Since the dawn of time, philosophers and furniture wholesalers have been debating the question I was given. Would you buy, if they were both $499, the leather chair, or the bustleback massage chair? First we need to analyze both options.

The leather chair is far more aesthetic. The Aspen. It's got that smooth bovine skin that seems to just secrete visions of Ricardo Monteban. It will match hues with any trophy animal heads that may hang on your wall, and promises to only be sticky on hot days. Rubbing vegetable oil on it will produce attractive highlights, and hours of sliptastic fun for the kids. It has been said to be, "A soft, supple feel he'll love for a price that's just as appealing." Not only that, but you can eat it if you're trapped inside your home. Unfortunately there is no massage feature.

The bustleback chair offers comfort, and smooth styling that is said to "soothe Dad completely." Named after a mythical city of paradise and a shitty cartoon super hero, El Dorado seems too good to be true at first glance. In it, we see a well-dressed yuppie man curling up to place a book over his crotch and take a nap. But the paradise doesn't stop there! Just inches from his right hand is the thoughtful cup and book holder built with care into each El Dorado. In a matter of seconds, the man could cover whatever other body parts he wanted with books. And don't forget those delicious looking nuts! (Note: nuts are not included with the luxurious El Dorado.)

The most important issue in this debate is aesthetics. We have to ask ourselves whether or not the leather's sexiness can make up for its lack of cup holder, massage feature, and bowl of nuts. I think this question was first asked in an issue of Cosmopolitan. But it was worded:

Measure Your Sexual Temperature Quiz:
1) Would you rather date a man who was
AVery attractive, but boring?
BVery plain, but a wild pulsating stallion of love in bed?
If you answered A, you receive 11 points and love to shop! You are an impulsive person, always on the go, hot to trot, and aren't afraid of getting your hand caught in the cookie jar!

(Note: I can't really remember all of the cliche's used here, but take my word for it that there were many more.)
If you answered B, you receive 34 points and have a passion for life! You just might be seen riding topless on this crazy roller coaster of life, and to hell with the consequences!
(Note: Most of this article was so surreal, it's difficult to articulate my memories of it. Plus, when I was looking at the magazine, I spent most of my time looking at the lingerie pictures and rubbing the perfume samples on my ass.)


Rebecca Weeks:
Miss Northern Idaho.
Obviously, the glamour magazines and their stupid little quizzes didn't help my chair decision much. And when you take this analogy of chairs-versus-sexual-mate-further, you end up associating the cord chair with the man who has sex really well. And if there's one thing sweet Melinda taught me, it's that corduroy and sex don't mix. During a moment of teenage passion, she burst into flames right there on the couch. And I've never forgiven myself. But I didn't let that affect my decision about these chairs. I turned to Aristotelian problem solving, and even it didn't work. But let me show you what happened:

A I like to keep pretty things in my closet.
B Miss Northern Idaho is pretty.
C I like to tie Becky up, hide her in my closet, and only throw her food if she sings well enough.

And although the rope and singing parts could not actually be logically concluded in the final step without some modifications to A or B, you need to take a few artistic liberties with your logic when you're talking about leather chairs and nuts. I hope this is all making sense. Because I just proved something. Here. I'll sum it up:

A This paper is about my decision on the purchase of a chair.
B This paper is not worth listening to.
C My decision on the purchase of a chair is not worth listening to.

So using basic logic, I have come to the final conclusion that I'm obviously not qualified to make a decision about chairs, relationships, or kidnapping. So I would probably buy 700 tacos with the $499, and build a taco fort to hide in. And if you called me, "Taco King," I might let you have one.