It wouldn't be early January in the media without some sort of nod to the New Year, whether looking backwards to the year that was or forwards to what will be. Choosing to be "edgy" rather than staid, the Mirror presents predictions for 2008, brought to you by the ever-imperiled Alex Howe.
The Spears sisters, you guys! Years ago, Chuck Klosterman wrote that Britney is either the least self-aware person to ever live, or the most. That gets more true every day; this year, Britney will either blow her brains out or release the best album of the decade.
Her troubles trouble me. The "Hit Me Baby One More Time" video was, in all seriousness, the moment I became aware of my own heterosexuality. For me, seeing the shape she's in is like finding out your first kiss is a Scientologist. Of the same sex.
(My first kiss, on the other hand, recently defriended me on Facebook. I miss you too, Rach.)
I don't care that Hillary won New Hampshire: I predict Mo-bama in 2008, not less. But if he wins, how will the Secret Service protect him? I suggest body doubles. Fauxbamas!
(These puns are brought to you by Alex Predicts Being Unable to Look in the Mirror for Yet Another Year.)
Whoever becomes President will have to deal with a destabilized Pakistan. Frankly, I'm terrified. Can't we do something about this? In the illustrious tradition of The Dartmouth, I've drawn on my years of global strategic education -- Rock-Paper-Scissors, History Channel commercials, unspoken anxiety when hotel maids fraternize in Spanish -- to propose a new Planistan: train and arm disgruntled Afghan women oppressed by the Taliban and go Bay of Pigs on neighboring Pakistan. I literally cannot think of a single thing that could go wrong. Two 'Stans with one stone!
If you haven't been paying attention, Bones Gate is getting too cool for its britches. No organization in recent memory has undergone a more radical transformation of image. When the '08s arrived on campus, BG was a backwater, and now it's the most consistently good party on campus.
(I was first tempted to say second-most to Porchcrawlers, but BG features a much better real-people-to-freshman-girl ratio.)
I was here for the '09s' sophomore summer, and their Masters final was BG versus AD, with BG the huge crowd favorite.
(They lost, but let the record show that the AD team seemed impossibly sober.)
But I think BG's ascendence is finally plateauing, and I'd like to predict their 2008 MC-Hammer-esque fall from grace. Remember, guys: when "Behind the Music" comes knocking, blame drugs.
The last time I made public predictions was in an article in the Dartmouth Free Press way back in 2005, when the '11s were merely a twinkle in a wooly mammoth's eye. Just kidding. Three years ago the '11s were already drafting admissions essays and programming proto-Segways in Sanskrit, clawing at the gates of the Ivy League. Was it worth it, you guys? No, I don't need an answer now -- yes, you'd better get to your Programming Board meeting, that's important. The way must be prepared for Jason Mraz. and the throngs clamoring to see him. No, really.
Hey, don't -- stop crying. I'm serious, you can't cry here. Danny Webster removed his own tear ducts with a quill. You're sad sometimes? Sometimes you think you don't love Dartmouth as much as everyone around you? No one here has ever felt that way, ever. You are alone.
(That paragraph brought to you by Alex's Freshman Year.)
This was one of my 2005 predictions in the DFP: "Next fall, the '08s will follow in the footsteps of this year's '07s, looking down their noses at the teeming masses of first-years, amazed at how much more sophisticated and experienced they are. Sophomores are stupid like that. The '06s will be in off-campus apartments doing whatever it is that seniors do."
Zing!
As it turns out, "What Seniors Do" is huddle together in dark corners and avoid the bloodthirsty gaze of "The Future," who happens to look like the Bunny Dude in Donnie Darko. It's time for '08s to try on their stupid Real Person suits, and we are not close to ready.
The transition to reality can be subtle: silly reply-to's are vanishing, as are unprofessional voicemail greetings. The stress is palpable; among seniors, smoking is the new not-smoking, and more than a few of us showed up for the fall sporting a pair of more-into-drugs-than-the-last-time-you-saw-me sunglasses.
In 2008, I predict that this will all get worse.
But it doesn't have to!
I predict that '08s will find healthier ways to amuse ourselves. What we need is flash mobs: spontaneous pillow fights on the Green, spontaneous water pong in the Tower Room, spontaneous ice sculpture contests.
I predict a Packers-Patriots Super Bowl. Haterade-motivated Brett Favre, the risen Midwestern Jesus who everyone said was finished, versus a too-pretty quarterback, a cheating coach and The Machine. Best championship ever, especially when Favre wins in overtime.
Finally, I predict flying cars. It's about time.
