College Stupidity...Vol 5...and the horrid tale of The Sauce

Fall, 1989:

With one year of college behind us, already those of us who had migrated from small town high school to slightly larger college town had begun to lose touch with our roots. My friend Nelson and I had rooms across campus from each other, and rarely hung out anymore, but when we did, it was interesting to note that the stupidity I had witnessed was mirrored on the other side of campus.

While attending high school, Nelson and I had a mutual friend who was one year our junior. Gordon was the kind of guy whose basement had a pinball machine, pac-man machine, foosball and pool table, and the piece de resistance...a jukebox. Despite his junior status, he was immediately elevated to the upper eschelon of cooldom, and allowed to hang out with us.

Few odder people have I ever met than Gordon, which immediately endeared him to us, so in the fall of 1989, it was with great expecations that we anticipated his arrival at college.

He didn't disappoint.

Upon arriving, he brought with him a pickle jar. Not one of those nancy-boy pickle jars, but one of those 5 gallon monstrosities you typically see on the counter of a deli or bar. Starting on his first day of college, he, and the other miscreants who lived in Bradshaw hall took turns adding various....things....to the jar. I believe, as the story goes, it started with orange juice. Then someone added part of a hamburger. Some other guy added a half eaten boiled egg, and some other guy added half a coke.

You get the idea.

By the end of the year, the jar was half filled with an olive green sludge so disgusting that it warranted being named. When someone put one of Steve's socks into it, it was deemed that 'the sauce' had reached critical disgusting mass.

For four years of college the sauce followed Gordon to every domicile he inhabited.

Interesting sauce facts:

On two occasions it was stolen and ransomed back to him.
One guy turned down $1000.00 to take a drink of it at a party when the lid was removed and vapor...green vapor escaped.
Amazingly, it was never dropped and broken.
The sauce still exists, and is sitting on one of Gordon's friends mantles. I wouldn't be surprised if it weren't a fantasy football trophy or something.



Wow what an ass-kickin that was..

I'm referring, of course, to the yearly evisceration the Chiefs receive at Invesco Field at Mile High. (that doesn't sound near as cool as mile high, but the house that Elway built makes me shudder)

It must be the thin air what makes my guys commit 60 yards in penalties in the first half. Either that, or they checked they're heads as luggage when they got on the plane and they ended up in parts unknown. When they have the distinguished banquet at the end of the year to hand out most valuable player for the Chiefs, they'd best just hand it over to Mr. Roaf, because it's apparent that without him, we can't run worth a shit.

Anyway, hats off to Jerk's Broncos. He complains alot about Jake Plummer, and I don't know why, everytime I've seen him play he's done rather well. Maybe the key to us beating them is to wear Raiders jerseys. I hear he fears the black and silver and just...hurls the ball to them at any given opportunity.

We get another shot at them...in OUR house, where we don't have to listen to that irritating IN-COM-PLETE bullcrap. I'm personally hoping we hang a 50 point ass-kickin on them that day, but we have the Eagles to worry about next.

There's some good news.


Do You Remember...

I did one of these awhile back, and I enjoyed it so much I think I'll do another.

..when there were two kinds of gas, unleaded and regular? My dad constructed a homemade catalytic converter when regular went away.

..when it wasn't uncommon to see someone driving with an open beer? My dad never drove anywhere without a beer, like it was his co-pilot. He'd be strung up in the street for doing it now.

..when a quarterback could take a hit and keep playing? If you watch fox's nfl show, remember this, Terry Bradshaw has no teeth, they're all in the grass in Texas Stadium.

..when you could easily differentiate one car model from another? I swear most fuel efficient sedans look exactly alike these days.

..when Kellen Winslow was a kickass tight end, and not a whining primadonna rich boy?

..when CBS was the worst network on television?

..when CBS had only one CSI show?

..when the best multi-person roleplaying game was Gauntlet?

..when I used to post daily?

..when Santa and the Easter Bunny were real?

..when the Tooth Fairy was female?

..when Saturday cartoons were worth getting out of bed for?

..when the Friday night High School Football game was a big social event?

..when the opinion of your High School peers was everything to you?

..when you saw your Senior Prom picture and wondered how the hell you arrived at THAT decision?

..when a suburban, an explorer, and a bronco were all referred to as a 'truck'?

That's all for now.

Coming next...the Legend of The Sauce.


Because Jerk probably thinks I've forgotten about him...

Football season is upon us, and already I am surprised.

The talking heads that make up the sporting press have already jinxed the Chiefs, mentioning the forbidden words that start with S and B. I think I should personally make a trip to Bristol Connecticut and hogtie those bastards before they do anymore damage. Yeah, the defense walloped the Jets, but let's see how they do against Oakland next week before we start building the pedestal to put them on.

But, I must say, it's nice having a fast as lightning linebacker named Derrick again, and it's even better watching him strip the ball from unsuspecting quarterbacks.

Alone, we sit at the top of the AFC West. We should take this opportunity to retire as division champs while we still have it, because I'm sure once the division games start it's going to get nasty.

I noticed Jerk didn't have much to say, but if my team had lost to the lowly Dolphins, I probably wouldn't acknowledge the official start of the season either. Jake Plummer is officially my favorite person in the world, long may he live and his health hold true. Luckily for him, hockey season is just around the corner. Lucky, that is, if Colorado managed to keep Peter Forsberg...oh yeah, they let Philly have him for a bag of magic beans or something.

Poor Jerk...



I understand desperation and panic. I understand how 5 days with little food or water can cause the near feral regression we are witness to in the wake of such devastation. I understand how temperatures in excess of 100 degrees, and being mired in raw sewage and rotting corpses can cause anger and despair. I tell myself that people with no power or access to communication have no idea the extent of the damage and may not fully comprehend the difficulty involved with getting relief to the area.

What I don't understand is how someone can completely lose their sense of humanity and hinder the efforts that are being made to help people that are in dire need of it.

Something is very wrong when the most powerful nation on Earth cannot maintain order in the wake of such a disaster. Especially given that an entire department was created within the government to deal with such disaster. Something is even more wrong when people turn on each other and devolve into a system of warlord despotism in a period of 2 days.

There are many people clinging to the last vestiges of humanity while being preyed upon by those who have descended into animalistic madness. We need an armed presence to hold back the predators and allow those who have endured this utter hell a chance to be free of it.

I personally won't shed a tear over any of the gun-toting thugs that happen to get left behind to shit their guts out when cholera takes hold of them. If they had a shred of humanity left to them, they wouldn't be hindering the rescue effort that is taking place.

Get them out of the superdome. If you can imagine what that must be like, trying to sleep in a building where the stench of death, feces, and urine is so pervasive that anyone who comes in is overwhelmed to the point of vomiting. In addition to that, the building is dark. Not dark like your house when the lights are off...dark like a cave dark, and all around you, you can hear the moans of people suffering...dying. Words cannot convey the fear those people must feel being in that hellhole.

Get them out.


I'm not quite dead...

You'll be stone dead in a moment..you're not fooling anyone you know.

The Monkey's computer blew up, it was a 6 yr old dinosaur and the great hard drive eating comet finally destroyed it. From the ashes, and the good graces of the finance department at Best Buy a new computer has taken it's place.

While waiting for them to reload it, because I hate BestBuy off the rack imaging, I bought World of Warcraft. What's the point of having a 64 bit dual core 2.8GhZ with 800MhZ front side bus and a 128 mb video card if you aren't going to completely abuse it...right?

Ok, so in the pixelated realms of WoW, I'm technically dead. In fact, if there was a career class 'Crow Feeder' I would be the high exalted poo-bah, as I've died more times than John Travolta's career, but I'm having a blast.

So I've neglected my blog. It doesn't scream when I bash it with an axe, or drop me nifty little treasures that I have to take somewhere else to sell so I can afford to fix the stuff I broke bashing it with an axe.


College Stupidity Volume IV

The library.

It's the big building that houses more knowledge than all of the professors combined. It contains the past, present, and future of our existence. A world of knowledge just across campus, but it may as well have been on the moon for the men who occupied rooms 3 and 5 in 1990.

Chavez, Mike, and Rick were three guys who embodied the characteristics that brought about the incense rule. Collectively, I think they attended twelve full hours of class that semester, and for some reason, the fact that I had been there two years already, and hadn't been kicked out yet prompted them to look to me for scholastic advice. My advice often went like this.

"Spend some of that time you spend smokin dope going to class and you'll be allright"

These guys smoked enough dope, and played their music loud enough, that I felt like I was saving 30 bucks a night in concert tickets. It would get on my nerves, but I'm not one to rat on someone smoking dope, because you never know how that guy is going to react.

I got my revenge in a different way.

"Hey, ya know what I saw in the library the other day" I said to Chavez.
"What were you doing in the library" he said.
"Learnin' motherfucker, I'm not sleeping in an 8 by 20 room for kicks you know! I saw the anarchist's cookbook" I retorted.
"What's that?" he managed to ask through his drug induced haze.
"You'd have to see it to understand, it's a book that has all kinds of stuff in it. It's got how to make malatov cocktails, napalm, LSD, and other intoxicants from household items."

He stared at me for a moment before it fully soaked in.

"No shit?"
"Yeah man, no shit."

I had baited the trap, and had to just sit back and wait. The braintrust managed to find their way to the library to locate the rumored tome, and having done so, brought it back and gathered around it like it was the chronicle of the world.

A day went by, before I saw them entering the dorm carrying 3 sacks filled with bananas. I just had to ask.

"What are you dumbasses doing?"
"Oh, hey man, thanks for telling us about that book man, we're trying one of the formulas. It says you can get high off banadine."

To get banadine, in order to get high, according the the anarchists cookbook, you have to scrape the inner white layer off of banana peels. It takes about 3 lbs of banana peels. 3 lbs of banana peels is a shit load of bananas, if you were unaware, it's not 3 lbs of bananas, but 3 lbs of banana peels, which translates to...I have no idea what, and neither did they. I do know they had about 10 lbs of bananas to eat while they sat patiently scraping the shit off of a shit load of banana peels onto a baking sheet.

Once the scraping was done, they carried the scrapings down the hall to the community stove, set the thing to 350 (because apparently you bake everything at 350, it's a philosophy I happen to subscribe to) and leave it to bake.

6 hours later, Chavez is gleefully carrying a pile of blackened banana peel innards down the hall psyched about how he's going to get his inexpensive high on, oblivious to the fact that he had to eat 10 lbs of bananas, scrape the peels for 2 hours, and bake it for 6 hours. But, when you are in college, you find that you have more time than you do money, so I guess he was economizing.

The three part braintrust that lived in 3/5 divided their spoils equally, loaded their bowls, and fired up.

"Do you feel anything?"
"Not yet, how 'bout you?"
"Nope, nothing. I think they sold us some bum shit."

10 minutes later.


The three of them, in unison, clutching their heads praying for it to stop, rolling in agony on the floor of their room. My roomate looked to me, saw the smile on my face, and asked, "what have you done?"

"It's quiet isn't it?"

They were out of commission for the rest of the night. You would think, at that point, they would return the evil book to the library, and maybe punch me in the face or something, wouldn't ya? But no, we're dealing with a special breed of dumbass who doesn't possess the ability to quit despite horrid and utter failure. No, these geniuses flipped the page.

A couple of days later I saw them all coming back from the store, and each of them had spent the rest of their weekly money on ....


That's right, they read that if you pack nutmeg between your cheek and gum like skoal that you'll get a buzz. I thought the banana idea was the stupidest idea they'd had, but apparently the banandine did more damage than I originally thought, because this was the stupidest idea I'd ever heard at that point in my life.

Of course, the result was the same...


heh heh heh

They took the book back after that one. They also didn't ask me for advice anymore after that. They were gone at the end of that semester, as we had all truly expected.