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The Weed Wizard’s Guide to UT Archetypes |
Most humans allow themselves to be neatly categorized and manipulated within the puzzle of existence. As a freshman, it’s important to understand the different archetypes that many of the machines dressed as humans here at UT fit into. Armed with a fifth-year RTF education and two ounces of Ice-Solator Smoking Bull, I, The Weed Wizard, will classify some of the roles that our fellow students have allowed society to impose upon them:
Frat Daddies
So you drank 15 beers last weekend and then “hooked up” with some slut at the Gamma house? Big feat. What these meatheads don’t understand is that college
is for exploration, and that includes the mind. I bet those fools couldn’t even spell Kierkegaard, much less cheef two blunts to the head and then make love with nine pages of The Sickness Unto Death. These drones’ lives become even more trivial as they get older and leave the nest for Sixth Street every weekend. Enjoy your overpriced cocktails and underdressed whores, you apes. I’d rather take six rips off The Devastator (my bong) and go to Spider House with y RTF 321: The Dialogue of Kevin Smith classmates to discuss the fallacy of religion or the 9/11 conspiracy. Speaking of conspiracies, I watched a documentary the other day about a half-human, half-ape named Oliver that smoked cigars and wore tuxedos. Fucking Humanzee, man.
Business Students
I’m so disgusted by these hand-fed corporate serfs that I take the long route to Dobie Theater just to avoid the McCombs building. Ever heard of bird-watching? Sometimes my friends from RTF 337: Musings in Character Development and I will spark two fat logs of hydro and go lemming-watching outside the GSB. I call the business school the graveyard, because business students are already dead meat for the capitalist machine, man. How can these pawns understand fulfillment—have they ever loaded a bowl with Arjan’s Ultra Haze #2 and ruminated over the fact that our civil liberties are being sodomized by a man named Dick? Have they ever seen The City of Lost Children in its original French and transcended the language to interpret the characters’ superegos? Have they ever even torched a J and spoken with the trees?
Jocks at Gregory
Wow, what an incredibly self-actualized existence you lead in pursuing physical perfection. Will someone please put me out of my misery if I ever become a slave to the contemporary notion of masculinity? We learned about the subversion of intellect by the Alpha-male class in RTF 367: Considerations of Character Flaws Within the Movie ‘Over the Top’, and it makes so much sense to me now. The muscle-bound wisdom- vacuums that spend their lives in Gregory could never understand
the “deep burn” my mind experienced the other day while I incinerated a monster bowl and watched Kill Bill: Volume 2. In fact, I realized as I polished my replica samurai sword that my intellectual superiority isn’t a product of my collection of culturally-significant DVDs or my visceral understanding of Sigur Ros’ music, but my truly deity-like perspective on life. Sometimes I eat my Jester sushi on the bench outside of Gregory and, like, transmit my pity for the
jocks through the ether. |
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