Today’s theme: Victims. Leering miscreants, shadowing scofflaws and common thieves — some of them Obsequian operatives — are among you, Networkians. Their goal: to dissolve the foundations of your trust in the human condition, expedite the disillusionment of NITWIT sympathizers and pave the way for the King of Terror. Prepare for Pandemonium!
PEE-PING TOM
From the Emu on Acid:
O Valorous Net
Sagacious, yet ebullient
Portal to wisdom
A strange thing happened to me today. Normally I’m a fan of the bizarre and ludicrous (or lutechrist, as a former student of mine once spelled it, which sounds like taking communion wafers soaked in lye), but today’s event was unsettling. I was alone in the Kolthoff basement men’s room Net: An excerpt from the soon-to-come “NITWIT guide to surviving King T and onset of Obsequian aggression.” Rule ##17: Do not, under any circumstances, go into the Kolthoff basement men’s room alone when this guy enters and sidles up to the urinal closest to mine, despite the dozen others that were available. I didn’t have long to puzzle over his intentions. Within seconds his head was turned over toward me, his chin practically resting on my shoulder as he scrutinized my urine stream. Of course I did what any red-blooded American male would do in this situation — I viciously ignored him. Net: You’re ruthless, Emu. Ruthless. What could I do? I briefly considered turning toward him and shouting, “You want a look? Here!” while emptying my bladder on him, but he probably would have enjoyed that and might have even returned the favor. Instead, I hurried through the “shake, flip & zip” routine, splashed some water on my hands as he stared at me in the mirror and climbed back up to the world of the living. Could this be the urophilic “Mole” of computer lab infamy, frightened by persecution out of his regular burrow and into new haunts? Regardless who you are, Urophilistine, next time you try that stunt I just might be carrying pepper spray — and I won’t aim at your face when I use it!
QUIET PLEASE; AND RESPECT PERSONAL SPACE
From Jackie-O: Last week I was sitting in Wilson Library on the main floor, trying to get some of my reading done, when I noticed something odd — almost sick. I watched as a man in his mid-30s “read” a book about 5 feet away from a young female student. That by itself is not bad, it’s just that he never even looked at the book once. He pretended to read while he stood leering at this girl for more then 20 minutes. Then he put the book down and made his way toward me. Net: Cue “Jaws” theme music. I’ve never packed up that quickly before. Then last night I am back at Wilson, but this time I thought I’d try the second floor. Who do I see but the same guy?! I was onto his game so I went to the opposite side of the library and found a chair when his partner in crime sat across from me and pulled the same trick that his buddy did the week before. I packed up again and went to another part of the library. He followed and sat down next to me again. I moved yet again. Eventually my good, trusty, male friend came and warded him off. Can’t a girl be left alone? Net: Depends on what you were reading. I got about two pages of reading done because I spent the night running around the damn library. Thanks for letting me rant about this nasty hobby that two men are exercising at our library.
BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO
From Beggin’ Lee: G@$ D@####*T! F##%* F##%* F##%*! someone just stole my bike. “Just” as in 20 minutes ago. Right out from under my nose. Net: Didn’t you smell it getting stolen? I got home at 1 p.m., locked it up, ate lunch, took a little nap and then went back out at 3 p.m. to go to class. During that time someone just walked off with it. If I’d been sitting at my frickin’ desk I could have seen the whole thing out the window. I wandered around the dorms for awhile in disbelief, thinking that I would see it just sitting somewhere. But no! When the whole catastrophe finally settled in, I thought, THE F##$@%*& BASTARD WHO STOLE MY BIKE IS GOING TO PAY! I’M GOING TO HUNT HIM DOWN AND FIND HIM! Net: Were you ever at any time performing animal testing with it? HE’S GOING TO BE STUPID ENOUGH TO RIDE BY ON IT ONE DAY AND THEN I’LL YELL, “HEY, THAT’S MY BIKE!” AND RUN AFTER HIM AND CALL HIM A F##@%$*&* J’VLIG KOK BASTARD AND RIP HIM OFF MY BIKE AND KICK HIM IN THE NADS! I’ve got eagle eyes, I tell you. While WALKING to this computer lab just now, I was scanning every bike I saw. I’m going to find it sitting locked up one day — I can feel it. Net: Not likely; it’s probably been chopped up, melted down and sold in another state by now. I’m going to buy a big chain and lock, and carry it around with me so that when I find it, I can lock it to something inconvenient so that the bastard can’t use my bike either. Net: Let’s see: He got the lock off to steal the bike, but you hope to thwart his plans with a lock … just don’t throw Brer Rabbit into the briar patch, Brer Bear. Or else I’ll beat him with the chain when he returns to ride off on my bike. Or I’ll take off some part of the bike that is integral to its functioning. (Then I’ll have to carry tools with me. Hmmm. Not as good as the chain idea.) Or else if it’s not locked up to anything stationary, I’m going to just walk off with it and leave a note that says I’LL CASTRATE THE F##@%$*& J’VLIG KOK BASTARD WHO STOLE THIS BEAUTIFUL BIKE THAT BELONGS TO ME!
A haiku in protest of this most heinous crime:
someone stole my bike.
f##@$%*& bastard bike stealer.
i will castrate you.