Column 19

Well, the dream is over. My aspirations of becoming SGA Student Body President are dashed more than a Morse Coded “MOO.” In a hazy, drug-induced stupor I called the other campaigns sometime Tuesday night and conceded defeat. At least, I hope that’s what I did. I may have conceded they were sexy foxes who needed to help me find my pants or lose theirs trying. Or I called them fat bastards while sobbing uncontrollably into a 7-gallon vat of cookie-dough-ice-cream. Like I said, it’s quite hazy. Suffice it to say, I’m out of the race.

It’s a shame, too, because my campaign was going to be fan-freakin-spastic! Party name? AMP UT (It’s a play on words. Trust me.). Motto? Change is afoot. Awesomeness? Guaranteed. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it was the undoubtedly the best party, hands down.

Oh, and that was just the beginning. Platform? More like phatform! Er, plat…inum…form (give me a break, my speech writer’s still in post-traumatic-stress treatment). Like any good campaign, mine was chocked to the brim with unrealistic ideas, rampant cronyism, and not-so-subtle condescending contempt for the populace at large. Who could say no to replacing the stairs in Humanities with waterslides? How could you go wrong with helicopter rides up The Hill? No money? No problem! With my SGA, tuition pays you!

That’s the glory of running for a position with no accountability: campaign promises mean less than the dollar will after the inevitable Chinese takeover (you can run, but you can’t Shanghai-d). But I would have kept one promise, just to shake things up a bit. If elected, I would have solemnly sworn to put the position on every resume I submitted from that moment forward. Because that’s just how much I care. After that, I’d probably resign to “spend more time with my family” or some crap like that. Every campaign offers you nothing, at least mine would have been honest about it.

Alas, our failure was not entirely for lack of trying. I accumulated, at the very least, seventeen and a half signatures, some from individuals who I was certain were dead, not to mention out of college (Steve Irwin, with Student ID 6969, I will always appreciate your posthumous patronage of my campaign). Who knew getting people just to sign their names was so difficult? You wouldn’t believe the things people wanted from their Student Government (and I, of course, had to give more than they wanted, to outdo the other candidates). One person asked for a pony, I promised her the pony and a leprechaun to jockey it. One guy wanted marijuana, I promised him heroin. One person wanted a cookie. I promised him three. He withdrew his support. You just can’t please some people.

The most outrageous desire, though, was for better parking. I mean, honestly. The SGA is only one organization! What do you expect it to do, accurately represent your needs and serve you in a manner befitting a representative government? As if! After all, somebody’s got to put the “in” in “inefficacy,” and it sure ain’t going to be the bursar’s office.

At any rate, signatures, bonds (non-kinky kind), and The Syphilis (don’t ask) proved too much. I mean, what’s a guy got to do, buy new friends? It’s probably for the best, though. With ethical rules like “Don’t say anything to anyone about anything until you’ve collected $10,000 and blown it on Chuck-y-Cheez quality t-shirts and beer cozies,” I was bound to get tossed out eventually. And who knows, maybe someone with, o, “passion” and “genuine benevolence” will try something different this year. And, if not, there’s always the write-in… *wink, wink*