Who’d Win Out Of Kong & Napoleon?/What Does Brooklyn Have To Offer?/How Do I Know If He Likes Me?/Does W.A.S. Like Chicken?

name: Peter
query: Who would win i a battle King Kong or Napoleon(with army)?
A good question — is the brute juggernaut strength of Napoleon enough to overcome King Kong’s dazzling mind for tactics and strategy? Regardless of the final outcome, what a contest; nobody’s walking away unscathed. Indeed, our guess is that any victory would have to be a Pyrrhic one. Here’s one possible way it could play out:
– King Kong instigates.
– Napoleon reacts.
– King Kong pulls some surprisingly sick shit, right here at the beginning.
– Napoleon, having none of it, reacts, with force.
– King Kong is furious.
– Napoleon is furious. Each party now firmly believes that the other is in the wrong.
– King Kong pulls out all the stops with a thinking man’s pounce.
– Napoleon weathers it and fucking comes right back at King Kong with hell glowing in his eyes.
– King Kong feints, telegraphing one thing, then does something else.
– Napoleon is feeling terror and rage in equal measure.
– King Kong, long past the point in his distinguished career of military conquest where he can feel fear, steels himself for the endgame.
– Napoleon and King Kong both give it their all in a final push for victory; each can go home proud of having tried super hard for his team, and having given the enemy a dangerously tough go of it that he (the enemy) will not soon forget.
—————
name: Liz
query: I’ve been going to art and design school in Brooklyn for 2 years now and still haven’t been able to experience what Brooklyn has to offer…could you recommend some things to do here on the weekends?
If you haven’t already, you simply must go watch Napoleon and King Kong fight. We dare you to tear your eyes away!
—————
name: Franal
query: How do i know if the lad likes me without actually asking him?
When you make love, does he sometimes embrace your body with a desperation that can’t be mistaken for the mere physical need to culminate, that is in fact his every cell willing away the physical — the metaphysical — boundary dividing him and you? Don’t sweat it, he likes you!
—————
name: Azzy
query: Do any of you boys like chicken?
Azzy,
Take a look at this graph; it was put together by criminologists at University of Michigan, and does a pretty good job of detailing the fairly fluid degree to which each of us likes chicken.


So let’s walk you through what you’re seeing. Chris, a meat-eater, doesn’t like chicken much for breakfast, but is down with chicken for lunch and loves a good chicken dish for dinner. Chicken rarely shows up in Chris’s dreams, but when it does, it’s neither as an object of desire nor a source of fear or disgust.
Keith is a vegetarian, and the idea of eating chicken really grosses him out. Perhaps because chicken is so lacking in his diet, Keith’s body manifests lots of chicken consumption in his dreams. A map of chicken’s allure for Keith over the course of one night’s dreams reads like a meat-eater’s average week. That’s because after devouring a chicken sandwich and a cauldron full of chicken nuggets, dream-Keith’s chicken love is temporarily sated; not until later in his dream-afternoon will he again feel chicken’s awful pull.
Michael’s also a vegetarian, also refrains from eating chicken. Michael dreams almost exclusively, though, of eating chicken. During the day, he tours the world as We Are Scientists’ drummer — playing concerts, signing autographs, sitting down with reporters, eating pasta and vegetables. At night, he sits in restaurants and eats chicken. Chicken, chicken, chicken. Chicken souffl√©, chicken pudding, chicken popsicles, chicken lollipops, chicken milkshakes, chicken granola bars: no form is too strange for chicken to take during Michael’s dreams, and he cannot eat enough of it. If you put your ear against the curtain of Michael’s bunk, you hear, “Chicken please… I’ll have the chicken… more chicken… do they make that in chicken?… let’s go to that chicken place… I smell chicken; do I smell chicken?… let’s do chicken…”