To the Editor:
I came here last year in the hopes that there was something special about Dartmouth, some mysterious quality that separates us from the rest of the world and its sad influences. And for the most part, I have not been disappointed in my ten months here. I have been able to avoid Sally Jesse Raphael and Montel Williams, and have concentrated my efforts on nobler pursuits such as BlitzMail and the World Wide Web. I have filled my muscles and brain with the granite of New Hampshire. I have seen the leaves change, the constellations sparkle and the Connecticut break. To the best of my knowledge, I have had the complete New England experience.
Today, however, my idealistic view of pristine Hanover came crashing down like a sheet of ice off the roof of Webster Hall when I realized that O.J. Simpson has firmly grasped his bloody gloves on our fair campus. This revelation really started last night, when a few of my friends, whom I truly respect as intelligent and wholesome individuals, began talking about the O.J. verdict to be handed down this afternoon. I laughed and thought nothing of it at the time.
At lunch today, however, O.J. and Company reared their ugly heads again. It began when I saw a poll on the front page of your fine newspaper asking my fellow classmates whether O.J. would be declared guilty. At first I marveled that you could find 135 students who cared enough to answer. But suddenly, my roommate and two of his friends began arguing about O.J. and whether he would be declared guilty! At first I laughed, but then they became quite serious about it and made plans to meet at the Lone Pine to hear the result first hand. I couldn't believe it. It was like some pathetic "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" remake.
Very disappointed in my roommate's temporary insanity, I left the table and came back to my room. But walking across the green, it was like scales had been removed from my eyes. People were chatting about O.J., walking over to the Lone Pine, inviting me with them, taking bets on the verdict. It was quite an eye-opening experience. Pristine New Hampshire, indeed!
Hopefully, tomorrow, O.J. mania will be over, and Kato, Shapiro, and Ito will be names of the past, and we can get back to running around the bonfire and jumping into frozen Occom Pond, like the true outdoorsmen that we are. But somehow I doubt it. O.J. will find some way back into our lives: through the autobiographies of the jurors, the miniseries and docudramas and the bad sneaker commercials. Why? Because that's the way of the world, and apparently that's the way of the Dartmouth campus.
I think, though, that if this disease should continue to choke out all intelligent life on this campus, I will probably take my cue from O.J. and find the next slow-moving white Bronco to the border in hopes of finding peace. Based on the results of his efforts, however, I don't expect to ever find refuge from the clutches of this debacle.
