I don’t know if I am the only senior who has noticed this, but UCSB is growing a pink candy shell, and it’s making me nauseous. My freshman year, Halloween was pretty wild. Sophomore year it was meh. Last year’s was a letdown. I hear this year the university isn’t even going to allow out-of-towners park in I.V. Great, now the destructive mobs will be 17 percent angrier because they had to walk from Fairview.

Then there is “Fall Offensive.” At first I thought this was just a slang term used by seasoned upperclassmen to describe the fact that, subjectively speaking, the cops are extra douchey during Fall Quarter. It turns out that “Fall Offensive” is a real code term (you know, like “Desert Storm” or “Operation Rolling Thunder”). I don’t know which is more gay, the fact that cops are handing out MIPs like Tic Tacs, or the fact that they have a cute little code name for it. How about “fall faggotry”? (I have nothing against gay people, but you have to admit that “faggot” is a pretty good curse word.)

The other day, my friends and I were playing some pong at 6645. Two mustache-sporting, helmet-wearing, bicycle butt-buddies rolled up and issued a couple MIPs. We weren’t having a party. We weren’t being loud. We weren’t being black (totally jk). In all seriousness though, isn’t this a bit excessive?

And how about the decision to change Francisco Torres into Santa Catalina “because FT has a ‘bad connotation?'” Bitch, please — everyone knows damn well that Francisco Torres is nicknamed “Fuck Towers” and you dumbfucks thought that changing the name would get UCSB away from that image. First of all, you’re retarded: A name is just a name. Those girls were slooters before FT had a nickname, and they will be after it’s changed to SC. Come on, the dorms have a “sex chair” on every floor whose job it is to hand out rubbers to you little whores. Love it.

I hear the freshmen at SC are calling it the Sex Castles already. Good job, gang. Way to keep the tradition alive. Here are some other fun names I thought of: Sex Cocks, Slut Castles, Super Cocks, Santa Cocks, Sloppy Cunt, Society [of] Cuntmasters… OK, Sex Castles is pretty good. Let’s just call it that and see if they change the name again. Go ahead, bitches: I can make anything sound dirty.

I can remember the first PIKE Fight Night I went to as well. It was magical evening: a stadium chalked to the prim with belligerent college kids, slutty ass (Delta Gamma) ring girls, and a couple knockouts, goddamnit.

Consecutive years were much more diluted. Last year, the Thunderdome was only about a quarter full of college students, with scattered local residents and parents. No one was happy – the parents felt uncomfortable and resentful toward the drunkenness and cursing, and the feeling of disdain was mutual on our end. This is our event, our night — don’t bring your 7-year-old daughter and then give us the stink eye when we say something you didn’t want her to hear. The ring girls looked sober and were practically wearing turtlenecks. Yawwwn.

The only controversial thing that happened was some girl protested about “sexism, racism and violence” in boxing, or something to that extent. Shave your armpits and stop complaining. If anything, boxing seems racist against white people… but I digress.

The point is, if you don’t like it, fuck off. I don’t come to your T-shirt tie-dying parties and tell you which colors to use.

I think a lot of the friction that is occurring between local Isla Vista residents and partygoers stems from miscommunication. Jon Spaventa, one of my favorite Exercise and Sports Studies professors, relayed to his class a story of how he took his son to a Fight Night a few years back. Naturally, the experience was awful; it’s just not a positive environment for a kid. So just to clear things up: This is our town. More college-aged residents live in Isla Vista than anyone else, and I’m not about to let a couple casserole-making, PTA-attending soccer moms fuck up my senior year.

Don’t try to raise a family in I.V., don’t bring your kids to our seedy events and don’t complain about the loud music. This is one of the last true party schools, and we’re trying to keep it that way. If you don’t like it, Montecito is only a 13-minute drive away.

So this year, fellow Gauchos, I challenge you: Stick it to the man. Stick it to the overpaid bureaucratic university heads with their important sounding job titles. You pay an arm and a leg to go here; they can afford to let us get a little buck wild. Stick it to the douche cops who hide behind their mustaches, mace and plastic Taser guns. Stick it to anyone over 30, these are your golden party years; don’t let anyone take them from you. Black out. Burn couches. Start a fight. You have the rest of your life to live in predictable banality.