Note: This column was written during my junior year at the University of Wisconsin-Superior, and published in the Promethean.
As I sit in this chair trying to write my column, nothing becomes more apparent to me than the lingering smell of cheez-its coming from our editor-in-chief. Strangely enough, he is not eating cheez-it brand crackers. He is merely sitting and working, most likely completely unaware of his cheesiness. Not regular cheesiness, mind you, but more of a “reduced fat cheez-it” smell. The question of why one would create such an aroma amongst themself drives me quite insane. Instead of dwelling, I decide to move on, leaving the dilemma behind.
Since were (or I’m) talking about dilemmas and weirdness, here’s something that’s been bugging me. Our college is working hard to get students here. I used to respect our college’s students (before I enrolled here), but not lately. This is because I’ve heard some of our ungrateful students mocking this fine institution of learning (some of you even going as far as to call UWS a college of “lazy people,” where nobody goes to class). Well, I’m greatly opposed to morons who say garbage like that (or print it in a column in the school newspaper). How dare you. I hope you all are deeply ashamed (of me).
Speaking of our school’s recruiting efforts, I went home to Minneapolis for Thanksgiving recently, and was amazed to see a billboard advertising for UWS. I was impressed for about five seconds, until I realized that the billboard was on Lake Street. This brings up one small question in my mind: WHY ARE WE ADVERTISING FOR OUR SCHOOL ON A STREET THAT’S FAMOUS FOR HAVING HOOKERS AND HOBOS WHO SELL THEIR TOOTH FILLINGS FOR SMACK?!? S-M-A-C-K I TELL YOU! Sorry. I just had to get that out.
Another thing happened when I was home for Thanksgiving. I opened my hometown’s local (crappy) newspaper, and found a full page ad for a grand opening of a new McDonald’s. Among the festivities promised were 99 cent sandwich specials, face painting, and a Grimace appearance. I was excited, even ecstatic about the Grimace appearance, but was devastated to find that my chance had already passed. I was a week late. The joy of punching Grimace in the mid-section, the free coffee for seniors, the dirty words that could have been painted on my face and arse– all these things were lost forever in a world that now seems a little less bright. It’s just like when Mr. T was at the Mariner Mall, and I arrived too late to get an autograph and ask him why the heck he was on a Saturday morning cartoon show with gymnasts. So today I cry– not for Mr. T or Grimace, but because now I’ll never know if they could have helped me meet Scott Baio. My dad always loved Scott Baio.
My dad is going to beat me viciously after reading this article.
Here’s another paragraph that will make my parents deny ever having me:
I would like to start a campaign to get nudist dorms on campus. I may sound crazy, but I think I have a right to walk around campus naked as the dickens. I mean, sure, I may not have the greatest body in the world, but hey– neither do you (don’t deny it, fatty). After winning the fight for nude dorms, I would then establish nude dances, nude class registration and nude nature walks down Tower Avenue. If you agree with me, please visit www.nudeUWS.come If you actually find a website there, please tell me, because that would be pretty dang funny.
In closing, I’d like to tell you about a new section I’m starting in this column called “Quote Me.” In each issue, I’ll print a section of remarks made by our readers over the phone to us. All you have to do to get your goofy quote in is call 394-8335 and leave a funny message on our answering machine. Your name will never be used. All you have to do is go get sloshed (whether it be in a bar, dorm room, or hood of a campus safety cruiser), and say something stupid. In fact, you can even be sober while you do it. Go and try it out this weekend– slander your friends!
That’s it. I can’t take the smell of those freakin’ cheez-its anymore. I’m going to go pour bleach in my nostrils.