Like a rolling stone

When the week goes by with perhaps zero percent excitement, SIR ELTON has to start pretending like fun stuff actually happened. Did you catch that techno rave in the Bryan Center? It was pretty badass, considering it was free, the X dealers didn’t get busted and attractive girls were present. What about the Outing Club event of bungee jumping out of Duke-funded helicopters? The best part, of course, were the Hi-C juice boxes provided free of charge.

Nah, instead all we got was Oktoberfest, an authentic Durham representation of the massive, cool German celebration in which a bunch of Boris Beckers go around drinking, singing and eating weiner schnitzel. Yeah, right. As SIR ELTON walked through the mediocre celebration, he saw little to no revelry. Drunken revelry? I think not. SIR ELTON felt like Jesus getting pissed when the merchants were pimping their wares in his pop’s crib. SIR ELTON doesn’t want to buy a rug on Flex. He wants to play laser tag with Kaiser Wilhelm. The most exciting part was the chanting of the gowned secret society people who seem to be counting on the Superman theory of disguise. “If we just put on these sunglasses no one will be able to recognize us!” The first rule of Fight Club is… oh wait, no one cares, we don’t go to Yale.

So, in absence of fun organized events, some Duke students go to a parking lot and drink until football kickoff time, otherwise known as time to go pass out. And the others are busy registering to vote in several different swing states as a personal favor to Bush or Kerry (What about Nader?). SIR ELTON has learned to treasure his One Sweet Vote (TM?) so much that he thinks he’ll keep it to himself. Forever.

This weekend was homecoming, and SIR ELTON felt like he was in high school all over again. His football team won, which was a big surprise since they never really seem like a Division I football team. Still you have to admit that Coach Roof might have a point about fan support since they finally won now that hundreds or thousands of people who hadn’t moved on with their lives since school were there to cheer them on. Let’s face it, all the really successful graduates came back last weekend for career week to brag about what great jobs they have. But SIR ELTON was really geeked out about the step show. Considering what a success it was, SIR ELTON suspects that it’s only a matter of time before white fraternities hold a “Get a girl drunk and then go to the dance floor and rhythmically push your pelvis against her Show.” Not that SIR ELTON can talk about bad dancing as he’s hardly don of the dance floor himself. SIR ELTON always seems to be a little slow in learning the latest moves. Just as he was finally figuring out how to shake his tailfeather, everyone started flapping their wings instead. But SIR ELTON is onto Nelly’s little bird fetish, and he has been practicing tweaking his beak just in case that’s the hot single of 2005.

Compared to the step show SIR ELTON was pretty disappointed by the Butchies. After all, they’re lesbians, they’re in a band, what are they trying not to be famous? Didn’t they see any Tatu videos? SIR ELTON was going to send them a memo: All you have to do is make out and you’d be millionaires.

SIR ELTON can’t wait for this week’s medieval jousting competition.