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Divinity in day drinking

Bob Kessler | Friday, April 24, 2009

This year the Notre Dame community has witnessed many things.

There have been the joyful: the Hawaii Bowl, the feeling after I finished my final final exam of all time, grass on West Quad and racism ending in America.

There have been the hilarious: Melissa Buddie’s letter, the idea that Randall Terry takes himself seriously, the Keenan Hall rector, the new Recker’s menu and police on horses at tailgates.

There have been the depressing: the Syracuse game, the Pittsburgh game, the idea that Randall Terry takes himself seriously and the UNC game.

And the disheartening: the end of the Gay Film Festival, the color of The Shirt, the idea that Randall Terry takes himself seriously and the end of the Fisher Zoo.

Through all of this, Notre Dame Students have lost sight of the important things in life, and have not realized that we have been witness to the finest form of divine intervention this side of Moses and the Red Sea. For those of us that have been paying careful attention; this year God showed us that he wants us to day drink.

It’s not that this is surprising. Don’t college students have the God-given right to drink their hearts and minds (and hopefully not livers) out? Didn’t the Lord show us how much of a rager he was when he turned water into wine for a wedding party?

Many have said that Notre Dame football is God’s team; maybe we are God’s student body. Before you crucify me for making sacrilegious remarks or voting for Barack Obama, listen to the evidence:

Evidence No. 1: Sept. 13, 2008

On the morning of the Notre Dame-Michigan football game, it was pouring. Torrential downpours were everywhere, and Notre Dame students were wondering if they were going to be able to tailgate.

Fear not, oh fearless day drinkers. We had barely cracked open our first Keystone Lights when the rains subsided and the clouds parted (OK, not quite) for the most glorious five hours of day drinking since Carter Buckley left Newport Living. It doesn’t matter if it poured during the game, or for the following five days, the rain-soaked game was made even more fun because of the tailgate.

Evidence No. 2: March 17, 2009

On March 12, it snowed. Five days later, God treated Notre Dame students to the warmest and most beautiful March day of all the March days (seriously, look it up, the high that day was five degrees warmer than any other that month). It’s as if the man upstairs knew that the residents of Lafayette Apartments were going to throw the best party since incredibly lame people moved into Turtle Creek (actually, being omniscient, I guess he did know that).

Regardless, St. Paddy’s Day gave us the hint that divine forces were at work in South Bend.

Evidence No. 3: April 18, 2009

Last weekend, Notre Dame students were witness to another miraculous turn of events as a month’s worth of 40 and 50 degree rainy days paved the way for the glorious three day stretch of sun that pinnacled with an immaculate high of 72 on PigTostal Saturday.

The Kirk, Jenkins and Swarbrick triumvirate might have (or might not have) done everything in their power to cancel this great event, but it is clear that the student body had the big guy on our side as PigTostal not only happened, but it happened on another beautiful day.

What does all of this prove? Is it a coincidence that the only days of 2009 that have brought South Bend temperatures above the 70 degree mark featured the two best day drinking parties of the year?

Or are there greater forces at work?

Being a sometimes practicing Catholic, I have to believe in God, the Almighty; and as a Notre Dame student, I must also believe in Our Mother. I believe that things happen for a reason and that these miraculous meteorological mysteries can only have one explanation: God wants us to party.

So in the name of God; party I will.

Bob Kessler is a senior majoring in political science and economics. Read more of his work at www.thingsnotredamestudentslike.com You can contact him at rkessler@nd.edu

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not

necessarily those of The Observer.