Sorin is not a residence of war (or a residence for Ares, either - if you know your Greek mythology).
We are not mercenaries seeking a fight at every available avenue, nor are we expansionist territory-mongers (but don't touch our Bond backyard).
We are peace-loving Otters, seeking naught but life, liberty, and happiness Everyone knows this; Sorin's disposition is sunnier than Honolulu on Tuesdays in July between the hours of four and seven in the afternoon.
But our good nature has its limits. There are those on this campus who would take advantage of our kindly disposition to usurp our property and sully our reputation. They attack our very way of life and openly disdain those virtues we hold dear. They have committed egregious offenses directed at Sorin College for generations, with no signs of stopping and without action on our behalf.
There comes a time in every Otter's life where he must stand up and fight for that in which he believes, though he might not understand it. That time is now (actually two days ago, but this is the earliest we could get it in The Observer).
No longer will we be held prisoner to the whims of a dictatorial regime simply out of our own chivalry and love of lazing around the house. While they have the advantage of numbers, we are superior to them in experience, wisdom, and swimming abilities.
There will be casualties: dignities will be crushed, feelings tweaked, and maybe even a few contusions. But can we go on living as we live now? Going through our daily routines as if nothing is wrong, while knowing all the while of the wholesale oppression of our people being perpetrated by a group of smelly girls?
They must see the consequences. They must see what they get. They must see what they get when they mess with the otters. And though they might be wild women, we are screaming otters. And otters never give up.
Our resolve will be put to the test, but we shall prevail over the tyranny we face.
And then we shall dance.
With this document, therefore, we men of Sorin College hereby declare war on Walsh Hall.
Premier Soriano will be given all chances to yield sovereignty, but this cession need be timely (and for our own purposes, only digital clocks will be used). At 0900 hours tomorrow (that means sometime around noon, if you can't read army time), vanguard forces will mobilize, and the annexation of Walsh Hall will be inevitable, unstoppable, irreversible, unceasing, and kind of sexy... in an otter kind of way.
In closing, please understand that we are really, really serious and if you don't believe us, you should ask somebody from Sorin.
Signed,
The Otters
