Sugar and Spice

Thanks to a little number (the smaller, the better), you’re either ecstatic, indifferent, or just plain bitter right now. (Unless, of course, you’re a senior and everything after Currier Ballroom is frustratingly hazy.) If you’re lookin’ at a daunting three digits, you’ve got our deepest sympathies. We somehow managed to escape with a respectable 54, which tells us one thing – the administration does not read the column. ‘Cause no matter what they say, the housing draw is as far from “random” as Spice is from reverence. How else would you explain why certain teams and permanent disciplinary fixtures in the Dean’s office consistently get bad picks? We just don’t buy this computer-generated bull, and we don’t think anyone else really does either (except for those of you who are sitting on top of the world right now with a miracle pick and don’t really care one way or the other). Has anyone else noticed that once you’re given a pick freshman year, you’re pretty much pigeon-holed into that numerical vecinity? We dropped a whopping four picks from last year. Coincidence? We think not. You’ve gotta give in order to get in this situation; the more of a commodity you are to this place, the more rewards you’ll reap. The moral of the story? Be good and you may end up on Hank “St. Nick” Payne’s list next spring.

While we search for arbitrariness in a silly housing draw, Cartman’s quest for his identity rages on. The “big-boned” South Park character (a show once described as “a Samuel Beckett play put on by the ‘Peanuts’ gang and scripted and directed by Quentin Tarantino”) is slated to meet his mysterious father on tomorrow’s (!) show, a long-awaited Emmy award-winning Kodak moment (especially after that insultingly lame April Fool’s day joke). As usual, we’ve formulated a few educated guesses about who ditched that fat lard, which we’d rather not discuss. Besides, chances are it would get censored anyway.

While Cartman’s kryptonite is his beloved Cheesy Poofs, we have a soft spot in our hearts for ice cream. We’re probably not alone. In an unrelated story, an unalarmed Pennsylvania ice cream shop was robbed recently, and the thief made out with 75 three-gallon tubs worth approximately $15,000. Speaking on why he had neglected to install a burglar alarm, owner Pete Zafris reflected, “I said, ‘What are they going to steal, the ice cream?’” Hmmm, that much ice cream certainly would keep a couple of sundae fanatics happy for a while. And, come to think of it, Sugar’s birthday just happens to be today. Someone should advise Lickety Split to beef up their security.

Or, better yet, they should call in a favor from 88-year-old, 100-pound Virginia Davis, referred to by her attorney as “just a typical little blue-haired lady.” Davis stands accused of beating to death a 50 year old man last March. Since Clinton likes ’em fiesty, maybe Hillary will send Davis his way. The President may not have cried when Judge Susan Webber Wright dropped Paula Jones’s sexual-harassment suit against him, but he’ll certainly be weeping when this granny goes to work.

Bill Clinton’s not alone in his sorrow. All across corporate America people are shedding tears at the country’s recent downsizing trends. We think that’s a pathetic way to deal. What’s even more absurd is that this trend has somehow spread to non-profit organizations on an incredibly small scale. What’s the deal with that?

Also taking some hits for the team (literally) is America’s once favorite past time—baseball. According to recent stats, popularity for the sport has waned substantially, with a whopping 65 percent of Americans pledging their allegiances to a different sport. This is all news to Boston-bred Sugar, where the fans are just as die-hard when the Sox are terrible as when they’re on. In fact, a company Vice-President even cut a job offer short in order to catch the home opener at Fenway. Now that’s loyalty. Besides, the Sox host the highest paid player in the game, Pedro Martinez, whose salary registers at $12.5 million. So that’s what it takes to lure true talent to the Green Monster.

Then again, true talent is irreplaceable. We can’t tell you how many times we wished we got paid for this thankless (even disrespected) job. And we owe it all to you, our adoring fans. Maybe you don’t always show it, but deep down you know you love us.

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