It was a night I’ll never forget.

It was Dead Week, but in name only. Students were bustling here and there around campus, completely ignoring the need to prepare for their imminent finals. The only thing “dead” about this week was grades. Well, and the Immortal Ten. Also dead.

Frisbees and footballs cut through the cold December air like spears in the night, but that’s pretty much where that simile ends.

And yet there I sat in my room, studying. It was still early in the evening, but I had not yet had my half-hourly dose of caffeine, and as I read my text messages book I began to drift off to sleep. I fought the slumber with all my strength, valiantly struggling to maintain my consciousness, but soon my eyelids became unbearably heavy, and I nodded off.

My biggest mistake.

I had heard of the BaylorGuys before. I had even checked their site a couple of times, but was disappointed when I discovered that they had seemingly disappeared. No longer were there any posts to keep me distracted from my studies. Only the remnants of a people, lost. I had casually conjectured to myself that the Guys had been abducted by an opposing force that wished to see them eliminated. They were gone, and there would be no return. The BaylorGuys were done.

I awakened from my slumber and stood corrected. I was no longer in my room; rather, I myself had been the victim of an abduction. I found myself (after an embarrassingly long search) at the end of a hall that was comparable in length to an Alaskan Bull Worm. The opposite end of the hall was lit with what appeared to be a screen, but I was too far away to read what was on it.

As I began to make my way to the screen, I noticed that the walls were covered top to bottom with the number 9 in various typefaces and sizes, and from the ceiling was draped a large green banner that was emblazoned with the BaylorGuys logo. Suddenly I realized my fate. This was an induction. Not the kind of induction that was going to require me to follow strict fashion guidelines (cream needs an accent color, people) and force me to give up my friends and finances. No…I was being inducted into a different kind of group: the BaylorGuys nonfraternity of antihilarity and lunacy.

I approached the screen, which was that of a computer, asking me for my login and password to BaylorGuys.com. I typed in my credentials, and was branded with my new identity.

It’s nice to meet you. I’m Guy #9, and if for nothing else, I’m here to remind you that Robert Griffin III won the Heisman Trophy.

Have a perfectly unproductive first week back! We’ll post again when we deem it necessary, and you’ll live with it.

-Guy #9

So what if we didn’t post last semester? At least when we took our sabbatical it didn’t involve quitting on years and years of tradition…

We’ll let who that line was directed at sink in for a second, while also allowing you to get over your shock of our return.

Now. The question you may be asking is why in Rufus Burleson’s top hat hasn’t somebody in that ill-named BaylorGuys nonfraternity fraternity of antihilarity and lunacy posted?

And we answer your question with a question…

U MAD BRO?

You see sometimes a break is necessary, it helps you set your priorities straight and allows others when (had to get that first spelling error out of the way early) Heisman Trophies (yes we’re taking credit for Robert Griffin III’s Heisman Trophy and proof will lie within our internal servers until such time as we decide to expose it).

And by priorities we really mean one thing: we were way too consistent. We were more consistent than Baylor Proud’s double emails. And that is a fault we can no longer stand to BEAR (HA! aren’t you glad we’re back?). So as it stands we’re going to be inconsistent on purpose. But not so much so that we become consistently inconsistent (it’s kinda like if Kappa Delta decided to nonexistually [not a word freshmen.. don't use it in Thinking, Writing, and Coloring] exist).

You see, our very nature is derived from a desire to be inconsistent. We are after all… guys. (Yes, ladies, that one was for you). As a result, we don’t know when we’ll post but we will, and following us on twitter and facebook are your best options for knowing when to visit our homely blog.

Now for the freshmen who we have so awfully wronged in not providing them with content to feast their little eager eyes on while procrastinating on that Christian Scriptures test over everything they missed while stuffing their faces with doughnuts instead of paying attention in Sunday School growing up.. we truly regret to inform you: we don’t care about you.

In fact, since no one is here to protest, we decree that no one in the class of 2015 is allowed to lay eyes on this site, ever. So get off. (Guy #7 wants it to be noted that he will allow access for two minutes at a time at the cost of an Einstein Bagel and a pack of gushers).

So finally, since our nonexistent firewall can’t actually keep you freshmen out of here, please check out our about page to figure out what is going on… or just read through the hundreds of posts we have slaved over throughout our late night studies.

So welcome back to your procrastination destination. Your daily routine will involve us because we said so.

- The BaylorFreakingGuys

Oh and to that one kid who still knows where he is going… Take Highway 6 to College Station where you belong.

p.s. in case somehow you live underneath that weird sculpture in the Draper courtyard, Robert Griffin won the Heisman Trophy. (yes, every post this semester will remind you of it, and we still won’t have drilled it into your heads as much as the TPTB have done.)

The entire reason that I started writing for these guys was they coveted my problem-solving abilities. When they realized they would never ascertain them, like at all, they figured they’d hire me (that’s right, we get paid to do this).

What is the problem that we are facing at the moment? No, it’s not that we are about to play a TCU team that everybody THINKS isn’t as good because of the loss of Andy Dalton – I can assure you, we are still in for it. Anyway, it’s this darn heat. We can’t even walk to class without having to bring a change of clothes. So, what to do about it? Well, I have brainstormed and brainstormed, and here are my top three possibilities:

1) This is my weakest idea in terms of ingenuity, but probably best in terms of pragmatic value. We all stay home. A simple, good ol’ fashioned strike. It has officially become too hot for too long for our own health. Something tells me professors won’t fail every member of a class. Unless of course it’s a social work class; we all know how harsh and tough those profs can be. I know, it’s cliche: “everyone skip!” But, rather than suggesting this from a standpoint of being a punk high schooler who wants to do something to be remembered by, I’m merely saying we have our bodies to think about. I am pretty sure God did not intend for us to have to endure this level of absurd heat.

2) Which brings me to my second option. Appeal to the Higher Powers for a respite from this drought (by drought I mean the continual lashing of a solar flare). What does Baylor do best? We sing and dance. We have months of time set aside so that we can choreograph a seven minute event! Let’s put that creativity to work towards a campus-wide flash-mob rain dance! Ridiculous? Absolutely. Worth a try? Actually, I’d do it if it got organized. So whoever the mysterious person who organizes those things is, let’s give this a shot.

3) And, if you chickens don’t go for 1 or 2, then there is still an option that is absolutely possible for anyone. Quit. Talking. About. The. Heat. Goodness, everyone is either Facebook posting about it, tweeting about it, or even worse, devoting time to blog about it! Give it a rest people. Everyone is tired of hearing about it, everyone knows it’s hot, anyone taking time to talk about it more and dedicate time out of their day to discuss it is just dumb…

-Guy #8

P.S. We really don’t get paid to do this, but how cool would that be?

So, I’m sure some of you have been wondering where the heck we’ve been since school started. Well, to tell you the truth (I know, a novel idea), besides fighting crime, we’ve frankly been doing nothing. Now, I bet you’re asking yourself, “Self, I wonder why those BaylorGuys haven’t been posting if they haven’t had anything to do?”

For you veteran readers, the above question should scream “paradox.” Why on earth would we actually spend our free time doing this!? We provide this service as a procrastination tool not just for you guys, our readership, but for us as well! So, now that we’ve moved past the week of going over syllabi and taking that random pop quiz that your professor is trying to scare you with, we can get back to it. Because, now, we have real work to put off to write for you guys, and you guys have real work that you can put off to read our crap.

Baylorites, enjoy this semester; you’ll never get it back!

Side note: why do people say that? Is there ever an event or moment in a linear time model that we do “get back?” It just seems unnecessary to point out the obvious.

Anyway, please do enjoy yourselves! We can’t promise a post everyday, and for that horrific transgression, we apologize. We’ll do our best to give you ample material to waste time with.

Au Revoir,

Guy # 8

P.S. I actually did think of a way that you could, in a sense, get this semester back: fail all your classes. So, don’t let your fear of the unknown get the best of you and pass those suckers.

On the eve of school kicking back up into full gear, Texas A&M decided to invite themselves to a party to which they were never actually invited. In fact, not only was there no invitation, but they made such a ruckus about it that when the news broke that they were all talk (well, we already knew that) the SEC felt so bad for them that they had to add “with respect to any institution including Texas A&M” while reaffirming “satisfaction with the present 12 institutional alignment.” We guess that even the SEC realizes that the Cult in College Station has such a fragile state of mind that even the slightest hint of an insult requires a pick me up in order to make any other discussion possible.

We’d like to draw attention to how this scenario played out much like the way football typically works out for them. They make a lot of noise, make everyone pay attention to them, and it amounts to nothing.

Once again we’d love to point to the Cult in College Station’s traditional mediocrity by setting up this scenario for you:

Team #1 // 6-5
Team #2 // 5-6

Since 1945, Team #1 has averaged just over 6 wins a year and just over 5 losses.
Since 1945, Team #2 has averaged just over 5 wins a year and just under 6 losses.

Team #1 is Texas A&M and Team #2 is Baylor. We concede this small victory to the Aggies because A) you have to tell them they won something before they’ll listen to you and B) because we wanted to further entrench in your minds the celebrated mediocrity that occurs at the Cult at College Station.

Before we continue, we must be quick to point out and deflect the obvious retort that will come from Aggies that have spread themselves across America. Some form of “You’re the cult because you’re from Waco.”

In fact, let us dispel this ridiculous assertion for anyone who may be confused – “It” took place 9 miles northeast of Waco. Which, is not Waco.

Also, we don’t do things like this:

Now, we generally agree that this will eventually happen. The Cult will end up in the SEC and it will go something like….

Whiny, loud, obstinate, overbearing, little kid wants to play in the big kid sandbox, despite not being able to stand in his own. Big kids come over to survey the prospects for their sandbox and discovers a whiny, loud, obstinate, overbearing little kid with lots of cash. After the big kids mull the situation over it is decided that they could stand the extra cash flow from the little kid’s parents and could always use another little kid to pick on. Done deal.

The little kid is so excited to join the club, and he does so with much excitement, noise and bravado. But at the end of the day his best is still only mediocre.

…And kinda weird.

- The BaylorGuys