Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

Vol. CLIV, Issue 9
Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

Whitman news since 1896

Whitman Wire

Townies destabilize vast swaths of Beta’s lands

It has been only three months since militant townies first started making an appearance in Beta’s sacred lands. However, since that time and because of some lightning-fast tactical raids, the townies have managed to gain control of the gravel pit, the rope swing and Kyle Seasly’s guitar. Now, I know what many of you reading at home must be thinking: “Beta is a barren, worthless wasteland. Why should we care?” I was of a similar opinion until I was informed that Beta is one of the leading exporters of PBR, American Spirits, cynicism and many other raw materials upon which Whitman society is built. I traveled to this war-torn region of Whitman Campus on a drunken bender last weekend to analyze the geopolitical landscape further.

The night was dark and cold; however, I was warmed by my dear companion Franzia and the prospect of talking with the leader of the struggling beta regime. I met with  General President Admiral Prime Minister Nathaniel Lack-o-doors in a secure bunker deep within the confines of Beta.

BP:  So, your excellency, does the success of recent townie raids trouble you?

NL: Not in the slightest, by the will of the People of Beta, the old regime will triumph over these petty guerillas.

BP:  Well, that may be true.  However, given the history of atrocities which have occurred under your rule, many are wondering whether these lands might be better off under townie control.

NL:  Nonsense, I have run for my position unopposed for the last fourteen terms, and Beta has done nothing but flourish. Why, just last month mattress burnings reached an all-time low, and our bathrooms have never been more hepatitis free.

I could see that talking to Lack-o-doors would get me nowhere in trying to assess the realities of Beta’s political turmoil. So with a heart full of courage and a liver brimming with cheap wine, I left the security of Lack-o-door’s inner sanctum and ventured deep into townie territory.

It was while urinating on a nearby Subaru that I first came into contact with the townie threat (in the form of an irate, baseball bat-wielding ex-marine). He came out of the darkness and inquired as to what the fuck I thought I was doing and whether or not I wanted to receive a thorough ass kicking. Finding myself embrace the ideals of pacifism with new vigor, I elected to answer neither of the previous two questions and drunkenly sprint across Issacs to safety. Feeling a new appreciation for an un-kicked ass, I reflected upon my experiences that evening. While the future of Beta is uncertain, one thing remains clear: Large, angry townies are never beneficial to one’s health.

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