The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Daily Campus

The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

The Independent Voice of Southern Methodist University Since 1915

The Daily Campus

SMUs Tyreek Smith dunks as the Mustangs run up the scoreboard against Memphis in Moody Coliseum.
SMU finds new head coach for men’s basketball
Brian Richardson, Contributor • March 28, 2024
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So long, it’s been good to know ya’

Wise Ass Beyond His Years
 So long, its been good to know ya
So long, it’s been good to know ya’

So long, it’s been good to know ya’

I’m quite certain that we will all die very, very soon. The odd thing is, I am not trying to pitch my cult or sell duct tape with that statement. From my honest, objective point of view, I can say without any hesitation that the apocalypse looms just around the corner.

Take, for example, our president, Ronald the Second – I mean, George W. He ran upstairs and put on his fightin’ pants around Sept. 11 and apparently he can’t figure out how to take them off. We’re going to war, my little magpies. Washington insiders predict that by the first or second week of March, the blood of young Americans and Iraqis will spill onto Baghdad’s streets. I’m headed out to sea on a large vessel around that time, though luckily it is for spring breaking, not life taking. I’m glad that none of the 7,000,000 army reserve advertisements that have aired recently convinced me to join. Because, as you know, one weekend a month and two weeks a year sounds like a cakewalk. Until that walk takes a slight detour to Iraq and the cake is switched to nerve gas. That makes the weekend much longer.

If you’re not yet convinced that the world will soon end, consider this tidbit: A multimillionaire entertainer has tattooed his face. Though that man is homicidal maniac named Tyson, we should all reflect on what he has done. Someone has paid someone else to repeatedly ram his face with a needle, thereby permanently embroidering said face with ink.

Regardless of whether you’re apprehensive about my thesis, you may want to reconsider leaving your homes in search of night life. In one particular Chicago discotheque, a few security guards used pepper spray on two fighting femmes, thereby causing a panic and stampede that left dozens dead. Indoor fireworks lead to similarly saddening fates in Rhode Island. Or, if still unswayed, you may want to take the subway in South Korea, where 120 just died after an arson attack. Don’t travel north, though, because North Korea just might quit its 1953 armistice and start toying with enriched uranium.

If I’ve sold you on my claim, you might benefit from following our government’s suggestion to purchase duct tape and plastic to seal windows and other openings in case of terrorist attack. The biggest problem with these purchases, I think, is that the items might cost as much as ten dollars. However, had you acted on an eBay sale some months ago, you could have saved eight. You see, in its divine wisdom, the defense department sold off their surplus of chemical weapon protection suits. The gear, which cost $200, went for two bucks on eBay. My goodness, a drink coaster signed by Jaleel White of “Urkel” fame sells for more than $2.

And perhaps most disgusting on my hastily prepared list are last week’s television successes. First, “Joe Millionaire” finished with the shock and surprise of a senior citizen bingo game – but nevertheless it grabbed a 33 percent share. Evan Marriott is a name most Americans will remember forever. We just might deserve the apocalypse.

Second, the initial installment of “The Bachelorette” aired last week. I watched the final show and saw that the “winner,” a firefighter named Ryan, wooed young Trista with his poetry via video message. Tears poured down her face when he spouted out his breathtaking lines of verse. He used metaphors about ripples on a pond. He rhymed Shamu. As one of my professors said, lines like his were considered tired 400 years ago. Yet he won.

The tag line for the show was “Who will get their ego shattered?” I’d like to say about the question that one cannot have his shattered ego if society as we know it has ceased to be.

I suggest that all you little kiddies telephone your mummies and daddies and tell them how much you love them one last time. Just in case I don’t have another chance, I’d like to use this space to tell my grandmother how much I appreciate her support.

I’ll see you all next week, though I very much doubt it.

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