THE ASKTATION

Dear Ask Boz,

How come hippie girls don't play ultimate?
-Kevin

RESPONSORIAL

My sweet, gentle, weak weak Kevin, the problem isn’t that there are no hippy girls playing ultimate. It is that there are no hippies.

We had to go back for this one. How far back? Wayyyy back! To the sixties, Kevin, a time of flowers, and peace, and butterflies, and spinning twirling happy hygienic hippies! Or was it?

Well, no, it wasn’t. The thing is, Kevo, hippies don’t actually exist. Our research shows that these sub-humans you identify yourself with came from a diabolical experiment done in secret by the CIA and the KGB. It was to test the effects of intense doses of antihistamine on healthy people with no allergies. The evil spymasters gave their perfectly normal test-subjects fifteen doses, each of which could cure an elephant’s cold, flu, and dandruff. The vile scientists were disappointed with the results: instead of the severe convulsions, eye-bleeding and tortured death throes they anticipated, the seventeen test subjects began to get “creative.” Banging on radiators and tin garbage can lids, they began to slowly spin. It became clear that these freaked-out fools were going to play the same riff over and over and over. Their spinning became less coordinated and faster, causing the allergy drug to seep out of their pours, which, mingling with their smelly sweat, stained their conservative clothing all the colors of the stupid rainbow.

The spy-scientists, who had done the whole thing “because they could,” instantly abandoned the experiment. They couldn’t have known that their test subjects were now incredibly contagious, and soon they infected hundreds in the area around the test site. When even a soulless undercover agents was infected, the USA and USSR realized they had to take action. The two governments couldn’t be seen working together so they hurriedly created an alternate reality for the crazed human waste they had created.

Ironically, the intense levels of the drug made these proto-hippies into allergens: those susceptible instantly sloughed off their previously meaningful lives, stopped bathing or talking in complete sentences, and began playing bongos, or hacky-sack, or Frisbee. So you see, Kevin, hippies aren’t a social sub-group; they’re a sickness.

As this itchy pestilence spread, the KGB and CIA tried something desperate: they pumped seven monkeys achingly full of clortrimiton, which attracted all those infected. As the hippies wandered on over, they mistook the howling, gibbering and lice picking for the amazing rhythms of a band. No, not just a band, the Greatfullest Band Ever.

The KGB-CIA hoped the hippies would just forget to eat and die. But no such luck: the things could waste away to nothing and still jerk and heave. Eventually, the monkeys got bored, and ran away, and the hippies ran after them. This continued for years and years, and the monkeys finally gave up and began taking the massive amounts of drugs necessary to tolerate the boredom and smell that comes with being surrounded by hippies.

We could go on about other things: the smell, the fact that Phish are actual fish, the putrid filthy smell. We should sympathize with what you must feel, having your whole self-concept ripped out, twisted up, burnt and dry-heaved, but we don’t.

When we choose to ask Ask Boz, we know that the answer may not be what we wished for in our secret, pathetic hearts. Sometimes, it goes from worst, to worster, to worstest. This was one of those times.

Ask Boz

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