Random Esquire

1. Babies are made out of food. I know they don’t come out with a turkey leg and a carrot arm. It’s just that it sometimes strikes me that:

Woman + one sperm + food = baby. What the hell?

2. No one ever says “What?” in books. A book can be totally realistic and still nobody says, “What did you just say? No, before that. No, after that…what did you say?” That bothers me.

3. In books, there are never two people with the same name. I know no less than 3 Roberts and yet, in books, there’s always only one of each name. Only one Robert. That bothers me, too.

This post features the Andy Rooney stamp of cynicism, gracing all things wonderfully crabby.

There are two things I do not understand at all:

and .

Criss Angel and Robin Thicke. I just do not get it. I know they have talent so I won’t dispute that.

Criss Angel reminds of the kid who rode his skateboard to school. The major difference being that he seems to be surrounded by attractive women. Not only is he perpetually dirty, he’s a magician (formerly a kiss of death to any young man’s sex life) and he has a speech impediment. At what point do these gorgeous women look over and realize that they are with a makeup-free Marilyn Manson-esque David Copperfield who looks about 3 days shy of sleep?

Robin Thicke, I admit, is more of a puzzle to me. Did you know that he thinks he’s

? That’s right. He thinks he’s a black man. Except he sings in falsetto. Which makes him more like .

I heard him sing and he broke out the Michael and I think my jaw dropped because women were popping their trunk for him. So, if you’re a woman and you like either of these two, please, explain the appeal because I’m stumped.