Gary. Gary, listen to me. Don't make me shout. Put the arms down. That's it.

The end of the school year is coming up, and Gary, that means you and I aren't going to be Juniors anymore. We're officially Seniors. And if you take a look around you, you'll see what most of us already know. Seniors don't armpit fart the Mario theme.

I'll give you this, it floored me in seventh grade. It knocked 'em dead in ninth grade. It was even, dare I say, a hit with the ladies last year, when we hooked up the N64 in the AV room and you armpit-farted along with the game. Becky had cherry soda spurting our her nose. But, that was your peak man. This whole armpit-fart-mario thing is your own personal Who let the Dogs Out, dude.

No, Super Mario Sunshine isn't going to revitalize the whole thing. You will NOT, in fact, "Blow the roof off that suckah." You will be a grown man, old enough to shave, standing alone at the prom in the center of the gym floor making your own sweaty armpits fart to the tune of a video game.