Dead Editors’ Final Message: “We’ll See You in Hell”

By The Dead Editors’ Society (Jeffrey Carl, Paul Caputo, Scott Shepard and Chris White)

University of Richmond Collegian, April 20 1995

For this final DES column, we included Chris White, who was the incoming Opinion Section editor. All of the “Pebbles” and “Max Vest” jokes were from Caputo. The “piteous sigh” line was from Shepard. I’m proud to say that the line “Here’s to our dark lord Rosenbaum” line was mine. This was our last attempt to collectively say everything we could think of that was funny about the University of Richmond and also massively offensive, since only White would be around to get blamed for it. I think it worked quite well. As the last thing I wrote for The Collegian, it was suitably offensive, hyper-topical, self-absorbed and self-referential to pass as a reasonable farewell. To pre-quote what I want engraved on my tombstone as a summation of my life, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Presenting a whimsical collection of drivel from Collegian Opinion Editors, past and present

Mr. Shepard starring as Mr. White 

Mr. Carl as Mr. Brown

Mr. Caputo appearing as Mr. Blue

Mr. White as Mr. Pink

[Editor’s note: Go ahead. Write a letter. This is the last Collegian of the year and we’ll all be gone in a couple weeks. Nyah nyah. P.S. Bite us]

Everyone in the Dead Editors’ Society not named Chris is what the French like to call graduating.  (Stage direction: piteous sigh from readers.)

There has been so much to say over the past four years, that we in the Society are proud to have not said any of it, while still taking up lots of valuable Collegian space that could have been used for stories about 9 Divine or something at the Jepson School going wrong. Or whatever.

So we have inducted a new member to the Secret Sisterhood of Deceased Editors. Or whatever. Anyhow, we have much secret knowledge, gleaned in our four years, to impart to our Dead Editor Pledge, Chris. Then we get to spank him. At any rate, we figure now is as good a time as any to let you, the reader, in on all of the valuable information that we have discarded over the years in order to write about the lake and chicken sandwiches. Behold all the bizarre facts about the University of Richmond which we have discovered and should have — had we ever pretended to be real journalists (or even “not total asses”) — let you know. 

And boy, will you be sorry you found out. UR Strange But True Facts:

• When logging onto the VAX, do not select the option that says “Global Thermonuclear War” unless Matthew Broderick is around to fix it. Your user privileges can be revoked for this.

• All of the Physical Plant’s vehicles can be assembled to form Voltron, Defender of the Universe. Also, Trabants and Yugos. 

• If you ask the library’s computer, “What is the meaning of life?” the disk drive will spit Cheez-Whiz out at you.

• Corrie Spiegel supplements her meager income as Collegian Editor by dancing at the “Paper Moon,” Thursday nights at 10:30. For just a few drachmas more, you can get her to do that thing with the whipped cream.

• All four of us have, just to be popular, dated Sigma Chis.

• Pebbles, D-Hall worker extraordinaire, is in fact Anastasia, lost daughter of Czar Nicholas II, who was made very dead during the Bolshevik revolution. She will reclaim the throne as soon as the fries are done, which should be in two minutes.

• All of the police cars are Autobots, while all of the silverware in the D-Hall are Decepticons. Do not bend them (the silverware, that is) unless staging a protest for the return of Rib-B-Que.

• All major financial decisions of the University must be approved by the ducks. This explains why the purchase “tasty bread crumbs” now takes up over 60 percent of the school’s budget.

• Due to budget constraints, the entire new fine arts building will be held together by secret sauce.

• The real purpose of the D-Hall? Conducting experiments in casserole-based life forms.

• If you play the school anthem backwards, it says in a creepy voice, “Here’s to our dark lord Rosenbaum.”

• Dogs are really, really dumb.

• Swinging a dead cat over your head in the library will not cure warts. 

• Max Vest!: the Musical.

• Nostradamus predicted that the dorms would get cable this year. He also predicted that Ticket Lady would be replaced by a horde of evil winged monkeys and that the Anti-Christ would be named “Rope” or “Rupe.” Ha ha. We don’t know anybody by that name. Near as we can tell, he was on crack.

• Snorting “Reddi-Whip” will not give you a buzz. However, snorting mulch will. Go crazy.

• The real WILL director? Darth Vader.

• In the waiting room of CAPS, they play a muzak version of “I’m a Loser, Baby … So Why Don’t You Kill Me?”

• The school’s motto, when translated from the original Latin, reads “Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow, meow meow.”

• The Rape Van was originally The Great Space Coaster.

• The only men’s Rush events worth attending? “Smash your favorite puppy.” The only women’s Rush event worth attending? “Lingerie party night.” Don’t think we don’t know. Well, we don’t know for sure. Okay, we fantasize about it constantly, but it would be worth attending if they did have it.

• The secret ingredient in Pier specials? Soylent Green.

• “That’s What You Think” is used by newspapers nation-wide as an index of regional stupidity. We have often won.

• History professor Martin Ryle was David Hasselhoff’s stunt double during the first year of “Knight Rider.” Philosophy professor Matthew Freytag was KITT’s. 

• The secret SATminimum used by the Admissions Office is “dumb as a bag of hammers.”

• Prolonged exposure to secret WDCE-waves causes sterility, blindness and occasional stomach discomfort.

• The Career Development Center sucks. No, really. Do you even know where it is? Neither do we. Let us know when Wal-Mart comes to give interviews. 

• The ghost of Weezie Jefferson haunts the Deanery. No one knows why.

• The ghost of David Hasselhoff haunts Weezie Jefferson. We can dig that.

• The Dead Editor’s Society originated in 1968 as a popular rock ‘n’ roll band called  Vesticles, but disbanded when only one of its songs, “You Can’t Do That in the Commons,” became a hit.

• If you put six monkeys in a room with typewriters, they will poop. If you put six monkeys in a room with six typewriters and make them type, one of them will eventually produce The Collegian, probably within 15 minutes. If you use six depressed artsy monkeys, they will type The Messenger. If you use six large pieces of zucchini, you will get The Web.

• Next year, the new official language of the school will be Wookie.

• In the early 1980s, the Orientation Program included repeated forced viewings of “Revenge of the Nerds.” During the 1983-4 school year, the curriculum science requirement could be satisfied by watching “Weird Science,” “Real Genius,” or “Our Friend, Zinc.”

• If only one of us can be as successful in life after graduation as Todd Flora is, then life will have been worth living.

• Do not taunt Happy Fun Roop.

• Max Vest took his current position only after the job replacing C. C. Deville as guitarist for “Poison” fell through.

• Bob Jepson is currently making plans to donate millions of dollars to the University to build the first ever “School of Styrofoam Technology.”

• The Student Health Center caused the great Black Plague of 1347, after it advised a student to cure his illness by “just coughin’ all over everybody.”

• The lake is 1/3 Ny-Quil, 1/3 Bourbon, and 1/3 Mountain Dew. It’s fun and it’s flammable.

• 9 Divine is composed of former members of “Warrant” and former members of the Bulgarian KGB. In general, the Bulgarians sound much better.

• We said it before, we’ll say it again. Welcome to Honky Town.

• If you press a button on Paul Caputo’s back, he makes cool laser sounds and explosion noises.

• Those “private functions” that the Lora Robins Gallery is always closed for? Usually either RCSGAcoke parties or human sacrifices to Mithras, god of rich, creamy fillings.

• If you pull the string on Jeff Carl’s back, he says, “I hate you. I quit.”

• If you scratch a penny on Scott Shepard’s forehead, it says, “You win a free order of small fries.” Congratulations.

• East Court and West Court exist, but only as underground prison facilities for girls who are naughty. Ooh lah lah.

• The only Landing event worth attending is the famed but really sick “Donner Party” Landing.

• The new, improved RCSGAPresident Jim Maloney is filled with creamy nougat and chewy caramel. Almonds are optional. Pants are not.

• Never, ever press the big red button.

• “Scott Shepard” is Arabic for “causes genital herpes on contact.”

• Sure, it may look as though they’re building a new fine arts center, but they are actually finishing up a landing pad for spaceships from Jason Roop’s homeworld. We, for one(s), welcome our new ant masters.

• Paul used to have a secret crush on “Moose” from “You Can’t Do That on Television.”

• Chris used to have a crush on “Moose Vest,” from “You Can’t Do That in the Commons.”

• Jeff used to have a secret crush on “Moose” from “Archie.”

• In one of the secret rooms in Marsh Hall is an enormous wardrobe. Beyond the coats and the mothballs one finds snow, and the magical land of Narnia. Alison Bartel Lord lives there, and tries to lure small children to her snow palace.

• Due to budget restrictions, the Shanghai Quartet will be replaced next year by a sixth-grader playing “Hot Cross Buns” on a recorder. Few will notice.

• When we realized that we were leaving, Caputo, Carl and Shepard decided to create a genetically-engineered super-columnist to fill our place. We went to the laboratory, and after minutes of studious mixing, followed by strange incantations and dancing around in rubber yeti suits, created Nimchek. Whoops.

• Shepard lied about Grits. We beat him with rubber hoses, and he admitted it. Grits are really made from people. People like Dennis Callahan. Little Swarthy people like Dennis Callahan.

• The Lambda Coalition, the campus gay and lesbian group, will be joined next year by the Zeta Coalition for people who are secretly heterosexual, the Omicron Rho Coalition, for bisexuals, and the Nil Coalition, for people who just aren’t getting laid at all. President Chris White said, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

• All of the current members of the Dead Editor’s Society have starred in pornographic films. Most were made in the mid-70s, before we gained beer guts. 

• Parking tickets suck. Don’t pay them. Join Theta Chi. They’re cool.

• This campus used to be cool.

• Max Vest used to be Alison B. Lord.

• Alison Bartel Lord was never cool.

• Seniors: if you go right now and drink enough Canadian Whiskey, you will forget that:

(a) you have no job and will be sitting in back of a 7-11, drinking “Night Train” and muttering about “those damned squirrels” in 30 days.

(b) you went to the B-school, and your life and job will prove meaningless and unfulfilling in 30 days.

(c) after you graduate, it is socially unacceptable to drink until you find Paul Caputo attractive.

• Contrary to popular belief, the Dining Hall does not put laxatives in the food. Rather, ambient laxatives have been injected into the mulch all around campus. 

• In a few years, after the dust clears, when we look back on these halcyon days, this probably will still not be funny.

Paul, Jeff and Scott are sure that they have left the Op/Ed section in safely incompetent hands. They would like to tell Chris “keep your chin up, youngster, and go get us another beer.”

Chris would like to thank Grandma Moses for proving that art can suck.

Scott would like to thank the male cheerleaders, for making him look virile.

Jeff would like to thank nobody, except for his invisible friend “Winky.”

Paul would like to thank the campus dogs, for having good attitudes.

So long, and see you in Hell.

Good Night, Sweet Print

By Jeffrey Carl

Jeffrey Carl UR Column
University of Richmond Collegian, April 20 1995

Thanks to a bare modicum of writing skill and a more obvious fondness for bourbon which aligned with that of my journalism professors, my putative career advanced rapidly through my undergraduate years. I went from a practicum story writer for the University of Richmond Collegian student newspaper in my freshman year to Assistant News Editor in my sophomore year, then on to Greek Life Editor and IT Manager (I read MacWorld magazine!) in my junior year, and ultimately to Opinion Editor in my senior year.

For some reason that escapes me now, I acquired a humor column during this process at the beginning of my junior year. This column, titled “Over the Cliff Notes,” eventually ran for 22 installments and was over the course of two years was read by literally dozens of actual humans, only most of which where KA pledges I forced to do so. Its literary influence was quite literally incalculable, and I’m just going to leave it at that.

It occurs to me now that topical humor from college campuses nearly 30 years ago does not age well. I’m sure it was absolutely hilarious at the time, though. Enjoy!

So this is it.  It’s all over.  My last column.  I’m not kidding.

I’m graduating,  I’m looking for a job.  I’m engaged.  I’m starting to get gray hair.

So, what have we learned?  I’m not sure.  The last two years of my college career were pretty much defined within what I wrote here.  Let’s go back and examine some actual excerpts of what I wrote and see if I learned anything:

Jeff Carl’s Greatest Hits

Editor’s Note: Yeah.  Sure.  Whatever.

• Of course, I meant “really bites ass” in the strict biblical sense.

• The only conclusion I can come to is that the radio station should be filled in with cement immediately and all of the DJs should be burned at the stake.

Sorority Life: This revolves primarily around Rush retreats (see HAHAHA above) and scrambling for formal dates.  Sorority formals, as previously mentioned, are just like bar mitzvahs, but with sex in the elevators.

• The law school should be razed to the ground and the earth sown with salt.

• Girls do not actually have – as was previously believed – long, spiny wings or small vestigial tails.

• Research was found to cause cancer in laboratory rats.

Campbell: No.  You are on crack.  What I was talking about was the primal need for a figure of supreme evil, which would ride around in a little electric cart.

Q: Are you really as grumpy and bitter in real life as you sound in your columns?

A: Yes.  

Siskel: Roger, when my people come from the stars to enslave this puny planet, you will serve as food for the Giant Slave Worms of Kodos.  So I give Evil a “Thumbs Up.”

• 7. Thou shalt not toast cheese in the Holy Dining Hall toasters, for the cheese drippeth much and is disgusting, sayeth the Lord.7

• You can get a fantastic buzz if you drink after giving blood.


Day 1: Meet Your Maker cookout, 4:30 p.m.

Day 2: Fish and Loaves picnic, 2:00 p.m.

Day 3: I-Found-the-Lord-and-Lost-my-Talent: Christian Rock Night, 7:00 p.m.*

Day 4: Bids extended by the Angel of Death

• a)Replace current Collegian staff with clever trained seals

• The tombstones served to illustrate ROTC’s recruitment slogan, “We kill more students before our 8:15 classes than most people kill all day.”

Q: Who is Dr. Staff?  And why is he listed as teaching so many courses at registration time?


Y  N  3. I like “unemployment.”

• Well, the “grad school” thing sounds okay, because you could stay and see Dave Matthews every Wednesday night for an additional two or three years.  But there’s always the chance that he’ll get big and move away.

• I just quit smoking.

• April 19: The fifth and final “Pray for Revival” campaign ends in disaster as the dead come alive again and walk the earth as zombies preying on the living.  Former Chancellor Boatwright is seen in the library, eating Lexis/Nexis terminals.

• Sep. 7: As a publicity stunt, the members of campus band “9 Divine” kill themselves onstage.

CORRECTIONS: Last week’s column may have perhaps been a little misleading.  Okay, I lied like the dog I am.  Deal with it. 

• The next morning, rushees are given an envelope which contains either engraved fancy official bid(s) or an engraved fancy notice of their new official status as losers and the phone number for CAPS, in case they decide to kill themselves.

• This is my last column.

Ancient History

1. When Lucy and Ethel got the job at the chocolate factory, they got in trouble because

a. it’s just kooky how things work out like that   b. Ethel was distributing Communist propaganda on her lunch break   c. Lucy was stoned off her ass

• Must change UR Alma Mater to “We Will Rock You”

• This is really my last column.

• As we did not receive a response within 24 hours (I checked my machine), we are now in a life-and-death struggle with the tyrannical Canadian Empire.

• “Greetings, you, Senator.  I am the Arch-villain ‘Frogface.’”

male cheerleaders: n. Sissy boys.

• Student government presidents should be used for doorstops or paperweights

• All those “cities” that are supposed to be there are actually just one farm house with this guy named “Gary” or “Indianapolis” sitting on the front porch and shucking corn with his one good tooth.  I’m not kidding.

A: Nein!  We are certainly not using giant mind-controlled squid™ to develop newer and more virulent Pier Value Meals™5!  

num-chuks (nim’ chek): 1.n. A terrifying Japanese weapon of death 2.n. A terrifying American columnist of Fiat Currency.

“The Surgeon General has determined that if you’re going to smoke these, you can kiss your ass goodbye right now”

Well, I guess I didn’t learn much.

Yes, I did.  I got to be a class clown and try to make everybody laugh.  Sometimes it worked.  Sometimes it didn’t.  But it was always fun to try.

If you read my columns, thank you.  If you read my columns and didn’t try to sue me, thank you even more.  If you were one of those who wrote to me or just said, “good job,” then you were the reason I did this.  Thanks.

To every one of the funny people I got to work with – even Shepard and Caputo – thanks.

This newspaper has been a big part of my life here.  I’m sorry to go.  But maybe we’ll all meet once more, somewhere down the road.  You’ll see me again.

This is my last bow.  It was all worth it.

Why?  Because we here at The Collegian prided ourselves on being responsive to our readers.

Ettiquette Betrayed

By Jeffrey Carl

Jeffrey Carl UR Column
University of Richmond Collegian, April 13 1995

Thanks to a bare modicum of writing skill and a more obvious fondness for bourbon which aligned with that of my journalism professors, my putative career advanced rapidly through my undergraduate years. I went from a practicum story writer for the University of Richmond Collegian student newspaper in my freshman year to Assistant News Editor in my sophomore year, then on to Greek Life Editor and IT Manager (I read MacWorld magazine!) in my junior year, and ultimately to Opinion Editor in my senior year.

For some reason that escapes me now, I acquired a humor column during this process at the beginning of my junior year. This column, titled “Over the Cliff Notes,” eventually ran for 22 installments and was over the course of two years was read by literally dozens of actual humans, only most of which where KA pledges I forced to do so. Its literary influence was quite literally incalculable, and I’m just going to leave it at that.

It occurs to me now that topical humor from college campuses nearly 30 years ago does not age well. I’m sure it was absolutely hilarious at the time, though. Enjoy!

We here at The Collegian pride ourselves on being responsive to our readers. If you are one of the lucky customers who have purchased The Collegian “Books on Tape” series, then let me also say that we are responsive to our listeners. Editor’s Note: Please note that the “Books on Tape” edition carries the full text of this article as well as three bonus tracks, two of which are unreleased: “My Life as a Squirrel” and “Stairway to Heaven (extended live version).”

The point being that we are constantly besieged by requests from readers. Many say, “You go to Hell.” But many others also request that we print things which are of great value to the community and of general interest. These are thrown away.

But recently we have received numerous requests for a guide to what is probably my major area of expertise in life: manners. And your wish is our command, if you staple $20 to it. Today’s episode is part nine of a forthcoming series of mine called “Etiquette Betrayed.”

Etiquette Betrayed IX: Manners and the Arts

When attending arts events at the University of Richmond, there are a few simple rules to observe that will make your experience, and those of other arts patrons, more enjoyable. Unfortunately, most of these rules are not funny and therefore will be disregarded. Here is a quick-and-easy guide to the remainder of them:

When at Art Shows:
• It is rude to ask the artist what sort of drugs he or she was using at the time the work was created.
• Loudly announcing, “This is crap!” or “This is the artistic equivalent of 9 Divine!” will not be appreciated.
• If you can see somewhere that the artist messed up, feel free to take a crayon and correct it for them.
• At pottery exhibits, do not repeatedly ask to see the world-famous earthenware bong collection.
• If looking at a particularly dreadful abstract painting, run over to the nearest gallery employee and demand, “Where did you get these pictures of my mother?”
• It is generally in bad taste to vomit on the artwork. Vomiting on the artists is, however, acceptable.

When at Music Recitals:
• Holding up one’s lighter during sad parts is not generally acceptable.
• Nor is requesting “Freebird!” repeatedly.
• If the music is too quiet, you may play along on a kazoo to help others in the audience hear the tune.
• No one will be impressed if you tell the Shanghai Quartet, “You guys just haven’t been the same since David Lee Roth left.”
• If an opera or hymn is being sung in a foreign language, be helpful and invent English lyrics and sing them so the audience will know what is going on. Be sure to include in the lyrics the phrases “licks me like a hamster” and “I’m your cool cool monkey of love.”
• Although perfectly acceptable at Dead shows, “passing the peace pipe” at Mozart concertos is frowned upon.
• If one of the musicians impolitely begs you for heroin or vomits on you, it is probably just the drummer. Do not be offended, as this is one of their native customs. Feel free to vomit back.

When at Plays:
• Gesticulating with one’s arms and yelling wildly, “WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP” is generally unacceptable, unless it is called for in the program notes.
• Equally unacceptable are “The Chop” and “The Wave.”
• Comments like “Cats was much better than this” are not generally appreciated.
• If there hasn’t been a car chase in the first five minutes, you can just get up and leave.
• If the play is boring, feel free to stand up, wave your arms spastically and yell “FIRE!” to add that fun, free-for-all element of full-bore-linear-panic-in-a-crowd-situation that puts spice into life.
• Unless you are sitting in the balcony, vomiting on the actors may prove difficult.

Dying for a chance to put these new-found mannerisms into practice, aren’t you? Playing Thursday night through Sunday afternoon in the Camp Theater is the famous comedy Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, which one reviewer called “Just like being trampled to death by an army of dwarves, but less fun.” It stars a veritable horde of past and present Collegian columnists – Paul Caputo, Chris Wright, Brian C. Jones, Branden Waugh, Randy Baker and – who would have guessed? – me – which should tell you one thing right away: “Christ almighty, this isn’t gonna be even remotely amusing.” The word is out: it’s “Roop-tastic!” Jeffrey Lyons of “Sneak Previews” said, “It’s the feel-good musical comedy of the ‘90s, except that there is no music and it isn’t funny.” Quite frankly, if you miss it, you’ll be a sad, bitter, lonely failure for the rest of your life! Special guarantee: if you can tell which was Rosencrantz and which was Guildenstern by the end of the play, you don’t get your money back! Act now! And mind your manners.

A Day in the Life: Puff Carpluto’s ‘Things to Do’ List

By Jeffrey Carl and Paul Caputo

University of Richmond Collegian,
April 13 1995

More hyper-topical college humor! We combined our personalities into one to save time. You probably won’t get the “haircuts” joke unless you know that we had just finished the UR production of Tom Stoppard’s brilliant play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead which requires the whole cast to grow out their hair. Either way, I think it’s the best column we wrote at the University of Richmond. That’s probably not saying much, though.

We, Jeff and Paul, are busy people. Busy enough, in fact, that we recently considered merging into one person named “Puff Carpluto,” who would have more than $600 in parking tickets, to save time in our daily chores. We figured that no one would notice, since for the last three weeks we have exchanged identities anyway and each of us pretended to be the other person. Jeff’s girlfriend was reportedly unhappy, although Paul’s girlfriend was elated.

The point is that busy people like ourselves — constantly running about from class to meeting, appointment to interview, accident scene to cheap brothel, etc. — are desperate people. To prove our point, we obtained the “things to do” list for Monday of two local busy people who may sound very much like Paul and Jeff but who in fact are not Paul and Jeff, and so you should sue them and not us if you are offended.

Paul and Jeff [not their real names] are busy people. Busy enough, in fact, that they have an enormous number of things to do on their list of things to be done, which is called their “things to do” list. 

Paul and Jeff’s Things to Do:

• Get haircut: This has been six months in the making. We are never acting again. All of our hats fit funny now.

• Find people with long hair, call them freaks: Hey, at UR, that’s a sport. And we can afford to make fun of people with long hair because we’re clean-cut and pleasant-looking. Plus they are, by nature, freaks.

• Kill that screaming kid on the “Sheik” Condoms commercial: This kid needs to die. That kid from the old “Encyclopedia Brittanica” commercials is next.

• Knock down Jepson school to increase parking space: We need parking. Nobody needs a leadership school. It makes sense. If we could knock down cheerleaders to make even more space, we would do that, too.

• Irritate administrators

• Return messages from irritated administrators: We’re columnists. That’s our job.

• Sign up as “Mark Ramos” for credit card offers in Commons, get free gifts: Is it possible to have too many slinkys or water bottles?  We don’t think so.

• Offend last three people in school: We noticed that there were three people left at the school whom we have not offended. Those three, chosen at random, are Richard A. MunnekeJ. Anderson Screws and John E. Reigle. These people are all lame.  Nyah-nyah. Plus “Anderson Screws” is a funny name.

• Hoard thousands of “sporks:” This should be self-explanatory.

• Steal toilet paper from science center bathrooms: Just our way of sticking it to the man.

• Thank Pope for the brownies

• Sell Collegian equipment, pocket the money: As far as we’re concerned, the paper didn’t exist before we started writing and it won’t exist after we’re gone, [see “solipsism,” Scott Shepard, Dec. 5, 1993] so we’re selling all The Collegian’s expensive computers, photo equipment and lace doily collection–cheap— and pocketing the profits, then driving to Mexico.

• Play “Wheel of Term Papers:” We write ambiguous papers that all begin with “Knowledge is an exquisitely problematic paradox,” then pick at random which paper is for which class.

• Feed the fish

• Call “911” to report Honor Code violations

• Visit sweatshop full of underpaid illegal immigrant Norwegian joke writers in basement: Where did you think we get our jokes from?

• Sign autographs

• Call Senior Campaign, earmark our donations for construction of “Gottwald Taco Bell”

 Pay off parking tickets in new Mexican currency, the “Poncharelli”

• Eat whole quart of mayonnaise

• Join the Sirens: We do a delightful duet on “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.”

• Learn “Gym-kata”

• Publish The Collected Wit and Wisdom of Jeff Waggett: Thus far, some of our favorite examples are “To thine own self be true,” “Being quasi-Greek is like being half Macedonian and half Swedish, but different,” and “The pledge of allegiance sucks.” The book is a weighty six pages, with five and a half pages for autographs from your classmates.

• Steal Senior Gift name-engraved bricks, throw them through windows: We can put threatening messages on them, and the people will blame the person whose name is on the brick.

• Get new nickname, “Sparky” : It sounds much better than Paul’s current nickname, “Pooter,” or Jeff’s nickname, “Dickweed.”

• Win lottery

• Return to NBA after 18-month hiatus

• Make Mike Nimchek honorary member of “9 Divine:” If we’re going to make fun of people, we might as well kill two birds with one stone.

• Call up registrar’s office, declare fake majors: Such as “Hasselhoff Studies,” “VCR Repair,” “Refrigeration Technology” and “Leadership.”

• Don’t be That Guy

• Solve crimes with help of a talking car

• Believe it’s not butter

• Send ransom note for Lindbergh Baby: Hopefully, with our police department, it’ll just send the money before it figures out the case was solved in 1937.

• Come up with slogans for new fine arts building: Our favorite so far is: “They really kinda suck, but Jason Roop sure looks good in tights.”

• Track down and kill people who left Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead during intermission: Don’t think we didn’t notice.

• Return frantic phone messages from King of Canada: It’s something about declaring war or something. We’ll get around to it.

• Tape Quantum Leap and watch it six times

• Go to class: Oops. Well, you can’t do everything.

(Miki Turner contributed to this column. Don’t blame him, though, we forced him.)