It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. We had emerged triumphant from our internment in the frigid wasteland of the North Quad, but our exile had been harrowing. We had been alienated from our beloved Main Circle, deprived of easy access to life’s most essential comforts (Dave’s Hot Chicken). Countless Doordash orders had been lost along the perilous trek to the Z*** prison, a journey more dangerous than the Oregon Trail. The cold modernism of North Dining Hall offered no respite, its soulless nature more apparent with each dropped cup and the brutal silence that followed. And yet we prevailed over this hardship, growing stronger as a community, like Washington and his men at Valley Forge. Our exodus home to the promised land was glorious, igniting an intellectual atmosphere never before seen since the Enlightenment. There was something electric in the air, a feeling of endless possibility, a potential to rediscover our roots and return to tradition. Like the words that hung over the Temple of Apollo, we felt we could finally “Know Thyself.” Our Renaissance had begun.And yet it was the worst of times, for very soon a harsh reality hit us across the face like a sweaty Welcome Weekend shirt. Upon our exploration of the new basement, we happened upon a devastating discovery. It was not what we found that scared us, but what we did not: the dryers were missing. In a riotous mood reminiscent of the Parisians in 1789, Dawgs stalked the hallways, hungrily searching for those responsible for their plight. I had never before seen a mood so dark and conducive of mob violence than since the Dawg Pizza Protests of 2021. Society was fraying at the seams, as we found our fundamental values of life, liberty and laundry to be under attack by a mysterious evil force.A Dawg diaspora began, as countless Dawgs embarked on their own quests to find working laundry. Soon enough, nearby dorms had to implement travel restrictions, desperately hoping to keep their washers and dryers available for their own residents. We felt we had hit rock bottom, but our situation only got worse. Dawg Pizza lay idle as our pizza oven had not yet arrived, no doubt a dirty trick by the Keenan Knights to uphold their campus monopoly on pizza pies. Our first Dive Night in America (when we all go to the Rock pool and splash around) was deviously canceled by an awfully convenient meeting of the lifeguards. Even the weather had taken its toll on us, forcing Dawgs to sleep in air-conditioned lounges in the hopes of fighting off the devastating heat. (If you saw me sleeping by the door to Main Circle, sorry). This left us with only one possible culprit. Who else could pay off Big Laundry, Big Pool, the Keenan Knights,and even Big Heat? A plot of this scale had all the hallmarks of my arch nemesis.I have feuded with Big Retail Dining for many years. Back when I was a senator, I had tried to destroy the corporate oligarchs of Big Retail Dining with my B.I.G. (Beautifully, Intelligent and Gigantic) Resolution, but my trust-busting had been thwarted and my resolution never saw the light of day. Since then, Big Retail Dining and their hordes of Grubhub robotic minions have scoured the Earth like the Eye of Sauron, hoping to stop me from saving our hard-earned flex points. As president of Alumni Hall, I am calling upon this campus to rise up and join the Dawgs in fighting back not only against Big Laundry, but against the biggest big of all, Big Retail Dining. You can help us by donating to our cause.
James Baird
Alumni Hall president
Class of 2025
Aug. 31
