"Dear Frat Bro!"

This foray into the infantile was written December 14, 2002. It was always one of my favorites, and yet it received little acclaim when it first debuted. Here it is in its entirety. Submitted for your approval and perusal:

Back in the day, when I was a young, misguided whiskersnapper, I wrote a column for Truck U., my school's newspaper. Advice to the lovelorn student body-allah "Dear Cat." I ran across my moth-eaten scrapbook the other day in the basement. Here's a sampling:

Dear Frat Bro: I'm scared shitless, dude. LBJ has decided to intensify our presence in Vietnam. I'm an English major, who is in danger of flunking out of school. My lottery number is 69. I'm afraid that I will be classified 1-A soon. Any suggestions. Signed: Not a Fortunate Son.

Dear Fortunate Son: Get to the bookstore quick and buy every "cliff notes" ever published. How do you think I've stayed at Truck U. all these years. Btw, Dude, the Canterbury Tales is a wild ride if you get the unabridged version. But Homer, Socrates, and Aristotle are greek to me. BTW, I ain't no senator's son. And when the tax man showed up at my dad's place, the house looked like a rummage sale, yawl. Thanks for the query and good luck!

Dear Frat Bro: Your column is heavy and far out. And groovy, dude. My friends tell me there's an outdoor rock concert/festival in upstate New York in August. Lots of beautiful people going. Trying to find themselves. It's gonna be a weekend of partying, dude. I heard that Jimi, Janis, CSN, Santana, Jefferson Airplane and maybe Bob Dylan will be there. Are you makin' the scene? Signed: Blonde on Blonde/Volunteers For America

Dear Blonde Volunteers: It's gonna be da heaviest collection of misfits ever assembled in one setting. Unfortunately, Bob has become somewhat of a recluse since his motorcycle accident. But Country Joe and the Fish will be there. Canned Heat and Ten Years After. I heard that Country Joe may change his name to Southern Fried Joe. But it's still the same fish to me. Thanks for the interrogatory!

Dear Frat Bro: When you leave Truck U. in a few years, what are you going to be when you grow up? In other words, what are your career goals? Are you going to get into print journalism and travel the world? Become a d.j. and spin the platters? Enter the exciting world of television. Maybe join Ted Turner's
fledgling new hybrid UHF station? What are you gonna do, dude? Signed: Inquisitive at Truck U's Inquisitional Facility.

Dear Inquisitive: None of the above, dude. I have my mind set on entering the wonderful world of restaurant hospitality. I have applied at Piccadilly Cafeteria. They make all their food from scratch. Pies, salads, meats, and veggies. I can't wait. They say the hours are great and you are well compensated. They have a cracker jack crew of maintenance men with well-honed skills. That repair all your service needs. Check back with me in 20 years and I'll tell you how it's going. "TFTQ!"

Dear Frat Bro: I am a freshman at Truck U. This is my first semester. I am not prepared for what is going on at this decadent institution. My roommate has hair down to his knees. He has gratuitous sex with his old lady [ that's the demeaning term he calls her ] every day, sometimes more. There is a unique smell floating throughout the dorm rooms. Smells similar to cigarettes but a friend said it was marijuana. I overheard my roommate plotting with his friends to blow up the military building on campus. There are anti-war demonstrations daily And a tall skinny shoeless hippie was looking for smokeable butts in my dorm's lobby ashtray. It's a madhouse here. My query: Should I turn my roommate over to the authorities or what? He has political aspirations and I'd hate to get him in trouble. He's a draft dodger as well. I came to Truck U. to get an education. Signed: Bill C's roommate.

Dear Bill: Your roomie is trippin' through a new scene, dude. My roomie, Al, was a prick. Establshment vs. anti-establishment, dude. It wasn't a groovy scene and he booked. He digs his new roomie, Tommy Lee. Loosen up! Suggestion: Go to a burn the bra rally and maybe you'll score.