Net: Good morrow; h…

Net: Good morrow; happy Monday … does everyone have a tidy love hangover from the weekend’s events? Citizen was there, surveilling the Obsequian presence and the sanguine machinations of Rollerdiva … he reports that the scintillating, fab fashion-erudite diva was holding court — delivered as promised.
So where were you? Sound off, Networkians …
For old time’s sake, we thought we’d kick off the week with some haiku:

From Blurman: Wherefore art thou, Bizarro? Net: “Wherefore” means “Why.” Many comics have come and gone in my time at the University, but none bother me as the recent hijacking of the comics section. Net: “Garcon” means “boy.” First there was “Freshman Observations” that kicked my beloved Bizarro away for one day of the week. Net: “Aloha” means “hello.” Next, Bizarro was ripped away from me at the beginning of the week. Now, it seems that my dear sweet comic is gone forever. Net: It also means “goodbye.” Such a traumatic event has inspired my first ever actual poem (In the traditional style of Network).

Bizarro is gone
Freshman Observations here
Come back Bizarro

From Nightcaps:

Where has the sun been?
I fear a snowstorm in May.
Minnesota laughs.
From Gogogodzilla: I’m writing in response to JEM, who is concerned with the whereabouts of the flower man. Net: And with being “truly outrageous,” lest we forget. I have a little information on that subject, being “fortunate” enough to live in the same neighborhood as him. Coupling information together from what I’ve seen and what neighbors have told me, here’s what I can tell you: Sometime in August, the flower man’s house was condemned. Let’s just say that wherever he gets his flowers, it’s not from his home … Net: Weeds! He’s been selling WEEDS! Windows were boarded, no one allowed inside, etc. I’d heard he was living in a home of some kind for the past few months. The boards have been taken off recently, so he may be back in his house and selling flowers soon. Hope this helps ease your troubled mind, JEM.
From rock=w=music: So I’m riding on the Campus Connector (standing, of course), and I’m pretty pissed off because I waited for 20 minutes to get picked up, jammed in like a sardine and was still 10 minutes late to class. Net: Walk. So anywho, I’m thinking about all of the bus drivers that piss me off so much and thought it would be nice to create a “Guide to da Drivers” describing each driver and all the wacky things about them. Net: Go nuts.
Elmer (his real name) — This is the short-haired, round-faced, crazy bastard. He will have a conversation with anyone about anything. That basically sums him up, except for the fact that he swears like a mofo’in sailor, and if there aren’t too many people on the bus, he will take some pretty swift “secret shortcuts” through the St. Paul campus.
Jonny Rock’n’Roll — this is the guy with the 80’s poofy hair and an ear ring of a music note. A good driver in general when he isn’t rocking out too hard to the oldies on his Sony boombox. He likes to yell, but he is just telling people to get back to make more room for the sardines. He can be found most often chewing a straw.
The BEEEAAACH — She likes to yell at all the cars who barely get in her way, and at the ones that don’t. Also, if she has already closed the doors on her bus and you show up thinking she will open up, think again; all you will get is an evil stare.
Mr. Big Stomach — This is the guy with the big beer belly that looks kind of like a Harley rider. Overall a good driver, but only calls out the stop “Oak and Fourth” on the mic. What is up with that?
Well, that is all for now. More to come later, including Sammy Gray Beard and Tiny Tina. Net: Trading cards to follow.
From Buoyant in CSOM: I was enjoying life (despite reading a political science text) under a blanket of warm, welcoming May overcast, and I accidentally knocked over my Frappuccino. After briefly mourning the tragic and unexpectedly sudden loss of my delectably creamy vanilla and coffee beverage, I wiped away the foam of joy that flooded my book and uncovered something indescribably horrific on the back — the original price of my twice-used text purchased from our own lovable adversaries at the H.D. Smith Bookstore. Net: Thieves! Scalwags! We hates them! Apparently, as if forcing me to dawdle 15 minutes behind some yahoo who was trying to purchase her books with third-party Arby’s gift certificates wasn’t enough this spring, the bookstore knowingly marked up the price of my worn paperback to essentially match the already-inflated list price on a brand-spanking new one! Net: Crooks! Scoundrels! They burns us! After four tortuous years at the University, I say it’s high time that people do something about this unconscionable price-gouging and those people are YOU (and to a lesser degree, myself). For years the bulk of us have sedentarily laid back and let the University bookstores get away with their scheming, plotting and systematic pilfering of the student purse. To the University bookstores I have but one thing to say: You’re finished, book Nazis. We don’t HAVE to buy our books from the University anymore, and I elect that we don’t. I encourage all students to locate the new, more affordable and convenient ways before purchasing their texts at the University this summer and next fall. The game is up, Charlotte. I suggest you find yourself a new scam.
Net: So begins the insurrection. So many conflicts to keep track of … so many causes to facilitate … Citizen is pressed, Networkians, as the arrival of T approaches with swiftness ….