Maybe xkcd is right and all cultures have as many inside jokes as each other, but I believe that some select groups are especially prone to inside jokes, like debaters for example. I have inside jokes with lots of different groups (I can walk up to a few orchestra friends and mention a Sicilian Largo and have the group folded in half with laughter), but I think policy jokes will always be closest to my heart. There's something about the quality of the humor when a group of nerdy high-schoolers engage in intellectual argumentation that results in terrifically amusing conversations.
Obviously, the whole point of inside jokes is that they are really not funny once they are explained. I am torn between just finishing this post with "I made a giant cookie and wrote something dumb and punny on it," but I feel like that would be unsatisfactory, and a little rude to any out-of-towners. Even if it ruins the joke completely, I'm just going to go ahead and explain the whole darned thing.
Of course, this is in reference to Debate Treat Number Two. I wanted something without nuts for the peanut-free debaters, and preferably something that I could write on. I also wanted something quick and easy to make, but cool and usual. I settled on a recipe for a cookie pizza. The cookie was extremely standard, almost boring to make. I didn't have a pizza pan on hand so I pressed the cookie dough onto a buttered cookie sheet. It spread and browned and looked delicious. While it was in the oven, I suddenly realized that I didn't have any clue how to transport this giant cookie to a high school three hours away on a school bus... but that's another story.
For the topping on my giant cookie, I was a bit unsure what to do. I knew that I wanted to write on it, but just leaving it blank with writing on top seemed boring. I didn't have cream cheese for the topping for which the recipe called, but I figured I'd do some sort of icing anyways. Too lazy to make real icing, I spread it with melted chocolate chips. It never ceases to amaze me how difficult it is just to melt chocolate to a smooth consistency. Even going slow and stirring it frequently, I messed up the microwave melting process and had to save the chocolate with water and cream and more chocolate and lots of stirring and all together far too much work for one measly bowl of melted chocolate. On top of the smooth dark chocolate, I used my favorite zip-lock pastry bag trick to write with melted white chocolate. (White chocolate chips are rarely found in my house, but they were bought for another amazing creation that I will write about tomorrow.)
And now, to be utterly polite to those outside of the debate community, I ought to explain the joke. The writing, which is to be pronounced "West Laf debaters are sexier," has an obvious meaning. But why is sexier spelled CX? CX refers to cross-examination, more commonly known as cross-ex, which is the time when one debater questions his or her opponent in an unscripted fashion. Cross-ex is so integral to the type of debate that I do, policy, that policy was once known as cross-examination debate. Thus, debaters, and most important policy debaters, are CXier. And those from my school, of course, are the most CXy.