Notre Dame and the Rover of Doom
Tae Andrews | Monday, September 3, 2007
The other day, I had the misfortune of reading the Aug. 30 edition of The Irish Rover. While perusing the Cheers and Jeers section of that seldom-read paper, I came across a blurb entitled “One Dining Hall Does not a Hogwarts Make” – jeering The Observer for a spread about the Harry Potter series.
The first thought to enter my mind was which of the three Unforgivable Curses I would use in retaliation. Fortunately for the staff of that alleged newspaper, I am not a Dark Wizard, nor do I believe in the use of Dark Magic, so your continued health is guaranteed – so long as you stay on campus. (Once you step across that campus boundary, all bets are off these days.)
However, I now believe you may be under some sort of spell: perhaps an Imperius Curse, which would explain your obnoxious behavior as your being placed under the control of a Dark Wizard, or maybe just a commonplace Stupefy or Confundus Charm.
Regardless of how confused or confounded you may have been at press time, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is not, as you claim, “an antiquated, upper class English boarding school for magic.” Hogwarts enjoys continued relevancy in the hearts and minds of its readers, and as far as being upper class, any Harry Potter fan would know Ron Weasley comes from a working-class family. (His father works for the Ministry of Magic, and we all know how government jobs pay.)
After reading your embittered and nonsensical diatribe, it is clear that if Notre Dame were Hogwarts, you and your ilk at The Irish Rover would undoubtedly be Dementors – a bunch of marauding, hateful creatures who, cloaked in darkness, are determined to suck all the fun out of this place.
You wrote, “This isn’t 7th grade and even if it were, anyone who cares about Harry Potter has already read the books and watched the movies twice.”
Perhaps you never had a childhood. Perhaps you are the sort of people who believe Harry Potter advocates witchcraft. Perhaps you spend your free time trying to have copies of “The Da Vinci Code” banned from libraries and go around smudging lightning-bolt shaped scars drawn in face paint on the foreheads of children. Perhaps you crashed the midnight release Harry Potter parties at Borders, flipped to the back pages and screamed out the ending, just to spoil things. Perhaps you spend your free time kicking puppies. Whatever it is that you do, please leave my section out of your inane and awkward rants.
I had originally hoped to write about how difficult it was to procure a copy of your obscure and largely irrelevant paper, but in reality it was quite easy. Unread stacks of the Rover litter this campus like Vin Diesel DVDs in a movie store.
Which, of course, is not to say that your paper doesn’t have its uses: It’s a great fire-starter and a very handy substitute should you ever run out of toilet paper. If I had to rate your second-rate excuse for my section, I’d give the Rover the Golden Sombrero, a perfect zero out of a possible four clovers in our rating system. My only lasting hope is that all three of your readers have not formed a tainted opinion of the Scene section of this university’s daily newspaper.