by J.M. Comer — photo editing and enhancement by A. Quarles, who needs no enhancement.
I consider myself a modern citizen of the Republic of Letters. A 21st century littÃ©rateur. A wordsmith. A patron of fine arts. Graduating from the fine institution of Auburn University *sniff* with degrees in English and journalism, naturally I keep abreast of the latest works of fiction in all of the gentleman’s magazines on the rack. So imagine my surprise to find out that two alleyway ruffians should know about a work of celebrated fiction before I.
While resting in my backyard lounger, I overheard the aforementioned rascals playing a rude game of chance in the alley behind my walled garden. The smell of corn liqueur and sounds of clinking glass on concrete enveloped the twilight air as they discussed the “hot piece of trout” in the current issue of a magazine entitled “Playboy.” I dropped my issue of “Heftiges Shite Monthly” into my lap in surprise. I had heard about the discovery of an unfinished short story of one of my favorite authors of the fiction of science, Kilgore Trout, which was to follow up to his previous masterpiece “Maniacs in the Fourth Dimension.”
Surely this must be the “Trout” that these men described! But how, pray tell, did they gain this information? My face was hot. I thought about my disservice to you, the readers of this blog, Auburn men and women of letters. How would I break the late news to you of this slight in my service to inform? How could I cite soused vagrants and not offend?
I leapt from my seat and was off to gain a copy of “Playboy,” disgusted that I should be the last to know about a new piece of Trout. Would Trout’s unveiled fiction follow in the same vein as his joyful works “First District of Thankyou” or “Gilgongo!”?
Bounding into my neighborhood 7-Eleven I procured my copy. My hands shook with anticipation as I transferred my dollars (mere dollars for such a treasure!) to the clerk. The storekeeper eyed me with trepidation. Surely this man is a descendant of the Ghassanids of southern Syria, thought I. I’ve been on the wrong end of that look before during my caravan from Damascus to Ebla to study Semitic ruins. In the name of Auburn academia! War Eagle!
Returning home, I tore the plastic sheath from the glossed pages and discovered that the magazine also was to feature the women of Auburn University in a pictorial entitled “Girls of the SEC: These Hot Young Coeds Are All Class.” My mind reeled. What a surprise! Auburn and Trout bound together? It was as if the heavens parted and the sunlight bathed my mind. The warmth surrounded me.
Gliding my twitching finger down the table of contents, the Trout piece was nowhere to be found. Dismayed, I decided that an earlier issue must have contained my desired fiction. Were those drunkards mistaken? Their bellows of excitement that had disturbed my twilight ease had now ceased. The alleyway lay still and silent as if they never existed. But the bonus of a campus pictorial of SEC schools and their proud academic women stemmed the sting of complete defeat.
The stirrings of our Alma Mater slowly filled my throat as I leafed toward the photographs of Auburn’s proud women.
On the rolling plains of Dixie
‘Neath it’s sun-kissed sky,
Proudly stand …
Gasp! Not a stitch! The comely ladies of Auburn portrayed in such a fashion!
“Hoot!” I cried, thrusting the d___ smut to the floor with the force of a titan. The hot tears of embarrassment clouded my vision.
But the pages fell open to reveal still yet another surprise. I crawled to the floor and spied the filth. I took a long, steady look. Sweat formed on my brow as I recognized a sticker emblazoned “Standard Deluxe” behind the shapely and exposed (Lord give me strength!) hindquarters of Auburn’s Ms. Nielson (page 116) as she perched next to an art drafting table. Ms. Lee (page 111) disrobes by an art supply closet with a partial view of the first letters “S” and “D” of the larger Standard Deluxe sign in the background.
For those unfamiliar, Standard Deluxe is a celebrated print shop/design company in Waverly, Ala., just outside the Auburn city limits. I myself have visited multiple times during my stay on the Plains. Its work is impeccable with a style all its own. The studio was a place of quiet reflexion for me. I enjoyed watching the process of handmade silkscreen art being crafted and perfected. What a shock to see the innards of that cherished place splayed across these paganish pages!
Using the full force of my mind and the perceptive insight and footwork of my colleague J. Henderson in Auburn, we have deduced that Auburn University forced the smut peddler “Playboy” to the outskirts of town to besmirch, to sully and coerce the delicate women of Auburn University! Having no other choice, “Playboy” must have forced entry into Standard Deluxe while the proprietors vacationed.
With great concentration, using the ancient shinay, the “calm abiding” method of Vajrayana Buddhism meditation, I was able to avert my eyes from the models themselves. By doing so I could clearly see that the henchmen of “Playboy” were inspired by the surrounding art and fixtures of Standard Deluxe. I can say without a doubt that the same milieu inspired the women of Auburn in their wanton sessions to produce a smut superior to the other SEC schools. If pressed, I would say that the magazine’s corruptive influence on the SEC’s woman could be ranked in such a fashion: Auburn, Mississippi St., Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, LSU, Mississippi, South Carolina, Kentucky, Florida, Vanderbilt and Tennessee. (The student bodies of the Tennessee universities were clearly uninspired and unprepared for their roll in the muck.)
So, my dear reader, this investigation may be the first step of a larger investigation. If it is required of us, “The War Eagle Reader” may offer further details of any developments. A spotlight must be shined into the cesspool!
The eye of the Eagle sees all!