STUPID BELLY BUTTON

You know how sometimes the fact that a well-known personage agrees with you is almost enough to make you change your mind, just so you cannot in any way be associated with them?

That just happened to me. Read this. Apparently Britney Spears thinks we should just trust George W. Bush...something I've been saying or thinking for the past several months. Suffice to say, I'm reconsidering.

If the Babe with the Bodacious Belly Button says it, it can't be right.

I hate it when this happens.

EXTRA ON THE GUGG

Here's the latest news from Barbarians Central here in Guggville. According to my lovely and discerning fiancee, my beard is moldy. Needless to say, I was surprised. Apparently my soap doesn't quite reach to the recesses of the beard (which was completely shaven only 7 weeks ago). Perhaps I should use Clorox. Or just trim.

Stupid hygiene. This could only happen to me. Other people have normal problems.

I don't think moldy beards in any way, shape, or form can be called normal.

Stupid mold.

Sato's birthday went quite well last night. Professoress York was over here until the wee hours, packin' 'em down and having a wonderful time with the rest of us. There were more Honors Freshmen than I've ever seen at any kind of legitimate social function before, which says a lot for this class. Speaking well for the party, Nik said she was having a good time, which I don't think has ever happened at a party we've thrown. Sato's food was tremendous. The house was clean. The new strobe light was a hit, albeit a small one. Four professors were here. All in all, quite the success.

As one can see, there is now a brief alum section over in the sidebar. It's a work in progress, certainly, and I'm not sure where we want to go with it. As it is, there's something to start with/work with.

A SUGGESTION TO THE MAN: Could we add a little alumni section on the left column, equipped with fitting descriptions, or are we not worthy now that we are gone?

Hey, Hey, the Gang's all Here
As of last night, all of this year's Beatniks are now in residence. Phil and Wazoo are snug in their little room, and Bjorn finally showed up in the dead of night.

Today truly is an occasion, as we are all here, Mars is close, and Sato is 21. Come on over for the festivities.

Blah...I hate packing. You guys who just moved IN to the Beat are so lucky...don't have to worry about that for another year.

A BEAT MANIFESTO: I'd like to wish all those still in the house a successful senior year.

At the risk of sounding like a ridiculous alumnus, I offer the following thoughts about how life at the Beat could get even better (btw, thanks to everyone: despite any troubles, it was a lot of fun living at the Beat with y'all):

*Study more, pray more, clean more, party more.*

That's pretty much my advice to y'all. You'll get more out of the house and more out of your senior year. The times when I was doing such things with consistency (as opposed to here and there, when my life and the Collegian would let me) were the best. And now, in retrospect, I wish I could do so with even more practiced dedication.

More could be said about how and why these things help, and in what way they should be balanced, but I imagine everyone at the Beat has the wisdom and experience to intuit the proper relation of one cause to another (to borrow from Aristotle). Many people will tell you to make sure you "don't waste your senior year," or "to treasure it, because it goes by so quickly," all of which is true and good. But I'll couch things in a bit more helpful terms (at least they have been for me this summer). Adopt the motto of St. Anthony when it comes to planning, organizing, and living your weeks and months: live as though dying daily.

Live as though dying daily.

If you possess such a mindset, then the studying, the prayer, the cleaning, and, yes, even the partying, will fall into a regulated and inspiring pattern.

Keep me in your prayers. May the Lord, through the prayers of His Mother, protect you, and grant you all things needful for health and salvation.

A gallant effort there Prosp3ct...but it didn't help...this time we have ads for Wood Floor Cleaner (the Special Safe Streak Free Formula) and for Soien Wood Oil Soap. The funny thing is, the Beat doesn't even HAVE any real wood floors. Oh well.

Here is a link for us all to examine. A competitor to us here at BeatBlog...A blog called "The Beat"

To my mind, it can't hold a candle to us.

Incidental thanks to Mr. G. Konrad LaPrade for pointing it out to me.

Well, what do you expect? If you center a blog around a house, you get house stuff. Though you'd think we'd get some ads recognizing Wazoo's bad rug poem early on in the life of the blog. You know: "World's worst poetry here--come and be nauseated!" Or something like that.

In other news, Seraphim pointed out to me the other day that my summer room in his parent's house is the same as my room at the Beat...junk piled high against all the walls, but a clear floor in the center of the room. It appears I like it that way. But fear not--the Guggian ways will soon change--for blessed matrimony looms, with the Valedictorian of the Class of 2003 and the world's greatest Neatnik. A Beatnik and a Neatnik...a match made in heaven. Or in a dirty kitchen. Which brings up a little word to the wise. Dish washing is a very romantic activity if a man has in mind to woo a woman well. And competence at wiping a table will make her swoon. Almost.

Try it...it really works.

Kind of sad that BlogSpot's context-sensitive ads yielded the following for this blog:
"Whirlpool Tubs: Low Prices & Free Shipping. Great Selection - Luxury Brands. Kitchen Sink: Large Selection of Kitchen Sinks. Get Your Home Project Done Right. Related Searches: house cleaning, bathtub, dishwasher repairs." Wonder what most of our posts are about.
W.

This probably should have gone up earlier, but news in the Beat world is Beatnik-to-be Phil Koerner is now engaged to his Italian-German girlfriend, Paola. So, as much as it freaks me out, props to Phil, and there will be much teasing in the fall, rest assured.
W.

YIKES: Where be everyone? Anyway, I just wanted to point y'all toward my blog, wherein I recount a highly scandalous and sinful deed: the shaving of Mr. Gugg's entire beard by his very hand! It is worse than Tullia's offense. ;-)

ADIEU: The Beat is now empty—and relatively clean (no thanks to y'all). ;-) Perhaps as atonement, perhaps because of senior love, the Gugg and I cleaned out the house yesterday and today, delivering a whopping 22 big black bags full of trash to Hillsdale's stinky dump. I also cleaned up the kitchen and emptied the fridge, which was left in a narsty state, to wit:

1) I threw away at least 5 tubs of "Cool Whip"-like things, 2 of which were full (and very old). (Ahem, Sato).

2) In the very back, I discovered a half-full liter of vitamin D milk. I yanked it out and held it upside down over the sink, as I had done to the 3 or 4 other containers holding varying amounts of liquid. Huge chunks of milk squares splatted into the sink. I checked the expiration date: Dec 5, 2002. (Ahem, Sato).

3) Mr. and Mrs. Gugg threw out a number of eggs sitting in a carton that had expired in November. (Ahem, I dunno: mebe Sato, but definitely not me).

4) About half way through the middle shelf I found an old ice cream tub. "Weird," I thought, "what's this doing in the fridge?" I opened it up to find the leftovers of Will's excellent South American rice/bean glop. Unfortunately, the grainy, mushy substance had acquired a massive culture of equally grainy, mushy, fuzzy mold. (Ahem, Will).

In short, there were two big black bags full of food-like items, most of which were quite old, many of which had some "cultures," a few of which were basically empty. The fridge still needs a wipe down, but at least it won't be the fetid home of the world's most effective science experiment by the time August rolls around.

Btw, for future reference: It is not a good idea to move the trash behind the house if you want to get "rid" of it in time for a party. It may make the house look cleaner, but the other side of the back does not have a gutter, which means that all of the water from that side of the roof pours into the trash cans for two weeks, soaking the trash and creating a tremendously disgusting quagmire of soggy bread, smelly, expired food products and used tissues. (Ahem, Wazoo).

As I said, dear ones, the Gugg and I had quite a time. Consider it our senior gift to the house. And with that, adieu!

Some pics from the toga party are up on my site. http://faintinggoat.prwdot.org/toga No html to accompany them yet, and most of the files are pretty big (about 1.2 megs), so be forewarned.

STOLEN FROM SILLIMAN: I took this from Silliman's away message. I thought it rather fitting for this venue.

"A cap of good acid costs five dollars and for that you can hear the Universal Symphony with God singing solo and the Holy Ghost on drums." said Hunter S. Thompson to William F. Buckley, who added: "Though one should be prepared to vomit rather frequently and disport with pink elephants and assorted grotesqueries while trying, often unsuccessfully, to make one's way to the toilet."

Well, the toga party seemed to be quite the success. There were about fifteen of us betoga'd. Though all were regaled in classical attire, it cannot be denied that the resplendent Nik glided through the party as a shimmering Greek goddess among mere mortals. I'm sure all of you who saw her will agree, and if you did not, well, your loss, I must say. In other respects it was a good time, too. Silliman delivered a crushing defeat of Sato. The furniture flamed and the dancing bodies flailed. I shaved my body and coated my oh-so-white self in lustrous olive oil. Caleb, Wazoo, Mitchell and Seraphim nearly caught themselves on fire. The police told us we were violating open burning laws. Stack tried to seduce Krupa. Metzger was monitoring the student population. Tom improvised a denim toga. Silliman told the world what he really thought of it. Lampshades became apparel. Prosp3ct miraculously turned wine into spicy grape juice. Mr. Gugg donned the infamous Party Jacket. Danck brandished his "Photon Light" gun. All in all, an enjoyable time. Pics should be up on my website soon enough.

Due to some... interesting ShoutOuts, I had to delete this post. But, here it is again, from the Gugger:

Here is the first episode of BeatNotes, from me. It's fairly disturbing, so consider this a warning and disclaimer, all ye of tender disposition.

I am sitting at Prosp3ct's computer as various others have what they themselves describe as an "orgy" on the bed.... I'm not sure what they're doing, but only Prosp3ct is drinking, which makes me question the truly orgical nature of the event. But somehow it involves tickling, taking ones socks off, strange cuddling and seeing how many people can fit on one small bed. It's very strange.

I now only have one shoe and sock on, and everyone is laughing. Methinks it is ridiculous. But anyway--they are also listening to strange music. I'm not quite sure how this qualifies as an orgy (as I said before), but it is certainly not something one might see anywhere, or any day. So come to the Beat. The Orgy is ongoing.

But I'm not involved. Nothing of this sort happens to happen in MY room, let it be known once and for all.

I'm going to go study Greek now.

OHHHH BABY: The long-awaited piece in the Collegian about the Beat is here. Check it out. Unfortunately, the pic of us burning the sofa isn't on the Web site.

Sigh.