We Aren't!

At orientation for Poop State yesterday, I was fortunate enough to meet the Director of Admissions. This man was a noodle.

It's difficult to explain what makes a man a noodle. It was a Socratic experience, staring at this man and glimpsing the essence of noodle.
Physical description: tall, thin, effeminate;
Not just noodly or even noodlesque...Noodle.

He spoke, full lisp, on what it meant to attend a Poop State campus. He recalled for us his first years in Poop State. The noodle could feel! He said that he once despised the typical Poop State student's wild fanaticism and loyalty. He said he did not understand it...this noodle was speaking to me. I, too, had an indifferent disgust for my Poop State peers after high school. Something about them gave off the glow of brainwashing. I could almost see the Mind-worms moving beneath their extreme passion for what was, essentially, a financially crippling four-year distraction.

But the noodle had more to say. Later, he said, slowly evolving feelings of affection appeared. They changed him. Poop State changed him. His employment, he claimed, was testament to this.
Learned obedience, spake my mind. The campus always dreams itself the master.

Oh well. I guess it can't be that bad.
...
Oh, Christ. IS THIS HOW IT STARTS?