Friday, June 14, 2013

Of Men and Anal Projectiles

Did I say men? I meant frat boys, naturally. Dunning-Kruger Effect, anyone? Natural selection hard at work here. Booze, bottle rockets, and butts do not mix.

Warning: These are your students. At least figuratively speaking.

Case the caboose; join the Keister Kegger: If you dare. (Found via University Diaries.)


  1. Now you know why there are so few women in science.

    Seriously: women are smarter than men, and can see that science has devolved into a really crummy job. More about it here:

  2. Never again will I utter the saying, "And monkeys might fly out of my butt!"

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  4. When I was in the navy, my first overseas summer found me stationed on Okinawa (a really long time long ago that Jimmy Carter was president). And even though I was in uniform and doing serious work, I was also still a teenager. When the 4th of July rolled around, we spent a Kirin-and-Orion-beer-fueled evening in a cane field behind my house shooting off fireworks, including bottle rockets. At some point, it seemed like it would be a good idea to forget about the "bottle" part, and just launch them from our hands. Yeah....ouch. I'm wondering just how drunk or stupid you have to be think it would be a good idea to launch them from your ass (which, last time I checked, is still located right next to other sensitive body parts). SO: I choose "C": really drunk AND really stupid.

  5. West Virginia is part of the South, but is not accredited by the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools.

    I've spent some time on the Marshall campus. Crazy politics there. Bat shit crazy.

    Some nice people, though. And nice trees.

  6. Son, before you head to college, we need to talk. No, it's not about condoms, or even condom snorting.* And I respect you enough to not bring up huffing or the cinnamon challenge.

    But, well, son, I'm just going to say this once. Never stuff the launcher end of a bottle rocket up your ass.

    What? I don't care if all your friends do it.

    Okay, I know, I'm the Queen of Worst-case Scenarios. There's probably only a remote chance of the rocket exploding in place instead of flying off. And those launcher sticks probably don't leave splinters.

    But here's the thing, son: it's 100% certain that a burning fuse would rain sparks on your butthole. So just tell yourself it's not going to happen.

    I'm so glad we could have this little talk.