Allusion (ə-ˈlü-zhən):[1] A reference/representation of/to a well-known person, place, event, literary work, or work of art . . . “a brief reference, explicit or indirect, to a person, place or event, or to another literary work or passage”. It is left to the reader or hearer to make the connection . . . ; an overt allusion is a misnomer for what is simply a reference.[2]
I was going to college, I was the first person in my family to go to college. I was ready to conquer the world. My Uncle Guido had “arranged” a scholarship for me in accordance with my father’s last wishes. I was going to Rutgers, the State University of New Jersey. Uncle Guido told me all I needed to do for the scholarship is get a couple of decent rackets going at Rutgers. Like Rodney Dangerfield said,“The way my luck is running, if I was a politician I’d be honest.” I’m not certain how pertinent this is, but I love Rodney Dangerfield.
School was going to start in two weeks, so I needed to hurry up and get something going. I came to the conclusion that parking and sex were two categories of college life that might form a foundation for solid rackets.
Parking was always at a premium and it was expensive. I found a friend of Uncle Guido’s who did time for counterfeiting. He was eager to help. He printed 500 fake parking permits. The University charged $100 for the academic year. We charged $50! I sold the permits from my car. I sold out in an hour. I ordered 500 more, and 500 more! Pretty soon all the campus parking permits might be fake. Guido congratulated me and told me I could work for him when I graduated!
Then, there was getting laid. For many male students, getting laid has a higher priority than studying. Many a lad has gone down the tubes, neglecting their studies in search of ass. I would fix that. I would flood campus with cut-rate hookers who were willing to slash their prices because of the almost endless opportunities to ply their trade—it was like wholesale hooking. They would hang around dormitory entrances. They would say things like “How about a little biology,” “Can I sharpen your pencil?” “Do you want to do the horizontal boogie?” It was crazy.
Sex was so easy to obtain now that students didn’t need to waste their time looking for it and grades went up. Students were happier. Rutgers’ rankings among other colleges improved, and everybody was happy, including Uncle Guido who skimmed 10% off each transaction. Although I didn’t like it much, I was nicknamed “Professor Pimp.”
The four years flew by. I’m graded two weeks ago with a degree in philosophy. My little brother took over my action at Rutgers, and I’m working for Uncle Guido. I’m his driver. Where he goes, I go. My favorite is Monmouth Race Track. I lose $300-400 per visit, but who cares? Uncle Guido pays me four-grand per week, plus benefits.
If you’re thinking of going to college, you should go. Look at me,
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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