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October 17, 2017

Frosh Week 2001 - The Scunt

Okay, I'm not gonna hesitate. I'm not gonna pussyfoot around here. I'm not gonna wave my hands around, at the same time dancing about the subject, while thrusting my pelvis at something completely different, nodding at you the whole time. I could jerk you around for a while, but why insult your intelligence? You're an adult, since you no doubt clicked the disclaimer page. I can thus treat you with respect; I don't need cheap gags or silly diversions to get to the point. I just don't think that would be appropriate. Rather than insult your intelligence, I shall treat you with dignity and respect. I certainly won't get sidetracked with a bonus music review, like this one:

The Prodigy - The Dirtchamber Sessions, Vol. 1
I can't believe it's not Se7en!
Poor Liam. He decides to branch out from simple raver fare and go in a brand new direction with Fat of the Land, and what does he get? Derision! Hate! Apathy! Well that's just not cricket. For daring to create accessable tunes with a crunchy rock subtext, and then selling them on Madonna's label, Prodigy sucessfully alienated themselves from a fair portion of hardcore dance fans. Instead the props went to the Chemical Brothers, who had recently put out a very good (at least I think so; mine's scratched) mix album. Technically a mix album is the clip show of music; it's a bunch of old stuff slapped together and marketed as tha brand new sound. But in dance circles the ability to mix tunes and make an effective new piece is as valued as pink on Barbie. So Prodigy put out their own mix album.

And finally, after all that preamble, get to the review. Note that in a review, if the reviewer doesn't really have a whole lot to say about the album per se, he'll ramble on about history, or style, or some miniscule piece of data that may or may not be related to the piece, but it does bump up that critical word count. Eventually, of course, you have to get to the meat. Now I could go on and on about the choice of music, and how it reveals a lot of Liam Howlett's influences on Fat of the Land, and thus serves as a pretty good companion to it, but then I could be perceived as taking reviews seriously, which, quite frankly, I'm not about to accept.

The Chemical Brothers' one is better, but this one is pretty good.

Dammit!

YO!  Drop tha needle!
I don't think I can dance to this...

I'm not gonna pull any crap like that out of respect for my readers. You people are the Game, and I strive to excell at the Game every single day. So I'm gonna get right to it.

Here it comes.

The Scavenger Hunt this year was mediocre.

Now, I'm not about to suggest that the pranks weren't as good as last year just because I didn't take an active role this time. Even though it was all me last year. There was some full frontal nudity this year, so that's a plus, but on the whole it was a pretty flat affair. I don't have as many pictures, mainly because there wasn't a whole lot to take pictures of. Oh well, let's take a look at what there is.

I wasn't around most of the day 'cause I was at work. When I came home I found that North was attempting to make a car out of a bed. And that's about it. You see, previously there were mobs of frosh about, probably getting really plastered for the first time in their lives, and they'd do some really stupid shit with a minimum of coaxing. This year, however, the very lame on-campus residence built a new building, thus siphoning off most of the frosh. So the huge mob of frosh was off singing songs and playing hopscotch, while we had about five frosh at varying levels of drunkeness.

Naturally, it was up to the old timers to get the job done. Naturally, being old, they failed miserably.

Ok, I'm being harsh. It wasn't THAT bad. I just need to make up for the total lack of decent pictures. Speaking of which, let's look at some pictures!

Frosh Week: it's all about fellatio.
A Scunt isn't a Scunt without a good old fashioned road trip. Here we see Sara making a sign for the back window of the car. It reads, "SOUTH ROAD TRIP - FROSH WEEK 2001" which saves the authorities some work. Continuing: "FREE BLOWJOBS!!!" Now, despite the fact a girl is writing that, this car had four guys. The plural of blowjobs suggests, out of necessity, that at least one of the guys is going to deliver. That's why they tacked this disclaimer on the bottom: "(PLEASE)", thus converting the piece from an offer to a request. Quite ingenious, really.

Hi.  I'm in Flamborough.
Then they hit the road, and passed through Flamborough. That's right; THE Flamborough!

Let's get us some biddles!
I forgot to mention what kind of car they were driving. Here it is. It's a nice Model T, with Jethro in the driver's seat and Ellie May riding shotgun. Jed and Granny seem comfortable enough, while there's some random dude hanging around on the side. I think it's an errant surfer. Yes, I am reduced to Beverly Hillbillies jokes. Sigh.

You'd be surprised how much action that plastic dinosaur gets
Somebody finally got the message that the best way to succeed in a scavenger hunt is with nudity and invasion of private property. These two did that in spades: Steve is in his boxers, and Tom is naked, and the dinosaur, having no shame, is in it's birthday suit, and all of them are on private property. You know, it's just not frosh week without some naked dude on a plastic animal. There's a very dirty joke in there somewhere, but I'm not gonna explore that right now.

Somewhere around here someone also discovered the usefullness of nudity in Scunt-related activity, and put that into use. A girl from North did the full monty on a picnic table, while a girl and a guy from South modelled whipped cream bikinis. I don't have any pictures of this out of respect and slow reflexes.

All hail el presidente!
Mad Dog was up to his usual Machevalian schemes this year. This one will take some explaining. You see, the co-op I live in has an elected president in Dave Gerrard. My circle of friends have taken to calling him el Presidente (completely free of my influence) in the style of Fidel Castro. I'm not entirely sure why. So Mad Dog converted the entrance to Dave's apartement into a miniture version of Cuba, complete with barbed-wire covered door frame. So we snuck all this Cuba-related stuff into the place while he was out (distracted, actually) and when he came back, tada! See, not all pranks need to be dangerous/illegal. It's just more fun that way!

Nuts to my homies, this one's for ME!!!!
My roommate, Steven never drinks. I mean NEVER. The simple act of him drinking at all is something very special. So putting a hat on him in jaunty fashion (by "jaunty" I mean hard as SHIT, yo) and making him chug a very large beer is cause for celebration. Or at least a fair chunk of points. So here is an event more rare than a blue moon. It's more rare than Rush Limbaugh admitting he's wrong. It's more rare than Heather Graham delivering a line convincingly. And it's caught on film, right here. SMELL THE RAPTURE!!!!
So that's all I have on the Scunt. I can't for the life of me remember anything else that happened. I have no idea who won. I will note for the record that the people in charge of the competing buildings were really anal about property damage, cutting out all the fun to be had there. Lame. Clearly what the Scavenger Hunt needs is more less lame. Here's a picture of the Rock and Kurt Angle making out:

I was gonna hide the Wrestleline banner... but what are they gonna do?  Sue me?  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

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