From Argonaut: Hello friends! I am a faithful reader, and have occasionally written in to take advantage of the low expectations of fellow readers and editors with rantings and ravings of my own. Net: Network’s standards EXPOSED! Ahhh! What a healthy release of frustration caused by such important issues as the weather, the University bureaucracy, freshmen, and my favorite target — Mall preachers. Net: But wait … there’s more! But, my dear Network, even these problems are insignificant to me now. For it is spring! And I have found myself in a glorious state of mind! You see, it seems Cupid has taken aim of my heart, or maybe another part of my anatomy … who cares; the resultant euphoria is the same. This in itself is not so unusual, but I find myself strangely and compulsively attracted to the famous, or infamous, Rollerdiva! Net: Oh boy … now you’ve done it. We foresee a full-out flood of “I want Rollerdivaletters. What is so frightening is the fact that I have never met this naughty vixen. My attraction is the result of stories, fables, rumors and even the titillating morsels that she herself has supplied to our beloved Network. Ohhh, please Network, please introduce me to the mischievous Rollerdiva! Net: We do not introduce people to Rollerdiva. You cannot introduce yourself to Rollerdiva. She introduces herself to you. That’s how it works. I feel I must indulge this fantasy before I graduate and am lost into the real world, never to be found. I am not very wild or crazy, and we have absolutely nothing in common, but I can’t stop fantasizing about her! What sensuality and danger oooze from her prose … Help me NITWIT … you’re my only hope! Net: We’re afraid that’ll be up to the infamous diva herself … perhaps someday she’ll be holding court at an öberhip tavern near you?
From Rollerdiva: Warning! Warning! Red flags up! Isn’t it 100 percent obvious that Psycho is one of those katamin dealers? Net: Of course! How could we have been so blind? And a super bad one at it I might add. There are dozens of Special K Kitties in this city — jonesin’ like rat bastards — huffing ant poison because no one has robbed the Kitty Klinic in South Minneapolis for awhile. Net: Well, it is on kind of a busy street … Either Psycho wants to get the word out to the city super-users so that he can make a grande unload, or those animal liberation hippies received an eleventh-hour tip-off to the hot goods that exist in a biomedical animal laboratory, and made off with the mega-tasty katamin — knowing nothing of its full value! They obviously know nothing about selling the stuff or who wants it and who will pay top dollar, and probably can’t even get into the parties where Special K is as precious as gold, or it would be all gone by now. I know people who will buy that stuff by the ounce … well, maybe not the ounce, but the half ounce fer sure! If Psycho is actually a concerned citizen, like — for his fellow mankind or for the furry animals or something like that — then I repeal my drug dealer-accusatory index finger and will promptly put it away, and let him go about his business of being a vegetarian, or saving the world or something like that. But Net, be wary, for no one I know (and let’s face it — I know a lot of people) Net: Not as many as would like to know you, it seems spells katamin katamine, or knows that much inside dirt as to how katimin goes from cat tranquilizer to Special K, or cares that much about it either. Net: We don’t care that much either, Roller … we just like the sound of your … erm, voice.
From Francis Ataxia: Greetings almighty, groovy, and otherworldly Net. I write today to talk of many things. Net: Hoooooow many? Two, to be exact. First of all, and stop me if you’ve heard this one, I’d like to pledge the allegiance of the General College to your cause (If you’ll have us). Net: Hmmm. Yeah, OK. During the course of the year I have secretly wrested control of the GC from the administration and I know we could be a great help in the battle against King T and his Obsequian minions. (Being from the GC, I of course have no idea what Obsequian means, but it sounds kind of neat.) Net: Everybody see the T-storm warnings last night? You think about that. We have a vast surplus of really dumb guys who show a strong aptitude for beating up people, and are always useful in throwing at the enemies’ bullets, metaphorically speaking. Net: Hey, this is getting better. Keep talkin’. Also, our mass of nappy, easy girls can be put to work seducing the pale, acne-scarred, virginal Obsequians and turning them into secret operatives, or something fancy sounding like that. Net: You nailed it there, brother.
Anyway, on to the real message here: the meaning of life. While I won’t tell you exactly what it is (the journey being a vital part of the discovery) I can point you in the right direction. It’s all about sex, Spain, and being better than everyone else. It also helps if you’re drunk or famous. Net: A remarkably terse, exacting definition, M. Ataxia. We thank you.
From McBain: I don’t know if you kiddies are old enough to remember, Net: Trust us. We are but the vending machines on this campus used to have REAL chips in the vending machines. Net: And the letters never used to have redundant prepositional phrases. Ahh, the old days … I am talking about quality products like Doritos or Fritos or Cheetos — not this Old Dutch crap. I know, I know, Old Dutch is a Minnesota company but has anyone tasted these “potato chips?” Net: Crisp and happy, light and snappy: Old Dutch potato chips. They are far inferior to their Frito-Lay counterparts. I just want a little freedom of choice and corporate sponsorships and the purchase of a monopoly on what the students on this campus have available to them really make me sick. (Really, the potato chips make me sick.) Net: Salad. Next time, try a salad. I just want to be able to take a break from work to get some Doritos and a Mountain Dew instead of “BBQ-flavored Potato-like Chips” and “Kiwi Erotica Fruitopia.”