WVU's Homecoming...on Your Face

Warning: I talk shit about the Homecoming candidates…and by all means I mean it. However, I don't want a lawsuit from any of you morons…so please, look up "satire" before you decide to call Daddy and get him and his crack team of lawyers on my ass. Freedom of speech, baby: it's a beautiful thang.

Whoa. It's that time of year again, kids. The brick walls of academia are once more plastered with the bright, shiny faces of fraternity presidents and sorority wenches looking to get your vote for West Virginia University's Homecoming King and Queen, respectively. The community bulletin boards, yet again, have big posters with little clever slogans that rhyme the candidate's surname with a word for royalty and ultimately, appeal to the Id.

For example, the general sign for pity: "Vote for Brown for the Crown…because he has a syndrome called Down."

Or the sorority's less clever appeal, employing a very subtle amount of sexuality to achieve your vote: "Give Tara the Tiara because she'll marry ya and suck yo big ol' dick every night she's on the rag."

Or, at the bottom of the intelligence spectrum, the less gifted fraternity president's brilliance: "Vote for Fagg…uh… becuz he's not a Fag becuz its produced ‘Fay-g’ and those fuckin bitchs at Pike are fuckin bitchs like whoa! HaH-HaH! (Insert Usher quote) Peace Out 2008."

"Unless you can use all of your holes to please a majority of the student body, you ain't got shit."

And yes, in these indecisive times, it's quite difficult to determine the desirable candidate. While I am not the man to delve into such imperative, momentous things and/or tell you who to vote for, in this article, I hope to teach you how to approach this Homecoming season. And, more importantly, I hope that by the end of this article, you'll know what you should do with the corpses of the dumb motherfuckers who put time and money into stupid bullshit like Homecoming.

Homecoming on Your Face

People who return to their alma maters exclusively for homecoming are generally classified as "Total Fucking Losers." However, in the name of synonymy and decency, it should be understood that when any derogative term is used during the Homecoming Season, it is directly related to those involved in the Homecoming process. For example, if you hear "Attention-Starved Cunts" in the next two weeks, it is probably related to the " Attention-Starved Cunts" who wish to represent the school. Ironically, if they were to wholly represent our beloved West Virginia University, they'd be 1) too apathetic to give a shit about Homecoming 2) too drunk to give a shit about Homecoming 3) too naked and full of semen to care about Herpes.

I mean Homecoming.

But sadly, no matter where one is, there is always a Machiavellian ready and waiting to take advantage of a flawed system. The list I've prepared gives you an idea of some of the masterful techniques the candidates use to manipulate you into voting for them.

1. With a Fistful of Candy

I read that many of last year's Homecoming bitches hired marketing majors to maximize the chances of them getting their way in the voting results. And with that expertise in human nature, that skill in the fluxes and stabilities of a collegiate society and a ton of fucking money, those marketing geniuses went with one of the most complex schemes known to man: The Free-Candy-Wrapped-in-a-Post-It-Note-With-the-Candidate's-Name-Sharpied-On-It Plot.

Now, if you're like me, you're incensed. Free Candy is such a powerful, productive plan that many states have outlawed its use. People do not and cannot base their votes completely on the quality and amount of the candy, as we should. No! We, unable to control our human impulses, vote for the candidate who most recently gives us the sweet, chewy confections. I've read that many of the siblings and friends of candidates were unable to vote for their brothers, best friends and kidney transplant donors because of candy! Alas!

If we were to extrapolate the ability of candy to manipulate the populace, we would find that a giant piñata could possibly win the Presidency…or at least win over those dirty Mexicans. I say, it's best to take the candy given to you in front of the Mountainlair and give it to the bum on High Street who is always asking for "chain." You can throw it at him if you want (he'll dance a little if you throw it hard enough).

As I've said before, women love attention. What better opportunity than winning the Homecoming Crown and being "honored" in front of a crowd of 50,000+ to create that burning self-satisfaction women feel between their legs when people recognize their putrid, meaningless existence? Nothing, obviously.

And because the stakes are so impressive, it's no surprise that the posters that display these female candidates are equally impressive in their degree of cleavage. As it was once said, "That girl has some pretty big titties on that poster. I think I'll vote for her after I nut."

The Marketing Majors of the Candy Scandal were obviously working hard here as well. They knew, in their infinite wisdom, that many "Dudes" and "Bros" attend West Virginia University, as our acceptance rate is comparable to the military in educational standards (read, "there aren't standards, and if you were rejected from WVU, you are possibly the dumbest motherfucker on the planet"). Thus, the natural impulses ride high and girls with the lips that look like plump, supple vaginas generally win the Homecoming Crown. We, sadly, do not base our Homecoming votes on ability and/or school spirit…unless, school spirit is a derivative of cup-size…and in that case I'm horny.

I mean wrong.

I'm wrong.

For anything that's voted upon—from BangBro's CreamPie Shot of the Month to The Space Ghost Awards—is based completely on name recognition. The Marketing Majors, who had both our mouths and cocks in their hands (…uh…figure of speech…), made their marks on our long-term memories with such slogans as "Vote for [Name]" and "[Name] for the Crown!" last year, intend to wrap our delicate minds around their able fingers yet again.

What can we do but remember monikers of these candidates when we are barraged with pins and t-shirts? Nothing.

And believe it or not, but names are just as important as tits. I, for one, could never vote for a girl like Bethany Cooperrider. Why?

Well, because I always picture her drunk and driving her pussy on top of Hangin' With Mr. Cooper's Mark Curry. And as we all know, interracial sex is as sinful as it comes.

If there is anything more vital to the development of a school than Homecoming, it's the election of a Student Body President. But, because there are no political or social issues addressed by the Homecoming candidates (like the ever-important "Where is the next soda machine going to be placed?" ), how do you know who to vote for?

The answer is simple. For the Homecoming King, your goal is to search for the least douchebag-looking fellow. I realize that "douchebag" may have different connotations, so to better assist you in this process, follow this link to the WVU Homecoming website.

Now, picking the least douchebag-looking dude here is pretty much impossible, since they're all pretty big douchebags, but you can tell that Casey Moles is a bit less of a douche simply because he's cocking his head back slightly as if to say, "Yo! Vote for me!" I, for one, can relate to that. But not so fast! Then there's, Matthew PolishNamesky. He looks a bit dazed, and if he's high like I generally am, I can certainly relate to that. Then there's Lloyd, who decided to include his nickname—L.G.—in his official name. Well, I'll be! Goddamnit! I have a nickname too! Maybe this dude and I are man-bros. It's difficult to tell.

The other two dudes I don't trust, so I'll leave it at that…before a mafia family gets involved (Campo?!). And who the fuck has a first name for a last name, Mr. Zak? At least call yourself Mr. Zachary, goddamnit. This is an important, official thing, man.

As for the women, I can tell you right now who is going to win. How can I do that already? Der. Because, as you may have noticed, she's the only shiny one (hubba-hubba). And yeah, sorry to the other ladies, but unless you can use all of your natural and man-made holes to please a majority of the student body, you ain't going to get shit. And given that you each only have 7 holes (including nose-fucking), and that it takes an average, say…15 minutes to get off a dude, you're going to need to spend the next two weeks giving up sleep and investing in lube and structural support for your pussies to get anywhere close to that glistening, glossy, glittery, gleaming girl that reflects more light than the Virgin Mary's clitoris.

I mean Halo.

Nah, I mean clitoris.

As you well may know, West Virginia University's mascot is the noblest of all creatures: The Mountaineer. And as students of this university, we all have an obligation to function like our beloved mountain man.

You may be asking, "How can I do that, Nick?"

Well reader, there is no simple answer to that; many of the Mountain peoples of the past are all but extinct. However, if my memory serves me correctly, I remember that if a Mountaineer sees something he respects in the wild, he shoots it, guts it, and makes it into a furry hat of sorts. So, when the Homecoming King and Queen are named at the Mississippi State game, I say that we give them the respect they've earned…through candy and tits.

Then, in order to honor our newly-given award as “#1 Party School in the Country” (Stanford Review), we should use their intestines for bongs. Because if I know anything, it’s that gratuitous violence is in the hearts of every Mountaineer.

O'er the land of the free, and the home of the burning couch…. Let's go! Mountaineers!