Greetings, everyone, and thank
you for attending this section of our not-quite-so secret
Laboratory, in which we present to you the results of our
exhausted studies here at ARG. This particular one deals with
the elusive species of homo sapien known as the "dork".
This bizarre breed of man proliferates all aspects of gaming
and science fiction, and the channels of StarCraft are scarcely
spared from the entourage. Here to give us a series of lectures
and articles on the 'dork' is the head of Anthropological
Studies at Harvard University, Noah Burgher. Oh, wait... I'm
sorry, I've just been informed that Mr. Burgher is, in fact,
not the head of Anthropological Studies at Harvard University,
but just some guy I went to high school with. We apologize
to Harvard for this misuse of their name, they are not associated
with the project in any way whatsoever. At any rate, we now
submit for your approval:
The Anatomy
of a Dork
I was sitting in my room today,
talking to my friends online, like a good computer geek does,
and I looked out the window and saw the city. So I says to
myself, “there’s a lot of dorks in this town.”
And that got me thinking. What is a dork? We all like to throw
that word around like it’s some holiday fruit cake that
aunt marcie brought from wisconsin, but do we actually know
what it means? Well, of course we don’t; if we did, maybe
we wouldn’t use it so loosely, and we could find other
words that maybe had a little more zing in them, like that
punch you had at that last wedding.
Therefore, I sat down and
decided to outline what a dork is for everyone out there,
so you can still use it, but at least you’ll be educated
when you use it. I’m pretty sure I’ll have a good
idea as to what one is, because, if you’ll remember from
my first sentence, I sit at the computer and talk to people.
If that’s not good enough qualifications, I’m not
sure what is.
We’ll start with my study,
since that’s what this is, a study, and we find that
I’m the first “guinea pig” if you will, which
by the way, along with their relatives the hamsters, are most
likely the most vicious, evil creatures in the world. One
of them bit me one time. Granted I was young, and I stuck
my finger in the cage, nonetheless, the little bugger, with
those, I swear to the gods, adamantium teeth of his, ripped
a sizeable chunk out of my hand. It grew back, my hand that
is, but the memory still lingers, and to this day, the sight
of one of those vile beings sends shivers down my spine. But
I digress, and so we find ourselves back at the root of this
problem; my being a dork.
Ever been to a Latin convention?
Yeah, I have, so there’s point number one. This doesn’t
even have to be Latin, it can be any language, or any subject
for that matter. It’s merely the sound of the word convention
that stamps the “dork” label across your forehead
and lets everyone see you for what a pitiful little person
you are. Real men and women go to things called “games”
and “tournaments” and “invitationals;”
those places where you can see sweat, blood, and men scratching
their balls. Heck, I scratch my balls at the conventions,
numerous times I’m sure, and no matter what anyone tells
you, New Orleans is as hot as they come, so there’s the
sweat. I’m pretty sure I bled too, seeing as how the
beds were about 8 feet off the ground, and they didn’t
provide us with ladder with which to scale the heights, but
I just can’t seem to get myself out of the rut of it
being called a “convention.”
Now in this convention, you’ll
find many other dorks, geeks, nerds, losers, the whole lot
of us show up to these things. I mean really, what else are
we gonna do on our summer breaks; be with girls? No, that’s
incredibly irrational and stupid to boot. Go to pool parties?
Are you kidding, our pasty little bodies would crisp if we
even saw a pool. Drink beer at parties? Heavens no, that impairs
vision and can lead to death my friends; even thinking about
beer and it’s alcoholic qualities makes me want to choke
on my own vomit and be caught raping some 14 year old sister
of my frat brother. Which leads me to a pretty good point,
or frat boys, as I like to call them. Now, here’s the
very antithesis of a dork. Whilst we sit away in our rooms,
beating Diablo and Diablo II, talking to our friends about
some chick that might or might not have smiled at us in our
physics class, and how we’re gonna fit our new 300 dollar
calculator into our neon green backpack, the frat boy is out
with that girl who didn’t smile at us. The frat guy dresses
better than us too. I find myself waking up late for class
all the time, and throwing on whatever pair of jeans/khakis
I discarded the night before, only to walk out of the building,
and see frat boy A wearing a shirt and tie, with his hair
perfectly molded into that “just got out of bed look.”
This however, leads me to another point. Now, I won’t
deny the coolness of the frat boys, hell, if I could be one,
I would only be so lucky, but what in the seven hells is the
point of washing your hair, gelling you hair, and combing
your hair, just so it looks like you just got out of bed?
For Christ’s’ sake, there’s a product called
“Bed head,” which does that for you. Why even bother
messing with your hair then? Enough of these points though,
back to why the frat boy is my idol. If I were ever to achieve
their coolness, I’m pretty sure it’d be like when
mortals see God, and they perish just at the sound of His
voice, because their mortal beings cannot support his magnitude.
I can’t even begin to talk to every girl I see, just
because they’re wearing clothes that show off their ass,
or any girl, because she has breasts, and yet these gods among
men do it constantly, and I am shamed… if I ever do join
a fraternity though, it’ll have to be one of the good
ones I see around campus, like Pi Rho Epsilon Kappa, or maybe
Phi Alpha Gamma.
I think I’ve made enough
points in one sitting to whet the appetite of every person
out there wondering just what a dork is. Check back here often,
and I’ll make sure to continue my research on a daily
basis, which will just consist of sitting in front of a mirror
and looking at myself from different angles. Until we meet
again.
Written by
Noah Burgher
October 26,
2001
