I have to fill this space. Despite my wishes, it is required of my position at this paper that I dispense some clever pearl of wisdom at least once a semester. Sadly, this little task forces me to remove my brain from neutral, which it has been stuck in since a little before 3 o’clock last New Year’s Eve. I have to come up with something to write.
Since it takes a disappointing amount of time for the proverbial lights to come on upstairs, I undertook a walk to the Student Center to ease the pressure. On my way there, try as I might, I could not help but note with amusement the great lengths this school goes to cram everything bobcat-related down our throats in suffocating doses. Accordingly, you can’t get to anything on this campus without going down Bobcat Alley, over the Bobcat Bumps and past the Bobcat Den. Nothing, with the possible exception of the Rathskellar, has gained anything from this new naming system. Instead, by some miracle of science, if we name everything in sight after our newfound mascot, it will somehow lead our sports teams to victory. The plan is that if we rename the shuttle the Bobcat Bus and WQAQ Bobcat Radio, men’s basketball will make the NEC.
The blitz to plaster every square inch of our 200 acres of paradise with Bobcat paraphernalia has steamrolled a great deal of opposition, including common sense. For instance, when one examines the walls in the Rec Center stairwells, they will notice something peculiar and painfully embarrassing about the wall hangings. No doubt most people have seen the blown-up shots of the athletics website, attesting to the wide variety of events athletes have taken part in. Unfortunately, though, proofreading was not on the menu. Several of the posters have obvious grammatical errors, and sentences that make no sense or are fragments. Anyone who visits the Rec Center is free to peruse these ridiculous and humiliating mistakes, magnified to 500 times their original size.
Apparently, though, there is someone monitoring the onslaught. It seems ironic that at a time when women’s basketball is suffering from low attendance, the only guaranteed group of fans, the Crazy Bobcat club, has been told to cease and desist by the athletics department. To be clear, I am not a member of this intrepid group – my candidacy was limited by the fact that I am neither a bobcat, nor crazy, though the latter varies depending on whom you’re asking. If they have such overwhelming school spirit, as they have shown, perhaps they could be employed to paint every blade of grass on the Quad blue and yellow. Athletics is passing up a great opportunity here.
Alternatively, it is possible that the administration has decided there can be too much bobcat. It would’ve been nice, though, if the line had been drawn just before the speed bumps were painted bright yellow with reflective paw prints. That’s pushing the limits. There are some of us who do not want to go to school in a cartoon.
And, just like that, I’ve filled this space. Now, you have a nice day. I’m going to put my brain back into storage.