We haven’t had a post here in almost a year. The Carlson has blown off his duties as historian and doesn’t do podcasts anymore. JT is the worst blogger in the history of blogging. Boo might as well be in his mid-60s since he’s as connected on social media as EdK.
How the hell has this yearly event of manliness for manly men kept going for 20 years when no one pays attention? All I can guess is that it’s like a Grateful Dead concert in the 1960s, where it’s more like a religious experience and people just “know” where and when to go. Everyone already knows the ‘why’ to go — because if you’re a man, you will understand.
This year will be the 20th anniversary of the Symposium. I still remember sitting in the main office where Aaron worked in the dorm and we used Word (or whatever the 1995 version of Word was) to put clipart together with some stupid lines about trying to say “Come get drunk” without actually saying “Come get drunk”. We didn’t want anyone’s wife or girlfriend to think they were just coming out just to drink, but that was all it was. Well, that and we were tired of having to drive three hours to get home for just to play poker with a bunch of fucks. So we invited the fucks to come join us for once.
And from that, this has happened:
- we’ve moved from Iowa to Illinois;
- used five different venues;
- expanded from nine players the first year to about 25 each of the past 10 years;
- tripled the annual sales of main street gas station in Alpha, Ill.;
- and turned it into an annual pilgrimage for people from Georgia to California, Mississippi to Oregon, and even some slaps from Indiana.
Now it’s time to make that trek again. There may not be the same hype up from The Carlson this year, but hey, who really needs it? We all know how to get there. Now make sure you do.
The Symposium 