Welcome to the Baconfest den of inequity. What, you ask, is Baconfest? Using the great psychic powers of the multiverse, I knew you'd ask, and therefore prepared this page just for you, you inquisitive thing!

Once a year on the week/weekend preceding Martin Luther King Jr. Day, led by the all-knowing, all-powerful, all-loving JBZ, a troupe of friends/acquaintences/strangers/pets/kegs of varying size, composition, and temperment make the trek northward into the great vast wilderness known as the Northeast Kingdom, there to recline at the table (Daddy? Why is this week different from all other weeks? Shut up, kid, and finish your beer!) and consume much smoked pigflesh (or hapless, cruelly hunted asparagi for the veggies among us) and cackle as we fork it down.

Essentially, the core founding group of this motley crew, being Grad Students decided one year (well, okay, in 1996) that for MIT's Intersession, we would blow the popsicle stand and drink much in the North. Why up there? Because it's so bloody cold that you feel no guilt at all for not leaving the house even once, but rather sitting on your arse and boozing all day. Have a brew!