Athens vs. Sparta
When: 491 B.C. to 412 B.C. However, doubts have recently been cast upon these dates by an excavation in Northern Greece and the fact that I’m just making shit up.
Where: See title of fight, tough guy.
Why?: Plain and simple: bragging rights. Who had the strongest armies, the wisest philosophers, the best government. Actually, none of that mattered. It was all about who had the hottest young boys.
Outcome: Winners: old Greek guys. Losers: young boys getting cornholed.
Khmer Rouge Leader Pol Pot vs. Cambodia
When: 1975-1978.
Where: Cambodia.
Why?: Millions of aggressive peasants suddenly decide that they’re the king-ding-a-ling of the country, and poor old Pol Pot has to defend himself against all these crazy people throwing themselves in front of bullets.
Outcome: Despite being badly outnumbered (millions of them, one of him!), our lovable, avuncular Pol Pot is able to heroically convince the mean people to stop doing their bad things, thus averting violent conflict and winning one for the underdog. Media Manipulation? Revisionist history? Take that, Noam Chomsky!
Swimsuit Models vs. Lingerie Models
When: It never ends.
Why?: For the right to suck my dick. If you could see my svelte physique and preternatural good looks, you’d know why.
Where: Regrettably, my imagination. But coming soon to Fox!
Outcome: This is a battle that NOBODY loses.
Dreams vs. Reality
When: As far back as you can remember. Sigh.
Why?: Because maybe no one noticed you wetting your pants behind the jungle gym. Because maybe Katie does like you. Because it’s perfectly normal for a 12 year old boy to like unicorns. Because the world wasn’t ready for your band. Because only huge dorks go to prom. And because maybe Mr. Sassy Baskets is just sleeping.
Outcome: Everyone saw you piss yourself, Katie has since always thought you smelled of urine, your parents divorced because of your perceived homoerotic tendencies, your band only played shitty Misfits covers and never had a drummer, the guy caught masturbating in the supply closet got asked to prom over you, and Mr. Sassy Baskets is dead as fucking disco.
Feminists vs. Me
When: Right after they read this.
Why?: Because suddenly, senseless objectification of women is wrong, or something. Well then EXCUUUSE ME in advance for referring to your junk as a “dickbag.” Repeatedly.
Four-cheese Pizza Hot Pocket-A When: 3 A.M. on a Thursday morning, after like 4 fat chongers.
Where: On the couch, whilst undoubtedly contemplating an art-house favorite like Half Baked or Army of Darkness.
Why?: Because your smoke-enshrouded world is only big enough for one of them.
Outcome: A surprise, as both combatants are beaten by the unexpected kung-fu mastery of sleep.
