Ah, college. If I had gone, I bet it would have been the time of my life. The golden years. I would've been popular good at academics, but still ready to party. The big Shredder on campus. Maybe I would've made Dean's List, though, I'll admit, I don't know what that is. Still, it would've looked nice on a r»sum». Maybe I would've landed a better job than this. Settled down, had a few Shredderlings of my own, started writing letters to the editor.
To all those returning to the hallowed institution of Cal Poly, I salute you. To all those coming for the first time, I say welcome. To the both of you, I say, "Get your education over with as soon as you can and then get out of my town."
Ha ha! That came out a little stronger than it sounded when I practiced it in the mirror this morning.
Don't get me wrong. I love you all.
No, really, I don't. The streets get so crowded when you're all here at once. There's nowhere to park. I have to wait for hours when I want to make a left turn downtown. Can't you work out some sort of schedule so only some of you are driving while the rest of you are studying? It wouldn't be hard.
Look, start by dividing everybody up into groups. Everyone with a last name that starts with A through H can leave the dorms or their off-campus housing every Monday night. Everyone with a last name that ... well, you get the idea. You can figure out the rest. I'm not going to do your work for you. Unless it's an essay for English and you pay me. I'm good at writing essays for money. Just don't tell the vice provost of Academic Programs. Whoever that is doesn't look kindly on cheating and/or plagiarism, both of which I've been known to, ah, partake in for a quick buck.
But enough about me. While flipping through this issue, I noticed that everybody else already wrote about everything I wanted to say. Since the New Times writers basically plagiarized all my words a nasty, unethical thing to do I'll tell you a little bit about the New Times writers, because, if this less-than-stellar issue somehow inspires you to pick up the paper again, you'll need to know who you're dealing with.
Editor Ryan Miller is a worrywart who says he just wants to make sure we're printing "the truth" each week. I'm doing my best to give him an ulcer. Staff Writer Karen Velie likes to stick her nose into everybody's business. Staff Writer Patrick Klemz does too, but he's wordier. Arts Editor Ashley Schwellenbach rules her arts section with an iron fist. Staff Writer Glen Starkey writes about music and whatever else he feels like. If such a thing as tenure existed at newspapers, he'd have it. Calendar Editor Christy Heron keeps track of everything happening everywhere. Intern Kylie Mendonca just hangs around until somebody gives her something to do. And Proofreader Kathy Johnston makes sure everything is spelled right and makes sense, and sometimes writes about the environment. That about sums it up.
As for the rest of the area, I noticed that our intrepid team missed a few key points. You can honor the memory of the late, great Alex Madonna by pissing in the waterfall urinal at his inn. It's a great place to take dates.
You're screwed if you want any sort of late-night drive-thru, at least until local wanna-be developer Ernie Dalidio gets his way and turns his fallow fields into a shopping paradise, complete with open space to please the environmental types the sort that Kathy writes about.
In a related issue, the big bad news is that traffic thereabouts is going to start getting really bad in a few years, whether or not anybody develops anything, it seems. We're talking 405 bad. You won't have to worry about getting stuck there, though unless you take too long to graduate. Or the city and county figure out what to do about an overpass. Hmmm ... Your work ethic or governmental red tape. Which one is more reliable and streamlined? I'm calling this one a draw.
Try not to pay attention to local politics, no matter what our editor says in his narcissistic student guide. You're a student, and you're not going to be here forever. If you stay registered through your parent's home address, that's where you'll get jury summons. Then, you can just plead hardship as a hardworking, out-of-town college student and get out every time. Or so I hear.
Bubble Gum Alley is not a tourist destination, no matter what anybody tells you. Don't take your parents there. Lead them to the previously mentioned Madonna urinal instead. Now that's a sightseeing stop.
On a final note, I throw a welcome party to all incoming freshman at my house each year. That part about not liking you? That was to weed out the weak ones. Those of you who kept reading are welcome to show up at my place for massive amounts of free beer and a major party. Just look me up in the phone book.