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But it's as good a jumpoff for me to reminisce about the intersection of Street Fighter, my fraternity in college, and a case study in cognitive dissonance.

This happened back at N.C. State, where I was a member of Tau Kappa Epsilon's Beta-Beta chapter. Names have been changed to protect the ashamed, but the frat nicknames are, I swear to God, real. Here goes.

Around 1993, everyone was playing one of two games on their Genesises or Super Nintendoes — Street Fighter or a college football ripoff game that called us "STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA" to skirt NCAA licensing rules. But I digress. Everyone knew Street Fighter is the point, and everyone got their asses handed to them by Evil E, Ton O' Fun, Big Al, or Strap-On, almost always playing Chun-Li or Ken.

My roommate, Queef, and I lived next door on the front hall to a brother, Guy, who was about as shady as they come. Like a few years later, the State Bureau of Investigation was looking into the fact he and some others signed up for free Columbia House CDs under a dog's name, and some other identity shit. In fact, one night we heard a "business partner" stop by and threaten Guy within an inch of his life over, I guess, money that was owed. So Guy had a rep for moving with unclean company, that's important.

One day, and I forget how this unfolded, but Guy's roommate, Cooter, dragged me and Queef into their room to play their answering machine. Cooter got home from class before Guy, hit play, and heard a startling threat from, apparently, a Korean gangster. There was a demand for money, an ultimatum of bodily harm, and a meeting place and time: "[REDACTED] THIS IS ... CHUN LI ... YOU MEET ME ... ELEVEN THIRTY AT ... HOUSE O' PANCAKES ...!"

It was an utterly ridiculous, cartooned, even racist voice, but at the time, none of us had ever lived outside North Carolina. So we fucking fell for it. Cooter and I actually drove out to the IHOP on Hillsborough Street to stake out the encounter, following our chapter rule: "The object is not to fuck your brother, but to get your brother fucked."

Even though intercourse was not on the menu of options, we figured allowing Guy to be murdered by a Korean gangster out to collect a bad debt fell into guilty knowledge or passive allowance of fucking over a brother.

So away we went. We even bought 12-inch sandwiches from Sadlack's Heroes to gnaw on while we waited in the car, the two biggest shithead cops on a two-hour stakeout ever. And neither Guy nor any Korean mafiosi showed up.

And when we got back, Ray White Trash and Grape Ape copped to leaving the prank message.

Evil E said, "I knew it was fake. The Korean language does not produce words that sound anything like Chun Li. That's specifically Chinese."

Gee thanks, asshole.

For the record, my fraternity nickname was Fellatiowen.

Is Chun-Li a Post-Op Transsexual? [Destructoid]