But, the real excitement, of course, is going to come at the end of the summer, during Sexual Awareness Week. We import 200 hookers from around the world, and each camper, armed with only a thermos of coffee and $2,000 cash, tries to visit as many countries as he can and the winner, of course, is named King of Sexual Awareness Week and is allowed to rape and pillage the neighboring towns until camp ends.
You must be the short depressed kid we ordered.
Attention. Here's an update on tonight's dinner. It was veal. I repeat, veal. The winner of tonight's mystery meat contest is Jeffrey Corbin who guessed "some kind of beef."
"This is the proudest moment in North Star history!"
Alright, virgins to the left, non-virgins to the right. You guys split 'em up however you want.
Kids are starving in China and you're walking around with a sombrero full of peanuts.
Ok, the zone's not working. They're a little too big to play man-to-man. And we can't shoot for shit.
Attention all campers, it's 9:30... and that's lights-out time here at Camp Northstar, 9:30 as you know. Tomorrow is parents day, and you must look rested or Morty will be sent to the state penitentiary.
Thatís just the attitude we donít need, Phil. Sure, Mohawk has beaten us 12 years in a row. Sure, theyíre terrific athletes. Theyíve got the best equipment that money can buy. Hell, every team theyíre sending over here has their own personal masseuse. Not masseur. Masseuse. But, it doesnít matter. Do you know that every Mohawk competitor has electrocardiogram, blood and urine tests every 48 hours to see if thereís any change in his physical condition. Do you know that they use the most sophisticated training methods from the Soviet Union, East and West Germany, and the newest Olympic power, Trinidad Tobago. But, it doesnít matter. It just doesnít matter. It just doesnít matter! I tell you it just doesnít matter! It just doesnít matter! Even...and even if we win...if we win... Ha! Even if we win. Even if we play so far over our heads that our noses bleed for a week to ten days. Even if God in Heaven above comes down and points His hand at our side of the field. Even if everyman woman and child held hands together and prayed for us to win. It just wouldnít matter because all the really good looking girls would still go out with the guy from Mohawk cause theyíve got all the money. It just doesnít matter if we win or we lose. It just doesnít matter! It just doesnít matter! It just doesn't matter!
Mmmmm. Look at all those steaming wieners. Do you know what they're saying? They're saying, "This is the year that Fink beats 'The Stomach'." No, it's a couple of them over here... but they're saying it.
What? No mustard?