The Apocalypse is upon us.
We at the Record will spew forth the seven plagues at Williams this semester, as the seven angels from Books 8-11 of Revelation blew their trumpets to signal the first seven plagues of the Apocalypse. Witness our destruction:
1) “. . . there came hail and fire, mixed with blood, and they were hurled to the earth, and a third of the earth was burned up. . .” (8:6) – We failed in our duties as a proper educational outfit and hired too few professors (work with me here), hurling us from our throne as a goddess among liberal arts colleges. The U.S. News plague ended with Williams simmering in our relegation to third place.
2) “. . . something like a great mountain, burning with fire, was thrown into the sea. A third of the sea became blood, a third of the living creatures in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed.” (8:8) As Williams Security was thrown into a sea of alcohol, the Williamstown Police Department drew blood from the hosts and officers at the now-infamous Agard party, killed the drinking of all but a third of Eph-creatures, and destroyed much of the College party policy.
3) “. . . a great star fell from heaven, blazing like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water. The name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters became wormwood, and many died from the water, because it was made bitter.” (8:9) The star in campus heaven; the apple in Williams’ eye; the jewel in their crowd; yes, the athletic program teetered on their number one perch as Williams chance to show its greatness was threatened by the proposed end to post-season NCAA tournament play. Teams – more than a third of the athletic programs – may lose their chance to attain godhood in the kingdom of sports because a few loser presidents were bitter.
4) “. . . a third of the sun was struck, and a third of the moon, and a third of the stars, so that a third of their light was darkened; a third of the day was kept from shining, and likewise the night.” (8:10) A lone car struck a looming, phallic pole (c’mon, someone else noticed) on Park Street in September, plunging a third of the campus in darkness for a third of the day, as the power went out across south campus.
5) “. . . from the smoke came locusts on the earth . . . they were told not to damage the grass of the earth. . ., but only those people who do not have the seal of God on their foreheads. . . . their faces were like human faces, their hair like women’s hair [excuse me, men’s too!], and their teeth like lions’ teeth. . .” (9:3)8) Do we really need to draw the parallel here? Okay, one hint for brains fried by finals: LICE = LOCUSTS.
6) “And this was how I saw the horses in my vision: . . . fire and smoke and sulfur came out of their mouths.” (9:17)
Fire, FI-er, heh, heh. Flames and smoke drove out Dodd residents from their home to the potentially lice (sulfur?) infested couches of Mission – where, incidentally, many of the current Dodd residents were forced from just a few years ago in 1996-97’s one major plague. We like fire, he-heh, heh.
7) “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Messiah, and he will reign forever and ever. . . . We give you thanks, lord God Almighty . . . for rewarding your servants, the prophets and saints all who fear your name, both great and small, and for destroying those who destroy your earth.” (11:15-18) Mounting throughout the past year, the last plague is complete with this issue of the Record: the kingdom of Ben Monnie’s Record will live forever and ever, and we the editorial board – great and small – who fear his name nonetheless thank him for rewarding his servants with freedom from delivering our message. But we can rest knowing we have destroyed those who destroy this campus.
If you are not convinced the Apocalypse has begun, just wait for the seven plagues to come – it includes frogs. And they hop, skip and jump.