"Most women act as though they're sexual Olympians, as though they're doing the men in their lives the greatest of favors merely by presenting themselves like a downed deer strapped to the hood of a car. Some of you are deluding yourselves…. Like, maybe grab a mirror and spend some time learning how your own body works. It's nice, too, when you don't treat our semen like it's battery acid." —Chris Jones, Esquire.

20) Fire Jolly Ranchers

19) Arby's Jamocha Shake

18) Soft-Boiled Egg

17) Melted Toffifay Candy

16) Steri-Fab Bed Bug Killer

15) Grape Snow Cone

Which mild variety of irony is this, I can never keep them straight.

Two things: Megan Fox is hot, and Harold Hayes is rotating around in his grave like a doner kebab on a spit.

April's Esquire (when the mail arrives, it arrives all at once!) has an anonymous essay called "Why Men Cheat." Like all these sorts of things, it's fundamentally "naughty" and "incoherent" and contradictory and sad. "Men don't cheat because they can. Men cheat because they must, because they need to. This is the male struggle…. It's what they are built for. It is a function of the mathematics of their reproductive function. It is the by-product of longer life spans, more-deadening careers, too much work. And it is the consequence of an instinctive refusal to give up one's own need entirely for the flawed and antiquated apparatus of marriage." [...]

Is Esquire just for men who hate women? Or is it just a sideline? Their Valentine's Day date ideas package… written by a woman… is stuffed with resentment and seething anger! So maybe this is some Valerie Solanas thing going on, where some rogue lady writer is trying to destroy heterosexualism? For the inert, useless Esquire reader, they have recommendations "For the Woman Expecting You to Propose" (give her a "spa day"! Because "It's no ring, but it's indulgent enough for her to brag about to her friends." Ha, prepare to die). There is the advice that you "Don't spend more than: $35 on a ton of good, [...]

May I totally gay out on you for a minute? There are two Esquires, at war with each other. There is the magazine that published the Roger Ebert profile, which is, by all accounts, amazing. (I can't read it yet because I don't have any time for a meltdown right now!) Then there is the magazine that is producing "Inside Their Olympics: Get All-Access Analysis from Lovely Athletes at the Winter Games (Easier on the Eyes Than Costas, Eh?)," starring "North America's Loveliest Olympians," which, wow, seriously, stab yourselves, your ironic Mad Men shtick is not actually ironic. I think it is this latter Esquire that is [...]

We're only something like four months prior to the opening of James Cameron's Avatar, which is apparently the most important movie of our generation (what if it sucks though!?), and already the pre-buzz has put bricklayer-hot Australian actor Sam Worthington on the cover of Esquire. (Perhaps you remember Worthington from such movies as that last Terminator mess, and, um… that episode of Jag? Or, uh, doing Macbeth in Melbourne?) The magazine describes him, very weirdly, on the cover, as "The Greatest Actor of Our Time?" Because you know, when someone finally says that about you, do you really want it to be ending with a question mark? Is [...]