Massive weirdness has gripped the Internet as of late, viruses popping up like toadstools and doing damage to in-boxes across the world. Being A: a Mac user, and B: posessing of various effective anti-spamming tools and techniques ("Hall of Mirrors" and "Dancing Blossom" being the two principle lines of defense for this Mac Kensei), I have been spared any form of heartache. However, my friend Renfield's address seems to be suffering from some malady, for I cannot send him anything.

Which might be for the better. Har har. I'm staring at the away message of one of my fellow midshipmen. It's time for another Pledge Drive, and the frats are really throwing down the booze and carpet to get new plebes in. The message says, "Bid Night... am I good enough?!"

Shit, I always feel guilty for quoting someone I know directly, but this attitude really gets to me. What kind of question is that to ask? What do you think these Clowns are actually bidding on? As a permanent social cripple, I am ill-equipped to understand the How and Why of modern fraternity houses, except that it seems like fun for most people to drink themselves into a stupor five nights a week and live in a nasty house with loud kids on every side of you. Perhaps there's more to it, I don't know. My attitude and personality are totally incompatible with that kind of lifestyle, which is why I happily remain on the fringes of most social circles. Happily? Yes, in the long run.

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