Commentary 1- The Whitsons Dilemma

 You’ve been to the Westbury Cafeteria, right?  You ever notice the ethnic diversity of Witsons staff?  Especially now, with the addition of the new Mexican “Caliente” section.  Well, we’ve noticed a striking ironic thingy: the people serving food on the “Mexican” side of the cafeteria seem to be fluent in their English.  However, surprisingly, those that serve food on the “American” side have “no speak the English.”  The vocabulary of the “American" side is confined to "who's next?" and "two egg or one eggs?"  Why is this?  Is it just some stupid thingy that we (the Disciples of Absurdity) notice, or is it a part of something bigger?  Is it just cuz NYIT?  Or is a government conspiracy designed to eat our souls-- and if so, "who's next?"

Commentary 2- The Caper

 My heart races, my muscles tighten, sweat rolls down my bald head.  I can see the fear and rage in the eyes of those around me.  The Blue Leviathan turns the corner and approaches us.  Some run for cover, others leap into the front, ready for combat.  Its time for the four o' clock bus to C.I.!!!
 Why does the mere presence of this "Coach" reduce NYIT students to their most primitive state?  Does this "bus" trigger some ancestral instinct for survival- to avoid doom?  Why is this?  Is it cuz it's blue?  Is there some psychological archetype in the human psyche that correlates the color blue to the complete obliteration of society and civilization?  We (the Disciples of Absurdity) propose an experiment to find out: change the color of the bus to progressively lighter hues of blue and record the resulting effects on "human behavior" at the bus stop.  And to mix things up, just throw in a red bus at the end.  We believe that this will give us many many informationses on the "human condition."  Awoo?

Commentary 3- Why the hell is the SAC (Student Activity Center) at Old Westbury a farm house?
 Why the hell is the SAC (Student Activity Center) at Old Westbury a f*cking farm house?

Commentary 4- Five Alive!
 Every conversation that we (the Disciples of Absurdity) have seem to have no basis in reality.  Here is an example of such a discussion between Disciple One and Disciple Two conversating in the Cafeteria at Central Islip (mind you, this conversation really happened, the real names of the real people who were involved have really been changed to protect their real identities):

One: Well, Heidi- ho!
Two: Hello, how are you doing today?

Won: Super!  Thanks for asking!
Too: What the dilly yo?

Ek: My main thug, nigga named Hulio, he moody yo.
Do: Type of nigga that'll slap you with the tuny yo.

Ona: Hey, you know they got Five Alive in the cafeteria?
Rendu: I didn't think they made that any more.

Hanna: I didn't either. (While crumpling up the label from the bottle of Five Alive).  What kind of sense does this make; I just crumpled up the label and it got a hole in it.  Is that physically possible?
Dul: I don't think so.

Piss: That hole looks like a little mouth.
Shit: It would be funny if it started talking.

Ding: "Hellooo…" (Seinfeld, 113)
Ding Ding: "Laaaa, Laaa, Laa" (Seinfeld, 114)

Cough: That would be funny if inanimate objects just started talking.
Sneeze: You know its gonna happen eventually.  We are at C.I. (referring to the Central Islip campiss)

Meow: Like that salt shaker.
Grrrr: "Eh, you want some salt?" (playing the role of the salt shaker)

D/Dx {x+72}: "Salt, Fresh Salt!" (referring to Fiddler on the Roof)
[F Int {12}]/6x: Yo, why do we always have stupid ass conversations like this?

Commentary 6- The monster
 Anyone who has ever been approached by the Girl Scouts selling cookies has experienced the enlightenment.  Have you ever noticed that when a “scout” tries to sell you “cookies” you pull the most brilliant excuses out of your ass?  Somehow, we all become the most witty and eloquent people on earth when we deny these youth in green uniforms.  Such dazzling excuses could never come to us so quickly in any other situation.
Some of the more common excuses manifested at these cookielishous times include: “I already bought some from that girl...” followed by a spirited prance in the opposite direction.  Another classic is: “I’m allergic to cookies...” Others take different approaches: “Why don’t you come into my fully tinted van (where no one can hear you scream) while I get my ‘money’...”  And, of course, we have always been fond of the: “Get the hell away from me you little bitch before I shove those cookies up your green uniform!”
  Regardless of the excuse, the power resides in all of us- it is just triggered by the little ho in the green uniform.  But, why is this?  Why does the secret of enlightenment lie upon the statement: “would you like to buy a cookie?”  Perhaps we were designed to reach the peak of their intellect when confronted by little green thingies.  Or maybe its just human gonadotropic hormone...
 

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