Jason Rodriguez - The Moose in the Closet: The Perfect Victim and Social Disorientation

Two other cats I met at Philly were Paul Michael Kane and Chris Ring, the guys behind the comic THE PERFECT VICTIM. The guys were friendly enough. They asked me how we got ER in Entertainment Weekly and were surprised by the simple answer, “We sent them a copy.” Sometimes it takes doing things a bit differently – no disrespect to comic sites but a lot of them tend to grade with the trend. They’ll pan the books that everyone pans and praise the books that everyone praises. Occasionally a review will pan the book everyone praises to be controversial, bringing up decent points to why the book is a little weak but using them to turn it into something horrendous. The comic sites that do this lose credibility. So we wanted good marks outside of the comic world. Anyway, I read THE PERFECT VICTEM last night. Chris’ art was quite nice, good action and storytelling. The books itself had good dialog and strong writing but it was a little too “Punisher” for me, not really my niche. But there is a niche for it out there and when those people read it, they’ll probably love it.

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Orientation for Boston University was…weird.

I don’t remember any actual orientation festivities. I don’t remember registering, taking any sort of informational classes – nothing.

R was at orientation with me. We did this sort of extended orientation thing where we came down for an entire weekend in the summer and learned all about BU, how the school operated, who everyone was and got to register super early for classes.

The first night R and I didn’t hang out for some reason. No idea why. I think I hung out with my orientation group. There is really no other explanation since they were all hippies and there is nothing in this world I hate more than hippies. Except Goths.

My hatred for hippies is well thought out; I don’t hate them because it’s fashionable. I hate them because, whereas their hearts always seem to be in the right place, their methods and theories are so absurd they drag down the left-leaning activists that actually try to accomplish things and don’t just sing songs in a circle and occasionally come under the influence of Socialists and burn a Starbucks. It’s like having a million vegan Rush Limbaughs on our side.

I hate Goths because it’s fashionable, however.

Despite my hatred I somehow ended up hanging with the dirtiest, smelliest, Lynyrd Skynyrdest hippies to ever walk the campus of BU. Throughout the course of the night I was repeatedly blinded by tie-dye and deafened by Phish. Despite all the stereotypical retardisms associated with hippies, they always have some great dope.

The hippies and I went to this balcony-thing in Warren Towers. Warren Towers was THE freshman dorm, it was always a fucking party. Everyone was drunk all the time, RAs were fucking their residents, people were smoking bowls in the hallway (I ended up at Towers instead which was a different type of fun – one that combined fun with not dropping out of school).

I swear to God this night was fucking surreal. We actually sat in a circle, Indian style, passing a bowl, while some Hindu hippy draped in hemp was playing Pink Floyd on his acoustic guitar. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect to see in a movie when a bunch of old, out-of-touch, white executives sit around and say to themselves, “We need a hippy-scene, what should they be doing?” And then there was me, wearing crisp jeans and a Hilfiger shirt.

But we got fucked up. One of the kids there was obviously faking; he never smoked before in his life. You can tell when someone smokes dope for the first time because they say the most retarded shit imaginable. This kid started going off on how cool it would be to smoke dope in an alley; all excited about the prospect of getting high in the dirtiest and dingiest place imaginable for no explicable reason.

My opinion – if you’re fantasizing about smoking dope in an alley, you’re not destined for great things. We all just kind of made fun of him for the rest of the nigh until he learned to shut the fuck up.

That night I got back to my room and some point met up with R again. I was rooming with this uptight Asian kid that was sleeping so we messed around, trying to convince ourselves that my roommate had no idea what was going on.

As an aside, I have to say that there is almost nothing funnier than the stoned/drunk fucking while the roommate pretends to sleep. I’ve done it to all my roommates and all of my roommates have done it to me. The only thing funnier is the stoned/drunk masturbation while the roommate tries desperately to pretend it’s not happening. Instead of belting it out you try to be as quiet as possible and go slow, not realizing that it’s making the ordeal agonizingly long for your roommate. Again, I’ve done it too all my roommates and all of my roommates have done it to me. Shit, I may even do it tonight if Robin would turn around and face the other way and she's in the same bed; there's no way she wouldn't notice.

Anyway, I wish I could say that’s all I remember from orientation but I’d be lying. The next day I hung out with the hippies again.

And played hacky-sack while the Hindu jammed on his guitar and the pony-tailed freak played with his devil sticks.

Yeah, I hate myself too.

Labels: mitc

The Perfect Victim and Social Disorientation

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

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