Ahhh, it's about that time of year.
No, I don't mean spring-cleaning - just a bit of a refresher for the Inside Column. A pine-green air freshener, if you will, provided compliments of The Observer along with a pile of inky, stinky newsprint.
What happened to those days when the most serious topic to invade the sacred shrine of Page 2 was the complete lack of personal monkey assistants? Ah, for the glory of campus elections past. Now, if we all got a Hummer, that would top the monkeys. Just barely.
I think it's pretty much de rigueur nowadays for any column worth its salt to mention that absolutely nobody reads the Inside Column. There may or may not be some truth to that - when asked if he'd ever read it, a 17-year-old freshman from Zahm with false buck teeth, a cowboy hat turned sideways and the name "Pancho Spilla" said he could neither confirm nor deny reports that he'd been known to read one on occasion.
That's no excuse, though. There's got to be some denia - err, I mean, accountability here! Self-deprecating humor only goes so far before someone just has to stand up, clear the air and then apologize for baking the beans.
On a completely unrelated note, since of late the Irish seem to be under pressure to become more research-oriented, I vote we make the unofficial motto IHTFP. Hey, if M.I.T. uses it, it can't be all wrong ... right?
Speaking of notes, I'm sure Notre Dame has some more harmonious ones planned for the Stadium than U2 and the Boss. Something like ... The Show 2007, featuring Yo Yo Ma and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Of course, security will still have to be on guard with Breathalyzers at the entrance. Can't have any intoxicated first flutes wandering in, now can we?
This above all, to thine own advice be true, and then it shall follow, as the night the day, something something. I really should listen to my own advice, shut my yap, and spend more time harmonizing my inner peace quotient with campus norms. By that, I mean it's time for me to hit the Huddle for some matches, a tree for some sticks, and a lake for an experiment to see if Plato sinks or swims. Er, whether he's imagined or not. If only ...
Kind of sad that I don't know the lakes apart yet, isn't it? I confess, I just walk by them. I'm like "Hey, lake!" and go on by. I'll never know the lake's name. But the lake is not however therefore nameless ... but blameless is the Willy all the same.
If you read that last paragraph and laughed, you really should quit leaving in the middle of class to go to the bathroom. If you didn't laugh, well, ditto. Sort it out amongst yourselves while I microwave some grapes and see what happens.
