Point

Your Arguments Are Fallacious

Kenneth Walterson

Sir, your arguments are as fallacious as your attempt to put me under a social stigma of discomfort while we wait here together in the Rubio’s line. You may fancy yourself the true heckler here today, trying to use a system of logic founded upon the intonation of your voice emphasizing close members of my family, but it is because you lack authority. We both came here to procure burritos at Rubio’s. I will consider this article A.

Furthermore, we met each other by happenstance earlier this quarter a number of times through mutual friends. Thus, you may consider yourself my friend’s friend. I will consider this article B.

Now, you may consider this a proper foothold for a joke or two: I will oblige. In fact, your previous consideration on the weather was nigh on amusing, but as we continued to “chew the cob” on a number of subjects, it was to my perceptive social sense a real dismay to find your observance of cultural formalities eroding before my very eyes. Stop that, please. You are merely embarrassing yourself.

Think, what would a distinguished member of society say in your place right now? Perhaps he might say, “Why had I decided to wear a polo shirt and crocs today?” He might also say, “Where will my political science bachelor’s degree take me in life?” However, he will be mute shortly thereafter, because he lacks the answers to these so important questions.

Ha. I may have attempted humor there — or at least you would think so, based upon your recent behavior. But instead, I suggest these difficulties to be real and within your future. Wait, what is that I hear? Oh, I see. My grilled vegetable burrito is ready. Good day to you, sir. And please, lower your voice. This is an eating establishment.

Counterpoint

Your Mom Got Fallacious Last Night

Ross Dean

Hey, you going to eat that burrito — that big juicy burrito? You going to shove that monster in your mouth and then scream because I tied your hands to the bedsprings, and it was so, so good?

Holy shit, what a coincidence. Your mom did the same thing last night! God, this is funny. I don’t mean funny like this is a joke — although, I am laughing — but funny because this really did happen. Really. It may look like I’m joking, because I can’t stop laughing, but sex with your mom would be no laughing matter, since she’s so ugly. I mean truly hideous.

Did you know that your mom is so ugly the she, by civil ordinance, has to wear makeup on the radio? Ok, maybe I made that up, but the point remains the same. Your mom is so ugly she gets arrested for public indecency when she leaves the house.

But hey, everyone has their talents, such as your mom’s for personal degradation and her talent for setting just the right mood. She brought out a whole tub of Astroglide, some flowery incense and a Barry Manilow record.

Props to your mom; she’s got class. She picked me up from school and everything. Took me out for a candlelight dinner. We had lobster, dude. Have you ever had lobster by candlelight, then followed it up afterwards by having coitus with your mom? No, I didn’t think so, but dude, you’re missing out big time.

Your mom’s an artist. I mean, I guess she’d have to be, since she’s so ugly and all. It was a pity fuck. Alright, I admit it. But it was worth it in the end. You need to get her help, man, because she’s an animal in bed. An animal. Enjoy your massive, fleshy, burrito.