James Early, Humor Columnist
How I yearn for the cool Friday night air and the taste of cheap beer, dear readers. Nothing summarizes the college experience quite like an evening out on the town. My current residency has limited my drinking options to whatever my Benevolent Editor (May Her name be praised!) has placed in my tin ration cup. What I do not miss, however, is the all too common sight of biddies (bitties?) and bros.
I am quite certain that your keen eyes have spotted these painted ladies of the night, poised on absurdly high heels, jockeying for position in the bus stop lines. It has occurred to me, however, that few of you take the time to analyze both their cause and effect on the campus as a whole.
Like in any ecosystem, biddies have their niche in college life. Screeching what I assume are mating calls, these groups (which are referred to in educated circles as “gaggles”), roam the highways and byways of Oneonta in search of cheap alcohol and the fleeting embrace of a bro. The night is filled with their empty conversations and the clacking of heels. In all, they are truly repulsive and frightening creatures, stealing the spotlight from the Gorgons of earlier times.
Calm yourselves, dear readers, for I am not attacking womankind as a whole in these observations, merely one hideous facet. You may ask, “Why, O Brilliant Columnist, why do you speak so unkindly? Are they truly so vile?” I will address this criticism without further ado, as my lighting is weak and my mind is weary.
Women are truly beautiful creatures. Biddies, however, are far from women. These girls play dress up and venture forth with no other objective than to fulfill the lyrics of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” I have yet to see a mature and confident woman mistake a scrunchie for a skirt or attempt to balance on heels that are impractical for the hills and pot holes of Oneonta.
Make no mistake, readers, for I am not above the enticement of flesh. But observe the average biddy. After the initial eyebrow raise, a man rapidly loses interest. Modesty is twice as enticing as exhibition. How am I supposed to undress you with my eyes if all your assets are already hanging out for the world to see? It is the thrill of the chase and the desire to discover that urge men to pursue a woman, not the nearly non-existent nightwear of a biddy. Though I am merely a man with a pen (or laptop, in this case), I find myself insulted for all womankind.
The astute reader may have noticed that I have avoided the topic of “brocks,” or flocks of bros, up until this point. I am hesitant to introduce such a topic, since you’ve likely had your fill of douchebaggery considering the writer of this piece. These spray-tanned, half-wit braggarts chase gaggles around the downtown, popping their collars and slapping each other high fives. The public understands you, bros. Your thin veneer of camaraderie almost certainly isn’t a cover for underlying homoerotic urges and your overly aggressive tendencies probably aren’t a coping mechanism for erectile dysfunction.
Do not mistake my overtness in mocking these brocks as boldness on my part. I merely doubt their ability to read polysyllabic words. For now, I will bid you all safe passage in the coming weekend and advise you to steer clear of the gaggles and brocks. Birds may carry the flu, but I would hate to imagine what horrid things you could catch from those night walkers.
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