Well, I’m afraid that your old pals at The Quad will be going away for a little while. No, no it’s nothing to be concerned about. Just one of those hiccups in the schedule that comes along every now and again. Imagine, two whole weeks without your fix of my in-print craziness! Whatever will you do? How can a person be asked to endure such a thing?
My advice to you is to just soldier on. We’ll get through these two weeks and I’ll be right back here, soaping up the windows and toilet papering the trees of West Chester as I tend to do each issue. Throwing toy wrenches in the gears of the higher education machine.
Although, with WCU’s recent string of censorship issues, who knows? Two weeks from now I may wake up on a desert island somewhere in the South Pacific. No phone, no motorcar, not a single luxury for yours truly.
On that note, I think I will be deleting that email I received about WCU’s Three Hour Tour Spring Break Cruise. I get the feeling that there are some shady doings going on with that scene.
I hope that you’re wearing your party hat— I never take mine off just to be safe— because St. Patrick’s Day is just around the corner! Green beer, shamrocks, Blarney Stones, and all that jazz! Actually, there will be no jazz. Only Irish folk music and either The Dropkick Murphys or Flogging Molly.
But only one. If both of those bands are in the same place at the same time, the area automatically becomes a territory of the Republic of Ireland. It’s in the Constitution, people.
First celebrated in 1968 in Boston, St. Patrick’s Day celebrates the birth of Timothy Patrick Day. I’m sure everyone out there remembers Mr. Day as the man who led the Boston Celtics to ten straight Super Bowl titles.
Now, I got all of that information from the internet, but if I’ve learned anything from college, it’s to never, ever question what you read on the internet. Just take it all for gospel. These are the words by which I live my life. I thank the English department for that.
Unless, of course, I totally misread what it was they were trying to tell me.
Despite my perpetual state of Party Hat wearing, I’m not huge on St. Patrick’s Day. Maybe it’s because I was never a Celtics fan. I know a few of you out there will be hitting every bar under the sun and drinking your weight in green food coloring. You are to be commended. You are the real heroes after all. The future of this great country of ours.
I, on the other hand, will not. If I had to wager a guess as to what I’m going to be doing on St. Patrick’s Day, I’d have to say sitting in a darkly lit basement, screaming at computer-renderings of hockey players on my TV to “shoot the stupid” puck. Forgetting, of course, that it is I who is in control of them. Ah, the beauty of videogames.
I’m not big on the bar scene. Too loud, too expensive. Remember last week when I told you I hate fun? Yeah, that applies here too. Although, how anyone considers shouting at the top of your lungs to the person next to you that you’re going to the bathroom and spending five bucks on a bottle of beer fun is beyond me.
Yeah, I’ll take my basement, thank you very much. Perhaps if I’m feeling really frisky, I’ll gorge myself on Irish potatoes. But absolutely no three hour tours. Just where do you think the professor taught before his fateful trip?
Seems that somebody didn’t want to hold any Saturday snow day make-up classes. You didn’t hear that from me.
Alright, well have a safe and quasi-productive Spring Break, WCU. In the words of that famous Irish actor, Keanu Reeves— thank you internet— vaya con dios.