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HUMOR I DON'T WANT TO COMPLAIN OR ANYTHING
By CORY CATRON
It seems that this newspaper has some rather fine qualities about it. The most prominent seems to be that it’s made of paper, meaning it’s flammable. Flammability is a quality I admire in things; I am rather inclined to burning things, and since paper is not very dense, it is an excellent source of ignition for other flammable objects, like wood, cardboard, squirrels, cheetahs, Communists, and heretics. (Of course, the Boy Scout handbook recommends in its chapter on firebuilding that it is best to layer these things according to their flammability, i.e., paper on the bottom, then small sticks, then larger sticks, then thick logs, then Communists, then heretics. We all know that Communists are more flammable than heretics.)
But I digress.
Another excellent quality about this newspaper is that is it easily foldable into hats (see my article on the subject in the October 2006 issue). Paper is good like that, and newspaper is even better because it tends to be bigger. I require a rather large hat, as heads that contains lots of good ideas are necessarily larger. It’s like the difference between having a diesel run German-engineered V-12 (like the BMW 760), and a small wind-up toy motor (like the Ford Focus).
All these qualities aside, perhaps the best quality of this fine monument of journalistic integrity and just general awesomeness is the fact that it serves as a perfectly good place for students to voice their opinions. Sometimes, these opinions are good. A lot of these opinions tend to be of a complaining quality, for reasons that modern psychology looks at and throws up its hands and says “I don’t know, you tell me.” Okay, I will tell you. The reason there are a lot of complaints in this paper is because it is written primarily by college students. College students exist to serve three purposes on this jolly earth: leeching off the economy, drinking, and complaining. Certainly eating and sleeping fall in there somewhere, but really those three about cover it. I figure that since I don’t do anything to fulfill that second purpose there, I must redouble my efforts to satisfy the other two purposes. Since up to this point I have more than satisfied my duty as an economic leech, I will now take my turn at the latter -- complaining.
To begin. This school has a lot of problems, problems that could be fixed if the administration would just give me about twelve-and-a-half days of their time (and that won’t be nearly enough, but oh, well).
The first problem I can see is the length of the grass. The grass here is so short the squirrels have nowhere to hide. This circumstance poses a huge dilemma for the squirrels, to be sure, but it also is problematic for astute squirrel hunters like me. The thrill of the chase is gone -- the squirrels are out in the open, and can easily be picked off by the use of slingshots, high-powered rifles, shoulder-mounted missile launchers, ICBMs, and dry ice bombs. Everyone knows the proper way to hunt squirrels adds in that bonus of having actually to look for them and then blow them into little sub-molecular pieces of squirrely goodness.
Okay, perhaps everyone does not know. Here, then, is the proper way to hunt squirrels, a way that only works if the grass is tall . . .
Where were we? Oh, yes. Complaining. The dorms here are awful. Just plain awful. Running water is such a horrible convenience; water that needn’t even be boiled before it is safe to drink, water that doesn’t come from a creek. It eliminates the need to do work. In the good old days, we’d have to build fires to boil water -- and we’re not allowed to build fires. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe they’re afraid we’ll burn down our CINDERBLOCK BUILDINGS. (Again, the chapter on firebuildling in the Boy Scout handbook is of use here, where we find listed numerous things that are flammable, a list that does NOT include cinderblock buildings. You can believe it if the Boy Scout handbook says it.)
Another thing about our dorms is the beds. These truly grotesque beds have actual mattresses on them -- imagine that! Mattresses are a danger to our societal integrity. Sleeping on the floor builds character. Comfortable beds soften you up and make for lower quality of character. Someone has to say it -- beds are the reason this world is falling apart at the seams.
Another thing -- before we build this adoration chapel, we need to demolish our current dorms and build new ones that resemble Windsor Castle, except with a twelve-foot deep Olympic size pool on the roof, a heliport, a wet bar, and a fifteen-car garage with seven Ferraris, six Audis, and two Clydesdales for good measure. All this before we build an adoration chapel. After all, God loves us and wants us to be happy, right?
The last thing I’d like to complain about is the lack of mountains. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, mountains are a way of life. I believe that the college should promote Excellence and Virtue in everything, most especially in giving us what we want. If the school can give money to building a freaking fake whitewater river thingus down the road, why can’t they give money to building some fake mountains? Fake mountains would more than pay for themselves. Right now if I want mountains I have to drive two hours in either direction -- either to the less desirable mountains in NC or SC, or to the perfectly-wonderful-but-rather-tediously-separated-by-the-idiot-road-planning-North-Carolina-Department-of-Highway-Nonsense mountains in Virginia. Why can’t we have mountains right here in Belmont? Never mind the fact that it would mess up the climate and ecosystem and pull of gravity in Gaston County and probably all of Piedmont North Carolina. But oh, well. It’s the price you pay.
The worst thing about all of this is that somewhere out there in this crazy mixed-up universe of ours, there are rather astute, prominent, wonderful people who happen to be amazingly gullible -- because they don’t know I’m joking when I say all of this. Something should be done about them as well.
That should do for now. Join me next semester as I bring you an exclusive report on playing polo using felling axes instead of mallets, 52 live squirrels instead of a ball, and grizzly bears instead of horses.
(P.S., This is for you, Dr. T.)
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