OFFICIAL ROAST REPORT
We're sorry. Actually, no we're not.
Blacksburg exists solely to feed and house 25,000 college students like livestock. The 'locals' are either tenured professors pretending they're not trapped in an academic bubble or service workers whose entire economy depends on drunk Hokies stumbling to Waffle House at 3 AM.
This town's entire identity is built around football Saturdays and pizza slices the size of manhole covers at Benny Marzano's. When your biggest cultural event is called 'Steppin' Out' and it replaced something literally called 'Deadwood Days' because of a murder, maybe it's time to rebrand.
Virginia Tech brags about having the nation's top dining program while the actual town survives on chain restaurants in strip malls. Nothing says 'sophisticated palate' like ranking Chick-fil-A sauce as your cure for homesickness and calling Au Bon Pain 'the place' for Sunday brunch.
A fanbase so desperate for relevance they turned 'Enter Sandman' into their personality and feed the football team at The Farmhouse like it's the Last Supper. Your biggest claim to fame is making Lane Stadium loud enough to register on seismic equipment—congrats on literally shaking the earth while going 7-5.
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All roasts are fictional and affectionate. Probably.