Editors Jennifer Wright and Ashley Cardiff have spent all morning arguing this: is it possible to have a right answer for a Fuck, Marry, Kill involving Marlon Brando, Paul Newman and Clint Eastwood. If you are unfamiliar with the game Fuck, Marry, Kill (and yet inexplicably reading a website currently), it’s simple: you must choose among the three names given who to fuck, who to marry, and who to kill. If you do not care for Jennifer and Ashley’s rhetoric, skip their discussion and go to the bottom of the post, where you may cast your vote.

Jennifer: Okay, so, Fuck, Marry, Kill: Marlon Brando, Paul Newman, Clint Eastwood.

Ashley: Impossible. They are all the best in their respective “male perfection” fields.

Jennifer: Paul Newman is a perfect angel sent from heaven. I wish to marry him.

Ashley: That’s my line. I said that! But we agree.

Jennifer: Paul Newman will appreciate the way I am quick thinking, stealing lines away as fast as I can get them.

Brando starts strong by trying to win the favor of the entire internet.

Ashley: I will try and articulate why this prompt is impossible: if any of them are the best candidate for husband, it’s probably Newman, because of his giant heart and staggeringly beautiful eyes. So, let’s say, purely hypothetically, we marry Newman. That leaves us with Eastwood and Brando, for marrying and killing. And my god, you never not fuck Brando. Brando is like a virility icon carved in dick stone. You have to fuck Brando. …Which leaves with you with killing Eastwood. Killing the Man with No Name. Killing the world’s most perfect man. The prompt is an absurdity, as the question cannot be answered.

Jennifer: Wait. That’s ridiculous. Look, I’m sorry, but the answer is clear. You kill Brando. You cannot kill Eastwood – Eastwood kills for you. Fucking Brando may seem appealing but I am also certain it would be weird. Weird in a butter-up-the-butt way. Do you like butter up your butt? I don’t think I’d enjoy that. ASK YOURSELF THE HARD QUESTIONS.

Eastwood and his poncho are unimpressed.

Ashley: No, no, no. We’re not talking billowing Hawaiin print caftan in Island of Dr Moreau Brando, we’re talking Streetcar, in which he represents all appetetive desire. And obviously you cannot kill Eastwood because Eastwood is the perfect man. But killing Newman? You’d have to be a monster. I’m saying there’s no right way to do this. No matter how you answer, you end up making a grave mistake.

Jennifer: Okay, we did not have to specify movies for any of the other ones, which I think speaks to how much less great than the others Brando is. I mean, not as an actor, as a person to marry or fuck.

Ashley: That’s a really good point. I will say I’m thinking Streetcar vs Cool Hand Luke vs Man with No Name trilogy, so that’s my bias. But you gotta fuck Brando! And you have to marry Newman! And you CANNOT kill Eastwood!

Don't look directly into his eyes!

Jennifer: I agree with marrying Newman. I agree with not killing Eastwood (because of sleeping with him). I do not understand Brando’s value/IN THIS CONTEXT (I think he is probably the greatest actor of the three).

Ashley: Wait, my problem with this game is that it always feels like a false dilemma. By distinguishing between fuck and marry it almost feels like we’re saying, have awesome sex with subject A, and have rote, tedious, missionary for the rest of your life with subject B. I am not willing to have anything but phenomenal sex with Clint Eastwood.

Jennifer: Yes, I agree with that. That is why I opted to fuck him. I think he’d have a really seductive manly growl, but it kind of wouldn’t hold up over time. I think Newman would clean up the dishes after I cooked.

Ashley: Oh, you’d definitely want to grow old with Newman.

Jennifer: Totally.

Doin' man stuff.

Ashley: All right. Look, I love Eastwood. I want to marry Eastwood. But Paul Newman is an angel sent from Heaven and Marlon Brandon embodies all that it hot and animalistic about traditional forms of masculinity. So. Here is what I will say: I am 5’11”. Therefore: Clint Eastwood, standing 6’4” is who I should spend the rest of my life with. Marry Eastwood. I’d be happy waking up next to that every day no matter how boring the sex became. Brando and Newman were both shorter than me. Now, as much as I want to say you have to fuck Brando, you absolutely cannot kill Newman. If you have any decency and morality at all, you do not kill Paul Newman. So, you fuck Newman and you sadly kill Brando and then you wonder what might have been. But you don’t care all that much because you are married to the Outlaw Josey Wales and your life is the best. QED.

Jennifer: Okay, I think you’re overlooking that fact that marriage, to some extent, has to be a bit like two people signing on to run a non-profit business, with all the minutiae of taxpaying and housekeeping etc. You want to be with someone who will make the daily routine aspect of it as easy and pleasurable as possible. And for that reason, you do not choose an outlaw who can’t be tied down, who will, at best, sit on a rocking chair and berate the kids on the lawn. You marry someone who, when you say “I don’t really like this salad dressing” says “honey, I will MAKE you the BEST salad dressing.”

Newman wins no matter what.

Ashley: God. You’re right. Paul has a big heart and can run a hugely successful business. You want to grow old with Paul. NO. (long pause) I CANNOT TURN AWAY A LIFE WITH EASTWOOD! I say: Marry Clint, Fuck Paul, Kill Marlon.

Jennifer: I say: Marry Paul, Fuck Clint, Kill Marlon.

Ashley: I’m not going to spend the rest of my life with a shorter man, Jennifer.


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