Ok, ok. We’ve heard your questions. This is what a Stuper Bowl would look like:
It would start as a battle between myself and Joe. Stuart would be concerned, but he wouldn’t know how to interfere. Joe wouldn’t fully know it was happening. I would be trying to break into his computer, probably because I’d had a dream that the NIT fates told me the computer held the secrets to their infinite wisdom (the possibility I will have this dream is definitively the biggest existential threat facing this website). He would think I was joking. I would not be joking.
According to The Barking Crow/All Things NIT canon, this would put me in Des Moines, likely armed with a box of Panera chocolate chip cookies. Des Moines, as you may know, is relatively close to Minneapolis. Closer than it is to me now. Which means Beef Stu would inevitably show up.
This would be a life-saver for Joe’s computer. Because while my own brain brainwashing itself is the biggest existential threat, Beef Stu is a much more urgent one, and a much more infuriating one. After hearing Beef Stu talk for four seconds about how good Luka Garza is, I would not be broken of my computer-infiltrating frenzy, but I would be distracted from it, with my attention fully turned towards an attempt to rid the earth of Beef Stu, something Joe would be happy to join forces on (I would be trying to stuff Beef Stu into a vortex in the basement of Michigan State’s student union, Joe would be trying to convince him to ride a SpaceX rocket to Saturn, which Beef Stu would think sounded “lit”). At this point, Stuart would know how to interfere, probably by saying something lame like, “Guys, guys. Be cool. We don’t want you in prison,” at which point Beef Stu, not realizing we were trying to end his semi-fictional existence, would say, “Yo dudes did you see the fight Friday man Jose Canseco’s such a p****,” which would cause us all to pause and look at one another, at which point South Dakota Stu would enter the room.
With a shotgun (South Dakota Stu is always armed, because he’s always prepared to go hunting).
Beef Stu would say something like “Dude, sick!” but he would be cowering in fear as he said it, and then he’d begin saying it repeatedly, like a robot glitching out. This wouldn’t enrage South Dakota Stu, but it would annoy him, which would possess Stuart to turn his full attention to trying to stop South Dakota Stu from shooting Beef Stu in the face.
This effort would ultimately be successful, but not without South Dakota Stu at one point yelling, “IT’S BEEF STU SEASON!” Thankfully, bloodshed would be avoided. But we would rough Beef Stu up a little. Mostly with kicks to the torso.
If you’re wondering when Disco Stu would show up, the answer is now, and Disco Stu, as is so often the case, would be on the run.
Which is where the bowl comes in.
We’ve never told you this about Disco Stu, but he’s a potter. And he has no respect for intellectual property laws. None whatsoever. We are also unfailingly loyal to Disco Stu. So, when Disco Stu would roll up and say, “Disco Stu says, ‘I’ve been selling pottery pretending it’s made by Seth Rogen, and now the feds are hot on my ass,’” Joe, Stuart, and myself would abandon Beef Stu, South Dakota Stu would go back to hunting, and the four of us not abandoned and not hunting would book it to Windsor, where Disco Stu would know of a safe house that would really be more like a safe bridge.
