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Slacklining: Hipsters At Their Dumbest

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Slacklining: Hipsters At Their Dumbest

College is great. You move away from your parents, they still support you for the most part, and you have the time of your life. If you’re smart, you join a fraternity. Many, though, do not make the wise choice. Of those who choose not to pledge, many are normal people, indiscernible from you or me, but there are some who seem to do everything they can to be absolutely weird. One such group of weirdos that I never even noticed for much of my college career exists on your campuses today. These creatures of course, are slackliners.

You may be wondering what the hell a slackliner is, and if you are, I don’t blame you. As I said earlier, I spent most of my time as an undergrad with absolutely no knowledge of the nerds’ existence. In fact, I discovered them completely by accident.

It was a warm spring morning. There may have been a slight breeze rolling across the quad that day, but I can’t remember for sure. See, I was drunk. Sure, it may have barely been after 11:30, but given the weather, it would’ve been a crime to be sober. Being the asshole that I am, I devised an ingenious new game. To be honest, I can’t recall if I ever gave it a name, but it’s really just croquet. The key difference is that instead of aiming for the wickets, you try to smack the ball as hard as you can at the hippies playing ultimate frisbee and then blow it off as a stray shot. Try it for yourself. It’s a true gentleman’s game.

My three fraternity brothers (also drunk) and I were playing with the prowess one would expect from the men of my chapter. After all, we were the only house on campus with a croquet squad. We were nailing some perfect shots right into the heart of the hippies’ game. It was truly a demonstration of athletic ability. When my next turn came around, I got a little overzealous and put too much force behind the ball, sending it way past my anticipated target. It landed in the upper corner of the quad, and it was there that I first laid eyes upon the barefooted devils. I had seen the slackliners.

For those of you that don’t know, these jackasses walk along a rope — a line — with slack in it (get it?). In this case, it was strung between two trees. It’s not as thin as a tight rope, but it sags as they walk on it. People who are actually good at it can do handstands and shit, but these “people” were just walking across. Now, I don’t know if you have these scourges on your campus, but just in case you don’t, let me fill you in.

First and foremost, I’m not going to tell you that I think slacklining is easy. There’s no way in hell I could do it, mainly because I’d never try. That’s actually my main point. There’s absolutely no reason to do it, other than to try to be different and non-mainstream, which is fucking stupid. Sure, it takes some balance, and if you’re doing tricks on it, a lot of strength and skill, but regardless, it’s absolutely stupid.

Now, if any of you slackliners happen to be reading this, don’t even try to argue with me. You’ll say, “You just think it’s dumb because you can’t do it.” Really? That’s the best argument you’ve got? Do you fucksticks think flying a plane and landing it safely is dumb because you can’t do it? Hell no. Of course you don’t. Want to know why? It’s because that’s a useful skill that serves a purpose. You walking along a piece of nylon webbing isn’t bringing travellers to their destinations or aiding in global commerce. If anything, you’re taking up valuable quad real estate that a hot chick could be using to get a tan. You slacklining dweebs are just getting in the way.

Some might ask, “How can you talk shit about someone walking across a line that’s so high off the ground?” Well, it’s simple. I’m not talking shit about people walking across a line that’s high off the ground. If you walk across the Grand Canyon on any kind of line, hey, good for you. That’s impressive as shit. If you walk across what’s essentially a tow strap hanging three feet off the ground, you’re not taking anyone’s breath away. I don’t think there is anyone outside of their strange community of wannabee circus performers that thinks what they’re doing is all that stunning.

In all, I really hate these slacklining sons of bitches because they’re trying to show off. Don’t get me wrong, I love to show off. We all do, actually. That’s kind of our thing. We’re the best at it. But I don’t like them showing off for two main reasons. First, as I’ve said numerous times, their hobby is fucking stupid and it’s a waste of energy for my brain to process the images my eyes see when I happen to glance upon those sorry excuses for human beings. Secondly, they’re hipsters. I don’t want them showing off. By showing off in public, I have to see them. I don’t want to see their beards, I don’t want to see their “ironic” clothes, and I sure as shit don’t want to see them walking across a damn line and acting like it’s some sort of death defying stunt. Go be non-mainstream somewhere else, nerds. Someone could be playing cornhole between those two trees.


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