Net: All right, all right. In our continuing efforts to please our incredibly diverse audience, we will heed your bitching and let up on Iraq for a few days — although neither you nor the Iraqi people will be so lucky when the bombs start falling. Today we shall talk about something near and dear to the hearts of the University community:
BREASTS!!!!!!!!!!!
From Puddin’ Head: Oh, most exulted and triumphant Network. First of all, I am not a pervert — but I would like to request that somebody put a bra on Pillsbury Hall. It was pointed out to me by a friend that part of the roof of Pillsbury Hall looks a lot like a bare breast. Net: Your friend needs to take more classes. Now, every time I walk down the north end of Church Street I can’t help but to look at the top of Pillsbury Hall and think BREAST. Net: We have the same feeling every time we drink a milkshake or eat a cupcake with a cherry on top, or look at a Sears catalog …
Believe me, I’m not some sex-starved little boy Net: We think you doth protest too much. I have a girlfriend of two years. Net: That’s sick — can’t you at least wait for her to reach puberty? I just can’t help but seeing that piece of anatomy on this building.
Also, do you think that the architect intentionally put a breast on the top of this building? Net: It was a feminist response to the Eiffel Tower. Do you think that there is some kind of sexual conspiracy among the bigwigs here at the U? Net: Yes — but it has nothing to do with your topic. These are just a few questions that have been running through my head lately. Thanks for your time. Net: No problem. Sorry we’re not paying as much attention as we should. We suddenly have this strange craving for — tomatoes. Umm … cantaloupe would be great, too.
ROCKS!!!!!!!!
From Not Pamela: I have the breast enhancers known as “Curves,” the silicone implants you put in the bra outside your flesh — you know, the ones they advertise as being the favorite of all the actresses on “Melrose Place” and “Baywatch.” Net: Maybe it’s their favorite, but they’ve never experienced the disappointment of being the guy who sees the truth finally revealed to him in an intimate moment, and suddenly realizes that what attracted him to a woman in the first place wasn’t really there, and that from then on out the entire relationship would hinge on conversational skills.
Anyway, my new kitten has this weird habit that reminds me of a movie I saw recently. Net: Was there a transition we missed here? For anyone who didn’t see the movie “Bent,” it is an excellent film about homosexual persecution during the Holocaust. Net: We’re sure it is — but we’re still thinking about our Valentine’s weekend with “Curves.” You can’t tease us like that, Not Pamela.
These two pink-triangle-wearing dudes Net: The height of fascist fashion (Oops. We have to remember that fascism isn’t bad, only Nazis are.) are put to work for hours on end aimlessly moving rocks from pile to pile, and then back again. They transform the seemingly pointless task into a Zen state Net: Not how concentrations camps are usually described and the movie is, well, excellent.
And it ties in with the cat thusly. Net: We’ve been waiting … This kitten has decided that no matter where I store the “Curves” when not wearing them, it is his “job” a-la-Bent to move them methodically around my apartment. Net: Ah-ha! We have connection!!! THIS IS BRILLIANT!!!!! They both end up being moved to their new locale before yet another locale is chosen, at which time they both end up there. Sometimes the journey is circular, and they end up where I originally put them. My query as to why these items are his thing to obsessively move around is, as yet, unsolved, but the “Bent” theory is probably correct. That would make my apartment kind of a concentration camp from which he has temporarily given up escaping any time soon Net: And it puts you in pretty heinous company, Mein Fuhrer, and his ritual his Zen routine. He has chosen to survive, and for that he comes off looking like more than a domesticated animal to me. Net: Quick — call Elie Wiesel. That, or he’s a “Breast Man” just getting a little something whatever way he can. Net: And who can blame him, when you look at some of the catnip walking around this campus. It’s no wonder men are starved for implants — who are you women modeling yourselves after, ironing boards? WE WANT WONDERBRAS!!!!
CHALK IT UP
From Flight: There have been some truly great subjects discussed in Network this year, like squirrels and Tiles Marver. Net: But nobody gave a hoot(er) ’til today. I think there is another one that can be included in this hallowed group — sidewalk chalk advertisements. These days one can’t walk through the Northrop Mall without seeing some sidewalk chalk in the ground, usually pushing something that no one really cares about anyway.
The most recent is the reason for this entry. I don’t know why, but the frats/sororities must be having some big event because they have greek letters all over the sidewalk, proclaiming some nobody to be queen of something. Net: She’s a real nowhere queen/ These greek letters what do they mean?/ Making all this nowhere scene for nobody. Is this an election we can all vote in? Do I have to go register in my district?? Net: Not if Mayor Daley has his say (Note to undergrads: If you don’t know who Mayor Daley is, consult your history prof. Ask him about 1960 and dead people.) Will the debate be televised?? Net: Not if Tricky Dick has his say (Note to undergrads: If you don’t know who Tricky Dick is, consult your history prof. Ask him about 1960 and dead people.) If they want to advertise for something as generally meaningless as this, they should do it in front of their little clubhouse on University Avenue and keep our campus clean.
Thanks for hearing me out, Net. Keep on a-rockin’! Net: No problem. Hasta la vista …
