Excessive Complusion

Welcome freshmen, newcomers and old, devoted readers. This is the first installment of a regular column sodomizing social norms and popular culture. It’s nice to have some fresh meat, straight from the slaughterhouse primed and ready to go. Oh you freshmen—young, innocent and from good households. Nothing like Michael Jackson’s kids. They don’t even know who their parents are. “He was the best daddy ever!” Thanks for that sentiment, Paris, but who? Macaulay Culkin? I can’t wait until the media comes out and says, “Michael always thought black was beautiful, so he wanted the darkest man in Hollywood—without left eye ptosis (sorry, Forest)—to father his children. The sperm belongs to Wesley Snipes!” He’s a good source of parental wisdom. Just look at what he said to Woody Harrelson. “You can put a cat in an oven, but that don’t make it a biscuit.” Unless you live at the Neverland Ranch where anything’s possible, Wes. Do you know what it was like to grow up on that property? Have you ever been awoken by a giraffe licking your face? Has there ever been an outbreak of HPV among your friends due to group rides on the backyard carousel? Has your father ever moonwalked into the room, naked with a sack of children over his shoulder singing “Happy Birthday?” Oh, he has? Do you want to talk about it? These kids are going to be so messed up. Doctors will probably have to come up with a new name for whatever psychological disorders they have. They’ll diagnose them with Neverland Ranch Complex or Children of Michael Jackson Disorder. “What’s wrong, Doctor?” “I regret to inform you that your children’s hippocampi are riddled with Thriller and a Bad case of Off The Wall.” “Can we cure it, Doctor?” “No, this is a Dangerous combination, and, unfortunately, it’s Invincible.” At least they’ll be able to get away with anything. “Oh, little Prince was caught smoking crack? That’s terrible, but he did have a tough childhood. Paris couldn’t stop until she got enough...on tape? She must have some real problems stemming from how she was raised. Blanket was just awarded a Rhodes Scholarship? Talk about overcompensation. Who’s he trying to impress, Macaulay Culkin?” We make fun of them now, but we’re all going to be jealous when cops just turn the other way when Prince blows through red lights wacked out on mephedrone. You freshman will learn you can’t get away with anything on this campus. Remember Pop-Up Video? That old show that played music videos and had pop-ups telling you fun little facts? This campus is like that. Just walking down the quad pop-ups come next to you: “Totally took on the two dudes across the hall” (Promiscuous) “Once found blacked out, crying in a Shooters booth.” (Mess) “Totally did coke off a stripper in the kitchen of George’s Garage (R.I.P. like Mike).” (Respect?). We all have our skeletons in the closet—or now, deceased skeletal fathers in the closet. Who are we to judge someone for taking off his pants in the Marketplace? Who are we to judge someone for soiling the bed three times in one week? Because, believe me, I don’t judge myself for doing that. And they say I’ve let myself go.