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A cesspool of AIDS, the college is a mecca for the decadent and amoral, those lost souls who have been condemned to wander round in the blistering heat of the desert, the very people who have been cast out from the Kingdom of Heaven and who must now come to terms with their paramount plight, which consists of standing just outside and beyond the gates of the aforementioned haven, asking themselves for time immemorial, ?Where did I go wrong?? The first day I arrived at the clinic I was confronted by an African green monkey, from whose gullet poured forth the bodily fluid known as saliva; it coursed down his chin before dripping down onto the carpet, across whose expanse were a number of brown and white stains. ?Come with me,? said the monkey, making a shaky motion with his head whilst extending out his paw, which I grasped, trembling slightly; we marched together, hand in hand, through the Little Building and out onto the street, where, I must admit, I stumbled, for I have a rash. Together we made our way to the Emerson Cafe, where the African green monkey and I spoke of the future, before hailing Magic Johnson as our Lord and Savior; then, we made love in the most passionate of fashions; then there was peace; the monkey held me in his arms and told me that I had been initiated into the club, a rite of passage reserved for only the best. Over the course of the next few months, I began to cough and retch and a number of sores appeared throughout my delicate body, particularly in its most sacred of areas; it was with much pride that I thus proclaimed to all those around me: ?I have AIDs.?