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‘I hear that one of the guys running for sophomore secretary has all five Jacksons on his posters -- even Jermaine!’
BROCKLESBY
THE WISE FOOL
15 September 2000
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3 November 2000
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4 May 2001
The door-propping bandits must be stopped, lest students cease being inconvenienced! Or perhaps they should be encouraged! Your decision!
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COMMENTS ON THE PASSING PARADE
The Unmaking of the Class President: 2001
By Michael J. Ballway
CRUSADER COLUMNIST
‘P
referred by 54 out of the 57 varieties of Heinz," he said, listing his numerous accolades and references. "Did I tell you that I'm officially endorsed by Ash, the Pokémon master? You should know that two out of three Musketeers are all for me (SCREW YOU, ARAMIS!). And I'm the official pick of Holy Cross basketball legend Wayne-O Kerrigan, who smoked me in Showtime for Dreamcast yesterday and won last month's NBA 2K1 tournament." A strange bug was running around campus a few days ago, and my friend Joey Brocklesby '03 had it. At first I couldn't understand what was wrong with the Junior-to-be. All too late, I diagnosed the problem: he was running for Class President. "I have to keep up with my competition," he told me last week, just before his photo-op with Mr. T -- a lengthy session of substituting his face for George Peppard's in downloaded pictures of the A-Team. "The market for celebrity and near-celebrity endorsements is definitely a bull right now, definitely on the upswing. I hear that one of the guys running for Sophomore Secretary has all five Jacksons on his posters -- all five! Even Jermaine! And I had to blow half of my budget just to get Wayne-O to appear on my poster." In a final, ultimately futile, advertising blitz last week, Citizen Brocklesby boldly touted his connection with Jar-Jar Binks, a move which many experts viewed as the death knell of his candidacy. "Perhaps if this Brocklesby guy actually gave us a platform on which to judge him, instead of simply listing a bunch of people who have never met him, he would get a better turnout," said one expert at a recent conference that I attended. "And gimme my Coors from over there ... hey, are we dealing you in for the next game or not?" "I tried to give them my opinions, my controversial plans, and my positions on the tough issues," Joey protested when I repeated the scholarly opinion. "But nobody wants to listen! I say I'm in favor of more student interaction with the administration -- and that doesn't win me enough votes. I say that I want to involve more and more people, and that doesn't win me enough votes. I say that I want to make our Junior year the best Junior year that any class ever had, and still people don't think that's enough to get me elected! Geez, what am I supposed to do here?" None of those issues is really controversial, I told him. Try something that will really get support for you, like Kevin and Ryan with the soap dispensers. "Oh, that's really easy for you to say," he said. "You've never sat in your room trying to write a campaign poster and wracked your brain, going nearly crazy, only to realize that there are no good issues here on campus. It's not like national politics, where you can just throw a dart and be sure to hit controversy." Refusing to acknowledge that he had a point, I quickly threw a tennis ball around the room (Public Safety had taken away my darts the last time I tried to do this; I must say, I remain surprised at how quickly my roommate is able to reach the phone and dial x2222). As luck would have it, it hit the wall, the other wall, Joey, the trash can, and the door. Instant controversy, I told him. "I'll say," he said. "Do you always throw tennis balls at people? That really hurts." You're not looking at the big picture, I replied. Doors, that's the answer, doors. One of the great issues that faces the Holy Cross campus these days -- the basement doors on the Hill Dorms. Someone, or some ones, keeps on propping open these doors with chairs from the Social Rooms. These Door-Propping Bandits are an acknowledged menace to students' safety and well-being; everyone knows that open doors invite axe murderers and rapists who are too stupid to just wait until five minutes before every hour, when students returning from classes will gladly hold the doors open for them. These Door-Propping Bandits must be stopped, I say, lest students cease being inconvenienced! Or perhaps they should be encouraged, to improve the quality of life on the Hill and furthermore to give the students something more to gripe about! Your decision! Joey applauded. "That's great," he said, "I never knew doors were such a big and complicated issue." Of course they are, I said. We use them every day. Surely you have some opinion on doors, something that you can use to rally the students against the Administration. "Well ... I really don't like those little latches that they have on the end of the doors heading into the dormitories. Why does the Administration risk index-finger muscle-pulls by forcing Hill-dwelling students to use those crooked little one-inch-by-a-half-inch slivers of metal instead of installing some real handles, capable of distributing the weight around an entire hand? Do they think we're only transient second-class citizens, somehow deserving of these shabby handles? Do real handholds or doorknobs really cost that much more? Let's get some answers, Administration, before somebody breaks a hand!" That's it, I said. Really sock it to those faceless Administration types. That's the key to winning a Holy Cross election. "Yeah," he agreed. "And the best part is, I could make up big posters of me alongside Jim Morrison." This article, minus its punchline (ARGH!), ran in the 6 April 2001 edition of The Crusader, on page 15 (fifth page of Features section), below the poorly-drawn "Comments on the Passing Parade" nameplate with a truck on it. |