67 lines
3.6 KiB
Plaintext
67 lines
3.6 KiB
Plaintext
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$$$$$$$$$$$
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$$$$$$$$$$$ hogz of entropy #151
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$$$$$P $$$$ $$$$ moo, oink, up your butt.
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$$$$P $$$$ x$$$$
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$$$P $$$$ xP$$$$ d$$$$$$$$$$$.
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$$$. $$$$xP $$$$ $$$$$$' >$$$$
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$$$$$$$$$. $$$$P $$$$ 4$$$$$. .$$$$'
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$$$$'`4$$$b. $$$$ $$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$P'
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$$$$b 4$$$$b. $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$< %%
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$$$$$b 4$$$$$x $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$ %%
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>> "Fear and Loathing in the Suburban Midwest" <<
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by -> MoonBagel
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Frat boys are the bane of my existence, I think. I could be sorely
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mistaken. No, that's wrong. I could be mistaken, but I find it hard to
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believe that mistaken-ness would be in any way sore. It would probably be
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quite healthy if I didn't harbor this inexplicable loathing of frat boys
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(frat boys, Ohio, and role-playing games, actually).
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Frat boys are bad. They are not good. I don't like their dirty
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little baseball caps, nor do I think they are in any way necessary (the caps
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and the boys). I don't like how they vomit a lot. When I was at UMass in
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Amherst, Mass., I didn't like how a group of frat boys had a giant
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inflatable turtle in front of their house. There is irony -- I wouldn't
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mind having a giant inflatable turtle of my own. The cause, however, is
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perverted royally by having a largely-grassless yard fertilized with vomit
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surrounding it. Such a turtle deserves respect and a proper, healthy
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environment in which to thrive.
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Through years of extensive testing, living in the vincinity of
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several large state universities as well as numerous smaller schools, I have
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come to discover the one thing I'm sure frat boys are good for. To recreate
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the joy I sometimes feel, you must have at your disposal a small group (or
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even one other) acquaintance/friend/stranger-who-shares-your-pain, a car of
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some variety... and it sure doesn't hinder you to be hyped up on all sorts
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of caffeinated substances.
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Drive along a busy thoroughfare, or hit a popular weekend (or
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weekday, if it tickles your toes) frat-boy nightspot.
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Spot a carload of fratboys. FOLLOW THEM. Follow at a safe distance,
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but follow 'em -- don't compromise your health and well-being for a carload
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of brothers. If you hit upon a ripe group, you'll hear shouts that your
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momma admonished you for when you were a pure and virtuous,
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uncorrupted-by-frats child. Sometimes you'll get compliments. Other times,
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the most you will witness is a neat, intriguing mix of hand gestures which
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may be offensive in a foreign land. They may not be. It doesn't matter,
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ultimately. It's funny. Well, it's funny if you're caffeinated. If you're
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not, I must apparently reside among the upper echelons of lame-osity.
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Woo-wee.
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If the pickin's are slim in your area, expect me to show up on your
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doorstep in a matter of days. Don't despair -- I clean up after myself, I'm
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house-broken, and you have another option -- redneck/hicks (also in
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abundance in my city) prove to be a fine target, as well. In that case,
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follow the same steps -- just find boys in rusted-out pickup trucks.
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Snacks are also appreciated. Snacks make friends.
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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* (c) HoE publications. HoE #151 -- written by MoonBagel -- 12/12/97 *
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