MAKING A LIST, CHECKING
IT TWICE
From Big Brother Todd: I’ve heard enough about all this Obsequian vs. King T vs. Tito Puente crap. It’s got to stop. And I think I will stop it. Net: That would be nice; you could save us the trouble. First I need some Tab. But lawyers aren’t the only ones who are crazy. Did you hear about this woman in Arizona who sued McDonalds for $20 million because their coffee that she spilled on herself was too hot? If I ever take my proctologist to court, I’ll be a billionaire! Net: That depends; what would you be suing for? When I was on vacation about a month ago, I noticed a sign just outside of Albuquerque that said, “Gusty Winds May Exist.” Boy, those people are mellow out there — Gusty Winds May Exist? Well Santa Claus may exist, too, but I’m not going to put up a sign. Net: “Trust Jesus” seems to be popular now. And just who is this … “Jesus?” I finally got around to starting my big Hollywood screenplay the other day. It’s about a group of guys who steal a cow, tie it to someone’s front door, ring the doorbell and leave (and, of course, all the wacky, zany shenanigans that ensue). Net: We hate to tell you, but “Three’s Company” went off the air years ago. They always say, “write what you know, write from your own experiences.”
WHO’S CRAZY NOW?
From Liam: You’re all crazy. Net: But it just may be lunatics you’re looking for … I don’t understand any of you. Net: Three letters: ESL. Get on the bus, oh no, got to stare straight ahead and keep quiet. Why, you ask? Well. These people aren’t my friends. Are they? Hmm, look at all those mask-like faces, being worked by their pimp-like owners. Hey, just like me! Net: We apologize, everyone. Usually letters have a point in the first 100 words or so.
There was a guy on the Mall, looked like he’d come straight from Fratboy Row, screaming that THE BIBLE IS AS REAL AS YOU’RE STANDING HERE RIGHT NOW. Some people were laughing — for shame! Gotta respect those opinions — hey, it’s his world too. Can’t say I agree with him, though. Maybe SOME of the book WAS “real,” but as far as IS REAL is concerned, Net: That depends on what your definition of “is” is. I’m relieved that — although things are still really bad — I don’t own any women, and I don’t get paid for loss of property if one of my women is raped and murdered, and I’m under no moral obligation to kill my non-Yahweh-worshipping neighbors. Why did I torture myself by reading that whole book? Maybe so I can know that the guy screaming is an idiot — oops! Did that slip out?
I BROUGHT MY … PENCIL … GIMME SOMETHIN’ TO WRITE ON, MAN!
From Picaro: I have a question about pencils. Specifically, what is a “high-class” pencil? Net: A pencil that lifts its pinky when it drinks tea. A friend and I have engaged in this debate for quite some time, without reaching any agreement. He contends that Dixon Ticonderoga (“The World’s Best Pencils”) are indeed the best. He views them as the elite of the writing-utensil world. I, however, disagree vehemently. First of all, any pencil brand that touts itself as the world’s best is clearly not the world’s best. Net: We assure you, however, that the World’s Scariest Car Chases are indeed the world’s scariest. Which begs the question: Does the World’s Scariest Car Chases II constitute a collection of the second scariest? Or does that push the World’s Scariest Car Chases down to second? Superlatives are tricky, folks … I make the analogy between Dixon and Calvin Klein. For the plebeian, Calvin Klein is revered as a god — his clothes, sartorial scripture. But for those of us in the know, Calvin Klein is as rank as Peewee‘s masturbatory exploits. Similarly, Dixon is deified by the dregs of society, but the intelligentsia genuflect at a different altar. For us, it is the Mirado, the quintessence of class. The Mirado Woodtone is for the scholarly, the BlackWarrior for the adventurous. And so, Net, I ask your opinion on this matter. I also encourage others to contribute to this lively debate. Thank you. Net: You are forgetting the workhorse reliability, convenience and affordability of Mead. But we digress; we’re talking elite here, yes? We’ll go with a Hindustan Aspara Gold, circa 1984. Oh, and by the way, last weekend, in the men’s bathroom at Hardee’s on University, I witnessed Rollerdiva puking in a urinal. This Queen of Style barfs like a hippo in heat.
OOO, YOU’RE AN ANGEL
From The Angel of Cynicism: Network — Having served time licking scum off of irrigation pipes for my comments about the FFA last year, I return to this great bastion of higher education a changed angel. Net: Well, we hope you learned something. Still relatively cynical, I was at first unsure of whether the Network was actually on the side of all that is good and righteous, and whether King T was actually all that terroristic. But the other day as I drove down the street with my girlfriend, we passed a squirrel which had been relieved of its mortal burdens by an automobile (or perhaps a casualty of the juggernaut you call Citizen?) Net: Naw — Citizen isn’t the dirty-work type. At any rate, my girlfriend immediately began lamenting the death of this poor creature. Net: Suspicious. After several minutes of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, I realized — my significant other is an OBSEQUIAN OPERATIVE!! Net: AHA! And all this time, she didn’t tell me. Deceit on this level can only come from a truly evil source, and so (now that we’re nicely broken up) I throw in my lot with the Network. What can I do for you, you ask? Me thinks you will find my offer most appealing — instant transportation for ground troops. I (being an angel, albeit a low-level one) have access to a continuum that envelops and runs through the University, and I have the ability to bring one person at a time with me through it. Net: Wait … you’ve navigated the Gopher Way? While limited, methinks this will still be a powerful advantage against the wicked one (Speak not his name!) That is all, glorious Network. Good day, good morrow and all that. May we triumph in the name of … no, wait; he doesn’t belong in public schools, does he? Well, in the name of something, then.