Note: Spoilers for a movie that will make another ten million dollars as you read this sentence. Take your head out of the sand.

Man of Steel has caused an impressive number of virtual shouting matches. This is natural. The film has been advertised on every billboard in the northern hemisphere. It adapts comics with a history three times longer than my lifespan and a fan base large enough to populate a country. If people didn’t argue about it, it would prove that the creeping apathy that infects our culture had finally won. Especially since the movie is a mixed bag. Man of Steel is a tug-of-war between elements that work fantastically and elements that fall on their face. One element dominates the conversation.

Superman kills Zod dead. To save four innocents, he twists the villain’s neck like he’s playing Bop-It. For veteran better-than-me writer Mark Waid and a legion of rabid fans, this is a deadly cinematic sin. For a counter-legion of equally rabid fans, the scene is an essential smoment and straightforward improvement on the “I don’t have to save you” nonsense from Batman Begins. Since I operate under the delusion that my opinion matters, I’m going to weigh in on this.

Starting my Injustice parody as this argument flared up has shaped my thinking a little. The tie-in comic is terrible, but it’s also an interesting point of comparison. The plot of Injustice is built around a parallel Superman killing the Joker. In that game/comic/Mortal Kombat remix, that act pushes alternate Superman into becoming a flying version of Stalin. A single kill is framed as the border between a solar-powered boy scout and immortal tyrant. This is a familiar line of thought to anyone that’s glanced at DC’s back catalogue. The stock answer for “Why doesn’t Batman kill the Joker” is that he wouldn’t be able to stop.  Murdering one lunatic in tights leads to more and more until he’s head lunatic in tights. There are some fantastic comics that include a variation of this line. Many of them were written by Mark Waid. Some of them are personal favorites. But it’s a flimsy line at best.

The plot hook in Injustice fails to resonate. At all. Suspension of disbelief went on a permanent vacation the second that killing a genocidal clown was framed as an unforgivable act. Everything that the writers attempted to build from that foundation failed to resonate as well. One could blame their inability to write their way out of a paper bag, but there’s more at work. The game’s core concept undermines the moral character of characters built around being unflinchingly moral. Superman can’t be one dead psychotic clown or intergalactic overlord away from being a serial killer. If one kill would remove the nobility from Superman, than he isn’t too noble to begin with.

The writing in Man of Steel is far from perfect. Superman seems to have forgotten the concept of collateral damage. Much of the dialogue is either stilted or a fresh harvest from the cliché farm. When Superman talked about his down-south deep-fried love for America, I needed a moment to recover from the stupidity that had wandered into my ears. But the final battle is very well done, from the tense monologue that opens it to its lethal conclusion.

There’s another angle to remember. Man of Steel is an origin story, as the film’s frequent retreads of universally known information demonstrate. Ideally, this means providing the foundation for a character’s personality and values. Superman doesn’t’ have much personality, but he does have values. As the unfolding flamewar demonstrates, avoiding killing is one of those values. But where does that value come from? Killing Zod gives the viewer a tangible answer. Superman demonstrates immense remorse for killing Zod. In his review of Man of Steel, Mark Waid even points to said remorse as a well-done moment. In a movie that says what it’s already shown far too often, the reasoning behind Superman’s technical pacifism is expertly handled. We see the change in the character without him blurting out “I really dislike killing people.”

If you disagree, that’s fair. I have a terminal case of cynicism, and Joe Kelly’s What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, & The American Way is a walking counter-argument. If you agree, remember to show Mark Waid the proper respect. Seeing people disavow the man who wrote Kingdom Come for a negative movie review is depressing. Particularly since he wrote a third of the moments imported into the script.

P.S.: In case it seems like I’m on an anti-Injustice crusade, the game is a blast to play. I tend to use Green Arrow and The Flash.

I respect self-aware idiots. There’s honor in looking at the mirror and recognizing that a Neanderthal is staring back. The honorable idiot politely removes himself from intelligent discourse to enjoy a calm life of Wendy Williams reruns and Twitter updates about nothing. They don’t hurt anyone. They quarantine their cognitive diseases in their living rooms. The majority of them don’t even bother to vote. If every idiot had the grace to be self-aware, the world would be a brighter place.

The idiot in denial is another story. Instead of leaving cultural discourse to the big children, the idiot in denial finds the tallest unoccupied soapbox and shouts at other idiots in a never-ending chorus of trendy buzzwords and animated gifs. The soapbox landfill is called Tumblr. It is the most efficient bullshit distribution system in the history of mankind. As Tumblr metastasizes, I feel nostalgia for the straightforward lies that William Randolph Hearst brought to the table. At least he didn’t believe them.

For the older (or gainfully employed) portion of the audience, I’m going to pretend that it’s 2010. Tumblr is the hybrid blogging and social networking tool that your nephew goes on instead of doing something useful. The key difference between Tumblr and the dozens of other web platforms for shouting into the wind is the emphasis on recycling content. Notes, reblogs, and good old-fashioned theft allow people without a single ounce of original thought to enjoy a large following. The members of this following can then Xerox their own derivative fiefdom. This often repeats itself until a pyramid of recycled thought rivaling any hivemind in science fiction is born. You might assume that this would lead to a constant barrage of worthless self-referential drek. You would be right.

Obviously, repetitive content alone doesn’t earn my naked scorn. Reposts are always dull, but they’re usually not actively harmful. The problem is that Tumblr breeds insular communities the way that trash breeds flies. The “me too” mindset shields speakers from real criticism, allowing ideas to flourish that would never have survived the light of day on their own. Tumblr is a place where idiots in denial can band together and thrive. As a result, a swarm of equally self-righteous and insane communities have emerged from Tumblr’s quasi-intellectual cesspool to infest the rest of the internet.

Tumblr is in love with pseudo-academic terms. Emphasis on pseudo. Most of the terms vomited out by  Tumblr’s masses would be laughed out of any conference and burned by any journal editor. Exposure to peer review outside of the circlejerk might even cause some social justice warriors to spontaneously combust. Browsing Tumblr is often like walking into a game of University dress-up. Terms are made up on the fly, while everyone playing tries to look and sound as much like an expert as they can.

After all, college is hard. Finding legitimate research that fits your ass-backwards worldview is hard. Debate is hard. Accepting when you’re wrong is hard. Reblogging is easy.

The more extreme branches are all about taking the easy way about. Reality is hard to deal with, so why not change the rules of reality? You might not be a cat, but there’s a web of blogs waiting to tell you that you’re any animal that you can imagine. Obesity might turn general anesthetic into a surgical nightmare, but you can find a blog that says all human weights are healthy. As long as you have a supportive community, you can keep your imaginary friends as long as you want. Just remember to use the term “headmate.” You’re an academic, after all.

One of the furthest fringes of this line of thought in transableism. It’s even unpopular among the social justice warriors that got this train started. A transabled person is someone that is perfectly physically healthy (if not psychologically), but identifies as physically disabled. Think about that. Toss it around your brain. Take a break from this article if you need a moment to let the idea fully sink in. Congratulations on not driving your fist through your computer. I learned to admire the durability of my laptop the day I read that definition.

The insane fringe of Tumblr is equally pitiable and hilarious, but we still haven’t reached the biggest problem. This would all be water under a retarded bridge if it wasn’t for the fact that Tumblr is influential. While the fringes are easy to ignore, the mundane core is more insidious. On Tumblr, one finds an all-pervasive culture of victimhood. There are very legitimate issues as well, such as the basic human rights of transsexuals. But these issues are almost always drowned out by a chorus of people either looking for any excuse to be seen as a victim or their own cuddly victim to patronize. Tumblr encourages the laziest kind of activism: the kind that can be done from your parent’s basement.

The culture of victimhood has bled out of Tumblr, dragging down intelligent conversations across the internet (or at least the corners I enjoy). Feelings overtake logic in too many corners. The controversy of the week is dictated by people that can’t tell the difference between a joke and twenty crosses burning outside of NAACP headquarters. As entertaining as it is to have suburban teenagers wailing on my behalf, I’d rather be able to have a real conversation.

For reasons that are beyond me, Yahoo recently bought Tumblr for over one billion dollars. This could be read as vindication for the platform’s value. However, Google, Facebook, and Microsoft all dodged purchasing Tumblr like it was on fire. Considering Yahoo’s track record of purchasing slightly worthless properties and running them even further into the ground, I think we can consider the three faces of modern software a little savvier.

When writing about Reddit, my erstwhile comrade said he was merely disappointed. Tumblr forces me to take a harder stance. The day that Tumblr suffers a Friendster-style collapse, I will throw a party. It will be called the Festival of Privilege. The music will be deafening, the wine will flow like water, and I’ll pay for every cent.

The parody train doesn’t stop until it derails.

In the scramble for recognition that has characterized the Internet age, we’ve left a few things like radio, CDs, and shame by the wayside. None of it is the exact fault of this monster we’ve created but barely understand. It has, however, done a disturbingly good job of creating outlets for the worst of us by giving them voices and an audience. It was Penny Arcade that coined the term “GIFT,” or “Greater Internet Fuckwad Theory,” but it’s so much more marvelously complicated than their original definition these days. All they said was that if you give someone a voice, an audience, and a degree of anonymity, they will turn into a complete fuckstick. I’m here today to tell you that they were right. They were far more right than we ever could have thought.

On all four corners of the internet are little hubs of terrible, ranging to a blog I found that likens anorexia to a religion (the authoress of this blog also has a photo stream where she finds pictures of female celebrities eating and calls them fat), entire websites dedicated to the adoration of a show for little girls about horses, and an until-recently hidden subculture who call themselves “transabled.” That is, they are physically capable men and women who choose to identify as physically crippled. Only in this day and age could a group of hypochondriacs come together and demand that we believe them and put them on disability just because they say we should. Because they may be physically healthy, but in their hearts, in their souls, they’re missing their left leg from the knee down.

I could go on about this sort of thing all day (I might later, actually), but there are a few places where you can really see the numbers in action as far as human mediocrity goes, and one of them is Reddit. Reddit is many things to many people, and I can’t fault it for the noble bunch of ideas that went into its inception. Hell, it’s still a place where people seeking very specific information can find it easily; I myself found an excellent exercise program and recipe for tacos there and use both regularly.

And then there’s the disappointment.

Make no mistake: for all the good things about Reddit, it’s a veritable who’s-who of attention whores, lazy assholes, apathetic netizens, and violent retards (violent in that they’re violently retarded). Through equal contributions from each of these parties, Reddit eats originality and digests it into a mediocre stream of inoffensive thought-slurry. Being on Reddit for too long is like being on antidepressants. Things that might have been funny or impressive at one point simply elicit a sharper exhale than usual for the former and a frown of “not bad” for the latter.

This is the fault of no one but everyone. There are a couple different ways you could read that sentence and they’re both correct. We’re going to cycle down the list of people I just gave in the last paragraph and examine why they are all uniquely responsible for the wasteland of mediocrity that is the front page of Reddit.

Attention whores are a fascinating bunch, especially when they’re the ‘doggedly driven’ variety, not the ‘obviously unstable’ bunch that we tend to see in real life. The hardworking attention whore dedicates time and effort into filling six different subreddits with the same image; the same image he posted on the same six subreddits three months ago. He will do this upwards of twenty times a day, and his only reward is upvotes. This is, apparently, enough for him. Note: very often will the title of one of their posts begin with “My girlfriend….” This is a lie. This is a Cheney-tier lie.

Then there’s the lazy assholes. These are the ones who see a bandwagon and hop on immediately with something that is only topical, not funny. He will shop the fez onto the picture of a pretty starfish someone posted earlier and make it into a Doctor Who joke. He will throw a pair of captions onto a picture of a celebrity leaning on something and turn it into a tired Dos Equis riff. He will find something out there in the world with the word “apple” in it and make the lawsuit joke. He does this because he knows that no matter how unfunny or unoriginal he is, the fact that is on the bandwagon assures him recognition.

Third, we have the group of people who facilitate the antics of the first two: apathetic netizens. These are the people who hold the real power on Reddit whether they know it or not, and they can be mercilessly exploited without ever knowing that they were the victims of being sold really shitty content. See, there are certain patterns one can glimpse in what posts get the most upvotes. The apathetic netizens like cats. They like references to things everyone saw. They absolutely love hearing about things that are unusual, but not to the point of weird. They like hearing the same joke a hundred times, and they love it even more when the joke is ever-so-slightly repurposed for an ever-so-slightly different context. And man, do they ever love whomever it is that just did that slightly noteworthy thing. Don’t ever fuck with that guy/girl/monkey with a coat. There’s a lesson to be learned from all this: people aren’t smart, they aren’t adventurous, and innovation offends them unless they benefit from it directly.

Finally we have the violent retards. Now, the violent retards aren’t really part of the main problem that I expressed. Being crazy, they’re a bit of a breed apart, and thus the harm they do is hard to track. Sometimes, we’re lucky and they’re simply entertaining, as was the case with user aalewis and his rather pitiful entry into the r/atheism circlejerk (linked here). Other times, they are just annoying and find stupid things to get offended at or make the comment section of one post into their personal courtroom, handing out vocal judgments of every other comment and explaining why he upvoted/downvoted them. Then there are the ones who have horrifically skewed views on the world and congregate to let the insanity coagulate. These are the types who visit subreddits like r/bodyacceptance (which is made up mostly of egregiously overweight women who think their health problem is something to be accepted as a part of who they are), r/mensrights (men who might have been truly wronged once, but now wish to make their hatred for women institutional), r/mylittlepony (the pathetic manchildren who have turned Lauren Faust’s at best 5/10 animated series about saccharinely-named talking horses into their religion) and r/clopclop (the pathetic manchildren who jack it to porn of Lauren Faust’s at best 5/10 animated series about saccharinely-named talking horses).

Don’t settle for Reddit. If you want to experience the internet, go exploring, don’t go to its self proclaimed “front page.” You’ll just end up horribly underwhelmed.

The NSA employee responsible for tracking known dissident Will “Big Willie Style” Smith recently leaked the following e-mail exchange between Smith and director M. Night Shyamalan.

Dear M. Night,

Opening weekend! I haven’t felt this much positive energy since my first album dropped. After Earth is going to be big, man. Titanic big. We’re going to make Avengers look like one of those Ernest movies you walk by in Wal-Mart. I should clear some space on my shelf for another Oscar.

I couldn’t have picked a better director. Or a better friend.

Sincerely,
Will Smith

M-Neezy,

What will you do with your hundred million dollars? I’m thinking of buying a nice island. Nothing too fancy, just something for the kids. They have to learn to swim sometime, and a few dozen miles of beach should give them enough paparazzi-free space to do it. There’s nothing worse than bringing your son to a YMCA pool and finding thirty TMZ reporters with water-proof cameras and snorkels.

Jayden’s buying Pisa. The city, not the tower. You should invest in a small city for your kids. It’s good for their character.

From,
Will

M-Dog,

We’re really too clever. Will Smith in a movie? Gold. Jayden Smith? Platinum. But together? That’s a bona-fide cinematic miracle. Citizen Kane’s gonna be a footnote once After Earth’s numbers come in.

As usual, the critics have their heads stuck up their asses. I don’t have to cuss to sell records, but the AV Club can go fuck itself. They wouldn’t know good film if it hit them in the dick with a sledgehammer.

Hit me back! I haven’t heard from you since post-production.

Yo M,

You won’t believe this. I went to a Saturday night screening of After Earth in my new “prole” disguise. It took a while to find a fake mustache that matched my tuxedo, but it was worth it to blend in with average Joes. I try not to spend too much time in an ivory tower. Normal guys are allowed to fly to my island anytime.

The craziest thing happened: the theater was empty! I found the one unattended showing of After Earth in America. What were the odds! I’m sure everyone was just watching it in IMAX.

I’ll catch you later, I’ve got to make the first down payment on my island.

Big ups,
The Fresh King of LA

I’m starting to get a little worried. There are a lot of negative words floating around. Like “flop,” “forgettable,” and “worthless piece of self-indulgent dogshit.” Do you think we’re in trouble? I’ve already commissioned a statue of Jaden and I for the island.

-Will

Dear Will,

There seems to have been a misunderstanding.

I was sent to the realm of men with one purpose: the annihilation of film. My entire career has been dedicated to destroying man’s faith in cinema. I will take the gate to the imagination, and create a window into hell. My masters will accept nothing less than the corruption of everything remotely associated with modern entertainment.

I thought victory was at hand with The Last Airbender. Yet the damnable human spirit remains unbroken. I expected to win this battle with a single stroke, but now I must prepare for a siege. After Earth  is the first battering ram in that siege.

You and your spawn were useful spawns. But I’m afraid I must move on to greener pastures. There are reputations less tarnished by arrogance and Scientology to drag into the mire. Enjoy shoehorning your son into a hip remake of “The Goonies.”

And don’t think I don’t see you, Agent Reynolds. You pry through my missives like a rat in the garbage. Your paymasters claim that they can protect you, but your time will come as well.

With Undying Hatred for the World of Man,
M. Night Shyamalan

P.S: Your kid looks like Riley Freeman.

Jaime Lannister tries out the “Braveheart” look.

The ongoing adventures of the last three twenty year olds on Earth paying for movies.

Alan: Not as smart as he thinks he is.
Byron: Hodor.
Cammy: Prone to madness and greatness.

Others rotate in and out.

The night is dark and full of spoilers.

The basement is tense with excitement. It’s the ninth episode of the season, and expectations are high. Alan is particularly upbeat.

CAMMY
Do you think Daenerys will ever do anything interesting again?

BYRON
She gets naked sometimes.

CAMMY
How nice for you.

ALAN
I enjoyed when she turned that one city into a smoking crater.

CAMMY
Fair enough.

Alan whistles and flicks a kernel of popcorn into the air. He catches it with the same hand, and tosses it into his mouth.

CAMMY
Something’s wrong.

BYRON
What?

CAMMY
Alan is smiling.

Alan smirks, and glances knowingly at his wrist. Cammy rolls up his sleeves to find a copy of “A Storm of Swords” by George R.R. Martin.

BYRON
Bastard!

CAMMY slaps ALAN across the face, failing to wipe away his shit-eating grin. 

ALAN
You two are in for a wild ride.

BYRON
How long have you known?

ALAN
I knew everything from Ned Stark’s haircut to Ygritte’s annoying-ass catchphrase.

BYRON
(Despairing)
But why?! It was your idea to watch this show together!

CAMMY
Some men want to watch the world…you know the deal. He’s an ass. He spent the week before Ned’s execution making beheading puns.

ALAN
I’ve watched my favorite characters suffer and die. Now, I’m passing the savings on to you.

Cammy raises her hand to slap him again.

ALAN
Strike me again and I will spoil everything you’ve ever loved!

Cammy drops her hand and bows. 

ALAN
You should pay attention to the show. Something…interesting might happen.

BYRON
Yeah yeah, wedding politics. Wake me up when the boobs and swords are back.

The wedding band starts playing “The Rains of Castamere.”

CAMMY
It’s that song!

BYRON
The Bear and the Maiden Fair?

CAMMY
No, the only other song that exists.

BYRON
…The opening credits?

ALAN
(Holding back laughter)
I wonder how those Duke boys will get out of this one?

Robb Stark loses his dreams, wife, child, mother, army, wolf, and life.

ALAN
It seems they won’t.

BYRON
Christ on a crutch! 

CAMMY
Did…that just happen?

BYRON
Why do I watch this? Everything’s fucked. All the good people get pushed off buildings, executed, or stabbed like a liquor store owner in Newark.

CAMMY
Does this mean I have to shut down my Tumblr collecting pictures of Michael Madsen in armor?

ALAN
I wish I could fill a water bottle with these tears.

BYRON
Can’t the Starks catch a break?

CAMMY
Bran’s a wizard now. That’s something.

BYRON
Would you trade your family and legs to be a wizard?

CAMMY
Bad example. My brother sucks, and I’m a terrible athlete.

ALAN
My siblings are fine, and I love to run. The answer is still yes.

BYRON
There’s something wrong with you two.

CAMMY
You sound like my mom. Don’t do this, or drop out of that, or snort this, or inject that.

ALAN
It’s been a pleasure watching you two squirm. Same time next week?

CAMMY
Listen. You might win today. But one day, someone who can use a camera is going to adapt Dune. Then the spoilers will be mine to control. And your happiness will turn into ashes in your mouth.

 The silent credits end. After several minutes contemplating their own mortality, our trio gets drunk and plays Mortal Kombat.

It’s photoshop time again. Some tie-in comics are too hilarious to ignore.

On May 19, comedy died. Two passing vagrants found the emaciated corpse of comedy in a ditch in North Las Vegas. The body had a single self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. There was no note. At the family’s request, comedy will be buried next to journalistic integrity. On an unrelated note, May 19 was day one of Youtube’s “Comedy Week.”

Youtube is one of the greatest modern success stories. Which makes the cringe-inducing storm of bullshit that surrounded  Comedy Week even more baffling. The immediate reaction to Comedy Week isn’t laughter. It’s irritation followed by rage. It all began with a simple promotional video.

This video serves as a healthy reminder that Arnold Schwarzenegger could never act. His most famous role is an emotionless robot that speaks in a monotone, and bad things happen when he leaves that territory. At this point, the event still appeared to have some potential. The ad might have been a reheated serving of stale pop-culture, but I was still optimistic. A healthy reminder to never believe in anything at any time for any reason.

In case it’s not clear, Comedy Week wasn’t funny. Comedy Week was to humor what smallpox was to world health. Comedy Week was to humor what fire-bombing Dresden was to pacifism. Comedy Week was to humor what the Challenger explosion was to space travel. An unmitigated disaster.

During Comedy Week, every Youtube Celebrity (two words I can’t type without going into a rage-induced coma) decided to try their hand at comedy. This worked about as well as opening a swinger’s club in Saudi Arabia. I’ve never seen so much effort accompanied by so little talent. The low point was this idiocy:

Hilarity does not ensue.

If you have a normal disposition, you probably just rolled your eyes and moved on. If you have my disposition, you’ve just made a fist-shaped dent in the wall. There are two ways to interpret this image:

1. Someone hired by a Google affiliate honestly thought that the spit-take could be repackaged into pure web trend hilarity. Then, instead of being mocked and fired, they were embraced.
2. Youtube is the main weapon in a conspiracy to reduce the populace to a mass of gibbering monkeys without the brainpower to throw their own shit at each other.

Either way, I demand that someone pay. As a member of the human community, I humbly request that Google put forward a scapegoat. To satisfy the dark gods of humor, this scapegoat will be beaten to death with a foam bat. I don’t care if it’s an executive, intern, or janitor. Someone must pay.

I also demand that Google pay for comedy’s funeral. It shouldn’t be too expensive, as long as every mental vegetable involved in the “Youtube Challenge Challenge” chips in. With a little effort, Google can redeem itself and put Margaret Thatcher’s state funeral to shame.

This piece of mine ran in Tiger Magazine‘s Daily Princetonian parody.

In spite of the pressure of a daily news cycle, absolutely nothing worth commenting upon occurred in Princeton University today. Five thousand undergraduates carried out their mundane daily routines with no events of remote interest anywhere on campus. Instead of printing eight pages of unreadable dross, we’ve decided to face the truth. Nothing happened.

Crime remains a non-factor. There were no arsons, stabbings, shootings, sexual assaults, beatings, muggings, curb-stomps, bombings, floggings, flayings, defenestrations, hangings, or disturbances of the peace. None of the racial, religious, or social factions in the university have established any organized crime groups. Shirley Tilghman has not embezzled the university budget and fled to an undisclosed location in Nicaragua. No domestic or foreign terrorist cells have revealed themselves on campus or made any demands towards Nassau Hall. As far as we know, no serial killers have taken their victims amongst the residential colleges.

Despite the scores of flyers decorating every wall and street light, there were no student events worth leaving one’s room for, let alone buying a ticket. Last year’s reviews of the generally interchangeable dance organizations provide a fair guide for this year’s nearly identical annual performances. The Performing Arts Council remains equal parts inept and corrupt, making this unlikely to change. On a similar note, the military occupation of campus archways by a capella groups continues, community disinterest in athletics is still matched by a general lack of achievement, and Alcohol Initiative events continue to fail to provide a compelling alternative to drinking until something interesting happens.

The editorials sent to us remain worthless. We have a binary choice between the rants of deluded freshmen and senile alumni. Typically, we would print one of these under the guise of “starting a conversation,” especially if the piece beat the undead horse of hookups on campus. Today, we’ve elected to take the high road. Since we’ve received nothing worth printing, nothing will be printed. This week’s editorials will be lit on fire, and the ashes will be scattered across New Jersey’s countless landfills.

Our team of undergraduate reporters made every effort to find something to report on. They failed. The articles submitted by our staff were obvious, dull, biased, mendacious, or some combination of the four. This led to two of our editors quitting outright. The editor-in-chief took an “extended vacation,” reappearing an hour later at the Nassau Weekly office. One editor simply stared silently out the window, with a lone tear running down his cheek. He still refuses to leave his seat, and responds to all questions with “How did it come to this?” Suicide watch has been notified, preventing an incident that might have led to a notable headline.

Princeton University is essentially purgatory. In our desperation to find something worth covering, we considered several fictitious news stories. These included headlines like “Satanist Cult Seizes Control of Chapel,” “University Secedes From Union and Declares Independent City-State,” “Creative Writing Department Removes Heads from Rectums,” and “Minotaur Stalks Halls of Firestone Library.” Our editorial staff wishes we lived in a world where any of these events would break the monotony.

The status quo holds in every facet of campus culture. Princeton University remains the fourth least interesting location in the western hemisphere, eclipsed only by two ghost towns and the Mild Acres nursing home. As of next week, we will be assuming the title “The Monthly Princetonian” and adopting a schedule to match.