you don't need to be a fucking retard to have a good time

I've seen some of my best friends reduced to stammering, drooling, incoherent sacks of flesh flailing about in vain at windmills. A good dose of booze, a social environment, and voila, the previously perfectly normal human being has become unchained. Unconstrained by rationality, by the broadest possible understanding of the social contract. I've seen a young child's Halloween ruined by a stealing spree. I've seen fights. I've seen money lost. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I've had my windshield shattered.

Of course, interestingly enough, I've had my windshield shattered once before by a drunk person. But I certainly wouldn't lump that incident in with the far more pedestrian event that happened yesterday. The first time my windshield was shattered by a drunk person the projectile's path originated from the passenger seat. On a trip to Newark DE to buy oxycontin. He was a bona fide alcoholic. A destroyer of lives. An intensely sick human being. He died.

The event that took place yesterday was more annoying than it was frightening. This weekend was the annual Little 500 bicycle race at Indiana University. The race immortalized in the rather good movie Breaking Away. It's a big deal on campus. Students here think it's the be-all end-all of college experience. Of course every college think they have some event like this. For Juniata it's Pig Roast. The students use this weekend as an excuse to be stupid. They drink heavily for the entire week leading up to "Little 5". They skip class. I had five students show up for class on Thursday...at 4 fucking o'clock in the goddamn PM. I call them my Little 5. I have thirty students in my class. This is unacceptable.

But everyone accepts it. The students here are generally very bad. Of course there are a handful of good students and I'm lucky to say I have a few this semester, but for the most part, students here are unmotivated in the extreme.

But boy do they know how to get drunk and be morons. College is not very hard. You simply have to go to class and study. The ones who know how to deal with the academic environment can probably get by with 15 hours of work a week. The less well suited to structured study, perhaps 30. You just have to do it. And most of my students this semester are taking easy classes. It's their final semester. Bowling. First Aid. History of Beer. History of Rock and Roll. No joke. But they decide to fuck off and get wasted and break stuff. Generally be reckless.

And this brings us to my latest Little 5 experience. It was about 7:45pm yesterday, Saturday April 21st. Around the peak of Little 5 debauchery. The race was over. The Cutters won. Everyone was wasted. I'm driving west on 3rd St. Locusts darken the sky. A giraffe and her offspring run free from the zoo. An old lady is mugged. Just past Henderson there is a group of young people playing baseball on the sidewalk. 1st St. is a fairly busy street. Not a great spot for baseball. The ball had escaped Lamonte's grasp and rolled into the street. Blown up with braggadocio, Lamonte steps nonchalantly into the avenue. The car in front of me swerves wildly into the left lane to avoid hitting him. Traffic in that lane stops. Lamonte does not acknowledge this scene. Rather, with his left foot on the curve, his right in the street, he picks up the ball and guns it. Apparently towards the meat that stands on the sidewalk next to my car. But, unfortunately, Lamonte's an idiot. Why throw the ball so fast when my car is so close to the target? Because Lamonte is a drunk asshole. Little 5 rules!

I was pissed. I got out of the car, shaking with anger. Swearing. Lamonte told me to chill out. There's no reason to yell at him. He'll give me the money. His meat friends said he was "legit". And that it's no big deal man, not even a day in shop. I told them that was a great fucking point. Not a pain in the ass at all. In fact, I should be thanking them for breaking my windshield because it's such a fucking delight to deal with.

I hate Little 5.