Another group on campus officially blew its own cover and revealed the lame little racehorse we previously confined to the football program. The Task Force bade its time and, after careful research into the cause of drug usage, they found a freshman, henceforth to be referred to as “Ginger,” and had him suspended until summer for smoking weed and drinking alcohol. Good idea. Being at home with nothing to do will surely curtail his awful habits.
Thank God the police are out solving real crimes instead of stopping murder, catching rapists and beating up nerds.
I do not mind people getting tickets for smoking weed. The law says not to do it, so if you get caught, take the ticket. However, there should be an addendum to the school rule on pot. No punishments shall change, none of that nonsense. Judicial Officers must simply henceforth conclude all decisions with my favorite quote as of six seconds ago:
“There is a very nice self-titering aspect to cannabis. Each puff is a very small dose; the time lag between inhaling a puff and sensing its effect is small; and there is no desire for more after the high is there. I think the ratio, R, of the time to sense the dose taken to the time required to take an excessive dose is an important quantity. R is very large for LSD (which I’ve never taken) and reasonably short for cannabis. Small values of R should be one measure of the safety of psychedelic drugs. When cannabis is legalized, I hope to see this ratio as one of the parameters printed on the pack. I hope that time isn’t too distant; the illegality of cannabis is outrageous, an impediment to full utilization of a drug which helps produce the serenity and insight, sensitivity and fellowship so desperately needed in this increasingly mad and dangerous world.”
-Carl Sagan.
This will be done, not so much to remind the student of the wrongdoing, but more to remind those in charge that they basically just retard the development of human intellect. Ninety percent of the law exists only to punish those who cheat to win anyway. So, if you think that sticking a fire in your mouth to attain some limitless mental dexterity for a few minutes is a worthwhile hobby, get out of college. School is for learning.
Ginger is gone. Funny enough, the guy who sold that other dude Fentanyl last semester probably still plans to graduate. His parents are probably rich and to bring about justice might seriously harm the school’s incoming endowment donation, so this is absolutely excusable. Nothing personal, it’s just better for business to close our eyes and sing “Camptown Races.”
Hell, if I were married to a sufficiently wealthy woman, I would definitely put up with all manner of bad behavior so long as I could ride around town in a Maserati, visit Acapulco in a private jet and purchase the best buddha around with my lady love’s money. She could stay out all night, never clean the house and even vote without so much as a lifted eyebrow.
Speaking of women’s rights, “The Vagina Monologues” auditions are coming up. Naturally, the evil feminists do not permit male auditions. Sexism: the most brutal of all beasts prowl in the night.
Sexism falls into a unique category of the American Panoramic Experience in that it’s the only subject under which a Cultural Formation-Human Diversity co-requirement class can be taken seriously. For the freshmen out there, Human Diversity stands for: “We know you’re a spoiled rich idiot with too much money and all my subjects are boring or worthless. So, instead of learning French or Italian we’re going to assign you to write a 40-page paper about “The House on Mango Street,” “Bean Trees” or one of a thousand other books nobody ever reads because they are boring.”
The real reason is to enrich your cultural diversity. But since SMU is more racially segregated than a prison lunchroom, that will never happen.
I do not even pretend to understand what it is like to be anything other than a white, Anglosaxon Franco-Prussian, half-English, mostly-American male with a Texan accent which, after enough whiskey, degrades to nothing more than vowels. Luckily, I am the only human being from SMU in human history to receive personal experience with respect to understanding other cultures. Readers, brace yourselves because the next paragraph deals with colored people, which are like white people but different in some way.
During a quail hunt in South Texas, my father and friends happened upon a “Latino” on foot. The guy was from Belize or Guatemala or something, but at that point, he was in Texas and walking to Illinois, where a friend had a factory job opening. With that in mind, I decided long ago to take the reigns and pass judgemnt on ALL foreign immigrants who illegally cross the border from Mexico. If any human being is willing to freestyle his way 1,000 miles north just for a minimum wage job, I am willing fire a fellow white man to make room. That is not racism; that is respect because when the white guy wakes up with a hangover in bed with three crack whores to call in sick, the Guatemalan economic refugee is going to take a triple shift for the extra 30 bucks to send back home.
Laws: People take them so personally, especially those in charge of enforcing them. That sucks. You see, officer, when I systematically lie to the police, it’s not hatred for the person behind the badge, or even the badge itself. The reason Austin Rucker chooses to lie to the police is because if my lawbreaking causes no direct impediment to at least one other person’s ability to selfishly accomplish more in life, no punishment should be required. For example, when you speed through traffic at 150 miles per hour through a school zone, nobody deserves a ticket. However, if you do the same event and children are literally diving out of the way, you ought to go to straight to hell. In fact, if kids have any reaction more extreme than the sheer awe of, “That guy is going really fast,” the law is being broken. Of course, driving that fast is stupid and will get you killed. Luckily God created a system for dealing with that called “oil, inertia and trees.”
Heck, even if they find someone on CCTV sneaking into Eckerd’s after dark with a wrench and emerging six minutes later with 40 prints of my illegitimate Korean son Bun-We playing softball, I wouldn’t lift a finger. I’d actually take pride in having such a cute Korean child. Naturally I would club the guy to death the next time I see him, but in the meantime he’s not really hurting anyone, so peace be unto that child of Christ. Bun-We got an A on his last math test but that doesn’t bother me since I don’t pay child support.
No lasting damage, that’s the key. I mean, if we get into the psychosocial ramifications of each individual action, we might as well sue every philosophy professor ever for mind-raping the innocent and training a whole crop of totally unemployable ramblers who demand everything be taken from a “rational” perspective. Seriously, go out and find a good honest stoic and buy them a lap dance so you can see what happens. There is no greater joy in the world than a sexually aroused philosopher attempting to compartmentalize and apply mathematically latticed structural etymology to something so simple as, “Hooray for boobies.”
That is my fact. That is the truth as I see it.
Questions? Comments? Austin Rucker is a senior English major and can be reached for comment at [email protected].
