Many longtime members of the PWOT forum have been emailing me lately to check up on how I've been doing in college, and I'd like to extend my thanks to each of you who have taken the time to show your concern for my well-being. It's pretty rare in this generation to find people who genuinely care about others, and I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate your letters. So to answer all of your questions in one swipe, here's how college has been treating me...

College sucks copious amounts of sweaty, ass-flavored balls. If you're thinking about going to college, do yourself a favor and just set your face on fire, instead. You'll get the exact same amount of education out of it (which is "face + fire = facefire"), and you'll only have to experience about half of the pain. Booyah... you just saved yourself $30,000.

If you're going in thinking it's going to be all parties and beer-drinking and sex, don't fool yourself. Sure, there's a lot of that going on in college, but it's not the popular, cool people who are doing it. It's all the super-intelligent nerds in the school who have freaked out and turned to alcoholism to suppress the demons inside that make them want to kill the scholarship jocks. I don't mean to shoot down that dream for you, but it's better that you hear it from me, first, before you walk into a frat-house thinking it's going to be all "Alpha Beta" from Revenge of the Nerds... and instead, turning out to be 75 post-teen males sitting on the floor, knees pressed into their chests, rocking back and forth in silence, gulping straight Everclear and mouthing what appears to be the words, "hate," "sin," and "pipe-bomb."

If this still doesn't detour you, allow me to let you in on something before you shell out the cash for that degree: there are things that you can do in high school and the real world, that they just don't allow in college. You're going to lose a lot of freedom inside those walls, and I just want you to understand it before you make a commitment with your hard-earned money. For instance, you would think that as an institution that deals with nothing but adults, you could speak as one with no fear of censorship. Unfortunately, you'd be wrong. I found out the hard way that in Anatomy 101, professors generally frown on terminology that includes the words, cock, pecker, thrustmonkey, twat, tits, and especially cunt. I mean, come on! I think that as adults in an institution of higher learning, we could call a spade a spade. But no, they still look at us as uneducated children, forcing us to use kiddie terminology like breasts, penis, and vagina. That's just not right in my eyes. If I'm looking at a skin-flute, or a vertical smile, I'm going to call it what it is. I'm not going to mask or sugarcoat the fact that we're talking about a hairy beaver or a balogna-pony. Or even a brown-eye or chocolate starfish for that matter. All I'm saying is that I'm not going to call it a "penis," when I'm clearly looking at a tallywhacker, one-eyed snake, flesh-pole, main-vein, or shit-packer. The same is true with a pussy, snatch, or fuck-hole. Surprisingly, these same exact rules apply to Algebra, as well.

Are you a combative or outspoken person? If you're planning on attending a higher-level institution, you'd better get over that right away because the number one rule of college is "The teacher is always right. Always." It doesn't matter if they actually are right or not... you just have to bow down to the fact that they are the ones who control whether you get your degree or not. Again, this is something I learned the hard way in Intro to Literature. The problem is that the teacher tells us there is no correct answer when interpreting a poem, but then she asks us for a correct answer on a test. So if my interpretation of a poem doesn't match that of the professor, I'm going to get that question wrong, lowering my score.

38.) In the poem Immigrants by Robert Frost, the overall tone can be best summarized by which of the following statements?
A.) A light-hearted, jovial dedication to immigrants.
B.) An objective look at immigrants and their means of travel, without tone. C.) A gloomy, dismal view of the fate that lies ahead of immigrants.
D.) A festive poem honoring both the Pilgrims and modern immigrants.

Me: Mrs. Wolf?

Wolf: (sigh) Yes, John?

Me: On question number 38, you left out an option that we had discussed in class. I was wondering if it was a typo on your part.

Wolf: (reading over the test) No, it's all there.

Me: Well, we had talked about how it was actually a steaming pile of meaningless faggy horseshit, and that isn't one of the choices provided. I thought you might have just left it out by accident.

Wolf: No, John, you said that in class, and I told you that if you ever said that again about a poetic master, I'd kick you out of my class.

Me: Yeah, but we're not talking about a poetic master, here. We're talking about an overrated whore of a writer who crapped out poems by the dozens to support his male prostitute habit.

Wolf: You little-- Look, they're all there... especially choice "D." Choice D is there, right along with all the others, none of which were left out.

Me: Is choice D, "steaming pile of meaningless faggy horseshit?"

Wolf: No, it's not, John. However, you might want to just circle the answer which best first the poem. I'd hate to see you get a DEEEEE (picks up test and points to the letter D, winking) on this test.

Me: ...

Wolf: ...

Me: ...

Wolf: ...

Me: Can I change D to "steaming pile of meaningless faggy horseshit"?

Wolf: (losing her temper) You change one answer on that test, and I'll see to it that you're expelled from this school!

Me: I'm circlin' "A" then. (I do.)

Wolf: You're mentally projecting that phrase into choice A, aren't you?

Me: If by "mentally projecting," you mean "writing it down," then yes I am.

Wolf: I hate you.

However, I do have to admit that the professors of this particular school aren't without their sense of humanity. In every last class, I was pulled in just before finals and told by each teacher, "John, you do understand that you're failing my class, right? Well, in order to pass with even a 'D', you have to get a perfect on this final exam... something you have yet to accomplish. Even on open-book homework assignments." I told them I understood, but I wasn't worried. If I failed the class, I'd simply retake it next semester. But I guess the final exam pulled quite a bit of weight after all because when my grade report came out, I had an "A" in every class. Believe me, I took the time to go back and rub it in their faces.

"Awwwwwww yeah, bitch! Looks like Jonnyboy gots himself an 'A' for the year, baby! Now, you gots to suck it! Guess you won't be seein' me next semester after all!"

"I know," each of them replied. "Believe me, John, I know."

In short, I guess what I'm trying to say is just this: College makes people gay.