Net: What happened …

Net: What happened to the days of Networkian splendor, when entries routinely exceeded mediocrity and the collective IQ was nearly adequate? Today it seems as though we’re up to our fat neck in marshmallow creme. … Oh, sure, you might think we’re lounging in cushiony, gooey comfort. But in reality, we’re dying to do away with all of this unwieldy crap. Or something like that.
And so the time has come (again) to artificially foster debate. Here are some questions to ponder. Take note, for there will be a pop quiz:
1) If you started drinking water, and kept drinking and drinking and drinking and drinking, and then went to the head, and kept drinking and drinking, would you ever reach a state of equilibrium? That is, could you maintain a steady stream?
2) Oprah Winfrey and Montel Williams: Which one would beat the other’s ass, and why?
3) Isn’t it supposed to snow soon? How the hell do you know?

From Frostman: Greetings there, Net! I have what I perceive to be a very important announcement. As most of you know, our main outlet for pool and bowling, Coffman Union, is soon to be closed for a very long time so that $90 million in improvements can be made. Net: More like 60, but what’s $30 bigguns between friends? I am seizing this opportunity to bring to light an oft-ignored fact that has been covered up by the University brass. Net: Wrong again. The University clearly prefers copper and aluminum. I got it on good authority that our beloved Mr. Coffman, the man after whom our student union is named, was a big proponent of eugenics, or the idea that by genetic control one can breed a master race. Net: Sheesh, can’t a guy make a mistake? We mean, he’s dead, and his name was Lotus, for chrissakes! The short end of the stick here is that Mr. Coffman was nothing more than a DAMNED NAZI!!! Yessir, our union is named after a bona fide swastika-wearing, jackbooted thug, and I personally find it abhorrent that the leaders of this University are asking us to pony up millions to enshrine this goof. Net: So basically what you’re saying is that anyone who believes in anything related to Hitler, et al., is a Nazi and should be condemned? Why, that’s positively fascist! What’s next? A Hitler concert hall? A Goebbels Memorial Auditorium? I say that if we are going to pay all this money and wait all this time while they renovate our union, then when it is completed, it should bear the namesake of someone we can all be proud of, Net: Like, say, Thomas Jefferson? Oops! Slave owner! not a wretched fascist with deep pockets.

From SassAppeal: I’m with you, Net. Once again, my roommate and I sat before the TV, our palms sweating and hearts racing as the ever-suave Regis Philbin bellowed, “Let’s play ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire!'” Net: That little New York drawl is so heavenly, in a you-gotta-think-he-got-his-ass-kicked-as-a-kid kind of way. We damn near palpitate when he utters, “Is that your final answer?” Net: It’s the drama that kills us. Regis will croon, “For $100, which of the following letters is not used to spell ‘Cat:’ A) T; B) C; C) Z; D) A.” Then the professor emeritus from Harvard sits there and ponders the question like it’s some sort of Constitutional dilemma. Answer the friggin’ question, Pinkerton. We shout out the answers, usually interspersed with wicked comments like, “Oh, for Pete’s sake, he doesn’t know it! He’s using his lifeline on the $500 question! What a goddamn idiot!” The questions seem so simple, we’re wondering how these jackasses get on the air. Net: We gotta believe that $1,000,000 question will be a doozy, something like, “What color were Abraham Lincoln’s eyes: A) Green; B) Light Green; C) Hazel; D) Dark green.” No lifeline could pull you outta that toilet. We even dialed up the online game, which we recommend you all avoid. It’s addictive — and much harder than you might think. Which reminds us … we gotta go. Net: Thanks for that. There goes our night on the town.


Net: Our patience for poets is worn thin for sure,
but still we’re sucked in by their insipid lure,
And, besides, it’s a terribly slow Net day,
So we’ll print your damn ditty and be on our way …
From Shank:
There are two kinds of people in this world,
those who get laid, and me.
Not a honey within sight,
not a single one to see.
I didn’t ride the short bus to school,
for you see, I am in IT.
Net: ‘Tis not the size of the bus that maketh a man;
That is, unless you’re built like a tuna can.
There are not shots to take,
or kegs of beer to drink.
I’ve traded these fine things,
for the CSCI classroom stink.
If I don’t see a boob sometime soon,
I’ll drown myself in the sink.
Net: And if you don’t have Everclear,
Can at least we have some Plink?
The classes so dull and boring,
I can hardly stay awake.
Can someone get me out of here,
get me out for goodness sake?
I can’t compete with these damn geniuses,
who do nothing but play Quake.
Net: Ho-hum.
If this doesn’t ignite a fire in the bellies of each and every Net-fearing regular and random, we know not what will.