We Must Remain Vigilant To Protect Our City From The Dangers Of Breakcore

So last night we decided that you know what we'd do, we'd have a late night dance party. It went strong for a couple of hours, then just as the playlist ended and we turned on the lights, who should show up but the Party Patrol.

Now, don't get your hopes up about the party patrol. They are not, as I had hoped when I first saw them mentioned in the Minnesota Daily yesterday, a group of fun-loving party-aimals who roll around campus in a freak bus, spreading parties everywhere they go. In fact, the party patrol is pretty much the exact opposite: a team of officers who troll the streets of SE Minneapolis, looking for parties to break up and hosts to ticket, probably to raise funds for the corrupt mayor's money laundering scheme.

Anyway, the fuckin Party Patrol knocks on the door, tells us all loud music should end by 10, then gives us a big lecture about cooperating with them in the future (despite the fact that we did nothing but cooperate this time around.)

After they left we got to thinking about what a terrible perversion of the title "Party Patrol" those fuckers were. They should be called the Stiff Patrol, or maybe the Asshole Patrol (it rhymes!). Sam suggested the Downer Patrol, which in turn led to the Upper Patrol, and the Rock Patrol, and the Nerd Patrol, until we had at least half the student body roaming the streets in hypothetical vans, distributing their own unsolicited services to the needy partiers of Dinkytown.


5 murders in 15 days, and what's the city's priority? That's right: Sam Walker, high on life, screaming "Pussy Control" at the top of his lungs. God bless America.