MSU Senior up in Arms over ‘Immature’ Freshman Class

By Brent Zundel
For the MSU Exponent
January 19, 2012

Note: This column originally appeared as part of the Exponent’s Sugarbeet page, a satirical biweekly feature that attempts to stimulate discussion of critical community issues.

MSU senior Brent Zundel is up in arms over the dumbest freshman class ever. Photo by Chris Zimny

MSU senior Brent Zundel is up in arms over what he calls an “exceptionally immature” freshman class this semester. “It’s especially annoying, because they’ve already had a whole semester to get their shit together,” he bemoaned.

According to the few friends Zundel’s constant belly-aching has not alienated, at least three “effing Justin Bieber-lookalikes” [freshmen] have asked him for directions to obvious places like the SUB or Wilson Hall’s well-laid-out classrooms in the past week.

“I don’t even know why anyone would approach him,” said long-time roommate Chris Zimny. “He just looks angry as he scowls his way from class to class. I swear one night, I heard him crack open a beer and unzip his pants outside my bedroom door.”

Zundel, a jaded double major in civil engineering and Spanish, agreed to meet the Exponent for an interview “anywhere near campus that serves beer,” except for Specs. He explained that he still hasn’t forgiven the owner for his ill-conceived boycott of Montana beers during the last legislative session.

At the interview in Colombo’s, the Exponent reporter showed up to find Zundel already sitting in the dingy back corner with a half-empty pitcher of beer in front of him. His frighteningly white legs protruded from underneath his maroon bathrobe, with neither his pants nor his dignity anywhere to be found.

“The worst thing is that I’m in a freshman-level class this semester,” Zundel complained. He explained that his Surveying class had to spend time discussing “what engineering paper looks like” and “dumb” things like Desire2Learn.

After a long swig of Moose Drool, he continued: “If I’m going to wake up by 11 a.m. for this, I don’t want to deal with people who don’t have their shit together.”

He went on to lament their poorly worded questions. “Their vocabulary is as bad as, like, whatever,” he said.

At this point, Zundel hinted that he expected the reporter to cover his exorbitant tab. When he was informed that the newspaper was $30,000 in the hole, he became belligerent. “Pinche cheapskates!” he slurred in Spanglish as he upended the table.

The reporter excused himself with an apologetic look to the management as Zundel started in on a new pint of porter—a beer as dark as his soul.