Why Everything is So Completely Worthless

Three years at Cal. Like most of my classmates, I’ve taken part in discussions on topics ranging from affirmative action and campaign finance reform to the Vietnam war and America’s role in the post-cold war global economy. I’ve been immersed with the best professors, the finest graduate students, and a diverse and intelligent student body. And do you know what I’ve learned? Cal is a pathetic waste of time and taxpayer dollars.

To illustrate my point, allow me to go through a few of the groups, causes and hobbies students belong to on this campus and then point out how idiotic they all are.

Cal-PIRG: These embarrassments are essentially the little, obnoxious toddlers grabbing onto the collective pant-leg of Californians as they stumble through the blind-folded routines of their dreary collective existence. It’s as if they actually expect that I’ll let them tag six bucks onto my CARS bill just because a certain species of bottle-nose dolphin has a skin rash from oil leaking out of commercial fishing boats. Oh, dear, 50,000 species die every year! I’m no expert on evolution, but I’m sure at least that many are created each year, so just chill out and increase the dosage – it’s legal for medicinal purposes now.

The Cal-Democrats: These self-proclaimed “smart-asses” can sometimes be seen around campus drooling over pictures of Gray Davis. Mostly, though, they gather around and pat each other on the back for the supposedly wonderful things their so-called representatives have accomplished. I had the unfortunate fate of eating a slice of Greg’s Pizza while these clowns salivated over Barbara Boxer as she and Matt Fong competed for the coveted “Most obviously scripted, cop-out solutions for our deeply rooted social problems” award. Do these ‘student-burros’ honestly think that any of them will be elected to public office some day? They have trouble enough keeping their pants from falling down in public.

Religious Groups: The only sound advice when confronted by these people is ‘run-don’t walk.’ What makes them think that the amazing, omnipotent god who created this planet actually cares what is happening on it? Do you na+A>>ve nut-balls actually think He’s sitting in heaven with his fingers crossed, praying that we solve the Y2K problem before the zero-hour? Even if our computers freeze, our money-market accounts disappear, and the entire world’s supply of nuclear missiles light off like sparklers into the sky and blow Earth into a trillion pieces, can’t he just fashion another big rock and start the whole process from scratch? He built this planet in six days, and I bet he could whip together ‘Earth version 2.0’ in half that time.

The Greek System: It never ceases to amaze me that at an institution of higher learning such as ours, there exists an entire community of people who share one tiny, retarded brain. Apparently Archie from Smoka Lotta Potta had it yesterday, because he actually made the insight in my con-law class that Roe v. Wade was a ‘kick-ass’ decision, just so that Jennie from Ima Gonna Puka would go with him to the “S&M Date Party” where couples are chained together and forced to shoot Jaegermeister until they vomit all over each other. One person’s acquaintance rape is another person’s good time, I guess.

Swing Dancers: Brian Setzer must wring his amazingly talented hands in disgust every time he thinks about this cancerous fad which has snowballed to epic proportions in the past year. You’d think that after a thousand bands went from grunge to punk to ska to swing in the span of a decade people would finally catch on to the scam. Keep buying those CD’s, you mindless robots; in six months we’ll all be square dancing to the new “No Doubt” album in plaid dresses and overalls.

The lack of originality and dignity in our society is so mind-numbing, I wake up every afternoon wondering what piece of trash we’re going to place atop the garbage heap of yester-year. Everyone is playing a part in this parade of fools – even myself. After all, I’m the one writing this piece to impress all of you people I really don’t care for, and you’re the ones reading it because you have too much time between your classes and not enough foresight to actually engage yourselves in the subject matter. Sometimes I think we’d all be better off going Black-Nike-Hale-Bopp-Style, if you know what I mean. I’ll bring the Phenobarbital if you bring the trash-bags.