Ode to a student newspaper

Read and take note, if you will, of the life and times of J. Switala — recounted in verse.

Julian Switala

By now IâÄôve been writing for the Minnesota Daily for almost one year,

Just something to do on the side âÄî definitely not a career.

I hope I brought you news from around the hemisphere,

And from here, land of 10,000 lakes and suburbanite deer.

It was fun while it lasted, being a columnist engineer.

But now I fear my time is up, like a clock in a chandelier.

“What is going on?” you ask. “Why is Julian rhyming here?”

This is my last column âÄî the rhymes are the silver lining, dear.

From these pages I will soon disappear.

So read this column, if you wish, as a parting souvenir.

This is my story at the Daily; feel free to steer clear like a Venetian gondolier.

I picked up the Daily one day from a stand.

After reading the opinions, I thought that they could use a hand.

“I could bring a new style to the Daily, one thatâÄôs off the cuff!”

So I filled out an application so I could write some stuff.

CruisinâÄô to the interview in my six-four,

DidnâÄôt know what to expect as I walked through the door.

Other columnists were there, lookinâÄô mean,

FrontinâÄô like some hipster, overly liberal writing machines

“Could I fit in here?” I thought to myself.

“Or would I sell my soul and just write for the wealth?”

I got the gig and started writing quick.

I had a feeling this job was going to be sick.

I was on top of the world lookinâÄô down on the University

Sadly, all the pavement destroyed the once beautiful biodiversity.

But I didnâÄôt care because my first column was due.

What was it about? Irrelevant! What was important was that it was for you.

I was a societal referee, aka a whistle blower.

Trying to make more noise than an oversized lawn mower

I was in a position to talk to the kids and hope theyâÄôd listen.

Maybe theyâÄôd read my thoughtful gems and watch them glisten.

The honeymoon was over; that definitely wasnâÄôt the case.

The online comments and hateful emails soon tried to put me in my place.

“R U reading what ur righting? I canâÄôt believe what u just wrote.”

“For holding these opinions you should be sent to a jail with a moat.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“YouâÄôre probably someone who bikes and doesnâÄôt own a new gas-guzzling car.”

“Do u actually beleive wat ur writing LOLOL?”

I laughed out loud in my secluded mansion and said, “Go to hell.”

Little did they know that I was making mad bank.

SlanginâÄô columns from my computer with my mind, the “Think Tank.”

Despite all the haterz and their hatinâÄô disposition,

Who thought my truth was more painful than the Spanish Inquisition

Who spouted contradictions and held irrational presuppositions.

I got the last laugh because all the money I made came from their tuition.

While theyâÄôre busy arguing online about how IâÄôm so dumb that I shouldnâÄôt be allowed to vote like a suffragette,

IâÄôll be making millions on royalties while theyâÄôre still paying off their student debt.

Then the fame, girls and riches soon werenâÄôt enough.

It simply didnâÄôt fill the gaping hole at the bottom of my gut.

If youâÄôve gone down this path, I beg you to listen and restart:

Stay true to yourself and follow your heart.

So thatâÄôs my story and all I have to say.

Good luck on your finals and have a badass day.


Julian Switala welcomes comments at [email protected].