Star of the Morning…

Star of the Morning
And The Dreamer too did speak
Waiting ’till Monday
I found a single Jeep key on a key chain on the stairs of the commons in the CSCI building. Net: Good thing you found it … there’s only one Jeep. My phone ## is Net: a-HEM! Available upon request Hopefully this can ward off a printed lost and found letter. Net: Not as well as people keeping tabs on their personal effects, as you can all PLAINLY SEE …

From Help! I’m lost!: Hey there Net! (love ya by the way). I lost a small gold ring with a diamond somewhere between Vincent Hall and Middlebrook Hall, or in the 21st Avenue ramp. It has a great deal of emotional value attached to it. Net: Which, we’ll remind you, gentle finder, gets you nothing at the pawn shop. If anyone out there in Netland has found it, could they please be put in contact with me? Net: Hey, you asked nicely. Thanks a whole bunch in advance.

Now back to our regularly scheduled scurrilous drivel:
From Lanky: DAMMIT!! I hate jackasses that can’t submit original entries to this hallowed page!! Yes, Smallbladder, you have been exposed! As I was reading through Network yesterday, I had an eerie feeling that I had seen something similar to your bathroom complaint awhile ago. I searched the Daily’s Web site and in less than 5 minutes I had found the truth: With the exception of a few minor changes, yesterday’s entry was printed, practically verbatim, in Network a mere 6 months ago!! Net: No, this can’t be! You must be wrong, Lanky! Now many of you out there are saying, “No, this can’t be! You must be wrong, Lanky!” I say to those disbelievers, check it yourself! Did you really think you’d get away with this? Your entry sucked the first time it was printed, anyway. The next time your ego demands public recognition, take a flying leap off of Moos Tower. At least you won’t be able to do THAT twice. Net: Having temporarily disabled our normally perceptive recurrence probability chambers in order to upgrade our foresight corridor (for the upcoming millennium mayhem, of course), we considered the risk of repeated entries to be slim. Alas — ’tis true, Networkians — Smallbladder slipped one past us in our time of provisional debility. No matter; King T shall see to it that said scalawag spends eternity crossing his legs and clutching his crotch.
Onward, if you dare. Oh, you thought yesterday’s bathroom entries were unsettling? Then put the paper down, and slowly walk away …
From Peewee: I must agree with Grr that the bathrooms on campus are woefully equipped to deal with the needs of students. Being a man, I, of course, have no need for a “feminine sanitary product” Net: What about nosebleeds? but nonetheless we males have a similar problem (or at least I do) with our bathrooms. Let me explain: Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I am stuck on campus for about seven hours. About three hours into the stint I have a class where I sit next to probably the most gorgeous, nubile, young woman who has ever graced my undeserving presence. This fair creature has a propensity to wear clothing which, shall we say, accentuates some of her more admirable qualities and has a non-too-insignificant impact on my more base, male instincts. Since I am stuck on campus for another four hours, the only place I can go to “tame the beast” so to speak, Net: YOU SAID YOU WERE COMBING YOUR HAIR! is a bathroom on campus (If you’re thinking, like I used to, that the Walter stacks work too, don’t bother. I am still paying off the fine). This is absolutely necessary for me to do if I am to remain focused on my schoolwork for the duration of the day. Otherwise, I am unable to concentrate due to the fact that this excessive hormonal imbalance causes me to hallucinate and drool uncontrollably (episodes of “Petticoat Junction” also have this effect on me). While the bathrooms on campus do provide a stall for relative privacy, and toilet paper for quick and easy cleanup, there is a lack of lubricant with which to facilitate my endeavors. So I ask you of the Facilities Management Council Commission or whatever you call yourselves: When you are refilling the “Summer’s Eve” containers in the women’s bathroom, would you please install an “astro-glide” dispenser in the men’s rooms? Every guy who has ever had “the urge” on this campus will thank you (or am I just a freak!?!). Net: We think so … Did you mean to send this entry to Dr. Date? Wethinks his (inevitably ambivalent) response would provide you with (little or no) insight on this matter. P.S. Hey Smallbladder: I recommend the third stall from the right in Wilson’s basement. The door latches, the walls are free of holes, the T.P. is flowing, and the graffiti will stir your soul!
From The Idiet: I read with great interest the article yesterday on the University finally switching over to semesters. Being a graduate of one of those other Big Ten schools, Net: Shhh … we smell a Sconnie I have to comment:
I have nothing but sympathy for the students, but I especially feel for the professors in this utter mess. To hear that they are “dying under the workload” and this change will be “enormous drudgery” breaks my heart. By switching over to semesters, those already overworked are now facing up to 18 more class periods a year! Where is the justice?
And I certainly hope the students of this new barbaric system don’t feel “overworked.” How will they ever cope? I was one of those semester slaves for four and a half years. Students, it’s time to take a stand! Do you realize you might actually receive the education you are paying for? Net: No! NO! — we don’t WANT to graduate in four years! NOOOOO!!!
Please Net, say it isn’t so. This transition makes Y2K seem piddly. Perhaps we could grant the University one more century to prepare for this debacle.