I'm graduating in two weeks. Leaving college behind forever, as I have decided that at this point in my life, grad school seems only slightly more appealing than being rubbed naked up and down a gigantic cheese grater and thrown into a kiddie pool full of salt. UW-Madison has been good to me and all, but I'm really looking forward to going out into the real world and building a proper grown-up life.
There is, however, one reason I am hesitant to leave school: I'm not sure I've left a lasting impression on this campus. Sure, I've had this column, but in two years' time I'll be lucky if someone dimly remembers that there used to be a guy who wrote columns about Aquaman and grilled cheese sandwiches.
So I've thought of a way to make sure my name is remembered years from now. I have devised an entirely new kind of party I hope will be popularized on campus in the near future.
I propose a pirate party!
But Justin,\ you will say. ""Parties where people dress up like pirates already exist!"" True. But at one of Justin Zyduck's Patented Pirate Parties, this is only step one. You see, one does not HOLD a pirate party. One RAIDS a pirate party.
Would a real pirate invite people to his own boat for a party? Don't be absurd. He'd invite you to someone ELSE's party and take it over! And that, my dear ones, is what you must do to have a true pirate party.
Allow me to explain how this will work. First, you must find an existing party being held. Ideally, it is not being thrown by anyone you know. Next, you gather as many of your friends as will be necessary to conquer their pithy shindig. If you will merely be ""commandeering"" a dorm-room party, I expect you would need only a couple co-conspirators to do so; taking control of a whole house party, however, may require a crew of at least a dozen of your staunchest pirate pals, all in costume.
You may also want to bring a lass or three along on your expedition, as comely pirate wenches will help you gain access to even the most exclusive of house parties. There is, of course, the danger of a frat boy or two trying to force their way into her stripey pants, but this is why she will ideally be carrying a cutlass.
Then, once you have gained entrance to (or ""boarded"") the venue, you take over their party and claim it as your own! Drink their booze! Invite more friends and kick out existing guests! Replace their CD mix with your own! Defile their carefully orchestrated Rubik's Cube party by throwing pirate stripes and polka dots into the mix! Last, but not least, fly a Jolly Roger from the front porch to let everyone know that another lame house party has fallen under the control of marauding party pirates.
The advantage to this type of party, of course, is that you get all the glory of throwing a party, but you save money by hijacking alcohol rather than buying it, and you trash somebody else's place instead of your own.
So orchestrate a pirate party when the school year starts again. I won't be here to see it, but I'll be happy my name will live on in infamy as the diabolical author of this scheme.
For you see, it's a pirate's life for me. I've shanghaied the Almanac page every Tuesday for my own dubious ends with my own dubious column. Time to let someone else have a go at it. Thanks for being there with me every step of the way. Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!
This is Justin's final column in The Daily Cardinal. E-mail him at morrisonbass@yahoo.com.
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