An open letter to the Northwestern Kid who Just Didn’t Get Involved Enough
Let’s face it. Every single person at this university is way busier than you, and everyone knows it. Uninvolved Kid, your lack of extracurricular involvement within Northwestern is like a giant dildo on the floor of a nursing home. We all know it’s there, but we really, really don’t want to bring it up.
Remember how you sobbed after realizing how fucking fat and lazy you’ve gotten since high school? How you dripped tears and snot onto your iPhone and Siri was like “whoa, this kid needs his mom” and called her for you? And how your faithful mom, who has been glued to her phone ever since that one time you rang her up about barfing in the BK lounge AGAIN, answered your moaning self-denigration with a “Honey! Of course that’s not true. You’re my little rainbow! Why, I bet everyone at your smart college thinks about themselves the same way.”
Well, your mom is a liar. Everybody at Northwestern thinks that YOU, dear Uninvolved Kid, are a lazy shithead. Because you are.
Take the number of clubs you are involved in at Northwestern. Multiply it by the number of times you’ve wanted to lick Ross Packingham’s happy trail after falling into paroxysms of procrastinatory Sherman Ave ecstasy. If my math is correct (which it should be, because like most Northwestern students I’m good at everything), then that’s the number of clubs that you SHOULD be involved in - and reasons why you should quit now and knit potholders for a living.
Because come on, you stinky little curmudgeon. If everyone else can do it all, then why can’t you?
Answer, again: you are an idle nincompoop. If our college campus were littered with wayward shitheads like you we’d be called “Turdwestern.”
Uninvolved Kid, I urge you to accept your status as VP of Beta Kappa Jizz. Because being the soppy ejaculate of Northwestern is more than okay! I mean, Northwestern’s better human beings need people like you as rungs for them to climb on their way up the ladders of their respective careers. Plus, what’s the only thing keeping those laughably overscheduled kids going as they nibble at Morty’s purple wool-chafed nipples for the funding they need to stay on Exec of the Committee for everyone having their own baby wildcat pet or getting Wifi in our assholes or whatever? What’s the only thing keeping those kids sane as they wipe the Norris latte foam from their lips and slowly become one with the couch?
Why, you, of course. In between exec meetings, these future movers and shakers are having kinky fantasies in which they’re the CEO of the whole planet and you’re their little minion. You’re buying them extra tamales at Frontera Fresco. You’re unzipping your Willie the Wildcat costume for them in the Louis room. While they are blasting their throbbing listservs into Burgie Howard and Patricia Telles-Irvin, you are attending their meetings and taking their calls.
Seriously, Uninvolved Kid, you have a purpose! You can pat yourself on the back about that, if nothing else.
Now go cry into your Joy Yee’s and let the builders of our future change the world, one obsequious nipple suck at a time.
Sincerely, Gwyneth Effingmouth