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Last Updated: Oct 16th, 2008 - 13:33:17 |
It is times like these that we in
the business feel content to look back
on everything that has happened
for the past eight or nine months, or
however long some of those hermits
from the Office of Student Media
have been subjecting themselves to
this lunacy, with a sort of tentative
nostalgia. Or maybe not, for those
who are ashamed of their work, and
indeed the field of journalism has no
shortage of people who ought to be
truly ashamed. The American Broadcasting
Company and the Disney
Corporation for example, but that is
another story for another semester,
or perhaps just for those babbling
machines called columnists from The
New York Times and other modern
media productions.
But this semester is coming to
a close, and so there is little time to
throw punches at bad journalists or
at politicians or clergymen or anything
like that. Nope. Now is the time
for reflection, and there is sure to be a
heinous shit-rain of that sort of thing
to go around later, and you can rest
assured that I will be there to identify
it for what it really is.
Indeed, one cannot always focus
oneself toward politics or journalism
or simply the generally reprehensible
nature of things because such an ardent
absorption in such devastatingly
unnerving topics will inevitably force
depression and suicide on anyone.
And with finals looming, the last
thing people need is to read another
outburst about how they are all probably
doomed.
So, I'll remain nostalgic, and I
must say that it is rather satisfying.
The Metropolitan has been a
means toward furnishing Auraria
with litter and garbage and the oft
unnoticed piece of devoted and quality
journalism since Jimmy Carter
gave up peanuts and forever ruined
his credibility by succumbing to the
evils of American politics. Indeed,
The Metropolitan has been in service,
whether anyone wanted it or not, for
longer than the majority of people on
campus have even been alive.
Looking through the archives you
will find that the soon-to-be-departed
editor, David Pollan, has done a fine
job of consistently managing and
putting out a newspaper that should
be considered a satisfying and worthy
reflection of the absurd amount
of strain that goes into this line of
work. Should any of you see him on
the sidewalk be sure to give him a
hug and a charitable donation both
for his diligence and his patience,
and because he may now be forced
to find his way through the great big
black hole of pompous bologna that
is American journalism.
Ah, but I digress. The weeks have
been many, and the stories have been
plenty. Everyone remembers the day
Hillary Clinton brought her entourage
of treachery and bullshit to our
humble campus. The air has always
smelled differently since then. And
we all can rejoice now in the fact that
The Metropolitan has brought us
news that the state government will
live up to its responsibilities and pay
for our Science Building.
Indeed, there are a number of
things on campus that bring us all a
sense of connection, this newspaper
very much included.
The quiet old man who sells hot
dogs by the train tracks still sells hot
dogs by the train tracks, and everyone
subconsciously breathes a sigh
of relief each time they see him. We
all take that man for granted, surely.
He is almost as significant a figure to
Auraria as the various underappreciated
professors who devote their
time to facilitating the advancement
of their fellow man in the best and
most dignified kind of way. They certainly
deserve more credit than we
give them.
That toothless old woman still
wanders campus asking college students,
some of the poorest and most
indebted people in the country, for
money nearly every day. The old
men, from whatever old men's club
they belong to, still show up here and
there to hand us all Bibles in hopes
that God might ease the strain the
government has put on us. And activists
of all kinds still parade around
campus shrieking about various
troubles in hopes that it will incite
charity in people's wallets. Ah yes, it
is all of these things that strike an often
disregarded, but essentially pleasant
chord in the minds of people who
spend their days on Auraria.
So, in the spirit of good taste, let
us take a moment of time away from
our constant contemplation and calculation
of our lives and enjoy the
fact that we are able to spend our time
learning at an academic institution,
with such people as the hot dog man
and such a production as The Metropolitan,
because beyond Auraria is a
world where only the daft and dumb
are able to take pride in their institutions.
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