Net: We keepers of the Network often come across — D’OH! — some rather inflammatory — oops! — entries that could stimulate — sorry! — some explosive — damn! — responses.
Caveat emptor, gentle readers. And if there are any freshpeople nearby, shield their eyes.
BLOWING IN THE WIND
From Rollerdiva: Dearest most tantalizing and suckulent Network, it seems that there’s been a lot of back and forth banter about the underappreciated jolly good sport of fellatio recently. I mean, c%@ksucking has been made out to be the bane of some girls’ existence. Net: Second only to Mary Kay. They talk about it as though the only thing more despicable is pulling maggots and dog hair out of their egg drop soup.
Please allow me to enlighten those poor unfortunate ladies. C%@ksucking is one of the most yummy sexual acts you could ever partake in. Net: The correct sentence construction is “in which you would partake.” If we’re going to go down this road, let’s do it by the rules. Unlike anal sex, which isn’t for anybody, c%@ksucking is for everyone! Charms, the candy company that makes those scrumptious mouth-watering Blo-Pops Net: Watch your language could really hit pay dirt if only they would ever manufacture a flesh-flavored sucker with a secret center filled with, oh, I don’t know … Net: You figger it out. We’ve gotta draw the line somewhere.
Maybe you haven’t sucked enough c%@k, or the c%@k you’ve sucked hasn’t fulfilled you in those other special ways, but before you pass judgment on all c%@ksucking or spread rumors that all chicks don’t dig licking d!@k, find a bigger and better c%@k to suck to satisfy your salty sausage salivations!
And for those young fillies out there who have yet to wet their tongues with the juices of a tasty young buck’s c%@k, take heart! You are in for the ride of your life.
Net: That one was for all of you who’ve been complaining about the watered-down Dr. Date. Now let’s move on, and get yer minds outta the damn gutter.
MATURITY REIGNS
From The Pumpkineers: According to the demands of tradition, we got loaded Sunday night and took to prowling the southeast area after midnight in search of any hollow orange melons still unharmed. Net: Indeed, that is in the Book of Mindless University Traditions, right there in chapter 7 with “Homecoming.” To our delight, almost every pumpkin was still intact. But not for long! In under three hours, we destroyed hundreds of carved, candle-filled porch decorations, smearing them throughout the sidewalks and streets — after, of course, breaking them over the head of the guy with the helmet, who we’ll call “Favre.” He’s got a sore neck today. Net: Oh, the joys of being the Fav-ruh. Oh, the wonderful “thuck!” sound we heard over and over as “Robin,” “Jason,” or “The Alien” cracked another carved face over the top of “Favre’s” head. Net: Gee, you really are sneaky. Using all those quotation marks really threw us off the trail!
Thank you to the house that had a dozen to smash. We considered it a gold mine. The two freshmen made the most of the tradition, Net: You mean maroon-and-gold Fridays? spotting the smallest pumpkins on the darkest porches and learning the ways of The Pumpkineers to pass on to future generations. Oh, if only every night could be spent smearing orange destruction in the streets! Net: Apparently you haven’t been doing enough kegstands. Next Halloween won’t come fast enough.
EARTH TO CABBAGE …
From Cabbage: Here is my story: I see you … as I ride to class with my little grey beanie, black coat of terror, on my antelope, I see you. Net: But tho’ you sit across from me on the bus, I look you not in the face, for I fear your gaze. Like lemmings you follow, through traffic, hoping that “Papa Lemming” has bestowed the grace of the one above to ensure your immaculate survival in crossing. Net: For a freshperson, you seem smarter than the rest. Perhaps you, too, will grow to despise MSA. For three years I’ve witnessed you. Struck by cars, victims of mindless wandering, you persevere. For now, keep doing that shuffle-thing that lands my tire on your backside. Net: And keep shaking the groove thing that makes us feel so funky. But soon, snow will cover my racetrack, and I will join with the other lemmings. But before that day, I need to know one thing. WHAT … is your secret, my ‘elusive lemming?’ Show me your ways. Net: Something tells us there’s some skullduggery afoot, as though you thought a carefully worded entry about > would actually make it through. Well, think again. We’re far less clever than you think. Or something like that.
THE END IS NIGH
From The Bumb That Lives Under the Washington Avenue Bridge: I feel the need to enlighten the student body — or at least the IT geeks and PeeWee — Net: A low blow, the sort of which we whole-heartedly encourage that the main purpose of this school isn’t the education of bright minds but the research and development of nuclear weapons material. This school has always had an extensive tunnel system for moving sensitive materials Net: i.e., upperclassmen throughout the compound. Now we have a “book depository” to store high-yield thermonuclear devices, and who knows what that big hole behind Coffman is going to be. Net: A giant swimming pool full of multicolored plastic balls. They have filled the storage space in the Civil Engineering building, and the government is looking to expand. Has anyone noticed the “Waste Disposal Building” Net: You mean Sanford Hall? over near the grain elevators? There is never any activity there, and the building is built so the wall panels can blow off in case of an interior explosion. Trust the Bumb, I have been here for more than 30 years. Net: If you’re “one of them,” you can’t be trusted. If you’re really a “bumb,” can you float us a finsky? I was once a student until they banished me from the school for getting too close to the truth. Start the movement, Stop Nuclear Proliferation Now (SNPN), better known as Net: > Nicely Pick Nuts.
