Griffin 17x11 | I

"A-ha! A-ha! A-ha!" Peter winced, gripping his knee in classic fashion. "Lois! The 17x11 empire... has fallen. Call a paramedic, and tell them to bring a stretcher that fits a wider aspect ratio!"

"It’s not just a table, Lois! It’s the gateway to my future!" Peter announced, gesturing wildly with a thick black marker. "I am becoming a high-end, independent poster tycoon. I bought five hundred sheets of high-grade cardstock in the elite, super-executive size of 17x11 inches. Regular paper is for chumps and tax auditors, Lois. Real men express their artistic genius in landscape tabloid format."

"You see, Brian, while you're wasting your life on subpar canine poetry, I’ve realized that the 17x11 ratio is the absolute gold standard for military schematics. The wide field of view allows me to map out the entire neighborhood blast radius without having to tape pages together like a common savage." I Griffin 17x11

"Dad, I'm pretty sure you just bought the wrong size paper for the printer and didn’t want to admit it," Meg muttered, walking through the room.

Stewie didn’t look up from his laser rifle calibration. "Yes, Brian, nothing says 'brilliant literary breakthrough' quite like a dog using massive sheets of paper to draw himself looking out of rainy windows in high resolution. It’s absolutely groundbreaking." Call a paramedic, and tell them to bring

"You’re just jealous because you lack my artistic vision!" Brian barked.

Upstairs, Brian was pacing back and forth in Stewie’s room, clutching a stack of the same 17x11 paper. for the third time today

"Peter, for the third time today, why did you buy a giant table meant for architects?" Lois asked, her hands on her hips as she stared at the massive wooden surface.