By state and federal law, we are all of us familiar with the Marcus Whitman quotation that reads, “Whitman students are some of the happiest in the nation.” That lie issues forth daily from the text of our brochures, the mouths of our tour-guides and the Java script of our Web site.
While we stumble and stagger about our campus, hucksters in pressed slacks convince parents by the score that here and here alone has the national wave of post-adolescent despair been arrested. There is no hope of resistance. These snake oil salesmen cannot be diverted from spreading their deceptions while we still give them ample opportunity to photograph lean, tan persons laying out for Frisbees. In the choice between struggle and surrender, our very way of life forces us to choose the second option.
Yet, there is still hope. Even if we cannot fight, we can still hang on to one another. This is not an easy life. Our rights have been pared down to almost nothing. No longer are we guaranteed the right to hurl bottles at Walla Walla’s police cruisers, slack-line in its churches and temples, or decorate its sidewalks with what used to be eight-dollar hamburgers. “The center cannot hold”: our world decays before our very eyes. Hope, courage, compassion and such other once-pleasing words have lost their savor. All that we can do now is offer each other our sincere condolences.
To that end, I dedicate to the Whitman student body these 13 consolations, organized by House of the Revised Zodiac.
Brohamitus, the Bro (Jan 17 – Jan 24): You have my sympathy for your suffering, but no one should ever boast of having passed out in the Pearl River Delta’s “bomb-est” traditional Confucian academy.
Splinter, the Weed Connection (Jan 25 – Feb 23): My heart goes out to you: it’s not easy being upbraided by Christopher Hitchens for ‘coddling enemies of the Enlightenment, both foreign and domestic.’ But look on the bright side: this is going to be the best Foam Party ever.
Shredder, the Chemistry Major (Feb 24 – Feb 27): I’m so sorry your classes went poorly, I mourn for the sticky embarrassment that was your latest hookup and I absolutely weep for your unplanned nude appearance in the new Spiritual center. But then maybe being Dean of Students doesn’t saddle you with the responsibility to ‘out-bro’ each and every one of us.
Martikus, the RA (Feb 28 – Spring): Feel better. Once your roommate resets the bone, and the flesh heals, the lattice of scars and burns that remains will form an absolutely diabolical Sudoku puzzle.
Samwise, the Vodka Guy (Spring – July 7): Take heart in the fact that many people have thrown up on someone they love, but remember that it’s usually unintentional.
Thundercats!, the Depledge (July 8 – July 19): Buck up, champ. Most students at Whitman find the first few weeks of the semester difficult, and none of them have the range of philosophical vision required to extend beer o’clock ‘beyond all earthly measures of time.’
Skeletor, the Library Tryst (July 20 – Aug 11): You might find comfort in the Stalinist formula which states ‘Death solves all problems.’ But then again, Stalin was not an English major.
Tellorian, the Townsfolk (Aug 12 – Sep 1): Hold your head high: You may not have your pride or dignity, but it will allow the remaining Everclear to drain more efficiently from the newly formed cavity in your skull.
Gilkfoth, the Newly Bearded Freshman (Sep 2 – Sep 20): Hope you heal: An Internet dictionary defines “rush” as “to move, act, or progress with speed, impetuosity, or violence.” Fortunately for you, an Internet dictionary has never been hosed down with Cuervo and offered to someone nicknamed “Mitch-Bitch.”
Decepticon, the Unconscious (Sep 21 – Oct 24): Don’t feel blue: everyone feels a little uncomfortable when they first move to school. It only makes sense that the pool of people willing to engage in “High Noon”-style pissing contests on the tennis court will take a while to fully develop.
Megazord, the Awesome (Oct 25 – Nov 23): I wouldn’t blame myself about it. Your having cold-cocked a Korean war vet while frantically seeking admittance to Walla Walla’s only Taco Bell is far from the worst sin that has darkened that grim doorway.
Captain Planet, by Your Powers Combined (Nov 24 – Dec 12): Think of the silver lining: At least when your children are born, they will have an adequate and widely-understood explanation for their premature hair loss.
Optimus Prime, the Truck/Robot Messiah (Dec 13 – Jan 16): Quit beating yourself up. A lot of people check Facebook several times daily; you should really be worried about the sudden and unexplained proliferation of critics professing to “re-understand [you] in bold, sexual and mystical new ways.”