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Within the sixth week^¿ of every winter quarter, there is a rise in Inverted Testicular Chronic Hernia on the residential side of campus. This disease, while normally easy to detect anywhere else, is difficult at RIT due to the quietness of its engineering students.¹ Hence, most people don't discover they have it until they vomit their receded nutsacks. The first symptoms seem like the flu, just much worse. In a normal hernia, the testicles recede into the body. This is normally caused by absurd amounts of stress. However, at RIT, the absurd is turned upside-down, and the amount of stress felt here could even break Ghandi. Hence, the hernia is made worse, and the testicles recede further. Most people discover they have the ITCH when it is too late. Believing they have the flu, the victim sneezes, only to find their testicles leap from their mouth.

One cure for the ITCH is non-masturbatory sex. However, the ones afflicted with ITCH are usually the least likely to get laid. The physical disfigurement of ITCH, combined with the unattractive male RIT student^¶ creates a severe impediment to fraternizing with women, or even most female primates. As the afflicted students drift farther from campus, competition from sexually competent men further hinders their efforts to engage in non-masturbatory sex. This is made worse since non-RIT men lack the freakish androgenous features common to the ITCH sufferers. Masturbation then becomes only choice. But due to the location of the testicles, masturbation becomes more difficult. It usually involves something along the lines of self-inflicted cunt punch while in the shower. A physics professor can (and often) provide the catalyst with their fists and/or feet. Regardless, most victims regard this is a shrinkage in their already feeble penis size. One would reason a penis size in the negative inches would be a clue, but victims of ITCH are hard to reason with.

In these situations, ITCH victims react to their desperate feelings of isolation and impotent frustration in much the same fashion as many other severely fucked-up and traumatized persons do -- by turning to the internet. In the artificial digital freakshow which is cyberspace, the afflicted former RIT students find a celebrity status amongst the admiring throngs of perverts and^¥ Japanese people^£. They also find solace in potential mating opportunities with "eager young teen sluts who wish to explore all the excitingly raunchy opportunities afforded to them by a set of withered, inverted genitalia."^§ While such news may sound encouraging, it is important to note that there are no recorded cases of such contacts leading to further relations. "Further relations" is defined as "interring the recalcitrant wallaby," or "statutory rape." Within one year of their initial diagnosis, an estimated 102%^Þ of untreated ITCH sufferers fall victim to fatal accidents involving simulated cunt-punching with household furniture or lighting fixtures.

Stress levels often top during the winter quarter. Depression mixed with anxiety leads to ITCH. One can almost create a function corresponding testicular recession to academic week. There are some cases of ITCH during other quarters, but they are less frequent. Researchers believe the winter quarter raises this function by a constant, which brings more victims above the ITCH margin.

The following things contribute to the stress felt by the RIT student that becomes afflicted by the ITCH. Please beware if you follow these symptoms:

At least one prior quarter of poorer-than expected academic performance.

One bad grade on a major homework or test.

Another bad grade on another major homework or test.

Something due in every class for one whole week.

Late-teen angst due to girl problems, and degradation of available pornography.^¢

Lack of money, or lack of credit.

A notable decrease in quality free-time.

An ongoing escapade with one of RIT's many offices. It has been said that RIT's bureaucracy works like 700 separate people working together as 700 separate people.

The musings of a Dr. Asshole, the least liked professor ever. Or at least you think it won't get any worse.

Subwoofer entertainment from the people adjacent to you when you nap in the afternoon.

Subwoofer entertainment from the people adjacent to you when you nap in the evening.

Subwoofer entertainment from the people adjacent to you when you nap in the morning.

Fire alarms during the night when you try to sleep, since somebody near the victim cannot handle microwave popcorn.

Random mobs of frat boys screaming, "Beer!" in Dutch, or whatever language they are using.

Some random utility in your dorm or apartment breaking down. See problem 8.

The reversible stomach pump allows air to be pumped into the body at pressures upwards of 200psi. This causes the testicles to be pushed back into place, but must be done properly. Failure to use the pump correctly will cause the testicles to turn inside-out from the penis, followed by digestive organs and the lungs. However, this is a last-resort effort, and emergency surgery often follows. Normal guidelines advise the student leave RIT forever. However, the school often pressures the student to return for the next quarter.

Although all ITCH victims that are treated early are always cured, ITCH is usually diagnosed too late. The diagnosis often happens after death.

"I was walking on the quarter mile." Nelson Scheiber, a 2nd-year IT major said, "when I heard somebody sneeze. I turned around and saw somebody picking up their balls from the ground. And when I say, 'balls,' I mean balls." Scheiber recalled the unfortunate man eventually keeled over and died next to some solicitors.^Λ

"My roommate had the ITCH." Chet Surminec informed us. He is a junior majoring in undeclared engineering. His roommate, only known as "Bardwell,"began playing Linkin Park halfway through his sophomore year. "The poor guy was having some trouble with some girl he met at a party. Apparently, she had her beer goggles on, Bardwell took things too seriously, and then he clamped on to her." He started writing poetry about black roses, and began skipping class. Surminec recalled an odd incident regarding the bathroom. "He acted like he just got kicked in the nuts when he went into the shower. Come to think of it, in the last week he was alive, he always walked around like his nuts were halfway up his torso."

Bardwell was found dead in his bed. His nuts were next to him on his pillow. It was a closed-casket wake, since some 'extra matter' came out with them. At first, RIT suspected foul play, and were about to give Bardwell's roommates parking tickets. But they soon realized it was another case of the ITCH. And it was a case that could have been prevented.

The testimonials of Surminec, Scheiber, and countless others have provided many tell-tale symptoms of ITCH:

Extraordinary cynicism above and beyond the call of duty. This is along the lines of a 90-year-old Rochester native. This does not apply to people actually that old.^Ω

People walking with their legs together, and hunched over in posture. This posture continues during eating and while playing Counterstrike.

Angst normally displayed by oppressed 14-year-old suburbanites.

Countless tests with failing grades written over them. RIT professors usually embellish this by writing a big, red 'X' across each sheet.

Sound of furtive cunt punching coming from the shower.

A sudden case of Tourette's Syndrome.

Loss of any sense of rhythm.^ζ

Bragging/complaining of excessive work schedule for the week.

Five consecutive cloudy days.

Baggy eyes and baggier skin.

At least a week-long diet of Ramen noodles.

An ass resembling a sack full of wet, oily rags.

Bloody underwear.

Continual use of the word "basically" when describing such things as eating, sleeping, operating the remote control, and conquering women.

If you are a woman, suck their cock.

If you are a woman, and sucking their cock is too offensive, then smother their head in your boobs.

If you are the victim, and you are a man, suck your cock.

Drop physics.

Take massage class and help them with some strategic poking and prodding.

Purchase tongs for testicle retrieval.

4:20 at 4:20 every day except 4/20, on which you will 4:20 continuously for upwards of eight hours, or until you discover that your wallpaper tastes like onion dip.

Watch a Stanley Kubrick marathon.

Watch a pornography marathon.

Star in a pornography marathon.

If you are afflicted, and tongs won't work, then try this: stick your thumb fully into your mouth, and blow as hard as you can. This should shift the testicles back into position. Failing this...

Call the RIT ambulance service for a free reverse-pumping.

Kick something that won't kick back.^%

Just give up and let out that fart you've been holding in all quarter. In physics class, preferably. This will equalize the pressure in the intestines, eliminating an internal vacuum that contributes to the ITCH.

If you are hopelessly affected, kill yourself until you die.

Consult the Inconspicuous Can of Beer for additional assistance.