Oh, it’s just some young Australians having fun

…in 1983:


So what do you say about that photo? It really does cry out for your thousand words.

  • No hoverhand over any hemisphere.
  • “Producer! Subvoit this. Title it Revenge of the Nerds.”
  • I want this. For our next generation.
  • Make the mustache great again.
  • “How did we get so far from our fields?”
  • Remember when dude short-shorts were in style and it never crossed anyone’s mind that they’re a bit too personal?
  • [An effort-paragraph about the metaphysics of our destiny.]
  • No try-hard gym muscles and the chicks had a lovely bush.
  • Just a sweet pic. The other 996 words have melted into bliss.
  • This is who we are.
  • The one on the left looks good. Yes, I’m talking about the girl.
  • Pure vigor.
  • From politics and war, to mathematics and philosophy, to art and poetry… [photo] … to slave, to guerilla fighter, to politics and war.
  • Feminists envy those two.
  • Eye on the prize, Mr. President, eye on the prize.
  • “Ouch, time traveler from 2020. We can party but we are also good at war. Just like you, my Yankee bro, we already cleared a continent once. We can do it again. We just need a leader.”
  • The drinks at waist level, yup.
  • Open thread.

74 thoughts on “Oh, it’s just some young Australians having fun

  1. Pingback: Oh, it’s just some young Australians having fun – UNFUCK U

  2. Saw that on gab and those ‘staches! My word, those are brilliant. Also, if I could grow long hair like that, I would. Gal on the left is prettier but gal on the right has some nice breasts, though looks like she’s been out in the sun too long.

    I do remember the dude shorts. Mainly from PE teachers, who’d wear the Bike (brand name) shorts and they were short (relative to today’s standard), hitting right around mid thigh. For men that keep in shape and/or lift, it’s a great way to show off the quads.

    This made me think about how so many men, mainly young, don’t wear their pants are the proper waist-ish level and it makes them look like they got a full diaper underneath. I guess they think it’s faggy to wear the pants where you should and show off your buns for the ladies. Same thing with the short shorts–it got coopted and somehow became a calling card for the poofers.

    Pure vigor — indeed!

  3. With proper guidance, my grandchildren may have lives as good as that. But I think it more likely they’ll be guerilla fighters at that point.

    On the plus side, human nature says fighting for survival = make lots of babies. Captain Obvious for the win!

  4. “Pure vigor.”

    Never been into Australia, but I hear of bunk-and-luncheon inns plausibly bordering Gold Coast that serve churlishly peng northern-Scottish biscotti and some mean western-Welsh martinis. Will try that before or following retirement.

    “Hits from the fists of the larrakin and the Magistrate would send the poor little larrakin into a dungeon for being a better man than such a parcel of armed curs.”
    —Ned Kelly

  5. If that picture is making the rounds, what’s the story behind it?

    Is it known who those people are?

    It goes w/o saying, they are very high on the good-looking scale, but you have to “feel sorry for” the woman on the left and her too much suntanned skin.

  6. women all across the west would forget rapefugees in a jiff if all the local men started resembling robert plant with a moustache

  7. Pingback: Oh, it’s just some young Australians having fun | Reaction Times

  8. I get that they’re not even celebrities, and that’s kinda the point, that such quality was not so terribly unusual, in whatever scene it was they were a part of.

    Oftentimes though these pictures will have an attached backstory, like: That was my dad in 1980; now he’s in AA; mom wasn’t around at this point

    Anything to do with a boat tends to the upscale; except those guys look like adventure sailers.

  9. The shorts require a comment: those pictured above we might consider were the Anglo version of the infamous Speedo. But were they an improvement?

    Well, the Members Only style, featured on the viewer’s left, was an improvement. But not the TJ Maxx thing with the trim, on the other guy.

    Where are Fabio and Chevy Chase?

  10. That’s what strong and athletic looked like before genetic elites combined with steroids warped our minds. In a comment guaranteed to be please very few, I can bet neither of these guys knew what a deadlift was, but would useful on a job site or rough going in a fistfight.

    The women just seem effortlessly feminine and the look on everyones faces seem like they’re actually having fun, no ones doing the whole bullshit too cool to be having fun nonsense.

  11. Gaze upon that photo while listening to this song. Sure, it’s decades apart. But the energy seems to synch with my psyche. What that same level of connection would sound like today.

  12. Yeah. The latter was what I intended. An example like we talked about some time back: these Millenial kids have a knack for making music that deviates from the formula.

  13. Those men are legit hot, and the kind of guys that became the focus of “wife beater” narratives. Can’t leave rough-and-tumble types alone.

    @d, you’re right. I don’t come across too many mid- to upper-class women who chase swarth, but they tolerate or tacitly encourage it for proles, as a virtue signal.

    The hardbody of 2020 is very different from the hardbody of 1980, but I’d wager those two guys could kick the ever loving shit out of any hypertrophic gym roid rat of today.

  14. “Those men are legit hot”

    I’m content agreeing with that. No homo. They are the type Matthew McConaughey imitated in Dazed and Confused. Nobody, man or woman, ever tried to argue that his character wasn’t hot.

  15. In the military my PT uniform had shorts the length of buddy on the left. Never gave it a thought.

    Cargo shorts came into style circa 1995 and I was offended that civvies wore them. Never did myself.

    Kinda close, however, I started wearing REI convertible pants in 2001. The nylon hiking pants that you can zip off to convert to shorts. Never really thought the shorts version had a high inseam until my flirtatious colleague complemented me on my “postman legs.”

  16. Is this father and son, or older and younger brother?

    1983 was 37 years ago. I was curious to see what a similar duo might have looked like 37 years before that (1946), and 37 years before that (1909) and 37 years before that (1872) to see where we are on this trajectory.

    Just glancing at some photos from each of those time periods it appears that the 80s were peak hedonism/vitality, and were a far more better good time than what any previous generation experienced before or since.

    The 1940s look like people were having a good time in a way that would be considered “nerdy” today, loosening up but still very conformist. But they WERE partying. Because we beat the evil Nazis and all, so now we could relax.

    Couldn’t find any photos of people partying from 1909, at least not online.

    I did find some partying photos from 1872, but they were all of lynchings.

    In the 80s we were still coasting on the saved-up virility/fertility of thousands of years of good breeding being suddenly unleashed. Did those couples pass on that vitality to the next generation, or did they piss it away?

    The guys look like savages, but real savages used to breed like crazy. That was the one of the main points of being a savage. Are we whites any good at being proper savages, when we’re this far south of where we come from? Or are we more like Instagram savages, who can do it only long enough for a photo, before retracting into a more normal state of preparing for winter?

    I’ve spent a fair bit of time with older expats living in tropical areas, far away from the stress of the mainland. Most of them seem pretty happy. They live a long time. But in my opinion they are shallow and dull, like they never quite matured.

    They can only ever talk about what a good time they had, what a good time they are having, what a good time they are going to have, or what a good time they are having talking about what a good time they had or are going to have. Occasionally they take a break from talking about having a good time in order to talk about healing some injustice in the world, like racism or climate change. They all LOVED Obama.

  17. “…shallow and dull, like they never quite matured.”

    Somehow evokes striking reminiscences of watching/sketching dam-owls’ seppuku near my Boulder resort’s front-yard gazebo briefly before hitting my preteens; here’s to maturing!

  18. I am surprised to see how these men looked like my portuguese uncles, except short hair, when i was a little child in the 80s.

    The same vibe, energy, virility and almost the same body and mustache.
    Today, they have aged well.

  19. The women seemed to stay so effortlessly thin in ages past. No, we have photographic evidence that thin was not true for every woman, but trim, perhaps, was more the norm. Not necessarily very small but not carrying around a lot of excess weight.

    There are somatotypes, no matter what some Bro wants to natter on about. You cannot be obese and healthy, because obesity defines a state of ill health. But large, long bones and dense muscles are healthy if they’re normal for your genetic stock.

    I see a lot of subverted somatotypes, people who should be naturally, almost effortlessly thin or trim, but they are not. We have all read the arguments about too much soy, solvent-extracted rancid vegetable oils, HFCS, sugar in general, or the paleo argument that grains will kill us.

    On a Per person continuum those are all ideas that are more true or less true. I’d give more weight to the detrimental effects of 20th century engineered food and the rise of sugar consumption over, say, the fact that wheat is evil. You do you, as they say. I’ve lost plenty of weight on a diet that includes bread and rice, other grains, potatoes, and fruit.

    Time, and abundance. Those may be the heart of it, HFCS or not. Gluttony is the deadly sin of our age. Calories are abundant and we cannot truly define “busy” in any meaningful productive, eucivic way. Busy usually means stuck in an endless loop of TikTok shorts, overwrought text message drama, instawhore worship, or keyboard warrior sessions.

    None of those activities impede eating. They are most often accompanied by food and drink. And these simultaneous consumptions are repeated several times daily, with the effect of bloated bodies and atrophied brains.

  20. — older expats living in tropical areas… But in my opinion they are shallow and dull, like they never quite matured. // They can only ever talk about what a good time they had, what a good time they are having, what a good time they are going to have, or what a good time they are having talking about what a good time they had or are going to have. 

    Great description. Winter, spring, summer, fall, and again to winter, spring and so on — is the environment in which we stay balanced. Above all, the literal seasons, wherein you’re happy as a kid when it’s snowing. Winter is a night for the soul. At night you rest, you also dream. The “winter dream” is metaphor for just sitting around the fireplace with your kin and telling stories.

    Then you welcome the miracle of rebirth in the spring. Time to stretch those creaky wings, get that fresh air, start your work. You live it up at the height of the summer and then turn toward a reflective state of mind in autumn…

    For some, those seasons have to be literal. Loathing mild winters the same way one is disappointed by a chronicly overcast summer.

    Life must be in harmony with a seasonal rhythm for us to remain spiritually sound. The perpetual summer of those expats sounds like a Hell. You can almost imagine one of those guys, the only one whose eyes aren’t perpetually imbecilic, silently mouthing “save me” as he’s dragged off to yet another Good Time.

    The Aussie photo shows our Summer when we had liberty. It’s one of those aspirational images that motivates us to overthrow the present condition. An archetype of the other seasons would work the same way if it showed similarly virile, free likenesses of ourselves.

  21. “…to stretch those creaky wings, get that fresh air, start your work. You live it up…”

    Half-certainly the ‘way of lakrosse!’

  22. “Great description. Winter, spring, summer, fall, and again to winter, spring and so on — is the environment in which we stay balanced.”

    Great follow up.

    Endless Summer was more than just a movie. It was the creed of a generation. “Never experience a sad, winter-y day ever again.”

    It is interesting to see that creed play out. Some are still living the “dream”, not sure how to get off the Endless Summer merry-go-round, and how not to end up like the sad, grown-child characters their parents became.

    Case in point: Kelly Slater. Someone needs to pull that champ aside and tell him what he’s supposed to do next (dump your dessicated waifu, grab any one of your beautiful fan girls, make some better-stronger-faster Kelly Slaters…before it’s too late):

  23. As a 9 year old boy growing up in 1983, I remember a lot of people looking like this. I can still see them in my mind’s eye.

    As for the seasons, if you’re a hunter like me, the winter isn’t a time to hole up inside. It’s the time to go into the woods with your hunting party and fill the freezer with deer meat. And we do it with modern rifles and flintlocks too, as our ancestors did in 1765.

  24. I like hot summers and cold winters with a gradual transition between the two. I suspect it is the endless warm, sunny weather that makes those expats seem so shallow. In cool, cloudy weather you need to actively go do things to stay happy. You cannot just enjoy sitting around.

  25. On overcast winter days, I know I need to get up and go do something or I’ll become depressed. Plus, I think my mind is more active in cooler weather.

  26. I suspect it is the endless warm, sunny weather that makes those expats seem so shallow.

    Alternately, it’s their attitude controls the weather.

  27. I stopped wearing shorts a long time ago. Pretty much w/o exception, anymore wearing shorts looks more like a doofus, than if they were not wearing them.

    The only exceptions would be for water sports, and perhaps cycling. I have been a high mileage bicycler and I always wore pants, and used velcro straps from Joann Fabric and Craft, in order to secure the pant legs around the ankle. Instead of rubber bands.

    Those same velcro straps will come into use today, as part of wintertime kit, in the same way to effectively secure your pant legs around ye old winter boots so that snow doesn’t get into them and make your feet wet and cold, then they have to be.

  28. Almost caught the flu from my house cat. Jinxed the looming threat with somewhat stale sheeps’ treats my aunt-in-law gave me for St. Patron’s Day quite a while ago. This calls for a duck-hunt and good Argentinian gin. Hope you savor the weekend in proper form, hombres…

  29. There’s a rumor going around that Elmo is going to declare fascism on Monday. In lieu of MLK.

    Iow: Don’t go

    The best comment-take I have heard, is that the upcoming events will be a reality check to the patriotards.

    On the other hand, no one knows what’s going to happen.

    My gut tells me that nothing is going to happen; the Deep State is not going to get what it wants out of this. It’s not going to play out like that. I think the Deep State will not fuck up, and will reevaluate their false flag plans. Otoh events may already be in motion. They may not be able to resist unleashing their dogs.

  30. The meme itself, of Boogaloo. What is that from?

    Without looking it up, the genre writer what’s-his-name James Burke, used it in one of his book titles: Electric Boogaloo: way down, past the Sign of the Prancing Pony

    It must be more Creole type word meaning the old in-and-out, rock-and-roll, give-and-take, aka organic sympathy. Or maybe not, maybe it originally meant a brouhaha, or what’s the old Irish word for that, a donegal..

    A ruckus in English, is what it was!

  31. Donegal is a county in Ireland. It features in the old songs. Apparently in that county and according the the lyrics, they are some real “peelers”. The song-in-reference is —

    Real Old Mountain Dew

    which I recommend to anyone who likes the old time stuff. (the music, not the whiskey)

    That’s the origin of the phrase, mountain dew, is how they used to call whiskey, in Ireland, back before they started turning gay circa five years ago.

    As for what then, is a peeler? It has to be a reference to potatoes, and the implication being that those people in that County are some real “dirt farmers” who can’t rise above; dirt farmers would be the corresponding insult in from Appalachia and or the South.

  32. I was a mountain and desert kid back than so I never saw the American versions of these guys though some of the adults I knew had the same confidence and energy.

    I do know beach bros with that same swagger and a slightly different look were abundant in California too though we had a pretty large amount of Mexican immigration by then.

    I’m not sure that rooted in the real world way will work with our modern technology alas.

    And if you want an example, try Carvana . This company lets you buy cars on a carousel and cut out the sale people,. I can’t blame people for not wanting to face the sales guys, the whole experience sucks but a society in which not even salesmen have work is not going to be around a lot longer.

    The icing on the delicious dystopia cake., You can order a car from them and mandate via a few clicks that the delivery people not interact with you, look at you or speak with you.

    You an order pizza this way too.

    Cellphones, computers and the Internet alienate people too much and create people with introverted and autistic traits who wouldn’t normally have them.

    My guess is the first nation that actually serves its own people and wants to rule over a homogeneous population and is willing to take an economic hit than shuts all that stuff down or controls it will have a population boom and a health boon. Its probably never going to happen.

    Why? Democracy and Republican systems are a little like a Windows hard drive, easily corrupted and it gradually fragments becoming slower to respond and less useful. Problem is the viruses and malware can’t be removed and there is no disk defragmenter.

    Basically modernity is contra natural to mankind and either we will go or it will. I’m guessing the later.

  33. “Donegal is a county in Ireland.”

    I bullshitted some with J.P. Donleavy and a sloshed cousin of his along that province before he croaked. The local aboriginal brews are phenomenal, like a Finnish matador bobbing for grapefruit in a most magnificent twilight…

  34. I took the term, Boogaloo, at least as it has/is being used on the interwebs as of late, as a reference to the 80s film, Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo.

    I say this since many a YT comment on a variety of topics will reference it as a pun/humoruous quip on whatever the topic at hand was. It might be a stretch, but it is called the world wide “web” for a reason.

    Or, maybe they’re fans of the Ringo Starr song, Back Off Boogaloo, which is repeated about 50 times as the main crux of the song. Still, it’d play well for a great chase sequence for an 80s buddy cop film.

  35. So friggin hilarious. Guaranteed to trigger all the right people. “OMG it’s a white supremacy conspiracy.”

    I hope Pelosi tries to add copyright infringement of the song lyrics to the Impeachment Forever folder.

  36. Glimpsed this in a journo’s feed:

    “Maestro Dvorak’s Daquiri-Drawers Konfuse Socrates’s Spillway”

    Escher’s moths’-musket jammed.
    Vermeer’s venison frowned.
    Chilly Milton’s basement sills slammed,
    while the crowds yanked Pound lust-gusts’ gowns.

  37. Not a big fan of shorts either. I call not-shorts “big boy pants” in the summer when it’s dressing for something other than beach or hiking in West Virginia. I’m also not much inclined to wearing jeans. That too feels a tad juvenile when you’re not riding a horse, which I never do. Weekend pants: not sure what they are called as a category so I’ll call them high-quality khakis. Not the cheap dweeby office pants. Rather, think high-quality fabric, don’t be afraid of venturing down the color palette.

    I did wear shorts all of summer 2019, which I mostly spent splitting the giant, ancient oak in my backyard that we had cut because it started dying. Summer here is infernally humid so I wore shorts, a t-shirt, and another t-shirt wrapped around my forehead to stop the sweat and cover the back of my neck when at the all-day task. The case for pants when splitting wood is that sometimes an errant block of wood will shoot at your shin, but I accepted that occasionally happening.

    On another note, I’m not an audiophile and I’m a very-late adopter with consumer technology. So it’s no minor event that I recently got one of those VAVA speakers that play music from another device via Bluetooth. It’s a nice little “brick” that feels good to handle. For its maiden voyage I chose… which song to play? Ultimately there was no debate, there is only one song in the world to boom from this sweet speaker and dance in my house: Red Barchetta.

  38. I’m also not much inclined to wearing jeans. That too feels a tad juvenile when you’re not riding a horse, which I never do.

    … in all seriousness bro… I’m not quite sure what to say about this. In one sentence you’ve made me question what kind of “PA” I thought I knew.

    Like I don’t really know what other kind of pants there are besides jeans.

  39. “The case for pants…”

    “Apollinaire and his wind-pipe nibbling dare-mare smirks in and/or with excruciatingly delicious pain-chuckles.”
    —A note carved gently into underground Ravelian chandelier-closets edging Arthur Cravan’s west-Mexican mummy-morgue, mid-WWI

  40. @TD:

    Ran into some of that gimp fox-breeder Fernando Pessoa’s intriguingly fascist nieces at the former Muscle Beach along Alcatraz Peninsula’s architecture foundation; you’d appreciate how they execute jump-lunges on the diamond docks while emitting Mozartian whisper-whistles of Sappho’s aphorism-fragments in a cuneiformly-operatic Catalan-Lebanese unradical (a)utonomy.

    Ambroise Thomas would whip their ice-skating centaur in all the (r)ight places.

  41. So Trump had the Tigers into the Big House and that’s the feed for their display..

    Talk about giving those black athletes a status boost.

    Who is the featured White bitch?

  42. If the image posts correctly, that’s her w/ hubby who was a former LSU player.

    Her name is Gemi Bordelon, she is a local big shot on the LSU scene.

  43. So she’s married to Luke (or is it Bo) Duke, but she likes to get her dance on with the farm animals..


    I rate her dancing, in the original video, 6.5 out of 10 stars. It’s black dance, obv. She should learn clogging. What’s her husband do about this, besides absolutely nothing?

  44. I have a major effort post, on the whole metaphysics of this our thing, the Struggle. But it’s been said before, and probably better. Here’s the video —

    It’s basically the idea that the Liberals are not necessarily inconsistent, in their beliefs. They want a system that is global and is not racist. Anything to that end, is by definition, ethical.

  45. The Final Solution as proposed by the Godfather, James Bowery. He calls it Sortocracy. Apparently he is too smart to meme, because that’s a clunky. But the idea is that people have to be sorted into arrangements that test their social theories, on themselves, and by their consent.

    I have proposed another solution, which is totally different, and doesn’t involve separation. It’s called —

    Worldwide Eugenics, a new Aesthetic (please come to my party)
    [the parenthetical phrase is part of the title]

    The third option, which may or may not be confused with “the third position,” is the one that the DR seems to have defaulted to. It’s called Muh Vague Ethnostate.

    In some ways this third option might be a good compromise, except for that, as noted above, a lot of people are viscerally opposed to it. Like for instance most White Americans, don’t want an ethnostate. This is their actual thoughts feelings and opinions on the matter. Also see for example Sweden.

  46. The Fifth Option, and the trending one, is Planet of the Apes with a worldwide elite class that’s a pretty mix of White, jew, and upper caste Indians and Asians, and maybe even some of the blacks (yes there are some smart ones). This is what most of the those people, who would qualify for it, by virtue of their intelligence, talent, and what might called their moral disposition, which is to say their psychological profile — this is what they want.

    The want planet bugman but they get to have condos and helipads. To be honest I am reconciling myself with that. If that’s what the world wants, then that’s how it’s probably going to be.

    Save the koalas and the whales. And the trees. And the bumblebees. Groups of ehtno Whites will certainly have a place, in the same way that the elites of other ethnocentric groups, do and will.


    It’s been called the White Paradox. What made us so capable of doing our thing, and taking over the world under the conditions that it was, was the very character traits that are opposed to being ethnocentric.

    I am having cookies today, and a chicken later on.

  47. I was watching the invite to the White House for LSU on YT. Not surprisingly all the nogs looked disinterested, not wanting to be around Trump.

    The White QB also had a look of disdain and contempt on his face, which going by physiognomy explains as such.

    The shitlord to the QBs right was the only one enthused, aside from their coach, and he has a strong, warrior look to him.

    Hell, the Washington Nationals showed more enthusiasm

  48. “…all the nogs looked disinterested…”

    I myself am a robustly reluctant gator grad. LSU was, and may still remain, our low-T rival. I once hit it with a saunteringly proudly/manically hell-raising nurse, there in New Orleans, on the top floor of Tulane’s exceptional philosophy department. My favorite memory of French-like territory. There’s a painter stationed in the French Quarter that I still exchange letters with every spring. We call our mutual admiration for Cafe Du Monde ‘THE LANE-DRAINED SWAMP:
    A swift Sunday for noontyde’s cocoons.’

  49. The LSU quarterback told reporters he had a great time at the White House and said Trump showed “much love” to everyone on the team. As far as the black players, I’m assuming they don’t hate Trump even if they would never vote for him. If you really hated him, the right thing to do would be decline the invitation.

  50. She’s a decent dancer. She dispels the myth that White women cannot dance. I’m glad she didn’t twerk, though, that would have been going too far.

  51. SJ, those abominable cargo socks are hilarious! The flop slot is what did it for me. This is the kind of thing I would create for a project were I a design student.

  52. Yeah that’s some pretty good pranks. The Birthie stick, haha. To state the obvious, the basis of the joke, of the hoax, is its believability factor: it’s gotta be just believable enough..

    They (at that website) should also sell the classics though, in order to achieve more market presence. The all time classic has to be a compressed snake in the box, the one where when you open it, it jumps out at you. Or were those only a gimmick on tv?

    Vaguely related, but on the more stupid side, were those perfume-bottle fragrances from the 70s where the joke was that they looked like something to smell good, but actually smelled like rotten eggs, or worse. And they were popular with the school kids circa 1980, and probably for about 15 years prior. I forget what the one was called: Morning Breeze but it wasn’t that.

    But the set-up was that you got your friends and family to take a whiff out of a perfume bottle, and it smelled awful.

    What a low-rent joke, is that..

  53. You want to blame the jews for those rotten egg perfumes; no doubt they came in other flavors and resembling ass. Is it fair, to blame the jews for the creation and marketing of those things? What exactly was their history? I bet they were around in Victorian England and other high culture places, way back when.

    By contrast, the snake-in-a-box is a good-natured thing. I have made effort comments before, about the pie-in-the-face thing, which somehow became THE joke, for awhile, back in the days of black-and-white television and prior to that. Again, what a stupid stupid, low-rent and insulting gag. And the question again: can the jews be blamed for it? (or not)

    Sopranos featured that very gag, but with a twist: it was done in earnest and by way of humiliation, by old-schooler Junior Soprano to his fine-ass old woman lover what’s-her-name. And it was a beautifully done scene, sad and tragic. This woman “spilled the beans” (so to speak) about Junior performing cunnilingus on her, and word got around, and Junior’s rep was seriously threatened demeaned and lessened. It was in fact practically the basis for most of the first season storyline, and by extension the entire series!

    And it goes to the point of how far ahead of its time, how DEFINITIVE, was the writing on that show.

    Hey! dipshit Americans: cunnilingus is for beta losers..

  54. I have a vaguely related story, vaguely related to the whiff of bad perfume joke gag thing. This story might would be more suited to AA, but since I am not there now, here it is!

    Fresh Week in college. What tf was it called?? It wasn’t called fresh week; it was officially called orientation or something “lame” but what was it called colloquially? It woulda had many names, throughout the broad expanse of these our dilapidating lands. Where is Tom Wolfe when you need him?

    Anywaze. It was a time of drunkenness, and which shoulda been a clue to anyone listening, that something in Denmark was not rite [no sic]. My own alcoholism had not yet progressed so terribly out of control; but actually it had.

    Some upper classman offered up a shot of a Shnaaps, with a sort of Dumb and Dumber mischievousness. I downed it no problem and thought it was hot-and-spicy Shnaaps and didn’t so much as bat an eye. Turns out it was a gimmick drink that was meant to kill you with its hot-and-spicy quality. The joke was on them though. I wasn’t phased. They were utterly “nonplussed.” (which is in quotes for some reason)

    Kind of a weak story, but since it’s all typed out now, and seems of a piece, I would like to post it.

  55. I have drunk college stories that are not heroic and not remarkable; the things we do, amirite? Looking back though, the long and short of it is that they didn’t involve becoming a man. I used to wish that I had dropped out; but on the other hand, whatever who cares. It certainly doesn’t matter now, one way or the other.

    Another quick story. I drove delivery, worked a lot, nearly full time and made good money, relative to the other dumbass students. I was something of a go-getter. Had a full time job, made money, took easy classes though and didn’t even do well in them.

    But I was delivering this Italian food, for a real Italian restaurant, which is one of those things that you appreciate more with time. Are there even real Italian restaurants anymore? That actual restaurant was is a legend, and could be name dropped. I worked with the legendary owner, who was a legend. He literally could hardly speak English. To my knowledge though they were not mobbed up: this wasn’t Chicago.

    But one time, I got into it with some frat-style co-students, on the street, during the course of driving delivery. They thought I had parked in their spot or blocked them out or some typical nonsense. They may have been right, that I was parking “aggressively”. I was kind of a maniac driver, but it wasn’t but for a minute. The manosphere posting point here though being, is that they tried to get in my face, and maybe intimidate, but I wasn’t giving an inch. I just left them there, being dicks. They had tried to block off my car, but I drove around it and off.

    But here’s the punchline conclusion denouement climax point conclusion thing: They called the effin restaurant and complained! like a couple of bitches. That’s the story. I didn’t get in trouble with the restaurant.

  56. We’ll see, but I think things will go smoothly. It sounds like Antifa is not planning on being there. It already looks like a much older crowd than Charlottesville.

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