Top 5 Numbers

McBane here.

If you’re like me, you’re tired of being arrested for getting into drunken fistfights with punks like Raptor over what the best numbers are.

It’s time to settle this once and for all.

5) 9

Hey, I’ll be the first to say nine isn’t perfect. But McBane, you may be arguing plaintively, why is it on the list instead of 10?

First of all, please stop whining. Your opinion is equally valid (I’m sure). This is simply my take on the position: a lot of people are of the opinion 10 is the best number, because it’s associated with “being the best.” But what does that mean, really?

Let’s think about this. If you’re a 10, it means perfection is required. There is no aura, no mystery, nowhere higher you can go (unless you’re Spinal Tap). Your 10 defines you. Your 10 binds you. Your 10 is your identity. You have to be a 10. All. The. Time. 10 is relentless. 10 is artless. 10 is obnoxious. 10 has no soul. 10 is the 1980 USSR hockey team. What are you, ladies? “We’re 10s!” Fuck you. Get your skinny little chicken asses outta my face.

Nine, on the other hand…there’s something a bit mystical about a nine, a bit magical. Sure, a nine is flawed. But flaws are important. They reveal character. They can turn us into something special. And maybe a nine isn’t as good as a ten all the time, but a nine…well, let’s just say a nine’s still pretty darn good. A nine has a shot. A nine has a chance. And maybe…just maybe…maybe a nine can get it done. And if it does, if that nine rises up and can accomplish something special…well, it’ll matter in a way that a 10 never could.

Let’s look at baseball. Ted Williams was the best player ever, and he wore nine. Reggie Jackson was the coolest player ever, and he wore nine (when he played for Oakland, which was a much cooler team at the time – don’t forget the mustaches). Bill Mazeroski was the most clutch player ever, and he wore nine. Roy Hobbs! Hobbs wore nine, and for one fictional season, he was all of the above and then some.

Look, I won’t be so bold as to say that I can put nine higher than five. But it’s got to be better than 10.

4) pi

Of all the movies named for numbers I haven’t seen, Pi is the one I wish I had (although Thirteen, I must say, looks like it could have dark horse potential). There’s just something inherently cool about pi. Numbers are supposed to be static. Fixed. Unchanging.

“Oh yeah?” says pi, and spits on our shoe. “Prove it, losers! Gah!”

And the thing is, we can’t. We really can’t. Even after all these years. So maybe pi is a jerk, but you have to at least respect pi. That’s why it goes in at four.

3) 00

What’s the big deal, McBane? It’s just zero. And you’re gonna put it up there at three?

Be careful with that train of thought, my friend.

Double zero is not just zero. Okay, mathematically it is, perhaps, but let’s not be narrow-minded. Let’s face reality instead. The reality is, double zero is kind of intimidating. It’s kind of spooky. It may be even a little sinister. It’s still just zero…but is it, really? Then why does it look like it’s growing? It’s kind of like encroaching darkness. You don’t really think it’s expanding, but it kind of creeps around you, and all of a sudden you can’t be sure and then bang! It’s all around you and you’re trapped, trying to fight blind while facegrabbers jump on you and implant their eggs down your throat so they can grow in the warmness of your innards and eventually hatch and explode out of your chest.

So let’s go ahead and give 00 a spot up here at three. Just so we can keep an eye on it.

2) eleventy billion

Eleventy billion is HUGE. It’s so impossibly huge that it doesn’t even make sense. That’s a pretty powerful statement for a number to make. I mean infinity is a pretty substantial number, but then someone can always come along and do infinity plus one, or infinity plus two. Can someone come along and do eleventy billion plus two?

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

This brings me to my point: eleventy billion might not be the best number, but I don’t think anyone can argue that it doesn’t belong in the top two.

Hopefully that’s self-evident.

1) 23

Okay. The thing is, with 23, you think of Jordan (duh). No athlete has elevated his number into the public consciousness as adroitly as His Airness. People think it’s a cliché to say it, but I argue in fact people that people don’t understand this enough.

Here’s the thing: LeBron James, for example, is terrifying. He’s a force of nature. He’s a beast [sic]. But when we see 23, we think it’s a little sad that he’s trying to be Jordan. Or consider Kobe Bryant. Mr. Bryant is a (very) good player. But when he announced his number change from 8 to 24, everyone (except maybe you) just scoffed and rolled their eyes: “24? He’s just trying to be one better than Jordan! How trite! How passé! How absurd!”

This is how awesome Jordan made 23: even when you’re laughably better than your peers, and you’re NOT wearing 23, all people do when they watch you is think about how sad it is that you’re trying to compete with 23.

You want more 23 validation? How about this? 23 is also a (perhaps THE) canonical component of Discordianism, easily the most logical religion I have ever encountered. No other number can claim as much. Three is kind of important because of the Trinity aspect, but then why call it a Trinity and not The Big Three?

We have to admit it. 23 is the best number. I can’t necessarily say I’m thrilled about it.

But if we claim otherwise, we’re just trying to outthink ourselves.