Why do black people like loud music? My roommates are both black and they are always playing loud music.
MM: Black people didn’t struggle through abolition and the civil rights movement so they could read stupid questions like this. They certainly didn’t sing “We Shall Overcome” and “Lift Every Voice to Sing” so they could listen to their music at decibel level deemed appropriate by the Man. The enjoyment of loud music isn’t a racial trait, and perhaps you should ask yourself why you would be preoccupied with something like the color of someone’s skin when all you have to do is ask them to turn it down.
AB: There is actually a remarkably strong negative correlation between the amount of melanin present in one’s biological make-up at birth as a result of inheritance of particular alleles from the parenting bodies, and how much of a pussy you are. As it goes, the darker the skin tone, the less likely the affected individual is a massive chode. I know you probably like your Taylor Swift to be played at a volume no louder than four (five if you need to get jiggy), but, and I’m sorry, you suck, whitey. If Chuck D’s vocal parts in any Public Enemy song are amplified at below 110 db, Eddie Hazel rolls in his grave and the Mothership will never land again. I cannot promise that those will be the only Parliament-Funkadelic or Public Enemy references I will make this semester.
Why are the teachers at UB so awful?
MM: Generally speaking, the teachers at UB aren’t awful. For whatever reason, everyone at UB insists on talking down on the school when, truthfully, UB isn’t so bad academically. UB is a tier one university, ranked at 121 on U.S. News and World & Report. Considering there are over 4,000 accredited universities in the United States alone, this is actually a really great number. There are professors here that hail from many highly regarded schools such as Yale and Johns Hopkins, and with the exception of a few, I have no complaints about any teachers I’ve had. Maybe you’re just taking the wrong classes. Try RateMyProfessors.com or some other professor ranking site to find classes with better teachers.
AB: The teachers are so awful because they have to deal with hypercritical little pricks like you most days and elitist, cocky assholes like myself on the other days. It is not that they are bad (well, I can’t speak for all of them—I once had this guy, jeez…), it is just that, not unlike you, they don’t care. If you really want to learn something, roll up this issue of Generation, torch it at the end and inhale. Hopefully the toxins in the paper will go straight to your brain stem and teach you to not ask stupid questions.
I’m a gay guy. Does that mean I have no chance with Andrew Blake? I find him REALLY fucking hott.
MM: I’ve observed that Mr. Blake generally has an affinity for the ladies, but I make no assumptions beyond that. In fact, according to the famous sex biologist Dr. Alfred Kinsey, most people aren’t either completely gay or completely straight and fall somewhere in the middle. So perhaps, if you have a really awesome personality or something, you might spark some inert homoerotic fantasy he’s been internalizing.
AB: How tight is your asshole, and what can it do?
Whatever happened to that kid who got his fortune told and only had a week to live? Is he dead? Cuz that would be pretty sweet since thats proves fortune tellers are not trying to take your money like how UB always takes your money (or as I like to call them JewB).
MM: Unfortunately, we at Generation have been extremely concerned for him, but since “I’m Right, You’re Wrong” and personals submissions given to us through our website (http://generation.buffalo.edu) are completely anonymous, we have no way of checking in on our friend and devoted reader. We wish him the best in what little future he has.
AB: Did you think of JewB yourself right now? That is exactly the kind of precocious wit we need on staff here at Generation. Please bring a resume, some writing samples and your gaping gash full of bigotry to 315 Student Union. We love you and your ignorance.
