Friday, December 20, 2013

You Wouldn't Call Your Country A Cunt, Would You?

In this RUTGER the cool frat bro breaks into a smooth jazz club--of which there were an abundance throughout Fort Collins. (Okay, so maybe I didn't leave my dorm room much, but surely there was one smooth jazz club somewhere?? Acid jazz...?)


"C'mon! Everyone start clapping! Even while I get pelted with naners and toaster ovens (where do we keep the toaster oven?)!"

That's true dedication to a bit when you're getting snowed under by projectiles. Maybe this frat guy should have been our president instead?

"Heel to the chief!"

Okay, maybe that doesn't make a lot of sense. But I'd like to see YOU cobble together some jokes and throw them at people, day after sole-crushing day! Or is this humor getting too arch? 

Next Week: Dancing leads to lewd dancing. Lewd dancing leads to lewd suicide. 

2 comments:

  1. Maybe you could pump up this post? But then you probably held your tongue, which is a croc and patently wrong. You should stop loafing and just tie it up now and take a bow.

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