Listen up, you little turd punchers.
We’re barely a few months away from a shiny new semester, and before one of you robust idiots fucks the whole thing up by falling off a frat house roof drunk or kidnapping a TAMS student, I figured we’d have a little powwow and plot this whole thing out.
As you all probably know, this whole “new union” business is eating large out of my sugar daddy trust fund. But despite the cost, I want to assure you unquestionably that my balls will, in fact, fit comfortably inside the building.
The Gruesome Twosome has been tearing up streets and cracking foundations for decades. That bump in the road on Hickory and Avenue C? All thanks to these testicular titans. But now, we’re gonna have a building on campus that’s big enough for me and my enormous balls, which I’m pretty fucking jazzed about.
That brings me to my overall point, kinda: We’re not all that different, you and me. During the day, I might be shaking hands and greeting incoming freshmen, but during the night I’m tossing back cups of lean and backhanding like there’s no fucking tomorrow.
Nasty Neal’s in the trap, and everyone’s getting toasted.
But when I put my pants on in the morning, I put them on just like everyone else. Except I have to cut out that special hole for my monstrous balls, or risk a chafe worse than the one on your mom’s back from pounding her since before you were born and also during your birth.
I am your god, essentially, and it’s time to pay fucking tribute.
Sorry, I got a little off track there. What were we talking about again? Oh, yeah, don’t fuck up this semester, okay? I know we all like to get twisted, but all it takes is one drunk idiot at a football game with some brass knuckles and bang, we all look like dicks on national TV.
Get stupid on the low and stay out of the public eye, or I’m never gonna move these stacks.
Later, nerds.
– “Nasty Neal” Smatresk, UNT Party President
The Electric Eagle 