Why did I write this omg.
Not too long ago, I was traversing a dreamscape which, only naturally, was mired in spaghetti. It was different from the dreamscape you are in now, but we shall address that difference at a later time. For now, let’s just say that you and I are similar enough in essence to know and have knowledge that spaghetti dreams shan’t be interrupted, but ’tis their fate nonetheless. Here is how my dream about spaghetti was interrupted:
At around 4:33AM, the near 180 occupants of HiRise were woken up by a fire alarm so bone-crushing that it made me doubt physical reality. Or, I was just tired as fuck. Whatever. At least one person seemed to be thinking logically about the snafu:
only three boys didn’t manage to find their shirts. there are so many boys. so few without shirts. life is suffering
— jackson barnett (@jacksonbarnett) September 13, 2016
In short, everyone and everything is fine. There was no fire or smoke anywhere, and we all went back in within 15 minutes. But, before I went back to sleep, I made sure some #real #fucking #journalism went down, and have ruled out, through exhaustive verification, these 10 potential culprits off your blame list for the fire alarm:
- Michael Roth being nice.
- Tom Hanks’ sizzling physique.
- Someone having really kinky sex—with candles.
- The mixtape.
- Someone smoking Marijuana, aka the Substance of Satan
- A spontaneously-combusting copy of Infinite Jest. Inb4: Watch this not-so-spontaneous combustion of IJ:
- The fiery soul of the Wesleyan anarchist
- The fiery shits of the Summies quesadilla-eater
- The incendiary ideology behind “Why Liberal Education Matters”