Gettin’ Busy in College Town

A while back y’all said you wanted to see some more “behind the ivory curtain”-type posts. Since we aims to please, I’ve created a whole new category of posts, “Academic Life” (it’s like thug life, but made entirely of soy). Here’s the first entry:

Over at the other site*, we’re discussing the oft-observed fact that pretty much everyone in Leftoid politics is some kind of fuggernaut. This is, as the Marxists say, no accident — since Marxism is just nihilism masquerading as economics, those who feel wronged by ambient civilization are drawn to it. But as I noted over there, fug “politics” never seems to take the next logical step — grab ’em by their self-identified genitalia. Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac, as Henry Kissinger supposedly said, and if power could get that guy laid, then the fugs — who control everything in a college town — should be able to get some action pretty much any time they want it…

But they never do, and thereby hangs a tale (or is that “some tail?”).

Feminists are the fattest target, so let’s start there. Of all the truly well-adjusted, socially-adept people I  met in grad school, one in particular stood out. Let’s call her Chloe. Like everyone else in my class, my first introduction to Chloe was at our orientation seminar, in which she announced to the room that she just wasn’t feeling very well today, because last night her vibrator broke.

I know, I know. But have I ever lied to you? This really happened, y’all.

It gets better. That evening, the grad class above us invited all us newbies out for happy hour. Chloe showed up, of course. She made a point of going around to every guy in the bar — and again, I swear this really happened — and dropping it on them: “Damn, I really need a drink, because last night my vibrator broke before I could get off.” Fortunately I noticed this early on, so I had time to prepare. I hadn’t read Heartiste yet at that point, but I’m proud to say that I came up with a variant of a line he himself authored. When she said it to me, I replied with “I can see why you graduated with a 4.0 from charm school.”

Not the smoothest, I’ll admit, but it got the job done, especially as it was my exit line. Being men (ok, persyns) of the world as y’all are, I’m sure you know what happened next: Chloe followed me around the bar all night, and her behavior over the next few weeks bordered on stalker-ish. She quickly got over it — Leftists are irritated butterflies, they have short attention spans, and besides, I’m obviously not a player, I was authentically repulsed — but I never forgot it, not least because grad school is a microscopic world; Chloe and I were together a LOT over the next few years.

And in all those years, I never knew Chloe once to actually get laid.

Apologies for being crude, especially as the lady isn’t here to defend her reputation, but since she’s a great illustration of the type I’ll continue. Chloe was, of course, a feminist, so the ideology behind her behavior was the tediously familiar one – she was “asserting control over her sexuality.” But here’s the kicker: Chloe wasn’t bad looking. Do y’all remember the girl who got show-trialed up in Canada for playing a Jordan Petersen clip in her class?


That’s a grad school 10, y’all, and while Chloe wasn’t quite in that league, I think we can all agree that Lindsey Shepherd is at least kinda cute; she certainly wouldn’t have trouble scoring at most bars frequented by normal humans.

Thus Chloe, out of everyone in our class, was well-positioned to experience the truth of sexual relations outside the ivory tower. For normal women, getting laid is a two-step process:

  1. Show up; and
  2. Bring beer.

For 75-90% of women under 40, step 2 is optional. It would’ve been for Chloe. Especially in a bar full of grad students, who despite their extensive academic training on “the rhetorics of hegemony” and whatnot, still aren’t quite sure how the naughty bits fit together. She might’ve had to draw the guy a map, but surely that’s no problem for someone so assertively in control of her own sexuality as was Chloe…

And that’s just normal people, who know what pronouns to use and never hesitate when choosing a public restroom. The real freakazoids actually have it much easier, since loudly proclaiming a deviant sexuality is a status symbol in the ivory tower. Perhaps your deepest, most secret fetish involves cocktail onions and a Shop-Vac…. and let me stop you right there, I do NOT wanna know, I’m only bringing this up to say that hey, I sympathize, love is real and you’re having a hard time finding yours.

You should consider academia, my friend, where not only are such things not shameful, but they’re positively celebrated. If you’ve actually got video of yourself doing the nasty under those conditions, they’ll pretty much hand you a PhD in Performance Art on the spot…

…and yet, nobody does.

I’m not saying people don’t have sex in grad school. If I myself wasn’t getting my ashes hauled every day in the ivory tower, I assure you it wasn’t for lack of trying. What I am saying is that academia is the only place on earth where not only is your fetish — whatever it is — not shameful, but easily satisfied. Those of us who actually enjoy the missionary position with committed partners of the opposite-sex used to joke that ours was the only sexual deviancy so perverse, you’d be shunned by all your colleagues if you admitted to it. These people, on the other hand, talk like their gonads rule their lives, but they never actually do anything about it.

I have no idea why, but finding out would tell us a lot about the psychology of the average Leftist.

* As noted over there, we’re trying to keep the links to a minimum, since the censors are both lazy and stupid and so long as there’s no direct link to things they won’t bother “contact tracing” us.

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21 thoughts on “Gettin’ Busy in College Town

  1. Frip

    Yep. I remember the pinnacle of female humor back in the 90’s was pretty much, “…my vibrator!” And boom, a table of full of hens explodes BWWAAHAHAHHAHAH.

    Your response wasn’t bad for the time. A deadpan with eye-roll, “it’s funny because it’s innapropriate”, would have done the trick too. Or a bored, “scandalous”.

  2. Pickle Rick

    So you’re saying she looked like Jerry Cantrell from Alice
    In Chains, if he was a grunge chick?

    I think the problem is these people, beyond being ugly outside and inside, is that they don’t know how to just shut off their brains and just enjoy sex. They’re more guilty than the worst Puritan ever about it.

    1. Severian Post author

      More or less. But trust me, if your average graduate program had a beauty contest, Jerry Cantrell himself, personally, right now, would win the majority of events, including the swimsuit competition.

      They can’t enjoy *anything.* “Can’t shut their brains off” is exactly right – they’re so wrapped up in being “intellectuals” that they can never quit. A grad school happy hour is a bunch of trembling dorks sitting around, not drinking, talking about Foucault.

      1. Pickle Rick

        See, they needed to go to a barracks party. I learned to shut my brain off and have fun. We lived and drank like there was no tomorrow, because for us, we knew that we might not have much time left.

        1. Severian Post author

          The toxic masculinity would’ve killed them.

          I did my best to help them, I really did. I actually told a kid, “See this?” [holding up a pint glass]. “This is beer. BEER. When I am drinking beer, I do not want to talk about academic shit. Acceptable topics of conversation are girls, cars, and sports. That’s called ‘drinking and having a good time.'” It didn’t work, but I tried.

  3. Frip

    “And in all those years, I never knew Chloe once to actually get laid.” From that fact, and from her antics, I picture Chloe more of a loud hyper-thyroid fatty, than you’re letting on.

    1. Severian Post author

      No, she really wasn’t bad looking. She had a normal-ish BMI, which in grad school qualifies as a rockin’ body. She was just spergy and obnoxious, again by grad school standards, which is *really* saying something.

      I had two hypotheses at the time. One was that she had serious intimacy issues – like, prior abuse type stuff – and was using that psycho cock tease act to avoid actually connecting with people. The other was that she really was a psycho cock tease – she enjoyed getting the dorks all riled up and then shutting them down, while driving the few guys with any savvy far, far away (as the Duke of Wellington said at Waterloo, “never stick your dick in crazy”).

      1. Frip

        Since commenting, I’ve thought back to a number of ok-to-good-looking crazy college girls. And you’re right. I stand corrected. Either guys didn’t want to mess with crazy. Or if they did, his friends wouldn’t let him. That’s one good thing about a social environment (as apposed to being totally single and “isolated”) friends would often keep you out of trouble. Either through strong advice, or ostracizing you if it came down to it.

        1. Severian Post author

          There’s always a willing fool if she’s hot enough. In this case, though, the guys who were willing to seal the deal were so painfully dorky they didn’t know how, and she was so painfully dorky that she repulsed the guys who knew.

          The best part is the follow-up – last I saw, she had a job teaching “gender studies” at a legendarily meatheaded party school. That must be a blast all around.

  4. BadThinker

    This is a really strange dynamic. There’s the carousel that the Basic College Girl rides until she finally gets off with her Beta Bux Husband, and there’s the sexlessness of the True Believers. I can’t believe that Sex was always this ridiculous… If only due to the quite serious results for women prior to The Pill.

    1. Severian Post author

      The BCGs are just ideologically enstupidated. Feminism tells them they’re letting the sisterhood down if they don’t carry on like frat bros on nickel beer night at all times. Then they wake up, get a good look at what they woke up next to, and yell rape… which makes them a victim, which is a win.

      For the True Believers, they’re just incredibly sheltered. They think they’re required to have all kinds of deeply meaningful and exalted theories about sex, so that when they finally have it – always with another True Believer – it’s bound to be weird.

      I remember my first time. Specifically, I remember thinking, “huh, that’s it?” Then the second time: “wow, that was awesome!” Then the third time: “huh, I guess it can go lots of ways. It all just depends, and I can’t believe I ever thought this was a big deal.”

      Gosh, normal life in The America That Was, was really kinda ok, wasn’t it?

      1. BadThinker

        NICKEL beer night!?! Damn, it really was OK. And apparently also caused a riot at Cleveland Stadium.

        Back in the “oughts”, we’d drink Iron City for a quarter to 50 cents a can. And damn that company has gone a bit odd – Strong Woman shows up at the bottom of their main page: ironcitybeer dot com.

        I still think its different for women than men – there’s an old heartiste line about keys and locks..

        1. Severian Post author

          It definitely is. BCGs who carry on like that are miserable. But girls are herd animals – they’d rather be miserable than be different (because that would give that bitch Becky an excuse to talk about her behind her back).

          1. Severian Post author

            That was one of my favorite parts of the America That Was – regional variation in cheap beer. Iron City, Narragansett, Natural Lite, Lone Star Lite (my personal “worst hangover ever) beer, some crap out in California I can’t even remember the name of… Good times.

            College kids these days either drink to get destroyed, or for hipster status points – either hard liquor or microbrews (or “ironic” cheap beer like the PBR fad of decade ago).

  5. Some Guy

    Funny hiw the left spent decades saying the nazis were sexually repressed and it’s them that have the lousy sex lives. Like the man says, they always project.

    1. Pickle Rick

      Sexually repressed? Cat Fancy literally had an openly gay dude in the very top of the Party. (Well, until Mustache Guy had him and his gay buddies whacked in 1934.) Never hear about him during Gay Pride Month…

      1. Severian Post author

        The real, historical Nazis weren’t sexually repressed at all – Goering and especially Goebbels had to be told, repeatedly, to knock it off.

        But the pop psych stereotype in America, in the 1970s, was that they were sexually repressed, and so it came out as sadism. All that “Ilsa, she-wolf of the SS” bullshit.

  6. ganderson

    My posting history would indicate that I am muy simpatico with many, if not all of the viewpoints expressed on this site, BUT, ( and as we are all aware, “everything before the ‘but’ is bullshit”) beer today is better than it’s ever been in my life time. The old brands carry some nostalgia for me ( my dad was the CFO of the Jacob Schmidt Brewery in St. Paul) but beer is just better now. I’m a beer snob with rather pedestrian tastes- I don’t much care for pomegranate infused lambics, with a hint of vanilla, but there’s just more good beer out there. Interestingly, the ‘old’ microbrew brands , like Sam Adams, Summit ( a sentimental fave, although unavailable where I live) Sierra Nevada, Brooklyn, etc, are shunned by many millennials as not hip enough. Stupidity on stilts, as people like Jim Koch of Sam Adams has done more to promote the beer renaissance than any individual.
    So, yeah, Iron City, Lone Star, Grain Belt, Olympia evoke a warm nostalgic glow, but I’ll take my Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, thanks.

    BTW, Grain Belt, which along with Schmidt and Hamms was one of the three big breweries in the Twin Cities in my youth, has been revived by the August Schell Brewing Co. of New Ulm, MN. Apparently Grain Belt outsells all their other brands combined.

    We used to, back in the 70s get. case 40 7 ounce bottles (ponies) of Walter’s or Rhinelander from Wisconsin for 2 bucks.

  7. ganderson

    We used to, back in the 70s get a case of 40 7-ounce bottles (ponies) of Walter’s or Rhinelander from Wisconsin for 2 bucks.

    All fixed. Good thing I’m retired.

  8. Southern Belle

    There is a big difference between having sex and making love. The former is detached and frankly not worth the trouble (unless you get paid for it). The latter is more meaningful and fulfilling. My grandmother had all girls and her girls had all girls so when we get together, our conversations turn to boys. Here’s what I learned: From the old horse and buggy days there was a lot going on down at the farm (“roll in the hay”). Then someone had to go to a home for unwed mothers in the early 1950s, but by then they had moved to town for the cotton mill. If a boy touched your boob, it was a very big deal. You can blame Hollywood/California for the debauchery of the sixties—drink, drugs, and sex which was “all in their heads” because they can’t remember any of it. In the early 1970s in the South there were boys’ dorms and girls’ dorms and the boys gathered outside the girls’ dorms for panty raids. Girls would write their name and number on their panties and throw them out the window until the dorm mother showed up. Coed dorms came along and took the fun out of the whole thing. Radical feminism decided all sex was rape and there you go. I was in grad school in downtown Atlanta and I can tell you that the only thing on your mind was getting to your car safely and driving away. And in case you don’t know, women reach their sexual peaks in their late 40s. Hope this helps!

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