From Poetry Quotient: Mighty, mighty Network, I appeal to you to continue publishing Haiku poetry. Net: It is so. I think there isn’t anything that needs to be communicated that can’t be expressed in exactly seventeen syllables. Net: Tax code. And semester conversion. And ‘N’ Sync. Nevertheless, the prose form must remain the first choice for those who feel a need to make utterly pointless statements. Your forum and the haiku are also the best vehicle for anonymously proclaiming mild infatuation with fellow student employees. This would be my submission:

I seek to know you,
beautiful lab attendant
— someone you work with

While composing, it occurred to me that “sexual harassment” had exactly five syllables, and would fit perfectly into a line of my poem. Since unsolicited romantic poetry falls within the definition of unwanted attention constituting sexual harassment, it is dangerous to bring it into the workplace. I suspect that “distributing unsolicited poetry in the workplace” becomes a permanent negative mark in the student’s record that will be shared with all future employers and graduate schools. Hear my plea, oh great Network, and give us without a voice a chance to speak on Net: The day after Valentine’s Day.

From Sloth of the Morning: Dearest Network, last quarter I fell for a young lass from my sign language class. We’ll call her KSL. Net: Easy to sign … Being the atrociously slow mover that I am, I never asked her out. Net: Ten weeks and you couldn’t muster the gumption? Would semesters have helped this situation? I did, however, intend to take the next level ASL with her: 8 a.m. Tuesdays and Thursdays. This schedule was not appealing and would leave me with three-and-a-half hours between my first and second classes. Net: Time to think up opening … signs. No matter, she is worth getting up at 5:30 a.m. and making the one-hour rush hour commute.
But the gods looked frowningly upon my humble plan and cast her piano class as a schedule conflict. Unbeknownst to me, I went ahead and registered. Alas, upon arriving the first day in class, there was no KSL. My heart sank.
To further my sorrow, a mutual friend has informed me that KSL has recently reconciled with her old beau. Hate the ex-boyfriend.
Anyhow, my request to you, sweet, sweet Network, is to grant me a Valentine’s Day wish. I had previously intended on purchasing one of those Valentine ads in the daily, however, they are $3 a line. Net: She’s worth an 8 a.m. class, but not a lousy 20 bucks or so? What I have is a song … or rather a portion of a song that I wrote for her. I’m not looking to wreck a home, but I’d like her to hear/see it. Put a little love in your heart, Network. Help me Obi-Wan-Network, you’re my only hope.
Here ’tis … it is more or less sung to the tune of R.E.M.’s “Nightswimming.” Feel free to hum along. Net: Actually, in order to hum along, a song must have a discernible melody, see?

We borrow memories
And sheltered fantasy
Moving in and out
Of other’s minds
My God why can’t I see

The corner bar
Last Christmas Eve
And I sang you a song
You looked into my eyes
And I began to cry
‘Cause I could sense the time
That I first fell in love

Sunday’s falling rain don’t shine
It puddles up my mind
I reach out to your hand
You take it every time
I feel your fingers give
My heart explodes
And I feel so alive
‘Cause I can feel the time
That I first fell in love…

Imagine Mike Mills echoing along in harmony. Thanks, Network. Net: No problem. Sorry we compressed it so; it’s a space thing. Anyhow, if she wants to read it, she can get a magnifying glass. The rest of us would have just skimmed over it anyway. Happy Valentine’s day to all. KSL, good luck with your man. Maybe you and I will meet again in the next life.

From St. Paul Alumni Guy:
Rock on Net! Tell Sgt. Pillows and his ilk that if he wants a kinder, gentler forum that the Pioneer Press is available for only a quarter! Now I really like ol’ Jim from the Bulletin Board, but the stories of the day grandma sat on her false teeth pale in comparison to the mighty Network’s tales of students frustrated by the limited on-campus venues to box the clown. As for the Net’s interruptions, imagine how much more interesting it would be if Dear Abby would follow the same format! ERM! Net: Every letter would just be riddled with pleas to seek professional or clerical counseling. Onward.


From Clark Kent: I just finished reading an article in a local newspaper about students who ranted and raved to our new governor over public money for them to attend college. As a former University student who worked and received loans while in school, I have three words to say … SUCK IT UP. I am sick of students whining that they work too hard to attend college … the solution is: Don’t attend college if it is such a burden. A COLLEGE EDUCATION IS A PRIVILEGE, NOT A RIGHT. I will be paying my loans off for the next 10 years, yet I would never expect a handout or expect the citizens of Minnesota to pay a penny more for MY education. Get a job and stop complaining or leave school — it’s that simple.
As for the students with children (highlighted in the article) who complained they deserve some help paying for school … SUCK IT UP. You made a choice to have sex and now you have the consequences — tough. Think before you have sex and quit asking for any more of MY money to pay for YOUR education. Net: Well, there’s one vote to re-elect Jesse.