Sinister: Get your stinkin' paws off me you damn, dirty ape

[Scott Plagenhoef]

Hi all. Long-time listener, first-time caller.

My name is Scott and I am currently slaving away at -- get this -- and
American soccer magazine (not only is that an oxymoron to most of you, but
incredibly un-twee) andŠAARGH; OK, sorry for the lapse into neat biography.
I must have been having first-day-at-school flashbacks or something.

As for the increasingly tired tales of frats and sororities, I was hoping
that someone could help me out with a curiosity regarding the Greek system
that always puzzled me in college, but I had forgotten about until now: Why
don't African-American frats and sororites have houses? Are they not
allowed? Where I went to school -- University of Michigan -- they did not
have houses and therefore had to hold Greek-sponsored functions in campus
buildings rather than on their own residences (therefore under the
administration's thumb and rules governing alcohol and drugs, curfews,
etc.). Was this true elsewhere?


When "High Fidelity" is released, if you look carefully in the club scene
you can see the girl that broke my heart. The film adaptation of the Nick
Hornby novel "High Fidelity" is being filmed here in Chicago (yes, not in
London) and my friend (yes, we're still friends because I am a sap) is
working today and tomorrow as Sara Gilbert's stand-in. I know, I know --
oooh, big Hollywood movie and all that crap, but John Cusack is the star and
he is more than OK with me -- and I did enjoy the book (music/pop culture
obsessive has difficulty being taken seriously by some because of an
inability to fully embrace proper adult life; how ever could I realte?)  I
was invited as an extra but the workaday world calls: Boo to the business
world. Anyhow a stand-in job will be terribly tedious anyway -- she'll have
to do all the set-up crap for shots that big stars like Sara Gilbert
wouldn't possibly touch. Who is Sara Gilbert? Roseanne's opinionated
daughter on the TV show, or for the international audience possibly
uninitiated in America's brief fascination with blue-collar TV ("Home
Improvement," "Grace Under Fire," "MarriedŠwith Children") the girl whose
supposed friendship Drew Barrymore uses in the mouth-gapingly,
spittle-inducingly poor film "Poison Ivy" to get to her dad, Tom Skerrit, so
she can sleep with him. On the hood/bonnet of his car. In the rain.

Sorry. I would apologize in great detail for the length/crap content of this
missive except that would only lengthen it further so I am going to go now
bye.

scott.




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