The reaction to my email regarding the SBA Party was loud and swift. While, to a person, all responding 2Ls and 3Ls thought it a great email, the reaction among 1Ls was almost the exact office. It's a good thing I have a bird right now and am no longer "in the hunt" for 1Ls, as I surely would have hampered my chances. Anyway, so the vitriol among the entering class was so strong that I became convinced that I had to send a second email to clarify the first one, and to mend fences as best I could.
Deciding to mend fences was not the easiest decision to come to. I was torn between that and responding with a long-winded way of saying, "shut the fuck up, you bunch of whiny runny cunts." The c-word probably would not have made the final draft, but the sentiment would have remained the same. In any event, I decided not to contribute to the escalation of animosity any more. Below is the response I formulated between the hours of 2 and 4 a.m. while half-drunk on Black Velvet.
------------------------------
Hello All,
I write today for two primary reasons:
1. Clarify any confusion as to what the SBA Fall Party involves.
2. Clear up any misunderstandings as to my previous email.
First things first, I will do my best to forego the bombastic language so as to avoid any confusion regarding my meaning and my intentions.
1. Explaining the SBA Fall Party
It has come to my attention that there are a few misconceptions regarding what the fall party actually is. It may first be helpful then to tell you what the party is not: it is not a formal dance that requires a date or fancy outfit, and it is not merely a Friday version of bar night.
The fall party is the big social event of the SBA calendar this semester. The SBA is for us, as in the "whole-student-body" us, and consequently the party is for us and our friends. We, the royal we, gather together as many people as are interested in spending time with each other. We talk, we drink, we dance, we drink, and then we repeat these activities in whichever order our individual volitions direct us. No more, no less. If you like your classmates, and you like going out to bars, there truly is no better way to combine these interests – unless you like drinking in class. But if that's the case, we need to have a whole other sort of conversation. Anyways, SBA Fall Party, it's a great time. Please come on out and enjoy.
2. Clarifying the Previous Message
It has also come (more clearly) to my attention that one striking characteristic of a cozy environment like ____ is how fast word can spread, how quickly it can reach interested parties. And through a variety of channels, it has been brought to my attention that my last message did not exactly win everyone over. In fact, I'd venture to say that some people even outright disliked it. Since I actually have that exact sentiment on good authority, it's not too long of a limb to go out on. I'm usually pretty risk averse anyway.
Well then, let me speak in no uncertain terms: it was a joke. Maybe you're thinking to yourself: "But jokes are funny." Fair enough. I thought that shit was hilarious. But then, I often laugh at my own jokes as my conversation-counterparts check out their shoes and figure out the politest way to leave.
Plus I get a big kick out of quoting movies and draping myself in egomaniacal language. So it goes.
Perhaps proper introductions are in order. My name is ____ – I'm the SBA Activities Coordinator. It may also be said that I'm the more nefarious element of the quasi-student group known as ________. I won't bore you with the details of the ________ right now. We have a myspace page, we have a facebook thingy, check it out if you like. The point is, I sometimes write emails. And they're usually long. And they're usually tongue-in-cheek mean. And they are always geared toward rallying a few students for some upcoming event.
And the short version of this is this: I don't want to trigger scuttlebutt. I don't wish to engender rumblings of ill will among the vox populi. It's sorta the exact opposite. I want many many many people to go the Fall Party. I'm a cheerleader for this school – I seriously effin' heart the place, the community, and I want it to thrive. There, I said it.
I did not mean to actually insult anyone. Yes, clearly, I took a few pot shots that could reasonably be interpreted as offensive. Wasn't the goal, wasn't seriously considered, and wasn't even fathomed. And maybe therein lies the problem – I failed to consider my audience. And once more, an introduction is in order: Hello, my name is ____. I am often seen roaming the halls of ____, having potentially inane conversations (ranging from "which Van Damme movies rules the hardest" to "what are the merits of the latest SCOTUS ruling" – realistically, I talk about Van Damme probably just as much as I do the Supreme Court), and I often look in need of a shave and a fashion coach. My humor is in large-part based on being a prick. I list Bill Hicks among my heroes. If you don't know Bill Hicks, and you're not going to the Fall Party, then I sincerely recommend you instead spend tonight downloading Arizona Bay, rocking some big canister-style headphones, and praying your brain doesn't implode from how ridiculously bad ass that album is.
Anyway, back to the point. Many of you don't know who I am. Consequently, I probably just seem like some useless jackass who writes preposterously long messages about parties (case in point). That might make me a douche, that might make me lame or immature, that might even make me a fratbag asshole.
Nevertheless, I sought to attract Party Participants and the irony is that I may have turned people off of the idea of coming to the Fall Party, despite my best intentions. Well that just sucks, especially since, you know, that's like the exact opposite goal I had in mind, hence the aforementioned irony. The first among us to discover the ability to time travel should go back to 1996 and tell Alanis Morissette that this situation is much more apropos for a hook.
So yea, I don't think I knew my audience. Mistake one. And I assumed my audience knew me. Mistake two. If this applies to you, it can all be changed by attending the Fall Party! Confront me. Call me out. Share a drink and a conversation. It'll be easy to spot me – I'll be the ugly-mugged douche in a burgundy suit drinking Canadian whisky like it's going out of style and making my mark on the night by mixing up self-congratulatory flattery with self-deprecating honesty, and laughing and smiling the entire time.
If you have any concerns regarding the _______, my emails, or anything else really, feel free to personally contact me. ______@gmail.com. I am more than happy to directly engage you on any of these matters, and truth be told, I'd prefer that to the back channels. In the words of another hero of mine, Tupac Amaru Shakur, "holla at me."
Once more, hope to see you all tonight! If not, have a great weekend. And again, it's late, apologies for any typos or errors. That is all.
B3.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Fall Party E-Melee.
So once a semester, the Student Bar Association throws a massive party. It is usually at a semi-upscale locale, costs $25, and comes with 3 drink tickets. This year, ticket sales to me lagging dramatically, especially among the 1L class. Accordingly, I was called into action by the SBA President and Vice-President to write an email to the student body that would elicit a response likely to result in increased ticket sales. The following is the first of two emails I ended up sending.
----------------------------------------
Hello All,
If you are incapable of reading more than a few sentences, then I will offer a synopsis now: Go to the SBA Fall Party this Friday. If fun was quantifiable, it will be a ginormous amount of that stuff. 250 people went last year. I guarantee you will never go to a school event that can match that number. Buy your ticket in the student boulevard. $25 is really not that much if you've ever actually had a drink in this town. In short, the SBA will be putting on a clinic this Friday. What sort of clinic? How about a "good-times" clinic? How about a "rock your face off" clinic? That's the brief overview. Now, if you wish to tickle your frontal lobe, I encourage you to allow your eyes to saunter through the rest of this epic email.
I write to apprise you, in the most flowery way I can, of the awesomeness of the social interaction opportunity that confronts you on the final day of this week - a week thus far marked by great weather as we serenely transition into a growing sense and appearance of Autumn. Some people don't capitalize Autumn, that's really silly.
For the unfamiliar, I am one of your faithful correspondents from the benevolent organization known as __________. We've been markedly silent thus far in the semester, an unfortunate consequence of a few elements coalescing in such a way as to prevent us from sharing with you our pearls of wisdom, our summaries of skullduggery, and our wrap-ups of weekend warriordom. Namely, we're, like, really busy and shit.
But the time has come where our collective voice must be heard. Cover your eyes if your mind cannot handle some serious bad ass literatus. Yea – I just slant rhymed literatus – deal with it.
The event alluded to above (see: reference to awesomeness) is the SBA Fall Party this Friday at ______. in ______.
First: If you have somehow managed to escape all the fliers and people barking at you in the student boulevard, I can only conclude that you've been playing hooky for the past week and a half and you should seriously consider coming back to class.
Second: To the entering class of 2008: Lock it up.
For better or worse, this latest batch of aspiring J.D.-hunters have developed a reputation as an assortment of various shapes and sizes of Debbie and Donny Downers. I say "for better or worse" just to be polite. There is nothing "better" about being a downer. That leaves "worse" and I don't know what you're actually "worse" than. I just know it's rarely a good thing to be worse than someone at anything, unless it's "how to not be awesome." But if that was the case, then the class is doing a great job at being "better." You either get the drift or lost the plot.
The point I'm driving at is that somehow or another, the message has not been impressed enough upon the entering class that this event might quite literally rock collective socks off. I lost a sock* last year, best night of my life. As a self-anointed arbiter of awesome, I feel a certain amount of responsibility for this failure to impress. I hope to some day come to terms with this burden. I'll take it one at a time though, don't worry about me.
1Ls, I'm worried about you. I'm a cynic – I'm not sure you can be swayed at this point. But I want to be proven wrong. I want so many 1Ls at the Fall Party that I eventually have to kick myself in the ass (the cynic's version of a pat on the back) for being so damn witty and enticing in my emails. I want to be surrounded by so many 1Ls that I have synergetic flashbacks to Tarasoff factors. I want to meet so many 1Ls that it becomes really awkward next week when I can't remember your names and you swear to me that "we had the best conversation ever."
Third: For those of you concerned about the $25 price-tag, there is one incredibly obvious retort. Seriously, have you ever gone drinking in San Francisco? It's expensive all over. And happening places often have covers. Go anywhere semi-swank in this town and try to get in the door and back out, with 3 drinks under your belt, for under $25. Not going to happen.
Fourth: I understand that some of you have concerns about studies, or have other engagements in mind. I'm not here to hassle about the pros and cons of spending your Friday night studying when it's not even November. And I'm not going to quibble over the pros and cons of hanging out with a crap-ton (term of art) of cool people at a nice bar. You can throw your wall of excuses at me all you wish, I'll merely respond with the words a wise man once whispered in my ear, "Rule #76: no excuses, play like a champion." It might not have been a whisper, I may have had my ear pressed to a television that was showing Wedding Crashers. Nevertheless, truer words (insert dramatic pause) never spoken.
Fifth: Finally, I've devoted way too much time to this damn email. So it goes. If you made it this far, then you should know, I'm from Washington. Not many people know that. By virtue of hailing from the Pacific Northwest (Alaska is suspended from the club until further notice), I'm pretty sweet. Besides the wicked sweetness that I'll be bringing to the table, I have four of my back-home-crew rolling into town this weekend. I don't know if ______ will be able to handle that much awesome in one building, but we'll certainly test its limits. There's a good chance that they'll consume much of what passes for beer in _____ over the new few days, and that they will no longer be on speaking terms with their livers by the time they leave, but it's going to be so much fun that it won't really matter. I'm offering you yet another incentive to come to the Fall Party – come enjoy my friends, they're ridiculous and great.
It's late, I've never been a fan of proofreading. Apologies for any typos, grammar errors, or any semblance of jackassery that may have slipped through the cracks during the construction of this message.
Hope to see you all this Friday. That is all.
Until next time,
B3
* "Lost a sock" is the latest and greatest euphemism. It roughly translates to "got schmasted and had a glorious time. Dig it."
----------------------------------------
Hello All,
If you are incapable of reading more than a few sentences, then I will offer a synopsis now: Go to the SBA Fall Party this Friday. If fun was quantifiable, it will be a ginormous amount of that stuff. 250 people went last year. I guarantee you will never go to a school event that can match that number. Buy your ticket in the student boulevard. $25 is really not that much if you've ever actually had a drink in this town. In short, the SBA will be putting on a clinic this Friday. What sort of clinic? How about a "good-times" clinic? How about a "rock your face off" clinic? That's the brief overview. Now, if you wish to tickle your frontal lobe, I encourage you to allow your eyes to saunter through the rest of this epic email.
I write to apprise you, in the most flowery way I can, of the awesomeness of the social interaction opportunity that confronts you on the final day of this week - a week thus far marked by great weather as we serenely transition into a growing sense and appearance of Autumn. Some people don't capitalize Autumn, that's really silly.
For the unfamiliar, I am one of your faithful correspondents from the benevolent organization known as __________. We've been markedly silent thus far in the semester, an unfortunate consequence of a few elements coalescing in such a way as to prevent us from sharing with you our pearls of wisdom, our summaries of skullduggery, and our wrap-ups of weekend warriordom. Namely, we're, like, really busy and shit.
But the time has come where our collective voice must be heard. Cover your eyes if your mind cannot handle some serious bad ass literatus. Yea – I just slant rhymed literatus – deal with it.
The event alluded to above (see: reference to awesomeness) is the SBA Fall Party this Friday at ______. in ______.
First: If you have somehow managed to escape all the fliers and people barking at you in the student boulevard, I can only conclude that you've been playing hooky for the past week and a half and you should seriously consider coming back to class.
Second: To the entering class of 2008: Lock it up.
For better or worse, this latest batch of aspiring J.D.-hunters have developed a reputation as an assortment of various shapes and sizes of Debbie and Donny Downers. I say "for better or worse" just to be polite. There is nothing "better" about being a downer. That leaves "worse" and I don't know what you're actually "worse" than. I just know it's rarely a good thing to be worse than someone at anything, unless it's "how to not be awesome." But if that was the case, then the class is doing a great job at being "better." You either get the drift or lost the plot.
The point I'm driving at is that somehow or another, the message has not been impressed enough upon the entering class that this event might quite literally rock collective socks off. I lost a sock* last year, best night of my life. As a self-anointed arbiter of awesome, I feel a certain amount of responsibility for this failure to impress. I hope to some day come to terms with this burden. I'll take it one at a time though, don't worry about me.
1Ls, I'm worried about you. I'm a cynic – I'm not sure you can be swayed at this point. But I want to be proven wrong. I want so many 1Ls at the Fall Party that I eventually have to kick myself in the ass (the cynic's version of a pat on the back) for being so damn witty and enticing in my emails. I want to be surrounded by so many 1Ls that I have synergetic flashbacks to Tarasoff factors. I want to meet so many 1Ls that it becomes really awkward next week when I can't remember your names and you swear to me that "we had the best conversation ever."
Third: For those of you concerned about the $25 price-tag, there is one incredibly obvious retort. Seriously, have you ever gone drinking in San Francisco? It's expensive all over. And happening places often have covers. Go anywhere semi-swank in this town and try to get in the door and back out, with 3 drinks under your belt, for under $25. Not going to happen.
Fourth: I understand that some of you have concerns about studies, or have other engagements in mind. I'm not here to hassle about the pros and cons of spending your Friday night studying when it's not even November. And I'm not going to quibble over the pros and cons of hanging out with a crap-ton (term of art) of cool people at a nice bar. You can throw your wall of excuses at me all you wish, I'll merely respond with the words a wise man once whispered in my ear, "Rule #76: no excuses, play like a champion." It might not have been a whisper, I may have had my ear pressed to a television that was showing Wedding Crashers. Nevertheless, truer words (insert dramatic pause) never spoken.
Fifth: Finally, I've devoted way too much time to this damn email. So it goes. If you made it this far, then you should know, I'm from Washington. Not many people know that. By virtue of hailing from the Pacific Northwest (Alaska is suspended from the club until further notice), I'm pretty sweet. Besides the wicked sweetness that I'll be bringing to the table, I have four of my back-home-crew rolling into town this weekend. I don't know if ______ will be able to handle that much awesome in one building, but we'll certainly test its limits. There's a good chance that they'll consume much of what passes for beer in _____ over the new few days, and that they will no longer be on speaking terms with their livers by the time they leave, but it's going to be so much fun that it won't really matter. I'm offering you yet another incentive to come to the Fall Party – come enjoy my friends, they're ridiculous and great.
It's late, I've never been a fan of proofreading. Apologies for any typos, grammar errors, or any semblance of jackassery that may have slipped through the cracks during the construction of this message.
Hope to see you all this Friday. That is all.
Until next time,
B3
* "Lost a sock" is the latest and greatest euphemism. It roughly translates to "got schmasted and had a glorious time. Dig it."
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