Tales From the DJ Booth: To Catch a College Student

Last month, an Oregon State University student named Kendra Sunderland was ratted out by a jelly-ass bitch for working as a webcam model, specifically for a video Kendra filmed in what appears to be the darkest and most secluded section of the OSU library (likely dedicated to Religious Grant-Writing or GMO-Focused Factory Farm Management). The video, a thirty-minute snorefest with no more than three strokes worth of nudity, was labeled a "masturbation tape" by the over-reactionary media. Because of this, Kendra faces legal troubles, with the worst-case scenario landing her as a registered sex offender. Here are four reasons why I think the girl who snitched on Kendra should be placed in a prison camp and fed nothing but shards of dirty glass by Scientologists who don’t wash their hands.

Registered Sex Offender Status is Shameful and Dangerous.

My landlord chewed me out for smoking blunts in the privacy of my neighbor’s own swing set. If you think she’d rent to someone who had sex with children, you’re the one who needs to put down the blunts. Google any sex offender registry inquiry (but don’t steal my idea of making a Pokemon-like GPS-based "To Catch a Predator" IRL RPG app), and you will notice little balloons on the map that indicate the location of local chi-mos and other pervs. The apartment complexes who rent to them are often clumped together in shady complexes with surnames like "Vista" or "Manor."

Because "registered sex offender" is an umbrella term that doesn’t differentiate between guys who piss on the wrong tree and full-on nun rapists, Kendra would be stuck living in one of these Rapeartments, having to introduce herself to her shady neighbors as the teenage girl who got busted filming naked, pierced, perfect D-cup breasts... "Say, do you want to come inside for some coffee and murder?"

Plus, if registered as a sex offender, Kendra will never find non-nude employment, be able to travel freely, date a guy with kids, work at (or patronize) strip clubs and other adult entertainment establishments... all because she flashed a camera on her laptop.

Naked Protests, Rush Weeks and Fraternity Date Rape Fests Are University-Sponsored

Well, maybe that last activity is sort of absorbed by the one mentioned before it, but the point I’m making is that, regardless of where Kendra’s video ended up (and the purposes behind recording it), we’re talking about the public humiliation and potential criminal charges against a student who decided to partake in some pretty timid nudity. Worse, this is taking place in a state that endorses naked bike rides and topless protests.

Try to digest this, dear quirkier-than-thou social progressive: Oregon thinks it is perfectly reasonable for an adult male to show his penis to children for purposes of "raising awareness about transportation alternatives" (a.k.a. feeding the attention of an ego that was never given a driving test as a child), but if a girl is trying to pay her tuition by taking her hunched-over-in-a-hoodie-with-no-bra act to the darkest corner of a college (eighteen-and-over) library, she faces social castration and legal buttfuckery.

We all know that Generation Whatever likes to throw around buzzwords like "sex positive" and made-up phrases like "rape culture," but I have two decades worth of Playboy Girls of the Pac 12 spreads (which include models from OSU) that serve as evidence for double-standards regarding Kendra’s supposedly prison-worthy crime.

The Price of College is Too Damn High

If there’s one university in Oregon (aside from Portland State) that gives legitimacy to the "stripping through college" myth, it’s the one with hot cheerleaders and a football team whose mascot is also a pseudonym for "vagina." Oregon State University probably has more active dancers than even the busiest of Portland strip clubs. Further, when referring to one’s limited options in the Eugene/Springfield area, with the exception of strip clubs that are named after minted currency or sister clubs from Portland, laptops are much safer (socially and physically) places for a girl to make money by showing off her mind-blowing, I-believe-in-God-again, perfectly-shaped breasts.

On the internet (well, at least until Ratty McSnitchalot spewed hater-ade all over Kendra’s academic transcript), Kendra Sunderland was SexyScreenName23 (or whatever anonymous handle she currently goes by). In the don’t-go-to-that-part-of Springfield, she’s a nineteen year-old girl with breasts that would cause a nine-car pile up (or a one-van kidnapping). If my future daughter (or current sister) took the initiative of milking her customers (no pun intended) for tuition money via online cam show, instead of working at Bob’s Sticky Kitten on the corner of Industrial and Gunshot, I would feel much better knowing that the guys fapping to my kin or sibling are safe in their Warcraft basements, as opposed to six inches from someone I care about.

Women Have a Right to Safe Sexual Self Expression.

Which goes without saying, allowing me to dedicate the rest of this column to describing just how fantabulously glorious Kendra’s breasts are.

Pretend that you’re looking into the distance, admiring the perfect symmetry of God’s vast creation, when suddenly you see a mist lift to expose two simultaneous sunsets behind shockingly picturesque twin mountains. Without warning, but also without startle, two rainbow-colored doves land on the respective mountain peaks, creating a single golden bacon-flavored marijuana plant to sprout from each mountain’s summit. If one were to do a quick nine-volt battery tongue-test on Kendra Sunderland’s nipple rings, the sensation would compare to the process of harvesting the dove weed, smoking some of it, then selling the rest to a person who doesn’t know how much weed is supposed to cost, using the profits to buy a boat with a hot tub before filling the hot tub with Frank’s Red Hot sauce and drowning chickens in it for purposes of BBQ, then having Snoop Dogg show up with his friends and invite you to sing Gin & Juice with him while the chicken simmers, filming the entire process and having it replace the Superbowl Halftime show.

Return to Tales From the DJ Booth Homepage