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Is There A Jermeister Goin' On at the Burnzone? A Modest Proposal Regarding College Celebrations
Another championship. Another celebration. College students running in the streets. Jumping on cars. Overturning apple carts, throwing trash cans, even making orgy towers to the horizon as a jest to the very concept of gravity and safe sex. This was the scene in Villanova, Pennsylvania, after Kris Jenkins nailed a three in the last seconds to bring a NCAA Championship to the Villanova Wildcats. Even horses are no longer safe. And after Draymond Green drank an entire barrel of beer and pretended to be a bowling ball when the Golden State Warriors won a NBA championship, we wonder each year: what is too much? What is the line between celebration and a riot? What even is a riot anymore?
I might be old fashioned. Not only do I call joints “jazz-smokies” and burn incense inside the sheela na gig above my bed every morning that I wake, I have simple criteria for what a riot is. Does a car get set on fire? Yes? Then it’s a riot.
However, we seem to have lost the plot. What are clearly riots are called celebrations. Because we cannot bend perception, here is my two fold proposal.
Once, there was a man. When he was 2, his first word was “Budweiser”. At 13, his science fair project was a combination beer helmet bong. He answered every question on the SAT with AC/DC. At college, he impersonated Dan Quayle and got what he called “friggin’ wrecked” with President George W. Bush before, in his words, “Laura took his balls and replaced them with a Bible”. At work, he shot me with paper wads.
That man was none other than Jerry “The Jermeister” Connell, the greatest party animal of all time. 5’2. Tabasco sauce button up. Visor that said “El Gato Capitan”. Cargo shorts full of sparklers. He was known and loved throughout the United States for his Dionysian yet family friendly antics.
Just a little look at his CV: got married in a t-shirt tuxedo. Dressed up as Yogi Bear and stole an entire briefcase of important documents that he ate in his office. Filled up the mail cart with cheese puffs and dived in. Encased the boss’s son in a Jello shot. Screamed “that’s what SHE SAID” at the Pope. Anybody would describe The Jermeister as the life of a party that never stopped. Or a riot.
Unfortunately, Jerry passed when he said he’d eat a shoelace covered in Screamin’ Weasel Ghost Pepper sauce for $25, which triggered a long-standing heart attack. He was 27, not unlike party animal Jimi Hendrix before him.
At his funeral, his sons did a flawless cover of “Round and Round” by Ratt, with CC Deville guesting. His son Muscle Car scratched his scalp and gave birth to an exact model of Tawny Kitaen.
The logic follows as such. If Jermeister was a riot, riots can’t be all bad, yet riots are bad because things get set on fire, but college students can’t do anything bad, and are merely celebrating. We are beyond a pale and need a new word. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, a riot is “a violent disturbance of the peace by a crowd”. But this is just fun. Jermeister would be proud. I propose all celebrations that we may confuse for a riot we call “jermesiters”, in honor of the tubular man. I suppose this may be an issue, given he once treated the inventor of the Oxford English Dictionary, Nigel Puffenstock, to an atomic noogie and farted on an illuminated codex, but nature finds a way.
But: if the celebrations get a little rowdy, and ruin the flow of a city, then jermeisters will be considered bad, instead of the fun lovin’ party time Jerry would have wanted. Though we can switch language, there is no switching people’s considerations and misunderstandings. We must take legal action.
Here is the modest proposal. In every college city, every university will put aside a part of town designated for jermeisters to celebrate any notable victories. When the bells of victory toll, in single file, we’ll lead the college students to the designated jermeisters area, wherein they can burn, pillage, and salt the earth to their heart’s content. We’ll even call these Burnzones.
The convenience of this idea is that trash can even be dumped in the Burnzone. Old car? Put it in the Burnzone. Fridge? Put it in the Burnzone. Couches, even troublesome police horses, which are meat bicycles with bad tempers and four legs!
Of course, due to the fact the universities will be paying for the Burnzone, we will have to settle, in smaller universities, for smaller Burnzones. This can even be an abandoned Chuckie Cheese or a haunted Dave and Busters.
While some will grab their noses and say, harumph at the idea of legalizing riots, we know this is the only way to go, as the celebrations (jermeisters) are not riots. They’re another beast entirely. But how else will we approach the immediate and obvious reality that college students have an utter respect for their surroundings? Change must come.
#Real #Essay #ModestProposal #SportsRiots #GettingOutOfHand
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