Blah blah blah, that’s all I’m hearing from you people who couldn’t figure out that last weeks eight pages special of The Crock was totally fake and inspired by April fool’s day. The follies that whacked out everyone’s dome were as follows: No, Playboy is not coming to PSC. Think about this for a minute; why would Playboy have anything to do with a small NH state college when they could simply go to bean town and have their pick of all those luscious babes? I think it would be great if Heff acknowledged PSC for its finer, bustier looking woman but it ain’t gonna happen. Second, our college is not going to be called College Regional At Plymouth (or C.R.A.P., in case you guys had one too many bong hits to figure that equation out). Yes, these articles, like all the others in The Crock section were FAKE! And I was not arrested on an airplane for flipping off a flight attendant. I got the cuffs for telling her she was getting a box cutter to the throat! (Just kiddin’). The only story that had any truth to it was the one about The Clock’s extra curricular activities that included drug laundering and prostitution, from which I was lucky to escape allegation free. And to think, if those cops had looked in my apartment they would have found a dozen dead hookers that I used in snuff films and some crack cocaine to boot. It just shows what can be accomplished when you have a fantasy world to retreat into. Wait a minute, I mean, they would not have found that stuff, because I don’t do crack, or kill hookers, or make snuff films. Hee hee, yeah, that’s what I meant.
Talking about dead hookers brings me to my next point, which is that I have a real hard time getting my column into my editor on time. The deadline is at noon on Tuesdays, which is not a lot of time to find something interesting to write about, let alone exploit the feelings of sensitive and gullible people looking for a shoulder to cry on or an ear to whisper into. How can I put my best work forward when I have to write this with a Jack & Coke hangover and last night’s Skinemax booty flick still fresh on my pants? It’s incredible! Making matters worse, I’m really lazy. I just want to take the Red Sox to the World Series in High Heat Baseball 2003 and pay someone to give me my diploma. How can I be expected to do “schoolwork” or “work hard” or “take care of my hygiene” or “get out of bed before two in the afternoon on a regular basis”. What has college life come too? I thought I was here to ruin my life and my health, not to learn or whatever that deal is called. What was I writing about by the way? Oh yeah, dead hookers! Like I was saying…
Sometimes I zone out when I’m lounging around. It’s like being in Sing Sing for writing bad checks. You just want to get up and walk out the door. Do something productive, ya follow? So while I was trying to drag my sorry ass of the couch and do that productive thing I was hallucinating about, I had a revelation. I was watching a
CHIPS Patrol 2000 marathon on TNN when I realized what my generation has been missing out on. In this time of terrible WB sitcoms, and even worse, teen-inspired “horror” flicks, we have lost sight of what made watching the tube or screen inspiring. To begin with, television is for helping us to forget our troubles and put to rest petty arguments for ninety or so minutes and connect a piece of art that will enhance our life. Just like Army of Darkness did for me! I think if everyone made an attempt to go see one independent flick that they normally wouldn’t go see then a major chunk in this gaping hole that runs through our entertainment veins will start to be filled. So when Those Crazy Ogelmyers comes to Hyde later this semester, go see it and have fun laughing for a change. It has a lot of humor, and even some nudity! (T and A!!!) Details to come.