice healthy vanilla yogurt, not fatty bad-for-you chocolate! And yogurt is just the beginning! Vanilla is the most versatile (hee hee) of all flavors!

Bossy: The most versatile of flavors? Right because there’s vanilla and…vanilla. You want to talk versatile than you have to talk chocolate. You got your milk chocolate and your dark chocolate. You got your semi-sweet chocolate, your unsweetened chocolate and your bittersweet chocolate. You’ve got your 25% cacao, your 35% cacao, and your 70% cacao. And, hello Mr. White Bread? A little thing Bossy likes to call White Chocolate.

Craig: Puh-lease! White chocolate is just chocolate’s ghetto way of trying to be vanilla. And all those different kinds of chocolate, all sound like uh…chocolate. Vanilla is totally the slutty prom queen of flavors while chocolate is the chubby tuba player. Vanilla extract has an alcohol content! You can get drunk off of vanilla! What’s cooler than that? Do I have to remind you of those dorky Ovaltine commercials? “More Ovaltine please!” Ugh, those commercials make me want to punch a baby penguin.

Bossy: You get drunk from vanilla? Wow you must be really churchy. In which case Bossy would like to introduce you to a little thing she calls Dopamine. When you eat chocolate, the bioactive agents contained within increase the brain’s level of serotonin, producing mild stimulation and the release of the calming, mood enhancing dopamine. That would be chocolate. Vanilla just makes your farts smell like sugar cookies.

Craig: Um, you say that as if farts smelling like sugar cookies are a bad thing? And what’s so bad about being churchy? I believe it was baby Jesus who once said: “You who favor vanilla over chocolate shall be welcome into the kingdom of heaven when my dad thrusts the Earth into a realm of terror for America’s acceptance of gays.” Or something like that. So when we get up to heaven there’s gonna be two lines, one for vanilla lovers and one for chocolate lovers. Or as St. Peter will refer to them as: “White Line” and “Colored Line”. Yay segregation! Vanilla power!

Bossy: But those who prefer chocolate don’t have to wait their whole whitey lives for St. Peter and that gate thingy, because eating chocolate is like heaven on earth. And lucky thing, because those who eat chocolate will live longer. There’s only one flavor that has the potential to lower blood pressure and cholesterol and reduce the risk of blood clots. And that flavor? Ding ding ding! Chocolate! Meanwhile Vanilla is good for… um… looking it up and… oh, here it is: Nothing.

Craig: I love vanilla. It makes me happy. You say vanilla is good for nothing. Following this logic, my happiness means nothing to you. I therefore declare this debate a personal attack on myself and upon my character. I can believe nothing you say. Perhaps you really love vanilla and are just saying you don’t to make me feel bad. Why would you do that? Why Bossy? Why? Now I’m sad. Quick! I need comforting. Someone get me some vanilla ice cream damn it! Better yet! How about a swig of ye olde vanilla extract! Ahhhh, sweet, sweet comfort.

Bossy: Oh, sorry, you were saying what? Bossy couldn’t hear you above the sound of the weepy violin. Bossy is pained that the truth of vanilla is making you so sad. Do you know what always works for Bossy when she’s in need of comfort? First she takes a nice ceramic mug and puts it on the counter. And then she takes some milk and mixes it with her favorite chocolate syrup in a pan over a medium flame and voilà: Hot chocolate. You could always, um, take your, eh, and mix it with, uh, right, well—you could always eat your mug.

Craig: Oh, and what will you be putting in your hot chocolate? Is it…(dramatic pause)… marshmallows?! And do you know what a key ingredient in marshmallows is? Do I even need to tell you? Fine, I guess I do. (After all, people who prefer chocolate aren’t all that smart.) It’s vanilla! And as everyone knows, drinking hot chocolate is just an excuse to eat marshmallows and enjoy their vanilla goodness. Aw, I’m sorry my arguments are so awesome. Feel free to borrow my violin. You need it more than I do.

Bossy: You’ve heard it here first: on the planet Craig, marshmallows contain vanilla. Meanwhile for the rest of us, marshmallows are produced from a combination of sugar, egg whites, gelatin, corn syrup, dextrose, corn starch, tetrasodium pyrophosphate, and gum arabic. Which, yum, kind of reminds Bossy of vanilla. Also? Do you know how vanilla is harvested? The vanilla pods are plucked from their happy vine while they are all green and odorless and then they are sent off to slaughterhouses where their vegetative tissue is killed—this can be death by sun, by oven, by hot water, or by deep freezing. Bossy never knew Craig was so violent, but she thinks maybe there’s a mood enhancer that would help this predicament and—oh, it’s chocolate.

Craig: First off, the planet Craig is awesome. It is filled with hard bodies in loin cloths cooling me off with giant leaves and hand-feeding me grapes. Secondly, check out THIS recipe for marshmallows created by non other than Martha Fucking Stewart and shown on Oprah. Just try and defy Martha and Oprah! They will cut you! But wait, you must be right because you have a magazine and have built empires based upon just your name alone. Riiiiiiight. That’s what I thought. Vanilla rules, chocolate drools.

So who do you guys think won? Even if I lose, I think I deserve a consolation prize for freakiest picture for my vanilla ice cream picture. I look like Bilbo attacking Frodo in Rivendell for the One Ring. Okay, that was a dorky reference, but come on! It’s totally fitting!

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

So I posted about my favorite Madonna song the other day and asked people to e-mail me with their favorite Madonna song, and if it was different than mine, we would debate over the title of Best! Madonna! Song! So I got an e-mail from Miss Britt who writes the hysterical blog Miss Britt and shocker, she didn’t have the same favorite Madonna song as me! Blasphemy! So here we are, to settle this matter once and for all:

Miss Britt: Clearly, Madonna’s best song is Like A Virgin. I mean, you think Madonna, you think “I don’t care how much Henna that woman paints on herself now, that girl’s no virgin!”, which inevitably leads you to start writhing to Like A Virgin - HEE! Not that a song being synonymous with the artist name necessarily makes it their best song. Unless you’re talking about Madonna, and Like A Virgin.

Craig: Wow. Everyone knows Madonna’s best song is Like a Prayer. I mean, you have heard it right? You can’t possibly listen to that song and not immediately start (as the kids say) busting moves. You know what happens when I try dancing to Like a Virgin? I start writhing awkwardly. Yes, that’s right. Two words that should never be paired together in a million years. Writhing. Awkwardly. It’s completely undanceable!

Miss Britt: You bust a move to Like A Prayer? Do you also get down when the church bells go off on Sunday? And get jiggy with the latest release from The Siberian Buddhist Monks*? Let me concede, dear Craig, that Like A Prayer is in fact a great song, and definitely one of Madonna’s better efforts. The message behind that song is impressive and the video was groundbreaking. But the best? You wanna bust a move, sing this out loud and I DARE you not to impersonate chest palpitations: “When your heart beats… next to miiiiiiiiiine… wohahahoh”

*To my knowledge, this group does not actually exist, nor have “releases”. But they could. And you’d be dancing to them.

Craig: AH HA! You have revealed your fatal (not really) debating flaw! Reason! You are admitting that Like a Prayer is a great song. I will concede no such thing when it comes to Like a Virgin! I will make bold and unreasonable claims such as wanting to wipe my ass with Like a Virgin! That I wouldn’t listen to Like a Virgin if it were the last song on Earth! You want another bold and unreasonable claim? Madonna pretending to be a virgin! To compare her with the biblical Madonna is blasphemy! What should you do to repent? Pray! Like a Prayer!

Miss Britt: It’s obviously time to pull out my Debating Secret Weapon: clearly, you’re retarded. And are incapable of grasping the intricate message behind Like A Virgin. She’s not pretending to BE a virgin. In fact, she’s talking about that feeling you get when you’re not… REALLY not. Where you’re beat, incomplete, you’ve been had, and you’re sad and blue… and THEN someone comes along and makes you feel shiny and new. Oh. Wait. I see. THAT’s your problem with it. You’re one of those “don’t want tarnished goods” kind of guys, eh? Well. I’m sorry. I should restate my argument to say that for those of us who understand history and mistakes and can’t be freaking PERFECT, Madonna’s Like a Virgin is obviously her best song.

Craig: Awww! That’s really good of you to admit that I’m perfect! I guess that means all my musical preferences are perfect also, no? And who wants to feel like a virgin when they’re having sex? Does that mean the sex lasts for 5 seconds and ends with me apologizing profusely? I mean, not ME apologizing profusely. I mean, hypothetically. You know, if I wasn’t like naturally amazing in bed. You see, Like a Virgin is all about making Madonna feel good, but Like a Prayer is all about pleasing the other person. “I’m down on my knees, I want to take you there!” See? This song is all about giving! CoughHeadCough.

Miss Britt: Oh. God. Craig’s painfully awkward sexual experiences. Quick! New mental image!!! Speaking of mental images… you hear Like A Prayer and instantly imagine the crying statue and really sad black guy from the video. And that weird ass chamber music or whatever it was going on in the beginning. Like A Prayer should have given us a sign that Madonna was eventually going to go all airy fairy “I feel things deeply” on us down the road. And let’s be honest, none of us likes Madonna with straight hair and henna. It shows off The Gap. But Like A Virgin? You hear Like a Virgin and you see Fun Madonna. Cool Madonna. Makeup and beads and lace and smile and pop punk good times Madonna. When Madonna is inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame (omg i am so old), guaranteed it will be in front of a picture of her in all her Like A Virgin glory.

Craig: Look, I think we can both agree that straight hair henna Madonna is the worst. And by all means you can fit a Banana Republic in that Gap of her’s. But let’s talk about the videos for a moment. In the Like a Virgin video she gets it on with some weird man lion hybrid. Seriously! Have you SEEN the video lately? Like, what? Is this song condoning bestiality? I just don’t get it. But wait! Who does she get it on with in the Like a Prayer video? Black Jesus. That’s right. And if you don’t respect that, you’re either a racist or a heathen. Take your pick.

Miss Britt: I have to admit, I did not remember any kind of bestiality (although I clearly remember Madonna’s victimization of the lovely and sacred Black Jesus, ferSHAME!). So I YouTubed both videos. And I will admit that the last few seconds of Like A Virgin contained way more references to an animalesque lover than any one video clip should ever have. While perusing YouTube Madonna videos, I also enjoyed Like A Prayer (she was a cute brunette) and Weird Al’s Like A Surgeon. Remember that? When Like A Virgin got so big that good ol’ Al decided to capitolize on it’s awesomeness with a hilarious parody? You know what I couldn’t find though… Weird Al’s parody of Like A Prayer. Crazy.

Craig: Maybe Weird Al didn’t make a parody of Like a Prayer because it’s so totally awesome and unmakefunable. (Yes, that’s a word!) And since when did variables consisting of Weird Al parodies become valid arguments when debating? That’s like saying guys with long hair are hotter than guys with short hair because Weird Al has long hair! Which we all know is completely wrong because guys with short hair are way hotter! Now look what you’ve done! I’m completely off topic! I assume this was all part of your plan to bring me down. Just like the religious right tried to bring Madonna down for her Like a Prayer video. That’s another reason why Like a Prayer is the best Madonna song. Because it reminds me of myself!

Miss Britt: Um, Craig? Let’s try to focus. I will concede that Like A Prayer is a great Madonna song (duh) - and even go so far as to say it’s ONE of my favorites. But it’s obvious that Like A Virgin is the quintessential Madonna song. It’s a perfect example of how you can take something pure (like virginity) and turn it into something slutty. And everyone knows THAT is what Madonna is about. That’s what made Madonna so cool back in the day - she made you want to touch yourself seductively in the check out line, just to see the cashier blush. Like A Prayer makes you think - which, okay, was a big step for Madonna. But Like A Virgin makes you dance, and sing along, and want to be a very, very bad girl…

Craig: Hmm, you want to take something pure and turn into something slutty? How about praying? Praying is pure, right? Let’s try making that slutty! Oh wait! Madonna already did! Listening to Like a Prayer is like praying for sex! If that doesn’t send you straight to hell, nothing will! (Although masturbating in a check out line isn’t exactly the yellow brick road to heaven.) In conclusion, what is the most cliche thing you could yell out mid-orgasm? That’s right: “Oh God! Oh God!” It’s like sex and prayer at the same time. It’s the essence of Like a Prayer and the pinnacle of Madonna’s awesomeness.

So who do you guys think won? I mean, clearly her pictures kick my pictures’ asses. But who won the debate?

Think you could do better? Send me an e-mail with a topic you’d like to debate with me! For more Puntabulous Debates CLICK HERE!

So I was in the car driving to the train station this morning singing (loudly) along to my favorite Madonna song. And I was thinking to myself: “This is by far the best Madonna song ever. How could this not be everyone’s favorite Madonna song?” And then I thought: “What if it isn’t everyone’s favorite Madonna song?!”

So for those of you who couldn’t think of a debate topic to debate with me, I’m giving you a freebie. If you feel passionately abou