The Loser’s Agenda

The group chat has been silent since Thursday. Everyone’s in a field somewhere, sunburned and watching the same four DJs cycle through the same four headliners. Good for them. For the rest of us—the landlocked, the schedule-conflicted, the constitutionally unable to camp—here’s a loose agenda.

First: find a busy street and make a large sign. Write on it in thick black marker: "Honk if you have a small penis." Hold it up and count. Second: spend the entire weekend conducting yourself like a fucking English rock star. Don’t explain this to anyone. Just commit.

Third: acquire a full case of Club-Mate iced tea and pour it into your bathtub. What happens next is your business. Fourth: sleep with a red-haired Japanese studies student. This will benefit your soul and your genitals in roughly equal measure, and you’ve been neglecting both. Fifth: sue Apple. Everyone’s doing it. You’ll think of a reason later.

Sixth: kiss some breasts. Whoever’s are nearest. Gender is not a prerequisite, only willingness. Seventh: read a Wolfgang Hohlbein novel—Germany’s most prolific fantasy author, the man personally responsible for several thousand adolescents believing in werewolves—and feel your brain settle into a completely different gear. Eighth: find the emo who lives near you and give them a strawberry lollipop. It costs almost nothing. You might save their life.

Ninth and final: call your ex-partner. When they pick up, scream excitedly that Rudolph has finally uncovered the secret of the thousand salamis with the help of the Knöbelstrudel and the gold treasure has been moved to Section B. Hang up immediately. Never speak to this person again. You’re done.