One Time at CAD Camp…

I did two years at Harvey Mudd, a place a lot like Real Genius. As a frosh, the dorm officers were all members of a group of friends with the exonym “The Bozos”. (Not because of size 16 maroon shoes but because of things like have a keg fridge in the closet.) A good-natured bunch of blokes, they had a somewhat, er, coarse sense of humor.

For example: Like most Mudders, they had their fair share of nerdiness, including D&D. One somewhat shorter fellow played a fighter in full plate mail. During one session, someone suggested that his character became aroused and somebody else commented that his erection hitting the plate mail sounded like a ping. Sure enough, his nickname thereafter was “Ping”.

No one had an explanation how another fellow acquired his nickname. Regardless, each and every one of them studiously referred to him only by the nickname, “Butt Sex”. (His attempts to quash this had no effect and probably exacerbated it.) This was amusing in casual conversation, but really shined when yelled across the dining hall, e.g., “Hey, Butt Sex needs more butter!”. But his nickname reached full fruition only during parties. Our man would be off in a corner, chatting up some lass, when one of his (naturally drunken) friends would spot him and bellow at the loudest possible volume “Butt Sex!”. Invariably his carefully crafted seduction would be scuttled, leading him to secret assignations with ladies of dubious provenance.

As I work my way through the back issues of Mac Hall, this strip reminded me of good ol' “Butt Sex”. Ah, good times!


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