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There's a story that goes with this. When I was a student at ND, for a time I shared a house with 5 other guys on Miner St. We were pretty notorious for having a party of some sort going pretty much 24/7. One night, however, during finals week, a couple of guys who lived there, and who were actually trying to at least make a show of caring about their classes, asked that the rest of us keep it down so they could go to bed early, since they both had finals the next day. We, of course respected that.
One of my other buddies and I were taking a class at that time called something like "classical music seminar." The class consisted of getting high, going to class, and listening to classical music while the professor talked about it. About the only requirement for exams was to be able to identify the composer, the piece of music, and maybe the movement as the prof played the records. So, to avoid having to go to class too much, my buddy and I went to the South Bend public library where I had a card and checked out all of the albums on the syllabus. That way, we didn't have to get up and go to class. We could just listen to these records on our own time, usually late at night while consuming a few bowls.
That is what we were doing this particular night. All of a sudden, there was all this racket on the front porch, and into the darkened house burst these crazy, flaky, girls from St. Mary's (Smick Chicks, we used to call them, I don't know if that is still true) who we had partied with on occasion. The very first thing one of them did was sit down at the drum set I had set up in the living room and started banging away. We hushed them up as quickly as we could, explaining to them the situation. They saw the big pile of stash and the bong sitting on the coffee table, and invited themselves to join us. We told them that was fine, but they were going to have to be quiet, sit in the darkened, candlelit room and listen to Mozart's 40th symphony, because we were doing our homework.
That lasted about 5 minutes, and they started bitching and whining that they wanted to hear some rock and roll. So, to shut them the hell up, I went over and put on this album, which belonged to a roommate of mine. It starts out with a live version of "Roadhouse Blues," which I cranked up good an loud, which made them really happy. But shortly into all of their "yeah, rock and roll" and all that, the song faded out, and this poem came on. The looks on their faces were priceless,, especially as my buddy and I were now leering at them with the most lecherous looking expressions we could manage. Never saw girls abandon a party so quickly. We, of course, laughed our asses off. Then, I think we went down to Bridget's
