From Radioactive Man: Hmmm … Seems to me this whole Simpsons argument could have been laid to rest on MONDAY if Network had printed my letter. Net: Screw you. After that letter about how much you enjoyed the Republican National Convention, you’re lucky we haven’t put a hit out on you. Now, Fallout Girl, in that letter I said I was reporting what I saw. I don’t think there are gorges in Nebraska, Net: True, Nebraska isn’t very “gorges.” Get it!? Oh man! or mountains. It’s just what Homer wrote, for crying out loud! Next, I do know that “NT” doesn’t stand for North Texas. Net: It’s an abbreviation for the much more exhausting word “Net.” According to David Silverman (if you really are a Simpsons fanatic as I am, you know who this is) “NT” stands for North Takoma. Yes, that’s spelled with a “K.” Net: As in K-Razy. Either that, or the Simpsons are just corporate tools trying to win us over on Microsoft Windows. So there you have it. We all know they live in no real state. Net: Then why do we keep annoying Net with this tomfoolery? However, the NE is the only mention of a real location for Springfield. Net: Who cares, N-E way? N-E way, get it? Oh man!MORE (SIMPSONS) NONSENSE
From Asa Phelps: Hail Mighty Network, I have read with great joy as so-called Simpson fans “try” to figure out which state the greatest TV family lives in. Net: We’re real glad you feel joy from the shortcomings of others. You sick monkey. Sorry, Fallout Girl and Radioactive Man. Either you are casual fans or just dumb! Net: Dumb! The show has for years been rather nondescriptive of which state the Simpsons reside in. Having both warm sunny days and frigid cold days in the winter. Net: Sounds like Minnesota. Living near Mount Springfield, and only a short trip to the ocean, would be confusing. Net: Right, mountains are never near oceans. Anytime someone has pointed to their home state another cast member would stand in the way. However, in this season’s final episode they clearly state to all that the Simpsons live in a small Northern Kentucky town. Granted, I am not an IT student, but I would gather from that statement that the Simpsons live in Kentucky! Net: You’re not a logic major either, or an English major, or someone who has something interesting to say.
A DATE REVISITED
From Loosey: Dear, sweet Net, we’ve always known Dr. Date sucks, but Wednesday’s answer to “Confused and Heartbroken” was just LAME! Net: With a name like “Confused and Heartbroken,” they deserve nothing but lameness. The guy obviously bugged out because he didn’t want to be “tied down.” Now how in the hell is that beautiful? Net: There is beauty in everything, my dear. Take Britney Spears for instance. Some think she’s beautiful and attractive, while other, smarter people think she’s a horrible virus that needs to be exterminated without considering mercy or human compassion. And what the heck was Dr. Date smoking when he wrote that first sentence? It infuriates me! Net: Whatever he’s smoking, we’re sure it’s for medicinal purposes. So get off his back. To “Confused and Heartbroken”: You were dating a commitment-phobe. Pure and simple. Yeah, he liked you … he probably still likes you, but he can’t commit. Net: A college-aged male, on this campus, with a fear of commitment? Yeah, right. It’s not your fault at all! All of the blame can be put on him because he is not mature enough to handle a simple college relationship longer than a month and a half. Actually, for a commitment-phobe, a month and a half is a pretty good amount of time. You’re lucky he stuck around that long. Net: What are you saying to that poor young woman? I’ve dated commitment-phobes and am a self-proclaimed commitment-phobe expert. Net: You really gotta stop picking up guys at Sally’s. Even though you’ve broken up, chances are you will still find each other some night at some party and hook-it-up, maybe even get back together for another month and a half. Commitment-phobes don’t go away, they just can’t commit. Net: But always come back for more non-committal fun.
From Brett “Bacon Egg and Cheese” Swanson: Dear Net, This is a little sonata that I’ve put together to signify the trials and tribulations of being a bitch-ass intern:
Ode by an Intern
Have you ever been an intern? I have. Ahh, you have too. You can relate to the pain that runs throughout my useless body during the span of the workday. Net: Walk it off, wussy. Overworked. Underpaid. I feel like a secretary-bitch. Oops, did I say that? I am a bitch, I mean woman, I mean subordinate. I go to bed every night trying to recall the happenings of the day, yet everything is so vague. Net: It must be that post-work bath in malt liquor. Hence, ode to an intern. I set my alarm for 6 a.m. so I can go running in the morning. I wake up at 7 a.m., just enough time to touch myself, shower and get in the car. To ease the bags under my eyes I proceed to throw in a dip of chewing snuff. Net: Must be leftover from the free can of Rooster offer that ran in the Daily last year. The road is under construction, sh*t. The highway’s always packed, but it leaves time for me to caress my genitals that were put to good use this morning, thank god for J.C. Penny’s catalog. Net: Man, that IS a hard life. Cruisin’ to work at 80 miles per hour, hoping to get pulled over so I have an excuse to be late. I get to work and proceed to surf the net the first useless hour and a half I am there. After that, I do mindless sh*t that is inevitably the path of my future as a marketing major. Net: Serves you right! At 10:15 a.m., the white-trash factory workers are done with break, good, I can go take a forty-five minute sh*t and a little siesta in the stall. At 11 a.m., more mindless sh*t until noon. Thank god, everyone is going to lunch. I can finally search for Internet porn without looking over my shoulder every 10 seconds with that scared-excited feeling, subconsciously hoping to get caught and fired. Net: Don’t worry, after they read this you’ll be toast. I take lunch at one and return to work and the whole joint smells like Mexican food from the illegals in the shop. Net: Why they haven’t cut the brakes on your car yet we don’t know. I finally stretch 30 minutes of work until four. I will proceed to go home and throw up thinking about my pathetic position. But I find comfort in the fact that I will continue to masturbate three more times before I go to bed. F**k, life sucks. Net: Remember, students, this’ll happen to you!