Boy howdy, seems like graduation is right around the corner, and aren’t I more excited than a necrobestialitist at the Kentucky Derby! While most of my cantankerous classmates in oh-eight are spending their last few weeks at Wesleyan worrying about their ambiguous futures and crying because it’s the last time they will ever watch “Top Chef” with their friends in the living room of 17 Fountain on May 7, 2008, at 9:00 Eastern Daylight Time, I’m living a carefree life.
Well, folks, here we are. It’s been over three years since my byline first graced the print of this glorious page, as I regaled you with tales of my roomate and his abusive genitals.
Dear Brian,
I have diligently been reading your page over the past school year and I must say that you are the most offensive, untalented, and hackneyed writer I have had the misfortune of knowing. Your stories are deplorable, your grammar is disappointing, and your jokes, and I am humoring you when I call them that, are as funny as watching someone get anally pounded with a dildo for heroin. What are you trying to write? Are you trying to get a job as a staff writer for Zoey 101?
Spring is here and finals are just upon us. Time to evaluate this past semester in all its glory, from the good, to the bad, to the acceptable.
Celebrity has always had a place in powerful administrations. Allow me to remind you of President Ronald Reagan, Senator Bill Bradley, and County Dogcatcher Scott Baio. But why must celebrities be limited to politics when there is an entire world of higher education? Thus, I propose that Wesleyan University hires the Wu-tang Clan as deans of this fine institution. The benefits would be manifold:
In one of the saddest moments in recent Wesleyan history, students awoke Monday morning to find that the sustainable, environmentally friendly community that they had worked so hard to cultivate had been shattered. Slathered on the door of a second floor dorm room in Clark Hall was, to the utter dismay of EON members and also other people, a most offensive and destructive brand of graffiti.
We, the Ampersand, are proud to announce that this issue is entirely green. However, we cannot be selfish in honoring ourselves. The award for the greenest place on campus goes to Anne and Nat Greene’s house.
-Drink green beer. St. Patrick’s Day is everyday now! And everybody’s Irish. Even Jews!
-Move to Colonial Williamsburg. Why, your only emissions will be farts! (ed. note: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!)
To celebrate Earth Day, or Earth Week if one day isn’t enough to exercise your liberal guilt, some brand spankin’ new initiatives were put forth by businesses around the nation. The green initiative, getting as rampantly overused as the red conspiracy, yellow peril, or the chartreuse agenda (the worst of them all), has permeated and mutated into a slew of new conscious-clearing items for sale.
Students get ‘Contact’ high
MIDDLETOWN, Conn. — While many students passionately celebrated the highs of cannabis culture (zing!) this past Sunday on Foss Hill, a select group of Wesleyanites found themselves duped into illicit inebriation against their will. In trying to separate themselves from the hippie-stoner fray, yet still enjoy Sunday’s festivities, many students felt the unmistakable effects of a “‘Contact’ high.” While commonly derided as an urban legend, ‘Contact’ highs are very much a reality, and can often be as potent as a more conventional direct-inhalation high.