Time to kill off Spring Break; it's Springer's fault


March 20, 2001

As I write this column, university students both locally and around the country are celebrating Spring Break. The bastards. How dare they? How come these young college punks get a week off to frolic with glee when we older farts, who really NEED and DESERVE time off, don't get any? It's simply NOT RIGHT.

Anyway, for reasons unrelated to my crankiness at not getting a week off, I am afraid to say that it's time to abolish Spring Break for good. I know this will not be popular with college students, but they can collectively bite me. The institution of Spring Break is simply too out of control, and it needs to be stopped. I am sure I can count on the support of the Hansen family on this, and I have no doubt that religious organizations will throw tons of money at this effort, too. So there.

I base this opinion about the out-of-controledness of Spring Break on some MTV I had the misfortune of watching here a few weeks back, before the weather got good. It was snowing, and it was Saturday. This combination had me locked indoors, and I was quite peeved about it. Thus, I flipped on the television, and was greeted with one of the most terrible things that has ever seen the light of day.

Jerry Springer. In shorts.

It is my firm belief that such a display should be outlawed, even if it takes an amendment to the U.S. Constitution, and any violations of said law should be punishable by death. Or the forced viewing of a "Suddenly Susan" marathon. Whichever is less desirable.

But I digress. Springer was hosting some Spring Break show that, because the MTV folks are cruel, evil cretins, was being re-run in the middle of this winter storm. This show featured nothing but Jerry and approximately 127,000 young men and women, all of whom have single-digit body-fat percentages, perfect complexions and extremely revealing swim wear. This leads me to believe that MTV officials must be exterminating everybody who dares go on Spring Break with love handles or acne, dumping their bodies in some secret location, like an XFL game or something.

But back to the show. Jerry Springer was -- and I swear I couldn't make something like this up, even if I tried to while on high-powered medications -- officiating some ridiculous game in which a male and a female had to go into a phone booth and switch swimsuits. It was a timed contest, and the winners, I am guessing, won some sort of prize that they needed, like some dignity.

During this contest -- which was broadcast in its entirety, with some well-placed blurry spots -- the guy and girl would frantically strip down, and help each other on with their suits. They would then come out of the booth, looking kind of embarrassed and trying to cover themselves -- the women were covering their tops, seeing as men's suits don't have tops, and the men were covering their front middle regions, seeing as women's swimsuit bottoms aren't built to handle all that a man's front middle region consists of.

This whole episode leads me to ask several obvious questions:

1. What dweeb came up with this contest?

2. Do the participating couples, knowing that the contest is coming up, practice?

3. Does anybody clean and disinfect the phone booths thoroughly after the contest is over?

4. Can we somehow arrange for Cincinnati to be bombed in retaliation for them giving us Jerry Springer?

This whole episode is what led me to my previously stated conclusion that Spring Break is obviously way out of control, and that it needs to immediately be put to a stop. I feel that it should be replaced by a week where we working adults get a week off, and the beautiful, buff college kids have to fill in for us while being forced to watch "Suddenly Susan." I also feel that Jerry Springer should be deported to an island where cannibalism is an accepted practice, and greasy, middle-aged talk-show hosts are a delicacy.

Well, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go now. It's time for my therapy session. I am being treated for a sudden fear of contaminated phone booths.

Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who believes MTV was better when it showed more videos. His column appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org. 1