All right, sure, I really don't know anything about the following subject. But what does that really matter? We're all high-brow, soon to be robed-and-capped, liberally-brainwashed, hyphen-wielding individuals, trained to recognize that even the ignorant and often tactless perspective is as intrinsically valuable as the ones put forth by those "other," informed chaps (and chappettes) and as worthy of our focus as, shall we say, pudding.
And who doesn't love pudding?
"Just what has sparked this penetrating and most assuredly sharp-witted offering from one within Dartmouth's gyrating mass?" ("sharp" is still a relative term, right?) you ask. Just this: Student Assembly elections have landed, just managing to skirt the roving Radar of Good Sense, to the head-in-hands dismay of those of us who still aren't sure what 'SA' stands for.
Theories circulate freely in the low-resistance netherworld of the student-government-impaired. Shadowy figures, finding strength and security in their exclusive diets of Hop chicken burgers and Mountain Dew (do not discount them because they are purists), gurgle out their Assembly hypotheses whenever properly stimulated. Rest assured, this process is most sobering.
"It's like this group of beings, Demiurges, if you will, who control the very mechanisms of the cosmos and who pose as Dartmouth students every now and again, mainly to take regular advantage of the great shopping bargains in Hanover."
"Now, I've never actually seen an SA, you know. But they're always mentioned in the paper and by college officials. Personally, I'm thinking the administration might be a bit, you know...[circling ear with paint-stained finger]"
"Who wants chapstick?"
I do. But, regardless of what SA is or does, now seems to be a ripe and ready time to observe its posterial residue. Every year, a handful of students are predestined to spend a lot of their time manufacturing clever name-rhymes for others to admire. "Vote for McGillicutty, he's full of Silly-Putty." They are mercilessly singled out by the Unknown to roam the collegiate wasteland, hitting up one-time encounters from Freshman Trips (whom they are really psyched to see again) for their John (and Jill) Hancock's. The poor lugs. Why them?! And more importantly, why was I spared?
Anyway, the strangeness passes almost as quickly as it comes. The posters hang for awhile. They promise all who read them a bedtime massage over mocha pie. Sometimes they attack those poor old Safety and Security people, mythic entities in their own right. They offer mental puzzles with concepts like becoming "proactive" and being able to "preclude" events from happening. People talk about the strange bulletins more and more until, BLAMMO! Everything's gone and the dreaded Assembly hibernates until the next year. Overall, I guess we should be thankful that it only bothers us for a few weeks out of the year.
So that's it. Just wanted to tell everyone to hang in there, for the ordeal should be over soon. Besides, this year's karmic victims seem already to be chosen; just sign your name on their papers and get out of the way. They'll be back to normal soon enough. If they seem a bit unsettled or anxious about their actions, just try to be reassuring.
Tell them it's stress. I mean, heck, the philosophy department, even through the application of large verbosmonstrosities can't prove the probable existence of an Assembly. So why worry? Of course, they're also still arguing about whether or not any of us truly exist.
Which, of course, we don't. So nevermind.
