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By demonizing pleasure, we set ourselves up for unfulfilling sex lives.
Opinion: Let’s talk about sex
Published March 27, 2024

Net: ‘Tis a specia…

Net: ‘Tis a special edition of sorts, today’s Network, for we have Newbies — real Newbies — in our midst. Freshpeople are descending upon campus as we speak and will pick up this collection of curiously-shaped inkblots in hopes of learning a bit more about their new environs. Learn, dammit! Learn!
Indeed, we shall soon be inundated by cheeky youngsters sporting maroon and gold backpacks and nifty new apparel proudly emblazoned with myriad University crests and logos (which, by the way, were probably made in a sweatshop in Thailand by a scurvy-ridden 6-year-old … but that’s another story for another time). The eyes of our new freshman friends will invariably drift skyward — reading the noble words carved atop Northrop Auditorium, taking in the sheer ugliness of Moos Tower, shielding themselves from the horror of the Death Star-slash-Zamboni monstrosity rising above Stadium Village.
And through all the triumphs and travails of these scrawny mush-skulls, Network will be there — a beacon of light in an uncertain world.
Without further adieu, we return to business as usual … .
Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we practice to conceive. And it seems Bufeyfey has had her share of practice on nubile baby brothers (beware, freshpeople). But like any good Networkian she seeks forgiveness — from her former best friend and from her Net.
From Bufeyfey: O’ Great Network, forgive me for I have sinned … . Net: Please, don’t refer to us with such reverence. We are mere demigods, not yet deserving of the capital “G.” I have made mistakes (okay, maybe a few too many) in my life. In my own defense I am a generally decent human being. I can be a royal bitch, as some would bear witness to, but I am not the evil sex-crazed loony Net: Who said anything about evil? that I am being made out to be. Net: The “made out” part was your doing, as we recall. Why does our society deem it okay for a 19-year-old boy to kiss a 17-year-old girl but when it’s reversed it’s “cradle-robbing”? Net: Ain’t societal oppression a bitch? Yes, I did kiss a 17-year-old. Yes, I did ruin a perfectly good friendship because I let my hormones do the thinking. Net: We let our hormones do the thinking once. Three days later we were lying face down on a bus bench outside the Tropicana in Vegas clutching an empty quart of paint thinner in one hand and one of those big foam “No. 1” hands in the other. Don’t ask. I am sorry. Most of all I am sorry for my lack of judgment and actions that followed. I am also sorry because I did not think that printing my little escapade would cause AudPaud hurt and anger. Lastly, let me point out that the guy in the first letter (as I stated before) was over 18 and just for the record I’m not that far from 18 myself. In the future I will be more wise with my words as well as my actions … . Net: We think we’ve all learned a very important lesson here: Love thy brother, just don’t tell the sister of thy brother lest you wallow in a puddle of guilt.
From Psycho: Kidd-O‘s tale of the police harassing the 10-year-old made me think of an amusing police-state type story that happened to me on my very first day in Minneapolis. We had nothing to do, as classes hadn’t started yet, so we decided to get a couple of cold brews for this beautiful summer day. Net: When in doubt, drink. We had a friend whose ID says he’s 21 walk with us to the local liquor boutique and picked up a 12-pack of Milwaukee’s finest (note: a 12-pack for four people. We may be underage, but we drink responsibly. Net: There’s nothing responsible about drinking Milwaukee’s Finest. We’re certain your liver would agree. This also adds to the ridiculousness of the story). So our friend goes in and gets the beer and comes out and hands my friend Kyle the bag. We started heading to the park and had not gotten more than 100 yards away when two squad cars pulled up with cherries a-blazin’. Two furious cops raced out of the car and one grabbed the beer and the second threw (let me emphasize threw) Net: Italics might work. Kyle to the hood of the car. The first cop then ordered the rest of us to sit on the ground. My friend Zak didn’t hear the cop so he didn’t sit. Net: He was probably busy wondering what happened to the “c” in his name. The cop runs up to Zak, grabs him by the neck and screams in his ear, “Boy, you better sit your ass down before I knock your ass out,” and then pushes Zak to the ground. So Zak says, “I didn’t even hear you, you don’t have to be such an ass.” Net: Oh, that was smart. Why didn’t he just whip out a toy Uzi while he was at it? Then the cops says, and I quote, “You’d better shut the f@##% up boy! I’ll mace your dumb ass and take you to jail, I don’t give a shit!” All this over a 12-pack. Net: And a bad attitude. Then the cops went on to tell us how stupid we were, and that they had the liquor store staked out the whole time. A LIQUOR STORE STAKEOUT! HAHAHAHAHA!! Is this some town out in the boons? Net: No, that would be Madison. The cops have enough free time to stake out liquor stores!?!? I get offered crack every other time I’m downtown, or around Midway, not to mention the south side or even the West Bank, but yet the cops have enough time to stakeout campus liquor stores. Net: Do you want drugs on the streets or bicyclists on the sidewalks? The answer is clear, wethinks. I thought Minneapolis was supposed to be “Murderapolis.” Net: Whatever happened to “Minnesota Nice?” Maybe it was slaughtered, gangland-style. To conclude the story, the cops took Kyle somewhere downtown, and told him to walk home (Kyle and I are both from Milwaukee so we didn’t know downtown all that well at the time), and they kept the beer. I wonder what they did with it? Net: It went straight to the “foodshelf,” where it could be “distributed” to “needy” people.
From Phlegm of Discontent: Last week, I awakened a gigantic monster from its 1000-year slumber. Net: Marlon Brando? No, wait … it’s just his career that’s in a coma. It subsequently went on to level Tokyo and was eventually slain by a pair of microscopic girls, a 10-year-old boy in hot pants, a couple of slackers and Space Chief. I was really hoping it would hit L.A. instead. Net: The killer bees should take care of that. Oh well, I guess I should get back to work on that giant robot. All I need is a human brain. If I could get a volunteer from among the Network readers, I would be most pleased. Just think, you’ll be advancing the cause of science, and I promise to take good care of your brain.

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