Two Classy Gents

The Official TCG Archives

2008-01-18T13:38:00.000-08:00

This is The Worst Opinion Column of All Time, originally published October 17, 2005
Rumor Patrol: Is Cal Poly Really Moving To Oakland? originally published October 24, 2005
Top 5 Classy Places To Make Love At Cal Poly, originally published October 31, 2005
We Gave President Baker That Raise, originally published November 7, 2005
Scientology=Awesometology, originally published November 14, 2005
Goth People: Get Over It, originally published November 21, 2005
A Lengthy And Thorough Symposium In Regards To The Recent Discussions Of The San Luis Obispo System Of Public Transit, originally published November 28, 2005
We're Calling Out You, UFC Champion, originally published January 13, 2006
Musty The Mustang: An Expose, originally published January 20, 2006
Rumor Patrol: Was That Pete Sampras On Campus? originally published January 27, 2006
Hometown Buffet: Why Are You So Good? originally published February 3, 2006
We Felt Awkward At Campus Crusade, originally published February 10, 2006
President Baker: Please Return Our Pimp Goblet, originally published February 24, 2006
Learn By Doing (Cocaine), originally published March 3, 2006
Report: Gents Fake Classiness, originally published March 10, 2006
Bring Back Jack Ingram, originally published April 7, 2006
Wait, OJ Killed Someone? originally published April 14, 2006
Box Office Blockbusters: Da Vinci Code vs Snakes On A Plane, originally published April 21, 2006
Arbor Day Is For Pinkos, originally published April 28, 2006
Rumor Patrol: We had Sex With Nicky Hilton, originally published May 5, 2006
We Parked In The ASI President's Parking Spot, originally published May 12, 2006
Reasons Why David Blaine Does Things, originally published May 19, 2006
A Cry For Help, originally published May 26, 2006
Letters To The Two Classy Gents, originally published June 2, 2006

Letters To The Two Classy Gents

2008-01-18T13:28:00.001-08:00

Well, faithful Mustang Daily reader, our glorious run has come to an end. We’ve had a lot of laughs, but more importantly, we’ve all learned something. For one thing, calling out the UFC champion? Bad idea. But we don’t take it back.

With that said, we’ve received a lot of letters from you, despite never giving you any way to contact us. We promise that our answers will be truthful and much better than the answers you get from John Edwards.

My wife and I were wondering, Is there really a Porn Room in the library, like you guys said in “Top 5 Classy Places To Make Love At Cal Poly”? We’ve looked all over for it, and the librarians think we’re nuts! Todd and Mary Stevenson, Portland, Maine

Good question, Todd and Mary. We thought our hints were explicit enough, but if you need a little more help, there is a map hidden within the Dan Brown Leatherbound Selection area on the fourth floor of the library. Good luck!

What’s the deal with your obsession with Warren Baker? It’s weird. Warren Baker, Atascadero, California

It’s threefold, Warren. First, we got him a raise, and he didn’t do anything to thank us. Second, he stole our pimp goblet. Third, he started the trucker hat phenomenon, and we resent him for that.

What’s the secret to making a great Chef’s Salad? Jennifer Weathers-Crudup, Phoenix, Arizona

It’s simple. Lots of ham.

There’s a lot of theories being thrown around, but who do you guys really think will win the Stanley Cup? Tell me it’s not the Ducks. Roy Lunch, Alberta, Canada

Well Roy, the season sure has been turbulent, but the NHL has really bounced back. After the Sharks blew that 2-0 lead against the Oilers, anything can happen. Carolina’s surprised a lot of people, and Buffalo’s goaltending is dominating, but if you want to know our pick, the smart money’s on the Clippers.

I’ve heard a lot of people talk about how funny and good-looking you are. I just wanted to say that. Bob van Helsing, Topeka, Kansas

Wow, that’s really nice. Thank you.

Are you guys really classy? When you got bribed by Hometown Buffet, I thought that was really uncouth. Tupac Smith, Madison, Wisconsin

Look, punk, when you get a degree in Classiness from ITT Tech, and you put your accreditation on the wall, you can talk to us about what is classy and what isn’t classy. And FYI: You’re not classy.

Are you guys really dead? Jeffrey Davies, West Lansing, Michigan.

Yes. And so is Paul.

I just want to hear you guys talk about anything. At random. Stephanie Winthrop, Oakland, California

We’re glad you asked that, Stephanie. We’ve been waiting to pick something to talk about. All these letters are pretty stupid, and we’ve been waiting for a badass letter this whole time.

By far, our favorite movie is “Three Men and a Baby.” However, we have a problem with Ted Danson. We believe he shouldn’t exist. Therefore, we are putting in a request to enhance the movie by digitally replacing Ted Danson with Steve Buscemi. Clearly, the Selleck-Guttenberg-Buscemi trio would blow people’s minds out of their f*cking heads.

To end things off, we’ll leave you with a quote from us.

“2 Kewl 2 Be 4gotten.”

-TCG

Classy: Us.

Uncouth: The three sworn enemies of the Two Classy Gents, in no particular order: Wayne Gretzky, Warren Baker, and The Monopoly Man.

A Cry For Help

2008-01-18T13:27:00.002-08:00

Dear Faithful Mustang Daily Reader,

You wouldn’t believe everything that’s happened to us lately. We haven’t spoken in oh, so long, and we feel like we’ve lost touch with each other. The drunken text messages went a little overboard (NO, YOU GO F*CK YOURSELF!), but hey, that’s what love is all about.

Just catching you up on things: Doug got a haircut. But that was a couple months ago, and his hair has grown back since. He thought about donating all his hair to a cancer organization, but he was a bastard and hoarded it all. Mike thought about becoming an astronaut. I know-crazy, huh? But he decided not to ‘cause he just loves earth food, and he thinks astronaut ice cream tastes like sh*t. And the weather! You wouldn’t believe how God has blessed us with this beautiful sunshine. You know what it feels like? It feels like that first Lord of the Rings movie, right at the beginning when everyone was happy in the Shire. Oh, and we’re probably gonna commit suicide.

We know, it’s our first time. It felt a little awkward bringing it up, but you know, that’s how life goes (or ends!).

Hopefully, this isn’t a bad time for you. Finals week is coming up in two weeks, and you don’t want to start your summer off on a bad note. But we promise the suicide won’t be bloody. In fact, we’ve already gone to Sears and purchased some fantastic “I’m F*cking Dead” cards to send out to everyone, and you guessed it, they’re embossed.

But what about you? How have you been doing? Reading the paper, I see? Well, you better watch out for today’s sudoku, because it’s a real doozy!

If you’re wondering about our final column next week, well, we’ll be dead, so we hope you enjoy it! In order to maintain our status as professionals, we have already written, edited, and final drafted the entire column. It might not be as topical as we’d liked, as we will have been dead for almost a week.

Oh, and if it isn’t too much to ask, we need you to run a couple errands for us. First, we need our lawn watered really bad. It is quite brown. Secondly, please leave nice comments on our Facebook profiles after we “pass on.” The last thing, and we know it’s kind of a lot to ask for, but if you could punch Wayne Gretzky in the balls, that’d be great. He knows why.

By the way, we are terminally ill with Lou Gehrig’s Disease and it is extroadinarily painful. That is pretty much the major reason for us committing suicide. Don’t think we’re goth or anything.

Thanks,

TCG

Classy: If you could just punch Gretzky again in the balls, that’d be great.

Uncouth: Jack Ingram committing suicide. Don’t do it Jack, there’s still something to live for!

Reasons Why David Blaine Does Things

2008-01-18T13:27:00.001-08:00

Last week, “magician” David Blaine performed a stunt that required him to stay in an aquarium for over a week and end with an attempt to hold his breath longer than any other human in history. Bravo, David. Now, let’s see some actual magic. We want to see you pull a rabbit out of your hat, or saw a hooker in half, or impregnate someone in a hot tub while sitting five feet away.

Since we’re so confused about why you do anything, ever, we’re going to provide some valid reasons for staying in an aquarium for a week, just in case it gets brought up in a future conversation.

Avoiding Child Support. This isn’t necessarily your first option, David. We agree; children suck and aren’t very smart. Why should you use your hard-earned magician dollars to support some kid who wants to “eat” or “use clothing on a daily basis”? Spoiled brats.

An Attempt To Be Magical. Maybe you were going to do something magical and you just forgot. Remember, the definition of magic is to trick people, and you did, in fact, trick people by claiming to be a magician.

An Attempt To Answer Scientific Questions. Can humans become raisins? How small can a man’s penis get when submerged in aquarium water for over a week?

A Drunk Dare Gone Awry. People tend to do stupid things when drunk, like passing out in the neighbor’s living room, mistaking a tranny for a woman, or parting the Red Sea. This is just another one of those situations: having to live in an aquarium for a week.

You Really Like The Movie Waterworld. We also thought that dirt would be legitimate currency in the future. Or maybe it was Dennis Hopper’s amazing acting skills, or that scene where Kevin Costner drank his own urine. These are all legitimate reasons to live in an aquarium for a week.

You Didn’t Want To See Bonds Hit No. 715. Joke’s on you!

You Ate a Burrito, And, Well. . . Chemistry takes over at a certain point in the digestive system when beans are involved. Simply say “It wasn’t me,” then go live in an aquarium for a week.

You Heard Some Guy Say “If You Live In An Aquarium For A Week, You Become President”. If we heard a guy say that, we’d probably live in an aquarium for a week too.

It Could Get You Chicks. We’re not sure how, but that’s usually a good reason to do something stupid. Quote from a dumb girl watching you: “I heard things get bigger in water, so I bet his penis isn’t small, but really, really big.”

All right David Blaine, you’ve inspired us to become pretend magicians as well. We’ll be performing the following death-defying stunts in the near future: “Threatening the President of the School,” “Using Keyboard Shortcuts on Microsoft Word,” and “Checking Out a Chick’s Ass.”

Classy: Read “The Da Vinci Code,” or go see the movie of “The Da Vinci Code,” or go on a “Da Vinci Code” tour, or watch the Discovery Channel special on “The Da Vinci Code,” and also the History Channel special with the same name, or burn money.

Uncouth: Drinking your own pee. We’ve heard of golden showers before, but a golden mouthwash? Ridiculous.

We parked in the ASI Presiden't Parking Spot

2008-01-18T13:25:00.000-08:00

The Two Classy Gents had a rough week. First of all, someone gave us a fashion memo that said wearing Birkenstocks with socks apparently isn't cool, causing us to discard our entire wardrobe. Then we heard that burning Styrofoam depletes the ozone layer, so we had to put out our giant Styrofoam fire. Finally, we looked at the ASI ballot, and the Two Classy Gents were not listed. Something had to be done.

That something was parking in the ASI President's parking spot. Yes, we were a bit jealous of him getting a spot so prime that the Pope would've parked his Popemobile there. But it felt good too. It felt like we had total control over all of the school, and that we could put chocolate milk in the drinking fountains and have Pizza Day every Wednesday.

Maybe you're thinking that there are probably a lot of fines associated with such an action. But we'll tell you what: we got away with it, and we'd even do it again. However, we would not perform the act three times, because that's just pushing it. We also had to kill a guy and flee the country, but we got away.

You might ask yourself, faithful Mustang Daily reader, did they back up into the parking spot? Oh, perhaps they could have parallel parked. No, we did neither. We parked sideways, and partially in a handicapped spot. However, we spoke with the handicapped gentleman who was about to use the spot and he said it was okay to do, and he even admitted that it looked sort of cool.

We might have not moved our car for five minutes. Maybe ten minutes. Who knows? It could still be there as you're reading this article. But we don't care, no, we don't even vote for ASI President. The last time we voted for anything was Coke being better than Pepsi, and damnit, Pepsi won that battle. We also voted against brushing your teeth, but the dentists won that time too. But that's only because we're British.

We heard that Tylor was mad about the situation, but then we thought "Boy, that name sure is spelled weird." So overall, we didn't care.

So here's the deal. If you think you're badass like us, and you can handle the fuzz comin' down hard on you, then we'll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Promise? K. It's behind Building 45 and-

Wait, you told your friend? That's it, we're ending this column.

Classy: The Popemobile. It's protected from bullets, and you can squeeze a lot of hotties in there.

Uncouth: Stabbing People. Think about the Golden Rule: would you want to be stabbed? If so, you are weird.

Rumor Patrol: We Had Sex With Nicky Hilton

2008-01-18T13:24:00.000-08:00

The Rumor Patrol would like to say one thing: this is definitely not a rumor. The Rumor Patrol definitely had sex with Nicky Hilton. We were there; we saw it. Well, we saw most of it. It was dark and we were occasionally blindfolded. It wasn’t so much that we really wanted to have sex with Nicky Hilton, but we just needed to prove a point. A meaty point!

We want to get things straight with you, faithful Mustang Daily reader. You may not be aware of this, but an important part of being classy involves being sensitive enough to cry at wussy chick movies. The Two Classy Gents are two of the most sensitive guys out there, along with Dashboard Confessional (we don’t care to know his name) and the Bounty Man. Why do you think his paper towels are so absorbent?

We also can’t stand the world being full of lonely people, and we wanted to do something to help the community out. So when we saw the tremendously rich hotel heiress Nicky Hilton looking down, with no regard for ourselves, we went over to console her.

But also, we needed cash, and fast. The problem with being so sensitive is that it has a direct link to the amount we pay in child support every month, so we decided to make a withdrawal and a deposit at the same time. We knew that the Hiltons were loaded, and not just in venereal disease.

Nicky Hilton sure needed a good dose of Manlove, and the only way the we could perform this procedure was with fireman hats. You might be asking yourself, how did the Two Classy Gents make their way into a room at the Hilton? Well, it went something like this:

TCG: Heeeyyyyyy.

Nicky Hilton: What?

TCG: Don’t be coy.

Nicky Hilton: I’m not coy. I’m dumb.

TCG: Hey, do you have a microwave we can stick these Hot Pockets in?

Nicky Hilton: Mmm, I love meat.

Luckily, there wasn’t much conversation to be had the rest of the night.

Did you say you wanted juicy, sordid details about our hot sex romp? Well, this is a family newspaper, pervert, and there’s probably some innocent freshman who’s never even gotten a blumpkin before. We’re also gentlemen, and although there wasn’t much kissing, we don’t kiss and tell.

In conclusion, the whole experience was about a C+.

Classy: Performing the following maneuvers: The Hot Lunch, The Cold Lunch, The William “The Refrigerator” Perry, The Cleveland Steamer, The Boston Steamer, The Hunter Gatherer, and finally, The Bullwinkle. FYI: these are all different types of yoga stretches, and they are great for the body. Just don’t Google them.

Uncouth: Not making a "Paris Hilton is a slut" joke. Whoops!

Arbor Day Is For Pinkos

2008-01-18T13:22:00.000-08:00

Have you noticed that the pungent stench of nature is a little stronger today than it was yesterday? That’s because today is Arbor Day, a filthy holiday celebrated by filthy people. Traditionally, an Arbor Day celebration consists of planting a tree in any location, or for art majors, planting some magic in the ground (that’s a bud seed for you squares). But wait, faithful Mustang Daily reader, don’t let radical left-wing fringe groups like Greenpeace, the Dallas Cowboys, or China (the country) tell you what to plant, because all they’re doing is growing the ideals of communism in your Freedom Brain.

Karl Marx once said, “The only thing better than sitting under a giant oak tree is reading my book, The Communist Manifesto, now available at Crown Books everywhere.” He later went on to explain the ideals of communism, illustrated by his use of the “Red” wood. “The trunk of the all-powerful Red wood represents the governmental structure, and the thousands of leaves upon the branches of economic equality represent the glorious proletariat.”We’ll tell you what, the Two Classy Gents are sick of all this pinko talk, and we’re gonna let freedom ring by the roar of the chainsaw.

Trees affect society on a daily basis, seen most notably in urban locales like San Francisco and New York. Thousands of homeless people beg for change, scare you from bushes, and smell bad, bringing the potential of an effulgent human civilization down to the filthy grounds they sleep on. These cities which feature large parks breed homeless people, literally. It’s been proven by science: trees are in parks, and parks have homeless people in them. Our suggestion: cut down every tree you see and use the wood to build some badass nunchucks to beat up hippies.

Our major problems with trees are not only hobo-related. Trees are the laziest life form on the earth, and photosynthesis is not an excuse. If you want to see trees in action, simply watch the second installment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. In this film, trees can be seen kicking ass and taking names, and shortly thereafter puffing on some peace pipes. These trees are badass, and Mother Nature should take note.

Trees are only useful when they’re dead. Fifteen hundred trees are chopped down daily to create the Mustang Daily. For our article alone, 2.7 rainforests have been eliminated in Guatemala to create a synthesis of slightly witty puns (see pp. 2 sent. 2) and random pop-culture references. Also, log cabins are pretty badass and usually, pretty badass people live in them.

We’re sick of hippies, gypsies, and wusses alike complaining about things in general. We think things are going pretty badass, and the only way they’re gonna get cooler is by cutting down some trees. If Marx illustrated the usefulness of communism through trees, and communism has failed miserably, then we can say, with the aid of science, that trees will lead to our demise.

Earth Day, you’re next.

Classy: Calling things badass, but only if you’re a badass.

Uncouth: The Eye Of Sauron, for Being A Voyeuristic Pervert

Box Office Blockbusters: Da Vinci Code vs Snakes on a Plane

2008-01-18T13:21:00.003-08:00

As you may or may not be aware, faithful Mustang Daily reader, the Two Classy Gents often get a chance to sample cinema’s finer pleasures weeks or even months before they come out. Perhaps you are asking, “Who are you to compare the two best movies of the year? Who do you think you are, Gene Siskel?” Look, if Ben Affleck won an Oscar, we can do whatever we want. Also, we’re better than Siskel because we’re alive and he’s dead.

This week, we previewed movies about our two favorite topics: snakes and Dan Brown.

If you haven’t seen previews for either of these movies, we will sum up the major plot points of each film. The Da Vinci Code is based on a popular novel written by the Shakespeare of our time, Dan Brown. Amidst church conspiracies and religious fantacism, one man must uncover the secret truth of Jesus’ bloodline. In Snakes On A Plane, there is a plane, and it’s full of snakes.

Cast Credibility

The Da Vinci Code is headlined by an all-star cast which includes two-time Oscar winner Tom Hanks, the beautiful Audrey Tautou, the accomplished Ian McKellan, and a most-likely-to-be-evil-in-this-movie Alfred Molina. Snakes On A Plane features the always-pissed-about-things Samuel L. Jackson, and people who might have appear as extras in the Cinemax After-Dark line of films.

Advantage: Da Vinci Code

Screenplay

We noted above that the Da Vinci Code is based upon a book written by acclaimed writer, theorist, and also alchemist Dan Brown. Dan Brown’s book truly turns the film adaptation into pure gold. He put a lot of work into the book, and although he didn’t write it (or so reports say), it is great nonetheless. “Snakes On A Plane,” however, was adapted from the Goosebumps novel “Snakes In My Locker!” Since these are the two most popular books Cal Poly students have read, and in many cases the only books, moviegoers should feel free to reacquainte themselves with them before the film.

Advantage: Da Vinci Code

Number of Snakes

Let’s start of by saying there are a lot of snakes in “Snakes On A Plane.” However, upon closer inspection, the film editors have cleverly re-used the same snake in all scenes involving a snake. The Da Vinci Code also has one snake, but it’s a lot bigger, and it appears in Tom Hanks’ pants.

Advantage: Tom Hanks’ Penis

Length of Movie

The Two Classy Gents are fans of movies on the shorter end, with plotlines like “Will She Buy The Minivan” or “Don’t Get Herpes Please.” We’re sad to say that The Da Vinci Code is over six hours long, though we understand because every one of Dan Brown’s words are read by either actors or Morgan Freeman’s riveting narration. Snakes On A Plane takes the original trailer from the movie and re-edits it, with an ending that promotes the sequel of the film, “Snakes on Air Force One.” The sequel features the original “Air Force One” movie, re-edited with enhanced snake graphics.

Advantage: Snakes On A Plane

Classy: TomKat’s baby, because we heard it’s part of L. Ron Hubbard’s secret bloodline. Note: this movie will be made when everyone converts to Scientology. Get crackin’ disciples!

Uncouth: Jesus' secret bloodline, because it's a secret and you weren't supposed to tell anyone, stupid!

Wait, OJ Killed Someone?

2008-01-18T13:21:00.001-08:00

When did that happen? 1995? Are you serious? Oh, you’re dead serious? Is that a pun? Alright Mr. Funny Guy, stop joking around. It’s really not funny anymore. You’re talking about our hero here. We don’t make Jesus jokes to your face. Okay, that one time. But we didn’t know if you were Christian and we had to find out.

Are we talking about the same OJ? He was on the Bills, right? Yeah, he used to slash through defensive backs mercilessly. He even has a Heisman Trophy from his days at USC. This guy ruled at football! Not only that, but he was a great actor. He was the first real triple threat. Think about it: acting, football, and, wait, we have to think of a third way in which he’s a threat. Maybe, like, being cool all the time. 24/7 baby!

You don’t believe us now? Well, looks like the tables have turned, my friend. Perhaps you recall a little film called Naked Gun 33 1/3, or another blockbuster called That Hertz Commercial. There’s lots you don’t know about OJ, my friend. Do you know his favorite color? It’s red. Blood red.

Wait, his real first name is Orenthal? What a stupid name. We thought he was named after juice, which is why his nickname was The Juice.

Okay, so who did he kill? No way. NO WAY. I thought OJ and Nicole were the next Nick and Jessica. Wait, not only did Nick and Jessica break up, but OJ killed his wife? You’re shattering my sense of reality. I’m sure your next piece of gossip is gonna be that Brad and Jen broke up. Psshhh, whatever.

And there was ANOTHER dude? So this means Nicole was probably cheating on OJ Simpson, Heisman Trophy winner. Wow, we’re really just, stunned, right now. Let’s just pull this up on Google. (Humming and typing) See!? We knew he didn’t kill anyone! It says it right here, “Not Guilty.” How do you counter that doozy?

HE TRIED RUNNING AWAY IN A BRONCO? Shut the ---- up! The gas mileage is awful on that vehicle. He couldn’t even get to Atascadero from here.

And now you’re saying he threw away his own bloody glove at the crime scene? Okay, I see two major problems with that piece of information. First off, gloves are very useful for many household chores, so why would you throw one away? Second, if you felt you had to throw away a glove, wouldn’t you throw away the glove it came with too? It’s just common sense.

Wait, then what? What’s a civil case? They can’t do that! What more information could they pull up? They already had a frickin’ case! And they took away his possessions and sold his Heisman Trophy to some jerkoff from the Valley? How dare they!

Oh, well, thank God he’s not in jail. Let’s see what he’s up to now. We’ll just Facebook him. (Humming and typing) Oh, he’s a grad student at North Carolina State. Let’s just look under interests. Well, well. “Finding the real killers.” We told you! GAME OVER

Classy: Norm MacDonald, for keeping alive the OJ joke tradition.

Uncouth: Horatio Sanz, for keeping alive the tradition of ruining sketch comedy

Bring Back Jack Ingram

2008-01-18T13:20:00.000-08:00

Bring Back Jack Ingram!

Every Tuesday, we used to open up the Mustang Daily, trembling with anticipation. Just like a Golden Ticket, there lies Jack Ingram’s wonderful “Soapbox Diaries.” We’ve read the Diary of Anne Frank, and this is a much better diary. We’d get all excited and call our mothers, making sure to read every word of his column with precision and love. For this, we thank Jack Ingram. Without his column, we surely would not call our mothers.

So imagine our horror to discover that Jack Ingram had finally embarked upon a religious pilgrimage to Mecca. We felt an enormous sense of loss, like the last episode of Friends, and there was no Joey coming to bail us out.

Faithful Mustang Daily reader, this is much worse than Kurt Cobain’s death. If Jack Ingram were to kill himself (JACK INGRAM PLEASE DO NOT KILL YOURSELF), he certainly would not shoot himself, because that would make a mess and Jack Ingram is a very sanitary person. Also, if Jack Ingram were to date humans and not fellow demigods, he certainly would not go steady with Courtney Love. Note: Romans did believe Courtney Love was the God of Whoring.

Hey Jack Ingram, sir, we have a deal for you. Not only is the Mustang Daily willing to give you your column back, but we’ll offer to publish your article in place of ours every other week. We know that we’re the Friday column and that doesn’t carry the cachet of Tuesday, but it’s the best we can do. This way, you can receive 1.5 times the number of Letters to the Editor towards which you can dedicate your column.

However, we are a bit apprehensive about Jack Ingram being in the paper again. Make no mistake, faithful Mustang Daily reader, we want Jack Ingram back. But having devoted so many words here to Jack Ingram, we’re worried about the way he swiftly cuts down all opposed to him, like a Zorro of words, or, like, WordZorro. He can also use the word Bulls---, which we obviously cannot (See that censorship? We didn’t do that).

Historically, Jack Ingram is a very significant figure. Prior to the Napoleonic Era, Jack Ingram visited Italy, made a meatball joke, and destroyed the entire culture. Let’s be clear: this is a very powerful man. If Jerry Bruckheimer were to make a movie about Jack Ingram, it wouldn’t be completed, because Jack Ingram would be there to make critical comments on what Bruckheimer didn’t do in the movie.

Our relationship with Jack Ingram has the possibility of being really complex, if only he would return our calls. Think about it this way: Wayne Gretzky is to gambling as we are to Jack Ingram. Gambling is fun and Wayne Gretzky loves it a little too much.

Oh, he didn’t go on a pilgrimage? We were just looking on the wrong page? That’s just a load of bulls---.

Classy: Spring Break ‘06 in Cancun! Surprisingly, a much lower syphilis rate than one would think.

Uncouth: The Enlightenment, for being one huge taint

Report: Gents Fake Classiness

2008-01-18T13:19:00.003-08:00

(Note to Faithful Mustang Daily reader: We at the Mustang Daily offices recently unearthed this article about the Two “Classy” Gents, The Honorable Douglas B. Bruzzone and Michael Matzke, MD. Consequently, we are reviewing their qualifications as columnists.)

-The Associated Press, March 4, 2003

A mysterious report which came out Tuesday claims that the two classy gentlemen, as self-described, galavanting around the streets of San Luis Obispo are “not classy,” and on the brink of “uncouth,” according to unnamed sources.

The two gentlemen in question, one a doctor, the other a judge, parade around Garden St. in monocles and tophats. However, these unnamed sources claim that the tophats are fashioned out of old oatmeal boxes and the monocles are, in fact, used prophylactics. City Council member Patrick Monohan is not pleased with the situation.

“Vile and disgusting,” Monohan said during a press briefing. “I’ve introduced legislation to legalize lynching, lynch Mike Matzke and Doug Bruzzone, and ban lynching again.” When asked about the social ramification of lynching, Monohan responded, “Shut up, and get out of my front yard.”

During the spring of 1997, the City of San Luis Obispo attempted to renovate the downtown area by implementing “gentlemans of leisure and class” on several city blocks, as well as making thirteen-year-old-girls “hang out” near Downtown Cinemas. However, since the hiring of Mr. Matzke and Mr. Bruzzone, the pair has been nothing but trouble for the city.

One mother claims that the two offered free face painting during Farmer’s Market in 2002, but instead attempted to give children “freaky-ass Mike Tyson face tattoos.”

Additionally, the two gents have been sighted streaking through the Banana Republic, claiming that it is supposedly a “Republic of Bananas and other tropical fruits, like coconuts.” When asked to elaborate, they said “We’re talking about our genitalia.”

According to sources, the two classy gentlemen have claimed to have received Associate’s Degrees in Classiness from ITT Tech. However, upon closer inspection on the school’s website, it appears that ITT Tech does not offer Associate’s Degrees in Classiness, nor any legitimate degree at all. Sources were tipped off by the fact that these two men, one a doctor and the other a judge, would have taken the time and effort to receive degrees in Classiness.

The school had no record of the degrees, and in an informal interview, the “classy” gentlemen acknowledged the information about the degrees was “incorrect.”

Recently, the City Council has taken steps to replace Mr. Matzke and Mr. Bruzzone with local homeless people and gypsies. However, problems arose from their contractual agreement with the city, which extends for an additional two years.

Mr. Matzke and Mr. Bruzzone disregard their contractual agreements. In the future, they plan to write for a school newspaper, anger local celebrities who fight in octagon-shaped things, and promptly get fired after making racist, sexist, and homophobic remarks.

Classy: (censored)

Uncouth:(very censored, in fact, don’t even think about it, because you’ll become ill-tempered and repugnant)

Learn By Doing (Cocaine)

2008-01-18T13:19:00.001-08:00

In celebration of “Designer Drug History Month,” each week we will cover the hippest drug to snort, shoot, or put in your butt. We’ll start off the extravaganza with cocaine, or as more commonly referred to, The Best Way To Meet Kate Moss.

But wait! Safety first! Let’s not be Dangerous Daniels here, faithful Mustang Daily reader. For this all-out, no-holds-barred, stabbing-your-girlfriend-to-death-in-the-Chelsea-Hotel bag of druggie fun, here are some guidelines to abide by:

The More You Know...Get to know your drug dealer. What’s his favorite color? How much money does he have on his person at any given time? What tattoos did he get in prison? Once you build strong inter-druggie relationships, you’ll be able to identify which batch is loaded with fiberglass and which is loaded with tasty, tasty goodness.

Do Not Become Famous. We cannot stress this strongly enough. The paparazzi track your every move, and you will surely succumb to the pressures of fame. Then, once you’re famous, you will die. Remember: fame=fatality. If you still don’t believe us, see Wikipedia entries for: John Belushi, Jim Morrison, Chris Farley, and hopefully soon, Kevin Federline.

Wait To Go Swimming For At Least 30 Minutes. You may think this is an old wives’ tale, but TCG is telling you straight up: it’s not. Also, avoid playing with the safety devices near the pool. Those are designed for the lifeguards that never work there.

The Desert is Awesome! Deserts are hot, boring, and lifeless. But with a bag of Fritos and a fresh bag of snow, you are now on your way to a week of fun. If no desert is readily accessible, there’s surely some dried out lakebeds in your vicinity. And, if you live in San Luis Obispo, drive 30 minutes north. Two words: A-Town!

If You Run For President, Just Lie About It. Facts are stupid. Everyone has their price, and as long as you’re not doing it in a very public vicinity, it’s easy to make sure no one will ever remember this occasion. If you spent all your money on coke, that’s ok. Make the people who are watching you close their eyes. Then, it never happened!

Don’t Die. Pretty much everything you see is going to be imaginary. Don’t freak out, and don’t pet the winged horse you think you see. It’s really a radiator. If life is stressing you out, wash your face with warm water, or even listen to some Coldplay to fall asleep quickly.

Wait, We’re Just Kidding About Our Recommendation of Cocaine. We meant opium. Consult your local 19^th century Chinese magistrate.

Well, that about wraps things up for cocaine. Here’s a preview of next week’s edition of TCG, a binge/tribute to Crystal Meth, in honor of “Designer Drug History Month.”

Pg. 56-“On the other side of the room, my journal magically morphs into a copy of “The Babysitter’s Club.” We sit down, and relate the girl’s personal experiences to our own lives to the tune of graham crackers and hot cocoa.”

Classy: Michael Bay, for winning this year’s Oscar for Best Director. Wait, he’s not even nominated for “The Island”? But, it’s awesome! Well then, Bay wins the TCG award for Best Director. Stupid Oscar.

Uncouth: Oscar. Who even wants a naked man covered in gold anyway?

President Baker: Please Return Our Pimp Goblet

2008-01-18T13:17:00.000-08:00

Dear President Baker,

It’s been a full year since we’ve last spoken. We text messaged you a number of times since last Mardi Gras, and there was that one unfortunate drunk dialing incident last March. Mistakes were made: specifically in your court, sir.

Let’s get to the point, dude. President Baker, please return our pimp goblet. We’re asking you politely the first time. The second time, there will be a rather large dog poop on your porch. And for the third time, we’ll probably ask politely again. However, we will be a little more curt in our phrasing.

In case you were too absent-minded to remember, let us describe the stolen property. It’s gold, and it’s a goblet, and it’s for pimps, and you stole it, President Stealyhands.

Last Mardi Gras, the Two Classy Gents attempted to promote goodwill amongst the police officers of San Luis Obispo County and their visiting peers from an additional 22 counties. After failing, The Two Classy Gents attended a Mardi Gras soiree at a local fraternity. C’mon, you know the one we’re talking about: they have a tanning bed.

Maybe you say we’re lying, and you never stole our pimp goblet. Well, maybe our friend saw you take it, and that’s how we know. Which friend? We’re not telling. (hint: he has at least one eye)

We’ve done a lot for you in the past year. We were single-handedly responsible for your raise (see TCG article: “We Gave President Baker That Raise”) and we dispelled the rumor that you were related to Tracy Morgan. All we want for our services is a little something in return. For example, during Mardi Gras we gave you beads for the appropriate activities. Now we’re just mad.

You know what? You’re not even that great of a President. We can list lots of presidents who are better than you. Like Warren Harding, for starters. You want more, bro? How about Herbert Hoover, or even Andrew Johnson? What about Jeff Goldblum, President of the Jeff Goldblum fan club?

We would think that a man of your stature would be able to afford any number of pimp goblets, including those that do not say “Property of Mike Matzke.” Also, you needed to check the cupboard before you stole our pimp goblet, dude. You could have stolen a keg cup and written “Pimp Goblet” on it; people would have still been impressed.

In closing, we just want our pimp goblet back so we can make this Mardi Gras, according to the San Luis Obispo Police Department, “The Best Non-Rioting Mardi Gras Ever!”

Sincerely,

Two Dudes Who Desperately Want Their Pimp Goblet Back

Classy: Having a pimp goblet.

Uncouth: People that pepper spray at random, in combination with having their dogs maul you.

Rumor Patrol: Was That Pete Sampras On Campus?

2008-01-18T13:16:00.004-08:00

You know when you think you see some kid you knew from high school, but it turns out to be some ugly dude? Well, that happened to us, but it turned out to be professional tennis star Pete Sampras!

As Cal Poly’s officially sanctioned Rumor Patrol, we shall be the first to report that Mr. Sampras not only peruses the halls of Cal Poly, but is in fact a student! You may think to yourself, faithful Mustang Daily reader, what are the Rumor Patrol’s credentials? To you we say this: You’re being very uncouth, and you’re headed for a timeout.

You want to know our credentials? Well, thanks to the Rumor Patrol, they caught that wild bear running around in the business building, and we also predicted that the band playing during UU Hour would be “not that great.”

Last week, on our way for simultaneous tea, crumpets, and skydiving with Rebel Billionaire Richard Branson, a muscular figure slammed into our flowing velour robes, knocking us to the ground. The Two Classy Gents sought an immediate apology; however, as the figure bent to retrieve his papers from the ground, he flexed a four foot round thigh. Could it be professional tennis star Pete Sampras?

If you’re wondering what to do when encountering professional tennis star Pete Sampras, here are a few guidelines:

1. Always carry a tennis racket. Any time is game time for Sampras.

2. Never leave food out. A hungry Sampras is everwilling to ruin a perfectly good picnic.

3. Don’t comment how hot his wife was in “Billy Madison.” He hates it when you do that.

4. If he looks ready to attack, begin flailing your arms wildly. Remember, Sampras is more afraid of you then you are of him. (Note: If Sampras is frothing at the mouth, he is rabid, and your only chance at survival is to play dead)

So we brushed aside the man’s large unibrow, and of course it was Sampras. He noticed us noticing him, and turned to leave. We asked: “What are you doing in our lives, Pete Sampras?” He winked, and with an enigmatic grin, whispered “Saaammprraassss.” And like that, he was gone.

We were wondering why he whispered his own last name, especially since it didn’t answer our question. We headed to the Admissions office, and surely enough, Betsy the secretary informed us that professional tennis star Pete Sampras is a part-time student at Cal Poly. The Rumor Patrol needed a juicier scoop. Betsy let us know that Sampras is enrolled in two classes: pottery and intermediate witchcraft. We thought witchcraft was a little fishy for Sampras to be enrolled in, but Betsy let us know he was working on his backhand.

So there it is, faithful Mustang Daily reader. If you see a man with thighs the thickness of redwoods, and a heart of something richer than gold, like Supergold, then you might have run into professional tennis star Pete Sampras. If the man has two separate eyebrows, smaller legs, but still a heart of Supergold, run for your life, it’s Agassi!

Rumor Patrol out!

Classy: Having a picnic with a loved one. A boner picnic!

Uncouth: The merger of UPN and WB. How will the Gilmore Girls handle this dilemma?

We Felt Awkward at Campus Crusade

2008-01-18T13:16:00.003-08:00

The other day, the Two Classy Gents were sauntering around campus when a horde of freshman girls approached our persons. “What is good?” they asked us. “First off, bunnies,” Doug replied. “No,” the taller girl said, “we meant Jesus-good.” “Well,” Mike said, “probably Jesus.” “Then we suggest you attend one of the Campus Crusade meetings,” the leader replied. So, faithful Mustang Daily reader, the Two Classy Gents crashed that God party. But we didn’t realize how unprepared we really were.

The Two Classy Gents assumed that the breadth of our religious knowledge would prepare us for this momentous event. In the past few months, we have tried being Quakers, Puritans, Scientologists, and very strict Catholics. In one way or another, all of these religions were unsuitable to our classy ways. To study up on our latest attempt at religion, Christianity, we sat down and read the novel “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret,” by Judy Blume. We assumed Margaret finds God in her life, but soon after, we realized Ms. Blume primarily talks about lady bleeding and other similar events.

We arrived promptly at eight o’ clock that Wednesday night at the Chumash Auditorium. Two friendly Christians welcomed us and made us nametags, and we let them know it was our first time attending the epic event of Christ. “That’s soo nice,” the young gentleman replied. “Do you guys have any questions?” Doug asked “What would Jesus do for a Klondike bar?” The Christians were not amused. They were further perturbed when Mike unzipped his hoody to reveal a one-of-a-kind “God is pretty cool, but Frampton rocks!” t-shirt. By the looks of things, the night was headed downhill.

However, the rest of the evening was quite entertaining. Ozzie Smith, Cal Poly alum and Hall of Fame St. Louis Cardinals shortstop, gave a sermon on “What God considers to be awesome.” The Two Classy Gents were excited because they had never seen a sermon before, but were later disappointed after Smith displayed a personal highlight reel that lasted over 45 minutes. Destiny’s Child, the night’s musical act, made up for Smith’s selfish endeavors with a performance of “Bootylicious.”

Overall, we think Christianity is pretty cool. However, there are some topics we can improve upon for the next Campus Crusade meeting:

“Jesus Pen Names”: We were unaware that the following list of terms referred to Jesus: Him, King, Big Baby Jesus, He, Lord, Shaq Daddy.

Sins and Sinners: We could’ve sworn that “Thou Shalt Not Eat Tuna Salad Sandwiches” was from the Bible. And the biggest sinners in our book are the sworn enemies of the Two Classy Gents, President Warren Baker and professional a-hole Wayne Gretzky.

Turn Off Your Cell Phones: Sorry, we had to close a big account. But the only way to hold conference calls are on speakerphone.

Jesus Facts: Does Jesus really eat all the cookies and milk on Christmas Eve? And also, is it okay to text message Jesus during the day for help? Or does that come off as a little gay?

Classy: Bearded fellows, like Jesus and also God.

Uncouth: Satan.

Hometown Buffet, Why Are You So Good?

2008-01-18T13:16:00.001-08:00

We know how this looks, faithful Mustang Daily reader. You think the Two Classy Gents sold out. And while it is true that this column is now sponsored by Hometown Buffet, please understand we would have written this article anyway. In all sincerity, there is no finer dining experience than that grandiose town where everyone knows your name.

When you enter the H-Town, presumably after learning the wait at Tahoe Joe’s is at least 45 minutes (ridiculous!), you are greeted by one of the marginally depressed staff members. Doesn’t this make you happy that you don’t work there? The wage slave will ask what you would like to order, and you really only have one option: the biggest damn buffet this side of Sizzler.

The dining establishment comfortably seats up to 16 of your relatives, or 8 of your really fat relatives. Luckily, the H-Town accommodates more than just your physical needs. It’s open on holidays such as Thanksgiving, Boxing Day (for you hosers!!), and the Winter Solstice. A holiday means it’s your day to do whatever you want, and that includes not cooking for anyone. Besides, it’s your hometown and everyone’s just like family. Feel free to reveal all your innermost secrets just like you drunkenly would at an actual Thanksgiving.

Let’s get this out in the open: the cornbread is amazing. We don’t know what they put in it (black tar heroin?) and we’re a little scared to find out, but we’ll do whatever it takes (fight fatties) to get our piece of that golden bread.

The open bar is outstanding as well. Take your pick from such favorites as Coors, Natural Ice, or Coors Light. And every hour is happy hour!!! Note: Sundays from 3-4 AM is affectionately known as “The Groping Hour.” It’s basically like you have a sign on you that says “Hey, attractive middle-aged women, there’s a hungry man on the loose, and he’s out on the prowl!!!!”

By far, one of the most pleasurable portions of the dining experience is the outstanding music. Here’s how it works. Representatives from the H-Town break into your room prior to your dining experience and upload your entire iTunes library onto the store’s database. Some might find this move creepy, we find it reassuring that a mainstream mom-and-pop restaurant cares this much about the way you live your life.

And talk about entertainment value!!!!! Isn’t it great when they “promptly inform you” that your car is illegally parked in a handicapped spot?! Don’t let your coworkers get a hold of this gold nugget, ’cause you’ll be the talk of the town (H-town) at the water cooler this week!!!!!!

!!!!!HOMETOWN IS ONE BIG LOL!!!!!!!!!

Classy: Now serving STEAK & FRIED SHRIMP 6 and 7 days a week. Enjoy steak and shrimp plus all of our other buffet selections including desserts and beverages for one low price.

Uncouth: Sizzler, because it’s for pagans and jerks.

This Classy/Uncouth addition was sponsored by your local Hometown Buffet.

Musty the Mustang: An Expose

2008-01-18T13:15:00.000-08:00

One of the most enigmatic characters in Cal Poly lore is half wiry teenage body, half artificial horse head. You’ve probably seen him around campus flipping burgers with the other Ag majors during their Friday barbeques or pounding away at differential equations during his Linear Algebra 2 class. But has anyone ever actually taken the time to sit down and talk with him? Well, we did.

Two Classy Gents: Uh . . do you need help getting through that door?

Musty the Mustang: No, I got it. (rustling in background)

(18 minutes pass)

TCG: Can you still give an interview with your head stuck in a doorframe? We’re on a strict time limit; Marc Cuban wants us to go throw rocks at cats with him.

MM: Uunnghhh!

(Thud in background)

MM: Got it!

(Head falls off)

TCG: So Musty, what was your big break?

MM: Back in ‘56, during a Home Economics course, I befriended a portly gentleman by the name of Jonathan Madden. It turned out he was a member of the football team, and he encouraged me to try out for the team. For two seasons I redshirted at nose tackle, until my head grew to an enormous size. At that point, Madden threatened to eat me.

TCG: But you told him if he tried anything, he’d wake up with a horse head in his bed the next morning and he’d be sleeping with the fishes!

MM: That’s not funny.

(Awkward pause)

TCG: Sorry. In People last week, you were on the cover with Flag Boy, with the title reading “Iraq No Longer Matters”. Would you mind telling us about your feud?

MM: Well you know I was hooking up with Hilary Duff, and Flag Boy comes along one day and he’s all “Hey, your boyfriend’s got a horse head,” and she was all “What? I hadn’t noticed that.” and he was all “Well he does” and she was all “That’s not cool,” and then they hooked up.

TCG: Our condolences. Not to dig up more dirty laundry, but weren’t you recently caught with a transvestite prostitute?

MM: The technical term is “she-male”, thank you, and you’re probably thinking of Eddie Murphy.

TCG: No, we’re thinking of you.

MM: Oh yeah...Malaysia.

TCG: Right. We didn’t actually want you to elaborate; we just thought we’d bring it up. Any surprises in store for the upcoming year?

MM: Well, we’re putting the final touches on my debut album Pony Boy. Everyone came in to throw down some tracks. It’s all-star, baby. I’m talkin’ Ja Rule, Will Smith, Billie Holiday, and of course Russell Crowe. All kinds of good stuff.

TCG: Will Smith is actually not “good stuff”.

MM: Oh, I was thinking of DJ Jazzy Jeff.

TCG: To finish off the interview, what’s your favorite curse word?

MM: ******

TCG: Nice. Thank you for your time Mustache El Mustango, as your birth certificate reads. We couldn’t think of a better and more awkward mascot for the school.

Classy: Tom Selleck, for sweeping every acting category at the Golden Globes. We didn’t even know they were still rewarding you for Mr. Baseball, but you deserve it.

Uncouth: The city of San Luis Obispo, for removing Gum Alley. Looks like we’ll have to throw our gum at City Hall now.

We’re Calling Out You, UFC Champion

2008-01-18T12:55:00.000-08:00

Chuck-chuck-bo-buck, fanana-fanna-fo. . .we all know how this little children’s ditty ends. As you may or may not know, faithful Mustang Daily reader, the current Ultimate Fighting Championship titleholder is Chuck Liddell—local celebrity and enormous woman. For those not familiar with the sport, a typical UFC match features two burly competitors battling in an octagon-shaped ring until one is either choked out or viciously insulted. To illustrate in SAT format, Chuck Liddell is to the UFC as Barbara Streisand is to music: embarrassing. The Two Classy Gents have no other option but to call Chuck Liddell out.

Through the history of time, all warriors punching each other in the face for a living have been incredibly well-rounded people. We Googled Chuck Liddell’s resume, and found that not only did he not make it to the seventh grade of Montessori, but he was forced out after fighting a grizzly-looking female on the basketball team, and unfortunately losing. Banished and embarrassed, Liddell sought refuge in the only thing he loved--octagon-shaped things.

We won’t get into all the matches he “won,” and the many belts he’s “earned” through years of arduous battle. We want to focus on all the charities he didn’t donate to. How can you not donate to the Ronald McDonald House charity, or the Wayne Gretzky “I Suck At Life” Foundation?

As Liddell parades around town in his UFC-customized Hummer, he is single-handedly responsible for sponsoring terrorist organizations like Halliburton and Chevron. If he was an environmentally conscious individual, and not a drooling baby in a Power Wheels, he could save money. There are hybrid vehicles out there, Chuck, and you’re blatantly ignoring the way of the future.

Since everyone in San Luis Obispo has marked their name/fraternity on the walls of Gum Alley, we have concrete evidence of who has never been there. Chuck Liddell has never been to Gum Alley. How can you call yourself a citizen of San Luis Obispo if you’ve never taken the spearmint out of your mouth and placed your name in the annals of history?

You might ask why we’re calling out a man who is 6’2 and 204 pounds of solid muscle. Combined, the Two Classy Gents weigh 360 pounds and stand at 11’6. If we hid in a giant overcoat, this trick would probably fool a Neanderthal such as Liddell. If not, the combination of a 1013 hPa barometer reading and 32% humidity, along with a northeasterly wind current and the presence of the Aurora Borealis, would make Liddell spontaneously combust, and then we could totally take him.

At the end of every column, we will be chronicling the week’s current events. Specifically, we will give you a classy event and an uncouth faux-pas in the prior week. This is to keep you, the faithful Mustang Daily reader, tuned in on your classiness radio and provide you with some water-cooler fodder.

Classy: A natural disaster not happening this week. Thanks this time, Earth!

Uncouth: The Two Classy Gents failing to solve today’s crossword puzzle, despite it being a momentous day for classiness.

A Lengthy and Thorough Symposium in Regards to the Recent Discussions of the San Luis Obispo System of Public Transportation

2008-01-18T12:52:00.002-08:00

Recently, several members of the San Luis Obispo community have arrived at a new topic of discourse. We cannot stand idly by while our community tears itself apart over the hot-button issue of public transportation. Parents disown their children merely for bus ridership, students repeat information from esteemed social leaders, and gang members from as far as Salinas come to San Luis Obispo, only to realize that the discussion has taken a very uncouth turn. If you will indulge us, faithful Mustang Daily reader, we shall present our own scientific analysis of this situation.

If we wish to understand the legacy of public transportation and how it affects us, we must first understand its origins. The word bus comes from the Greek word bous, meaning “a large automobile supporting the transportation of lower-class citizens and hobos alike.” Citizens of Greek society regarded those who took the bus as inferior, and often threw pomegranate seeds at them to show disgust. Public transportation eventually took on a more important role in society, after King Ralph used the vehicle to transport prophets and other key members of society who wished to use finger-painting materials. Thereafter, the term “rideth la shortbous” became an immediate sign of respect within the community. Unfortunately, the phrase became tainted by sixth-graders.

Proponents of San Luis Obispo’s public transit have commented that it provides an immediate solution to traffic congestion, and that the convenience of such a large-scale public works project is unmatched. We agree, that the bus is public, and it’s for everyone. However, it neglects to pick up citizens of the community who arrive in a tardy fashion to the “transportation terminal.” We find this move very disrespectful. How can they claim to be a “public transportation service” when they do not even include these tardy citizens of the community? The bus is becoming symbolic of the metaphor for the puzzle, and this, of course, does not make any sense. We encourage the San Luis Obispo transit system to start making sense by stop not making sense.

Encourage us, students and faculty alike, as we perch upon our metaphorical “soapbox” and yell at these members of the community who actively take part in the bus system. Wasn’t it a few hundred years ago when the bus was a symbol for racism? And, aren’t busses being used in today’s crazy, messed up world as explosion devices? So if you take the bus, doesn’t that make you a racist-terrorist-goth person?

Don’t mind us, but the term “you just got served” applies to you, you stupid. Maybe San Luis Obispo needs to invent a stupid bus, just for you stupids, and you can see how it feels when all the tardy citizens of the community point and laugh at you. Don’t get personal? Well, we just popped your transit bubble, so we can do whatever we want. Stupid.

Classy: Your mom regularly commutes on the San Luis Obispo Public Transportation System.

Uncouth: More like, the male genitalia transportation system. Oh, snap!

Goth People: Get Over It

2008-01-18T12:52:00.001-08:00

Dear Goth People,

We know you’re probably crying your lame goth tears all over this letter, and we just wanted to let you know something: no one cares about you. Not your mom, not Trent Reznor, and certainly not these Two Classy Gents, because the last time we checked the Cool Kid Calendar, it wasn’t 1995. Your stupid black fingernails and stupid black hair never fit into this happy-go-lucky world, and instead of giving you the satisfaction of killing you, we’ve decided to decimate your culture, one overly emotional man-child at a time.

First off, you make our mall experiences quite stressful. We just want to go to Sbarro, and not feel uncomfortable because the kid sitting next to us in the Food Court is about to attempt suicide. You’re bluffing, and you know it. The only people who take six sleeping pills at a time are old people and Courtney Love. It’s pretty pathetic of you to not even wash it down with vodka, but your McFlurry.

Stop blogging about your childhood for a second and listen to us, stupid. We know you sucked at handball, we know you refused to hunt in The Oregon Trail because you were a vegetarian, and we know your uncle “did things,” and whatever. We’ve been through a lot too, like when we shot over 5,000 pounds of endangered bison in one hunt but managed to only bring back a measly 300, and that was after we bartered all our clothes for bullets. So goth people, why don’t you just die of typhus already?

We don’t know if your mother and father were just drunk when they named you, but the following list of names are unacceptable for people in general: Damian, Deathy McKillington, Tylor, and Montel. We’ll let Montel-the-talk-show-host slide, ‘cause he really tells it like it is. And your trenchcoat is wayyyyy too long. What’s in there buddy? Puppies? Bombs? We already told you, it’s VERY UNCOUTH to be a party pooper/popper, especially if you’re blowing up puppies. Besides, it doesn’t go along with your “aura”, or your millions of piercings. Maybe your bf/gf thought your Prince Albert was cool, but it makes a god-awful mess in the bathroom.

Oh yeah, we forgot to tell you. Korn just called. They said they wanted you to roadie for the band, and let you hang out and be friends with them forever. They also said they were lying, and that they sucked, and that you sucked more than them. Sorry.

All we’re saying is this: stop it. Classy people don’t cut themselves. You’re trying to bring attention to yourselves by pretending to die, so let’s just end all the suspense already. You’re not gonna do it, and if you do, we’ll pretend we didn’t see it.

Classy: Collegehumor, for posting unbelievable pictures of beer can monuments and the Two Classy Gents

Uncouth: Ruining a warm Thanksgiving dinner by getting goth blood all over the stuffing

Scientology=Awesometology

2008-01-18T12:51:00.002-08:00

First, a word of warning. Reading the rest of this column could cause your brain to explode. No, seriously. So if you’re concerned with the possibility of your brain exploding, read no further as we will illustrate that Scientology is not only the best religion, but the only religion.

Remember that dude Greg in middle school who used to smoke near the handball courts? Well, Scientology is a little like him: really awesome. One day, a man named L. Ron Hubbard (the L stands for Lovable!) was enjoying a reuben sandwich when he stumbled upon an idea that changed mankind forever. He invented a machine that made people cool. You might have seen it on Family Matters when Urkel became Stefan.

By far, this event marks the greatest start to any religion. Islam invented the world’s largest hat, pre-Abe Lincoln. Christianity invented having a sense of humor (see: Horatio Sanz). And Mormons invented . . . well, nothing yet, but we’re rooting for them.

So back to Lovable Ronnie’s lil’ story. After inventing his machine, he set out to recruit the coolest people of all time to enter his religion. After seeing his bulbous and bulge-arrific bellbottoms on Saturday Night Fever, Hubbard enlisted the certainly-not-gay John Travolta to spread the seed of Scientology. And, after laughing himself silly during Risky Business, Hubbard then called upon the also-certainly-not-gay Tom Cruise because someone had to look ridiculous on Oprah. Hubbard finally had the threesome he always dreamed of.

L. Ronnie sat down at his desk to write the Bible for Scientology. Dianetics was a worldwide phenomenon, covering up the mistake of his lovable yet highly ineffective first attempt, the seminal Everybody Poops. Dianetics focuses on an event 75 million years ago when Xenu, overlord of the galaxy, threw hundreds of billions of aliens into volcanoes on Teegeeack (which is what they called Earth), and then detonated H-bombs within the volcanoes, all in order to solve the galaxy’s rampant overpopulation. But don’t fret, faithful Mustang Daily reader. Overlord Xenu has been imprisoned in an electronic mountain trap after six years of arduous battle. No, we are not drunk. Hubbard is simply a genius, and if you don’t believe us, you can research these historical facts on the Internet, or in the upcoming Goosebumps novella “Go Eat Worms!”

Do you have lots of money and not know what to do with it? Scientology! Do you ever feel like allergies get the best of you? Get Scientological, baby! Didn’t you think Battlefield Earth was the best movie you’ve ever seen? YES.

Congratulations! By reading the answers to these questions, you have become a loyal Scientology compatriot. Just read the testimonials of these famous people and enjoy your new luxurious life of Scientology:

“I’m so happy. I’ve never been so happy before. Tom and I have that special kind of love called ‘forever love’. Happy.”-Katie Holmes

“Did you just make a gay joke about me? Aw, forget it. Therapists suck”-Tom Cruise

“Despite my comically oversized horse head and frail human body, Scientology embraced me.”-Musty the Mustang

Classy: Quoting L. Ron Hubbard, like we’ll do here: “If a man really wanted to make a million dollars, the best way to do it would be start his own religion.”

Uncouth: People exploding themselves. Come on, dude. You’re trying to be party poppers, but you’re really just party poopers.

We Gave President Baker That Raise

2008-01-18T12:51:00.001-08:00

If you didn’t already know, faithful Mustang Daily reader, the Two Classy Gents have friends in very high places. We attend balls at Martin Landau’s casa, and have sipped Cristal with two out of the three members of TLC. And we all know why there’s one left out: she wasn’t cool enough. And she’s also dead. However, we do know one person who’s cool enough, and quite possibly un-dead. That person is President Baker.

We first thought about giving President Baker the hall monitor sash to wear around Dexter Lawn, but we realized his skin chafes easily. So instead we gave him money, and lots of it. So why are the student fees increasing while President Baker’s salary increases tenfold? Think about it Pele, you’ll get it someday. The man is widely acclaimed. Not only is he the president of Cal Poly, he’s the only man to complete and successfully land a triple lutz on dry land. He’s also won a Tony for “Cats.”

After all he’s done for us, the only comments that we hear about the raise are: “He doesn’t deserve it” or “You’re photocopying pictures of your what?” No one appreciates these demeaning and insensitive remarks. In other words, stop complaining you big vat of babies. You wouldn’t know what genius was if it was president of your own school, WHICH IT IS. Duhhh.

One morning the Two Classy Gents saw a primo example of everything President Baker contributes to Cal Poly. We were getting our normal soy half-decaf no-whip mochas, standing in a line of, oh, thirty or so people, when an unfortunate fellow sprained his ankle on the DDR machine, and then died. Luckily, President Baker was there to perform his unholy voodoo magic. He resuscitated the hapless victim and returned him to his natural state of nerdiness, and then bought the whole line cookies! What a jolly soul!

Maybe you don’t want him to have that raise because you don’t know him well enough. That means it’s time for everyone’s favorite factoid-teenie-bopper-happy-good-time-review: THE LIST!

Height: Eight feet tall

Likes: Capes and wild horses

Dislikes: Applesauce

Favorite Color: Eggshell white

Favorite Quote: “I rule so good, that good rules itself.”-me!

Hopefully, you finally understand why we gave President Baker that raise with all your money. What were you gonna spend it on anyways, Easy Mac?

For personal commentary about this or any topic from the man himself, send President Baker a letter, along with a self-addressed stamped envelope, and five to ten dollars. And sign it ‘Poor Student.’ He likes it when you do that.

Classy: The Answer to 17 Down is “Sheen.”

Uncouth: Not giving President Baker five to ten dollars, but instead one to three

Top 5 Classy Places to Make Love at Cal Poly

2008-01-18T12:50:00.000-08:00

It’s time for the Two Classy Gents to sit down and tackle the topic of fornication. Studies have shown that Cal Poly students fantasize about sexual encounters once every 14 seconds, while UCSB students contract a new STD once every 12 seconds. We know it’s on your mind baby, and we’re gonna give it to you good. Real good. Probably five times. Unfortunately for you, it’ll probably take about five minutes. So now, we present to you, faithful Mustang Daily reader, the five classiest locations at Cal Poly to make love.

5. First floor of the library. We understand that the fifth floor is generally considered the “party floor” of the library. However, you can’t make any noise, and the book dust is always an issue. By contrast, the first floor is hustling and bustling and there are many nooks for nookie. The Porn Room has lots of great resources – if you can find it! Even if you can’t, copulating under the desks in the Reading Room is more than suitable. We must, however, recommend that you avoid the Dan Brown section, as it is quite popular.

4. Racquetball Courts (For Voyeurs Only!). It’s time to put on your goggles, and by goggles we mean industrial-sized condoms. We know it can get a little hot. We know it can get a little funky. And we’ve seen it get downright sexy. Give those people on the stationary bikes something to pedal towards. Just remember, don’t involve blue balls. Game, set, breeding time.

3. Travel down North Perimeter Road, and you’ll find the third classiest place to make love at Cal Poly: the University Police department. Not only are they mildly equipped for an alcohol violation, but their pepper spray provides a festive garnish for a full plate of procreation. Feel free to use one of their two pairs of handcuffs in whatever way you see fit. We’ve seen many a parking ticket, but we’ve never seen a lovemaking ticket.

2. Back of Joe McNeil’s 1994 Toyota Camry. It’s white, has a dent on the right-hand side near the gas tank, and the license plate begins with AS5. The car is usually illegally parked across three spaces in the faculty parking lot. The only problem is that he doesn’t throw away any of his fast-food trash, so his car does smell like a Filet-O-Fish sandwich. But don’t worry about Joe getting pissed–we asked him yesterday and he was totally cool with it.

1. Waffle Station at VG’s. Bow chicka bow-wow!!!

Now that you have this knowledge, explore the campus and continue your legacy of being a huge slut/manslut. Just remember, be classy about it and drink lots and lots of pineapple juice.

Classy: Puttin’ on some Brian McKnight and gettin’ down wit’ it. ALL NIGHT LONG.

Uncouth: Putting on Nickelback and crying yourself to sleep.

Rumor Patrol: Is Cal Poly Really Moving to Oakland?

2008-01-18T12:49:00.000-08:00

“I have no comment at this time regarding Cal Poly’s move to Oakland. The facts presented here have no base in reality and clearly make no sense at all.”-President Baker*

Uh oh! Looks like the two classy gents just dug up some more gold. We have found clear evidence that Cal Poly is headed north to the city by the city by the bay. We’ve heard word that the staff will directly instruct students to pack their bags, and we know this dude who knows this other dude who says that we only have enough room for three things per person, and one of them can’t be a weapon.

As students, we shouldn’t have to put up with these horrific travesties. The Administration is stripping our rights one by one, leaving the student body naked on the curb. First, they banned Elvis from Cal Poly for his sexually suggestive gyrating hips. UNCOOL. Then, they took the chocolate milk out of all the drinking fountains, and then pizza parties were only every OTHER Friday. WAY OUT OF LINE. And now, they’re taking away our right to not live in Oakland. NOT VERY CLASSY AT ALL.

What are we supposed to do now, Cal Poly? Just leave friends and family behind and move to a city where someone gets knived every five seconds? In the time it takes you, faithful Mustang Daily reader, to read this sentence, 168 people will be shot in Oakland. Think about that little statistic. One of them could be the dude with the corn nut breath who sits next to you in Biology, or that freshman guy who looks like that other freshman guy who looks like every other freshman guy. You know who we’re talking about. He really likes The Da Vinci Code and has that ironic mesh hat.

And not only this, but once we get to Oakland, we all have to change majors. Why? No one really knows. What we do know is that there will be a large hat placed near Backstage Pizza, and as everyone leaves for Oakland, they will place their hand into this giant hat and select a new major. The sole exception to this new policy is the College of Agriculture, whose students will be required, or so we hear, to become Engineering majors, because that is really funny.

We apologize, faithful Mustang Daily reader, for being such a damn good rumor patrol. It’s our natural tendency, and we can’t help it. So let it be known that you’re going to have to change majors, move to Oakland, and deal with it. Too bad.

Rumor Patrol Out!

*Not a real quote

Classy: Owning leatherbound editions of the Dan Brown library

Uncouth: Being named Dan Brown, but not being the brilliant author

This Is The Worst Opinion Column Of All Time

2008-01-18T12:44:00.000-08:00

In the grand scheme of things, throughout the entirety of human existence every opinion column ever written has been well-informed, well-written and beautiful.

However, we regret to inform you that we, the Honorable Douglas B. Bruzzone and Michael Matzke, M.D., plan on tarnishing this reputation to a great degree. Sorry, faithful Mustang Daily readers. Be ready to witness the first sub-par to mediocre opinion column ever written.

Perhaps you are wondering why the Mustang Daily needs our contribution of limited quality. Truthfully, the Mustang Daily is always pushing the envelope, and by hiring us, they look to push that envelope of mediocrity. Before the Mustang Daily discovered us working at a local AMPM, we submitted slightly humorous, yet thoroughly mediocre captions for cartoons in The New Yorker. Our finest moment by far was our centerfold in The Economist. That ruffled some feathers on Wall Street; we had our own trickle-down theory. Mediocrity is an investment well worth taking.

Throughout history, many mediocre people have found success, and we are ancestrally linked to most of them. Mike’s lil’ nephew Gerald Ford fell asleep many a time at the Oval Office desk, and Doug’s great-great grandfather George Custer only lost one battle during his tenure of generalship. There are many ways to pull off being mediocre; we do it in a classy manner.

You might have heard your alcoholic uncle talk about how classy Dale Earnhardt was, and he was right on target. But you might wonder, “What is classiness? How can I, the faithful Mustang Daily reader, be classy in my everyday life?”

For starters, un-pop that collar. There you go. Now make a million dollars immediately. Good job; you’ve taken your first steps into a larger world of classiness. Webster’s defines classiness as a picture of Tom Selleck circa 1986. On the government’s color-coded classiness chart, Selleck is a Code Red stud. We’re certifiably Code Magenta, give or take a couple hues. Mustang Daily took a risk in hiring us, but baby, heads are gonna roll. Some of our future additions include:

Politically correct racial slurs

More centerfolds and more awkward nudity

Free answers to crossword puzzles (up until Tuesday)

A bake sale!

Are you excited? We sure are!

Signed,

The Honorable Douglas B. Bruzzone and Michael Matzke, M.D.

Classy: Harriet Miers, baby.

Uncouth: Mel Gibson reading women’s minds