Net: If today is an…

Net: If today is anything like yesterday, and if you’re reading this in class, shame on you.
No, no, no … don’t give us that, “Waaah! We’ve got finals coming up!” crap. Just get up, snap off a sharp salute to your teaching assistant and go plant your ass on Northrop Mall. Then point up at Yudof’s window in Morrill Hall and laugh a merry laugh.
Summer’s back. Don’t waste it staring at a blackboard.

From God’s Gift to Women: Net: aka Andy the Cook (Who Thought We Weren’t Wise To His Act) Dearest Net, do I dare reveal your precious identity? That’s right, I know who you are. Net: Great … could you remind us again? How, you say? I am the guy who lit his face on fire mid-shot, and I’m damn proud of it. Net: So are your coked-out-selling-aluminum-cans-living-in-a-trailer-park parents. I’d like to see you burn the s##!t out of yourself and then do the same flaming shot for another hour. Net: And we’d like to refer you to a good burn unit. Or at least a good psychotherapist. But anyway, on to your identity. I think I will keep it to myself, as the satisfaction comes from looking into the eyes of the infinitely inquisitive morons who seek this one and only truth, not from being the a$$hole who unmasks the almighty Net. Net: We can all thank heaven Linda Tripp didn’t feel the same way. I will, however, make a few comments on some possible candidates. First, there is the human resources manager. After bringing him numerous shots, he helped employee relations by having a female worker sit on his lap while looking for the opportunity to feel her up. Net: Her productivity has since increased tenfold, so THERE. We’re thinking about asking the ol’ dog to dress up as Santa Claus next year. Then, there is the current editor in chief, who attempted to hook up his 28-year-old buddy with a 19-year-old Daily worker. Net: Nineteen and drinkin’ at Sturb’s? We think not. Their pathetic, forced interaction was truly comic gold. Net: Intense sexual attraction occasionally makes for awkward conversation. And stained sheets. Or it could be the sports editor, whose only aspiration (I am basing this on his choice of apparel) is to be the water boy for the Saints. Net: Actually, we think he wants to be the pig who carries the balls out to the umpire. Or was it the nun who gives massages? Then again, it could be the new editor in chief, who, by the way, is extremely fun to feel up. Net: You wish. And so do we. So, fellow Networkians, go and marinate on that s##!t for a minute and bow down to me, for I know who is the Net (at first they wouldn’t say, but I got the crew liquored up and they cracked). Net: The “crew” don’t know nothin’ bout nothin’. Oh … and they’ve all been fired. Word to your mother.

From Loosey: Oh Net, I would definitely take PeeWee up on his little Net: FYI, P-Dub doesn’t like it when you use his name and “little” in the same sentence … it’s a Napoleon thing offer, seeing as most people think I will hook up with anything … but I am a one-guy chica as of this weekend. Net: Which pretty much qualifies as a long-term relationship in these parts … See, frat boys are pretty much the epitome of a (at times) good, quick hook up. Net: Well, quick, at least. With a frat boy, one doesn’t have to worry about commitment. This is because they are commitment-phobes. Why have the security and love of one adoring chica when you can have a different sorority girl each night? Net: Five words: “What was your name again?” And I’m not just running my mouth here — this is from personal experience. Sure, there are some decent frat boys out there, but they are few and far between, and the ones I know already have girlfriends (that they don’t cheat on — what a concept!). Net: Actually, we think it is the very same concept Rufus Simmons was teaching in those “sexual-harassment-is-bad” classes for athletes a while back. The frat boy has an option: Be with one girl and actually TRY at a relationship, or go the easy, convenient way and just hook up with whatever happens to land in your bed in a drunken stupor. Net: And then there are options No. 3 and No. 4: left hand or right hand. For the frat boy, the choice is clear. Does the first option even exist? Net: Less often than 3 or 4, wethinks.

From Doc, Public Safety Professional: Oh, vainglorious Net, Net: Are you suggesting our boastfulness is unwarranted, or is your thesaurus on the fritz? defender of truth, justice and the American way! I have a question for thee. Net: No, we did not steal your squeezy-cheese. What is the deal with art students, particularly graduate students? Specifically, why do they all drink Summit beer? Because of circumstances of an imperious nature that are not necessary to relate here, I have to be in the Art Building once a week. Net: Are you on the asbestos-removal team or something? But I’ve noticed Summit is the beer of choice of grad students in that particular area. So, is Summit like the ramen of beer? Net: Only if you think Angus is the ramen of beef. Is it on the low end or the high end of the beer spectrum? Net: There is no high or low, but rather one point labeled “potable.” I mostly drink Leinie’s myself, and whatever swill is coming out of the kegs, so I can’t answer. Also, why do they all look like hell? Is it an attempt to look Bohemian, an economical necessity, or the normal grime accumulated while being arty? Or is it just bad hygiene? A combination of all of the above? Net: Blame it on “Rent.” They saw Mimi looking good in tight blue leather (or was it vinyl?) and thought they’d give this whole starving artist look a shot. And finally, by building a new art building, do we encourage these students to pursue something they can’t make a living at? Net: Yes … apparently philosophy, women’s studies and art history weren’t enough to fill the useless majors void on campus. On the one hand, the Art Building is a death trap, but it also gives these students a taste of the Bohemian lifestyle they’re doomed to live. What is to be done? You tell me. Net: Umm … open up a restaurant in Santa Fe?