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The Fun-In-The-Sun Issue
by Mollie Wilson '03 There is no perspective on high school and its many peculiarities like that of the recent graduate. With a year of college under my belt, I returned to my alma mater to attend my sister's commencement ceremonies, and found myself cringing at my own senior-year memories.
My favorite of these events was "Class Day," when titles like "Class Belle and Beau," "Best Singer," and "Best Dressed" are announced. The nomination and voting process is singularly absurd. For example, in the category of "Best Dancer": female nominees are always the girls who have taken dance classes for at least twelve years – the ones who carry ballet slipper keychains and wear leotards under their school clothes. "Best Dancer – Boy," on the other hand, always goes to the most obnoxious male at that year's "Frosty Frolic," regardless of his dancing skill. (My senior year was an exception, because we actually did have a male classmate who was classically trained in ballet. Luckily, he also happened to be the most obnoxious male at the Frosty, so controversy was avoided.) The most arbitrary category was certainly "Best Photographer." I remember staring blankly at the names on my ballot – I had never seen most of these kids, let alone their photographic portfolios. Unable to judge the candidates on the basis of their artistic merit, I chose the "least weird" of each sex (no easy task, considering that these were "art kids" of the highest degree). Another highlight of my own Class Day was the "Class Couple" – the female half of our honored pair was six months pregnant at the time. This year's Class Day was no less ridiculous: my sister received a trophy inscribed "Best Actress – Girl." We speculated that "Best Actress – Boy" must have been a hotly contested title.
Graduation, of course, was the highlight of the season. I attended a relatively large public school (about 300 students in each class, although by the end of senior year only 240 remained in mine), and in order to accommodate everyone, commencement was always held a university gymnasium. This was unfortunate, because the setting seemed to encourage audience members to behave as if they were attending an athletic event rather than a solemn academic ceremony. The families around me hooted loudly as their respective students passed, as if shuffling slowly up the aisle to the tune of "Pomp and Circumstance" was somehow comparable to sinking a crucial three-pointer in a championship game. The man in front of me held a toddler on his shoulders – a younger sibling of one of the graduates, I assumed, until I heard the woman next to him ask, "Can you see Mommy up there?" (The child's parents, in a surprising oversight, had not been named "Class Couple.")
Our principal always dreaded the moment in the program when he had to announce the graduates' names. You could hear the desperation in his voice when he began, "Please hold your applause until I have finished each row." Most of the families present obviously interpreted this to mean "Hold your applause... unless, of course, I announce your child's name." So he would pause wearily every time a graduate's supporters simply could not control their excitement, and wait for the cries of "You go, Shaniqua!" to die down before continuing.
Finally, the big moment arrived – time for the graduates to turn their tassels! But not before serenading us with "Tassels Must Turn to the Right," a tuneless dirge whose lyrics include the memorable lines: "Memories come back tonight / Of the year's struggles and strife. / Studies were lightened by feats..." (Sadly, I can't remember anything I learned that year in A.P. Physics, but I still know all the words to "Tassels.") With the song finally over, the graduates turned their tassels to the right, mostly in unison, and the families around me let out a relieved cheer. Perhaps they were afraid their child's tassel would get caught on the point of his cap, and his diploma would be revoked. My sister managed to turn her tassel and walk safely down the aisle along with her classmates and I, for one, was relieved. Not because I was afraid she wouldn't manage to graduate, but because now I don't have to attend any more high school ceremonies. Hopefully the absurdities of my own high school experience will fade respectfully into dim memories... along with the lyrics to "Tassels."
From the Desk of "Dr." Ian Moss
by Ian Moss '02
Report from the First Annual "Dr." Moss Beauty Pageant
It's quite a scene here at the first annual "Dr." Ian Moss Beauty Pageant, as dozens of wide-eyed contestants have flown in from all over the world to compete against each other in the realm of Beauty. Young ladies of every nationality, disposition, and cup size have flocked to my dorm room in Silliman College, eager to demonstrate their talents in four events: the eveningwear contest, the swimsuit contest, the wet T-shirt contest, and the nude-Jell-O-wrestling-with-whips-and-spiked-dildos contest. A judging panel consisting of me is preparing to choose one lucky winner, who will walk away from the pageant with a year's supply of bikini wax and a free toenail clipper (I found an extra one between my living room sofa cushions last week). However, every participant will receive a consolation prize of sleeping with the judge.
"Dr." Moss notes: The preceding "live" report was actually prepared before the start of the "Dr." Ian Moss Beauty Pageant, as I just got bored one night and decided to get it out of the way. Unfortunately, when the time came for this wonderful competition to actually take place, things were complicated somewhat by the failure of any living human being to show up. Nevertheless, the show must go on, and after I finished crying I managed to find several regular inhabitants of my room who agreed to enter. The winner will be announced later this afternoon. In the meantime, allow me to present the four finalists.
Contestant #1: She's satirical, she's sexy, she's a 1994 issue of Mad Magazine featuring a parody of the movie Maverick in which, dude, there's this one panel where I swear Jodie Foster's boobs are practically popping out of her dress!
Contestant #2: Always a fan favorite, allow me to present the heart-shaped mirror on the ceiling above my bed!
Contestant #3: Page 128 of my freshman facebook!
And, last but not least, Contestant #4: That one moment in Basic Instinct when, dude, I swear, if you pause the VCR at just the right second and turn the contrast up a bit on your TV, you can, aww, you can almost see Sharon Stone's, awww, DUDE I LOVE that movie!!! YEAH!!!!!
"Dr." Moss to Found Own University
"Dr." Ian Moss University will open its doors to students for the first time next fall, according to a report in The Yale Record. The University will offer an array of graduate and professional programs, although for the time being the undergraduate school will only offer a B.S. degree. "Dr." Moss plans to take a very active role in the early days of the institution that is named after him. "Not only am I the founder and chief benefactor of this school," said Moss in a press release, "but I am also the President, Provost, sole faculty member, Director of the Glee Club, and its first graduate." Moss claims that the educational experience afforded by his school will serve students in good stead. "Going to Moss U. was the best four minutes of my life, no question. Hell, I even gave myself all A's. What's not to like?" Moss accepted a Bachelor of Science from Moss University even though he already holds dual Ph.D.s in Psychiapharmapseudocrapostupidology and East Asian Studies from Harvard and is currently seeking an undergraduate degree from Yale. In fact, "Dr." Ian Moss University has already broken new ground in becoming the first institute of higher education to exist entirely within the walls of another university.
"Yeah," confirms Moss, "the location will actually change each year, because of room draw and all that. But hey, I figure that'll add some spice to the experience!" Regardless, Moss has high hopes for his new project: "I've had nothing but good feedback so far. Since the student/faculty ratio here is currently 0:1, US News & World Report even came out and ranked us #1 under their new methodology! Man, I love this business."
Still Working on a Title...
by Mollie Wilson '03
Some of you English majors may recall that F. Scott Fitzgerald originally intended for The Great Gatsby to be called Trimalchio in West Egg. Fitzgerald also considered the title The Romantic Egoist and a handful of other certain clunkers before legendary editor Maxwell Perkins came up with its current name. But Scottie wasn't the only author who bombed when it came to christening his works – here are some other classics of literature and their "working" titles:
- Ulysses — James Joyce's Big Book of Puzzles
- Moby Dick — Just what the Hell Kind of a Name is Queequeg, Anyway?
- The Sun Also Rises — Bars and Bullfights: My Trip to Madrid
- Jane Eyre — Anna Karenina
- The Hobbit — Bilbo Baggins and the Goblet of Fire
- Lolita — Chicken Soup for the Pedophile's Soul
- Great Expectations — 300,000 Words, 300,000 Shillings
- Atlas Shrugged — I'm Okay, You're Not
- Stover at Yale — Saved by the Bell: The Yale Years
- Uncle Tom's Cabin — Women Can So Write Novels!
- The Canterbury Tales — I Unpacked my Grandmother's Trunk...
- Lord of the Flies — King of the Bumblebees
- War and Peace — To Be Honest, Even I Haven't Read This
- Gone With the Wind — Dude, All our Shit is GONE
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