2.26

Since the dawn of man (although some historians contest this claim, citing the mid-afternoon period instead), student opinion columnists have ended semesters with perfunctory gratitudithons, thanking everyone remotely connected with them in an increasingly desperate attempt to satiate the gaping maw that is their "Minimum Required Word Count." Never one to buck a trend (although I have trended a buck in my day, if you know what I mean), this week I set about to do the same thing.

Unfortunately, contrary to a plethora of sundry and suburban myths that you may have held as nigh gospel, my weekly column does not, in fact, have an extensive production staff, illustrious special effects department, or the positively decadent luxury of unharmed animal participants. I could thank my steadfast cardboard box shelter, but due to English Major property laws, I'm not even allowed to confirm or deny the existence of corrugation. As for pants, well, I think my reasons for avoidance there are practically canonical.

Thus, with no one to thank, my only recourse is to release an angry backlash of specious vitriol and profound player hatred upon the entities that unsuccessfully attempted to thwart the creation of my perniciously irreverent wordstuffs. Nothing says "going out on top" like halfhearted, inane animosity.

1. Subprime mortgages: I may not know what they are, I may not know why they suck, but, by damnit, if I ever see one on the street I swear to God I'm gonna punch it in the mouth.

2. Sickle-cell anemia: There are lots of diseases out there, but very few of them actually have anything resembling positive effects. So way to go, sickle-cell anemia, with your "malaria immunity." You're like the nerdy kid in a business class who scores a 98 on a class average 46 test, destroying the curb and making the rest look bad. I mean, sure, it's still a business class, but ruined curves are always bad form. Trust me, tuberculosis and gangrene are, like, sooo pissed right now.

3. Transfats: I'm not fat, you're fat, SHUT UP! (Ok, maybe I am fat. And stupid. And ugly. But at least my cats love me! I think. Sometimes I wonder if they just keep me around to pay their student loans. Keep it together, Meggs! Keep it together...ohgodwhy)

4. Memes, Old and New (A Haiku): Rickrolled lolcats ride/ roflcopters with Norris/ a True Story.

5. Alexander Hamilton: Dude was all "I'm founding the country's financial system, b^$@*, leave a brother be!" And I was all, "Fine, but don't come crying when you find my powdered whig over at Jefferson's tomorrow night." And he was all, "Seriously, man, these anachronisms? Not cool." And I was all, "In, like, two hundred years, our cell phones will double as iPods." And he was like, "Um, spoiler?"

6. The Relentless March of an Unyielding, Unmerciful Time: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. By that I mean it was the only time. Apparently we only get one. Good thing you spent one hundred sixty seven bucks on "Gilmore Girls: The Complete Series" when you had the chance, eh?

7. Skaterboards and STDS: Kids these days, amiright?

8. Numerical Sequences: I couldn't resist.

9. The College of Arts and Sciences: Where good intentions go to die.

10. Finals: Sometimes I wonder, as I sit at my desk, two pages into an eight page essay deconstructing Herman Melville's foot fetish as symbolized by Christ metaphors in sixteen different texts worth seventy six percent of my grade with five minutes left, whether it was all worthwhile. I stop, gaze outside the window, and really think about what I'm doing here, where I'm going, and whether this is really, out of all places and possibilities out there, what I really want to be doing. I wonder whether I'll look back upon this time with fondness, smiling satisfactorily as I recognize the implementation of a firm foundation of success. Or I wonder if I'll rue this day for years to come, regretting every minute down to the most finite, mundane detail, as the day, not unlike so many others, when everything truly fell apart. And then, as I hand in my now abruptly truncated paper, stopped in midsentence with only the cryptic words "I bracketthree Boobies" written as some surreal, incomprehensible justification for my actions, I nod, perhaps newly enlightened by some sage epiphany, perhaps in complete, ignorant peace with a so often chaotic and cruel world, and know that my work here is done.

(And now, Summer Break. Enjoy.)