BigMatt worked as a lab proctor at Alfred State College. His job consistedof walking from computer lab to computer lab, counting the number ofcomputers, mice, keyboards, and people using the lab.

Iwent with Big Matt a few times, and on one of our trips I came across apurple spiral notebook stuffed between two computers. The grade for thenotebook's assignment caught my interest. The student received a twoout of thirteen, which falls somewhere between "grizzly death" and"mauled by an angry Black Friday mob" for his particular course. I knowthis because I had the same instructor and assignment two years earlier.

If you can spell "colege", then there is a place for you at auniversity somewhere in America. People say I'm wrong, and suggeststudents applying to college can spell the word "college", but Ibelieve this purple alarm clock proves them all wrong.

Sowhen you're sitting in class and the person next to you says somethingso stupid, your brain says, "Forget this, I'm out", you can rest easy. You're not hallucinating, some schools really do let everyone in.

The following are select entries from the notebook. The statementsbelow are copied word for word from the original. Let this be areminder as to why you should spell check and read everything yousubmit for class carefully.

• "What botherss me is when I campus book store cald sell out of hooks."

• "Some professors buggle my mind when it comes to the way in which they teach."

• "Some of the professors teach us stuff that we are hever going to have to use. Math is a good example."

• "What is wrong with illegal drug?"

• "Why is it that make people believe that being H makes it ok."

• "If you are good at metal working, you might be a machinist."

• "My favorite mose is Dumb and Dumber. Ever time I see that movie I just can't help but to resite the words."

• "Jim Carey and Jeff Daniels are the best pair ever put together."

• "I wonder if Amish girls wonder what it is like to have amish guys who are not Amish."

• "Ithink that by putting of video games like James Bond teaching thechildren of today to be good and ingeligent shippers and shooters."

• "It tooke me a minute or two to put together that the W.T.C. was the Twin Towers."

• "Where do people get there anger from when they play heavy metal music?'

• "I would hate to be the first person to have brain surgery."

• "Iwonder how how the first guy created the animal cracker. The guy mustof ben at the zoo eating a cracker while looking at the animals."

• "I for the life of me can not understand why a man would want to wear spandex."

• "I understand its illegal but why sensor it?"

• "Iwas watching the news and this guy was standing there in nothing butspandex. He must have other clothes, we don't need to see that whilewatching the news."

• "Even when I'm sitting in class I get cravings for chicek salad from Friendlys."

• "Why is it that people have to follow rules within the community?"

• "The democrats usually get in a circle and shoot at each other all day."

My Grandfather served in the army during World War II, and when he came back he signed my Father up for the scouts. Of course, back then they were hardcore "we're going to leave you in the woods for a month and see if you live" scouts and not the "we can't comment on issues pending trial" organization we have today.

Part of the requirement for my scouts group was to watch an episode of Captain Planet at the start of every meeting, thus breeding my life-long hatred of Captain Planet.

My biggest problem was the captain's green mullet. I can understand the artist's desire to make him look stylish to impress my generation, but a green mullet? You couldn't get away with that in the NHL, and hockey is Mecca for mullets. What hope does a fictional cartoon character have?

Growing up we had the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles as the hot new cartoon, so maybe they thought green was the color of choice for cartoons? I wish I could travel back to the meeting where they sat around deciding the look for Captain Planet. If for no other reason than to slap the mouth breathers who suggested a green hockey mullet for our proud eco-warrior.

The green hockey mullet was only the beginning of my festering hatred for this do-gooder. When you really give the show the scrutiny it deserves you start to see an evil corporate agenda being pushed. Don't believe me? There is an interview with the Captain himself on his website, where he talks about smart economic growth. Let me repeat this:

Captain Planet. A FICTIONAL cartoon character, is spouting off in an "interview" on his website, about smart economic growth and the action corporations should take.

Behold!

"Q. Captain Planet, do you think it is possible for industry to be environmentally responsible and still make money?"

"Captain Planet: Our goal is to show industry that making money and being environmentally conscious are not mutually exclusive. As a matter of fact, they can even go hand in hand. We have found that many businesses are making a concerted effort to improve their environmental records. They are retrofitting their operations to be more energy efficient, they are recycling and reusing materials that once were discarded in landfills, and they are planning for the future with the environment in mind. Businesses must realize that if there is to continue to be a market place we must make it a sustainable one. "

While we're examining reasons to hate Captain Planet, we should also consider his nauseating brigade of young children who summoned the Captain like he was their drug dealer or local pimp.

Every time there was a problem, the captain would resolved the situation with a wave of brutality that would make Tony Soprano dye his remaining hair green. What kind of message does this send? It's ok to clean up after yourself, but if someone gives you guff over recycling beat them?

If that's what the captain was going for, I wouldn't have a problem. And don't get me started on that one kid, Ma-Ti, who talks to his pet monkey. I can't recall how many times I turned to my chums at the scouts and said, "You know what, I want Ma-Ti to develp an inoperable brain tumor. Let's see the Captain solve that one!" Naturally, I was the only one who said this ... out loud.

Captain Planet ranks up there with the Nazis and Jimmy Carter as one of history's greatest monsters. The only thing worth remembering is his theme song, so that the military can use it to flush out terrorists along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border. I bet Bin Laden would have surrendered by now if our army drove around the border blasting, "Captain Planet, he's our hero, going to take pollution down to zero..."

Let's never speak of him or his eco-friendly show again, least we be struck down with sudden irritable bowl syndrome; And I know none of you want that right?

In the case of explaining body modification, it's important to play it off as a way of expressing yourself, becoming your own person, and celebrating your individuality. People of your parents' generation eat up this hippie bullshit. When you live at home, your parents try to be in charge. It is their job to get you into college, period. If they can keep you off drugs, away from scented glue sticks, and get you into a facility of higher learning without a child of your own, their job is done. You can die from a heroin overdose before they've pulled out of the parking lot on moving-in day and it's not their problem anymore. Now it's the school's problem, and your parents are just the innocent victims of a "preventable tragedy."

To make matters worse, Thanksgiving Eve is the biggest night out of the year. "Blackout Wednesday," if you will. That means you must enter into the Thanksgiving nightmare with a headache that rivals the one your parents had after failing the pregnancy test that blessed them with you. Luckily, there are a couple of strategies for dealing with the uncomfortable ritual of unwanted disclosure that accompanies the Thanksgiving feast. Option A is "The hair of the dog that bit you." Upon waking up to the feeling of an Amtrak crashing in through your nose and out your temple, immediately begin drinking the previous night's beverage of choice. After about three drinks, your headache should miraculously be gone, and you'll simply feel an overwhelming sense of euphoria, the likes of which even awkward family obligations cannot scathe.

Option B is the reason we have Thanksgiving. Marijuana. If the Native Americans hadn't been so into herbs and peyote, maybe they wouldn't have fought like such pussies. Thankfully for us, they did. Now we celebrate their decimation by gluttonously gorging ourselves under the pretense of giving thanks for that which we have but assuredly do not deserve. Pot may not have the same ability to alleviate a hangover as alcohol, but food does. And Pot will make you eat more, allowing you to focus on the deliciousness of the gravy, turkey and stuffing combo, not on the mom, dad, college special now airing on The History Channel.

Regardless of how you choose to handle the Thanksgiving dinner situation, you will probably return to your room feeling physically ill, mentally disfigured, and emotionally disturbed. You will be in no shape whatsoever to tackle the hangover that has miraculously returned since your buzz wore off. For this, no advice can be offered. Dealing with these issues is part of growing up. It teaches you to look to the future. In less than a week you'll be back at school with a newfound enthusiasm for the college lifestyle, a complete remedy from any homesickness, and the disturbing thoughts of what influence your parents "once taking the pot" might have had on your conception.

**Originally Printed in the Albany Student Press