Ron Swanson vs. Avery Jessup

While strolling on the ocean floor in our personalized diving suits today (we would never be foolish enough to let the other construct our own suit, of course), Maryann and I came to realize the tenuous, fragile line keeping us from killing each other at that moment. This, of course, led us to discuss which television character would have the best chance of surviving when stuck on a deserted island.

Here’s a very skillfully done drawing of the island. If you can’t understand why there are obstacles, you will soon..

At first, we debated all television character, before deciding to narrow it down. I posited, “How about medical drama characters?” and Maryann quickly flicked that idea away. After throwing around a few genres — including characters on dramas like Felicitywith Maryann saying, “They’d all just die instantly” — we landed on sitcoms.

My choice was almost instantaneous: Avery Jessup. Avery Jessup is Elizabeth Banks‘ character on 30 Rock who is known for being sexy, determined, and unstoppable. It was a perfect fit. Maryann thought for a moment, worried she had met her match before the challenge had even begun when she shouted, “Ron Swanson!” in triumph. Ron Swanson is Nick Offerman’s cult hit character on Parks and Recreation famous for being ultra manly, completely self reliant, and meat loving.

We had our contenders.

The problem we encountered after choosing our team is that we believed both characters would actually be able to survive indefinitely on the island because they are so skilled, and so we changed the parameters of this debate from simply existing on an island with scant resources to having the two characters inhabit one island, lined with traps, and the condition for victory is whoever could traverse the harsh terrain and kill the other first. So now we present to you: Celebrity Deathmatch Island: Ron Swanson vs. Avery Jessup.

Look into the eyes of this killer, ladies

Maryann’s take: I’ll admit that it was a challenge to top Greg’s pick for this debate. After much consideration, however, I believe I found a more than suitable contender in Ron Swanson: a man who would thrive in a solitary outdoor environment riddled with danger.

He would succeed in both major components of this challenge, even over Avery Jessup. First, he would traverse the island with ease; then he would seduce Avery Jessup with his masculine prowess until he murdered her in cold blood, all while keeping his mustache pristine.

First, I’ll address the survival portion of the challenge. On the island Greg and I have devised (from our dream journals), we included a number of obstacles to make traversing it next to impossible for an ordinary human being (but Greg and I have completed the exact obstacle course numerous times–I’m always two-tenths of a second faster). Ron Swanson, however, is no ordinary human being. He would meet each challenge with ease. As an outdoor enthusiast and expert whittler, he would be able to navigate his way around the avoidable dangers without fail. Even if he were to run into an obstacle, fighting his way through it would be simple.

Swanson is an avid hunter and has spent copious amounts of time in the Indianan woods. Granted, that’s not a tropical jungle full of tigers, but it has unspeakable dangers of its own. He’s had to lead Boy Scout troops, and the sometimes incompetent Parks Department employees, on survival trips in the woods. Tigers are nothing compared to Boy Scouts. Hunting the striped beasts would be simple, even fun, for Swanson. I imagine he would celebrate his kill by stopping to roast them and eat tiger steak wrapped in tiger bacon with a hearty serving of tiger blood. He may even eat all his tiger steaks raw; it’s likely that he would be able to survive on nothing but raw animal carcass and whiskey, if need be.

Next, he would have the land mines to navigate. If his awesome mustache wasn’t enough to guide him around the land mines, he could certainly whittle himself a slingshot to use to uncover the mines and safely cross the field. He could also probably survive a few land mine blasts. After all, he once sat in his office overnight without moving when he had a hernia. Ron Swanson is no stranger to pain and he refuses to let physical injury win.

The other obstacles are no trouble for someone who spends as much time outside as Swanson does. He’s an expert camper, which would serve him well on a two day trek across an (evil) island. Food would be no challenge (he ate the tigers after all) and crossing a river is a laughable obstacle for a man with his woodworking skills.

Finally, the death portion. Because Ron Swanson would naturally have no difficulty tracking Avery Jessup’s every move (with all the hunting and outdoors-y skills–I’ve said this already), he’d be able to find her after crossing the river and wait for her to come to him. He would craft himself an exquisite rocking chair to sit in while he waits patiently for his prey. Pipe in hand (he carved it after he finished the rocking chair), Avery Jessup would stumble upon him and be in awe of his exuberant masculinity.

Ron Swanson has a way with the ladies; he particularly likes “strong, self-possessed women at the top of their fields.” Sound like Avery Jessup? (It does.) He would begin to fight her, as the challenge calls for, but he would slowly wear her down with his masculine charm. Because he’s built such an incredible tolerance to alcohol, as well as the ability to meditate for hours, he must have an unyielding stamina, which would serve him well if it were to come to fisticuffs. Ron Swanson’s pure manliness would be enough to defeat Avery in fight, plus he’s still got that awesome sling shot he made. It would not, however, get to that point.

After a bit of wordplay and slap fighting, Swanson would use his wiles to seduce Avery, who would be unable to resist. Perhaps he’d play some smooth jazz for her or show off his ability to eat all the bacon and eggs in a diner; how he does it is irrelevant. After making love to her in the sand, he would fashion a murder weapon from a coconut and FINISH HER.

Greg’s take: When Maryann and I began this debate, I almost instantly picked Avery Jessup. Elizabeth Banks herself said that she envisioned Avery Jessup as being the ultimate contender in another recent movie she was in, The Hunger Games, saying, “… [She] would kill everyone in that arena. She would run and, like, just murder everyone.”

We know a few things about Avery that would give her the edge in this scenario. Firstly, she takes great care to master her physical condition, running on a regular basis, as well as breaking bricks with her hands, which we learn when she says they make her do that in North Korea as punishment but she paid her personal trainer in America to do the same thing.

Her physical prowess makes her a force to be reckoned with in this situation. She could go far longer than Ron Swanson when it comes to running across the island and, despite what you may think, she probably also has the same upper body strength as Ron, allowing her to easily chop down any trees with ease and cracking coconuts with a single blow. She is an efficient powerhouse of a human being.

Secondly, Avery is superior because, while Ron has a tranquility to him that may help him act under such extreme pressure, Avery has an unyielding personality. She never gives up, no matter how stupid the argument. She would do anything necessary to win, and this strict Ethic of Victory also allows her to push herself far past a normal human being — I mean, what other woman would try to travel hundreds of miles while in labor so her baby is born on American, rather than Canadian, soil? I would say, “Few women.” It is this fortitude that allowed her to stay sane during her year-long captivity in North Korea and forced marriage to Kim Jong-un.

She can survive this. She can survive anything.

Finally, Avery Jessup is quite intelligent, as we discovered in both the first episode we meet her in, where she is able to immediately see through a lie because she has memorized Geneva time, or the last episode she was in, where we discover she had in under a year constructed her own form of communication through finger taps. More importantly, she’s a master tactician, having studied the strategies of such famous warriors as Napoleon and Fabian.

These three things — body of steel, will of steel, and mind of steel — come together to form a woman who is practically a cyborg. Avery Jessup could replace Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator and the film would have lasted 12 minutes because she would have killed Sarah Connor no matter who had come to save her because she is unrivaled in her awesomeness.

Also, I think it’s important to note that Ron Swanson has showed he can’t resist feminine wiles all too well, and Avery Jessup has never disappointed when it comes to looks.

The story of how she survives is simple: She can harvest coconuts and subsist simply off them, needing no other tools to help her besides her bare hands. She’s also used to running marathons on nothing but coconut water so she’d actually be eating better than normal if she also had the coconut meat.

She’d proceed to use these coconuts in order to set off the shorter section of mines and venturing into the den of the tigers, where she would stealthily elude them thanks to her noted quietness and speed. If need be, she’d punch them in the face.

Next, she swims across the river, even though it is roughly two miles across, which is easy for someone with the physical talents she possesses.

She would, however, avoid the mountains. This is important to note. She’d venture to the other den of tigers and repeat her earlier way to deal with them, because unlike stocky, hairy Ron Swanson, she would not do well at great heights if it got too cold.

Finally, she would swim around the shallow currents past the mine field and stalk Ron from the side, while he is obliviously doing something like making a raft or gun or something, right Maryann? She throws a coconut or two to distract him, and he takes the bait just long enough for her to sneak behind him and break his kidneys with her fists.

Prepare to die, Ron Swanson.

Maryann’s final take: Or, more realistically, the two would end up falling in love and neither one would kill the other. They’d live their lives out on the sandy beaches with piranha infested waters.

Stalemate! Yay!


We Can’t Work Together

In an effort to facilitate a more friendly rivalry, we chose to do a collaborative project this week. We decided to write an “And Then…” story in which one person starts, leaves off with “and then…” and the other takes over for a paragraph or so. We thought it would be fun to see how amazing of a tale we could spin when combining our genius powers. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out so well. To keep it clear who wrote what, we’ve color coded it. Greg’s writing is blue and Maryann’s is pink because we wanted to be stereotypical. Thanks to Greg, the story is awful. No, Maryann ruined it. Fine, just get on with it.

This image is sort of like our story. Interested yet?

Once upon a time there was a very handsome and smart and witty stud named Gerg. He had seven homes and also he was the smartest guy ever and Steve Jobs and Bill Gates stole all his ideas, but that was okay because he had so many and they were so awesome. One day, Gerg decided to go to his base on moon, and then…

Gerg, which was short for GergAnn because GergAnn was actually a very beautiful and sexy and successful and awesome princess who lived in FairyTaleLandia in Beautimous Castle (because moon bases are stupid). Princess GergAnn decided to visit the neighboring castle, Castle Chocula, where her prince boyfriend, Prince Peanut, lived. On the way, she found herself in the middle of a spectacular adventure. She ran into the evil ogre Pphhhh. Pphhh was the meanest ogre in all of FairyTaleLandia and he was trying to take over the kingdom and make it no fun. GergAnn walked up to the evil ogre and then…

Gerg, which was actually short for Gerg, shot the ogre with his raygun because he wasn’t afraid of anything, and then he donned his spacesuit and went to the moonbase, where he used his deathray to destroy the puny and pathetic FairyTaleLandia because he realized that princesses are dumb unless they are Moon-princesses, but he didn’t need any of those right now because he already had five. He cackled maniacally while drinking Bakon Vodka and decided to do something else that definitely didn’t involve stupid princesses or whatever someone with no brain like Maryann would want to write about — I mean, and then…

Princess GergAnn wished with her magical wishing powers for a unicorn that could fly through space and go beat up Gerg on his stupid moonbase. She landed majestically in a moon crater and then took out her magic brass knuckles and punched Gerg in the face, like, eight times, and then got back on her magical unicorn, named Sandy, and flew back to FairyTaleLandia, which Gerg did NOT destroy because it can’t be destroyed–it’s magic–and she visited her boyfriend Prince Peanut.  And then god stop Maryann–I was about to!

Then Gerg realized that /Maryann/ MARYANN IS STUPID THE BEST PERSON EVER and he used an anti-magic field to stop the magic from protecting the kingdom, and he took the prince captive and said, “Mwhahaha, you will never have your stupid boy back.” And then Gerg took all the men captive so Gergann could never reproduce because her genes are awful and she would have to beg Gerg to be the dad of her ugly babies but he was like, “NO! I refuse! You disgust me!” and she wept because she is a weak willed woman.

There’s no such thing as an anti-magic field, Greg. You can’t do that. The prince and the princess lived happily ever after! And didn’t have ugly babies because they were both beautimous because they moved into Beautimous Castle. The end! Don’t read any more after this. This is the end. Really. Stop reading now.

Well Gerg was like “Eff that” because he’s the only one who can be happy forever and he became immortal with science and he DECAPITATED THE UNICORN’S HEAD AND PUT IT IN HER BED WHILE SHE WAS ASLEEP!!!

No, that didn’t happen. Greg’s wrong. His story sucks. He’s evil and doesn’t like unicorns. I’m leaving.

Not if I leave first!

I don’t think we’ll be trying anything cooperative again soon. Or ever.

The Best Devious Date

The other night Maryann entered a romantic restaurant, which I discovered because of the tracking device I secretly placed on her person because I saw her enter. I quickly started messaging her about what I assumed was her attempt to appear human long enough to seduce a date, and after assuring me that she was quite a successful temptress she countered with, “Besides, I bet I could come up with a better date than you!” I scoffed at this idea but also knew there was only one thing to respond with to such a heinous accusation: “Challenge accepted!” In the spirit of rivalry, we now give you the two best (and most devious) dates ever.

As you’ll discover, both our dates are centered around perfectly timed moves.

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The Best Erotic Romances Ever Written

This week, we decided to challenge ourselves by writing in a new genre for both of us. While the two of us have written many best-selling novels, including my Dora the Explorer adult mystery novels where Dora is now a prostitute, but neither of us has dared to embark into this genre which is notorious for being profoundly classy and subtle: the erotic romance.

Both of us are, of course, very sexy, and romantic. Greg once gave his ex-wife a life-like Ryan Gosling android (hence why she is now his ex-wife) and Maryann once carved an ice-sculpture of her hot Latino lover, which she and Juan (her lover) proceeded to melt with their steaminess. In fact, it was sharing these stories with each other that set off this debate.

Before we got to writing, we realized we needed some parameters for this challenge. First, we chose titles and themes for each others’ romances. Maryann selected “Adding it Up: A Math Teacher Romance” for Greg to write about and Maryann’s task was to write “Love on the Trail: An Oregon Trail Romance.” We set ourselves a time limit of 20 minutes to write and sat down, at our separate computers (because we can’t stand to be in the same room for more
than two minutes at a time), and wrote the following erotic romance novel excerpts:

Love on the Trail: An Oregon Trail Romance

by Maryann

The party had been on foot for days. After Ezekiel had died of dysentery, the mood was somber. The heat was unbearable, but they were already behind and couldn’t stop. The heat was especially unbearable for Ellen, who had been lusting after Josiah for the last three days. She stared at him in all of his sweaty manliness and wanted to drool. He dripped masculinity in every drop of sweat. And there was a lot of sweat.

Drops fell from his forehead and back and arms and hands. He seemed to swim in a river of his own sweat. It glistened and made his muscles all shiny, like Ellen’s silver collection. His hair was so wet that it looked plastic, like a Ken doll, which did not yet exist, but Ellen imagined something like that. She stared as he wiped streaks of sweat from his forehead with his muscly arms. Oh, his muscly arms! She had dreamed about his arms tackling bison and hitching wagons. Every time she thought about it, she had to fan herself.

The party was behind schedule, but they would need to stop soon to set up for the night. Josiah helped in setting up the tents and Ellen helped with cooking, sneaking lusty glances at Josiah all the while. After dinner, Ellen had to go for a walk to calm herself. Every time she imagined him hunting bison, her lady parts quivered.

She went for a walk around camp, making sure to walk in a straight line so she could get back easily. If she wasn’t eaten by wolves or something on the way. Suddenly, she heard something behind her. It was Josiah following her. Even though it had been hours since the sun set, he was still drenched in sweat, as though he’d just jumped in a lake. But there was no water for miles.

He didn’t say anything–he didn’t have to. They’d been playing this cat and mouse game for weeks. Josiah would swat at her, like a cat, and then she would run away coyly, like a mouse. It was obvious they wanted to jump each other’s bones.

Before she realized what he was doing, Ellen found Josiah’s mouth in her mouth. Then around her mouth. And his hands were wandering all over her body. Like, all over the place. He had no idea where to put them. He opened his enormous mouth and kissed her again, managing to nearly swallow her chin. Then he pushed his tongue into her throat and she pushed hers back into his. They shared more saliva than a baby and the floor.

Adding It Up: A Math Teacher Romance

by Greg

As Susan erased the differential equations from the chalkboard, she could not help but sigh. Just as her students were struggling to solve these puzzles, she was in a bind about what to do with her own puzzle. With… Jeoffrey.

The mere cursive writing of his name in her head made her bosom quake like Japan during that earthquake. Her face flushed a crimson that matched her shade of lipstick, “Spunky librarian.” How could one man be so perfect? His knees and elbows were exceptionally knobby and his glasses drooped down his nose, giving him an air of being sexily aloof. Not only this, but he taught the same subject as her.  Thinking of the hours they had spent in the past joking about integrals and looking at fractals made her lady flower purr.

Just then, as if he had heard her lusty thoughts – as if he were a regular sexual psychic – he entered her office. He did not knock; no, he was too brazen for that. He was a modestly tall 5’8”, carrying a stack of books on linear regression, and ghostly pale: just the way she liked.

“I came to deliver these to you,” he said, his voice twinging with a wonderful nasally sound that made her mammary glands diamond-like.

“Oh, you sh-shouldn’t have,” she stammered, trying to catch her breathe. “You could have had a janitor or one of the fat kids do it. Especially now, my blouse is all covered in chalk dust…” She put her hands over her slim A-cups and hoped he didn’t notice the quadratic-equation like protrusions.

“Well, you could always get more comfortable if you’re embarrassed,” he seductively slurped, like one of the hot pockets he eats for lunch everyday.

Did she hear him right? Had Jeoffrey just made a pass at her? Or was he being socially awkward, like many non-maths claimed the maths were? It could not have been the good news and must be that he was teasing poor Susan!

But then he inched closer to her desk, shutting the door behind him with the smoothness that only someone used to constantly going into their own room can manage.

“Susan, I… I want you. I need you.” He reached out to her and fumbled with her hip, clearly inexperienced. She didn’t mind, as she also had been too busy plotting graphs to partake in sensual pleasures.

“But… Jeoffrey! All these years, I’ve been wanting you as badly as a… As a—“

“As a baby wants its mother’s milk?” He whispered, his poorly shaven upper lip hair brushing against her fuzzy ear.

“Y-yes…” She whimpered, taken aback by his sheer utter cocky audacity and suave.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I must say that it turns me on more than when one of the hot girls who don’t wear bras complete a factorial correctly.”

Her moistness grew moister as he spoke.

“I need you. I need you to solve the most important puzzle of all: Me plus you equals X.” He rolled the “s” sound over, long and hard, so that it sounded like “equals sex.” And she could not stand but be turned on by his amazingly arousing naughty math pun.

With the gusto of one whose loins have been locked in a girder of boxplots and dry erase markers, she began to ravage him, her slender hands grabbing his bony thighs and her lips lapping at his chin jowls.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” A moan escaped his snakelike lips. “That feels so good, not at all like the body pillow I normally sleep with…”

She put her finger against his mouth to quiet him as she removed her shirt and unleashed the beast within. She was a sexy math goddess and no one could stop her unplugged feminine regions!

Moderately Super Friends, Unite!

This weekend, while Greg and I were eating dinner together (we each cooked our own meal because we are wise to one another’s poison schemes), I asked him to pass the salt. After asking him this, I wished I had telekinetic powers so that I could enjoy my dinner in total silence. Because the silence had already been broken, I said, “I wish I had telekinesis so I could move the salt over here myself.” Greg and I then began to argue about the best superpower imaginable, which slowly digressed into a discussion of the worst superpower imaginable. Neither of us could choose only one terrible superpower, which is why we decided to create two groups of “moderately super friends.” This week, we debate what the worst combination of super powers (that are still actual powers) would be; thus, we now give you our debate of the most ineffective superhero trio.

Both of our sets of Moderately Super Friends are kind of like this, only even more ridiculous and much less competent

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Political Drag Race

This week we look at something many people probably wonder about on a regular basis: which politician would make the best drag queen? After all, what is a political campaign if not akin to a drag show: flamboyant, outspoken, and proud people get into their finest clothes and put on a lot of makeup, sometimes looking, ahem, “fierce” and sometimes looking like clowns, all for the enjoyment of the American people. They speak with a mix of fervor and over the top zealousness that can sooth, infuriate, or entice. Given this noted similarity, the answer to which politician would make the best drag queen is very important for the political future of America.

Read this for America!

In order to do this, we use the assistance of the Dragulator. Thanks RuPaul! Continue reading

Referendum and the next debate

Greg here. Unfortunately, given the feedback both on and off this site, I must concede that Maryann’s vision of Teletubbies taking over the planet would probably be the worst apocalypse possible. Though I still think she’s wrong. I mean, I don’t think Teletubbies would do anything more than severe psychological damage. Bah!

I am not the best at sportsmanship…

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