From Bobble: Oh, hallowed Network Net: Why, yes, we have seemed a bit gaunt recently. Oh, wait … we thought you said “hollowed,” this is in response to The Farmer’s Son entry on Monday and, actually, it is not necessarily directed at The Farmer’s Son but inspired by his entry. … What is the big deal about Alanis misusing the word ‘ironic’ in one of her songs? People were going off big-time when the song was out, I think a professor at a major research institution did a paper on it somewhere. Net: Probably in his office. Then, the other day, a member of the intellectual panel from “The List” on VH1 railed Alanis for her lack of knowledge on the proper usage of the word ‘ironic.’ Net: Get ’em going on the proper usage of a hookah pipe, and they might know what the hell they’re talking about. Now, The Farmer’s Son does the same. What is the big deal? Like every song written before and since, “Ironic” not only has made perfect sense, but was written in proper English. Net: We don’t recall anyone raising a ruckus when Paul McCartney wrote perhaps the most egregious of all grammatically incorrect lyrics: “And if this ever-changing world in which we live in …” Live and Let Learn, Paul. I don’t think so. “Ironic” probably fit the melody she was looking for, and she got a couple million people to buy her CD, so it met her needs. Net: Don’t you think? Can we just leave this poor Canadian girl alone? She’s probably wondering, like me, what all the fuss is aboot. Net: Eh?

From Doc, Public Safety Professional: Alas, omnipotent Network Net: Leave our sexual stamina out of this, we on campus are facing a terrible menace. Not those gray, furry animals folks used to write to you about, Net: You mean [expletive deleted]s? nor rabbits, who only come out at night and whose eyes glow red (if that’s not pure evil, I don’t know what is). Net: Try Clem’s agent. No, I’m talking about the Minnesota Student Association. Seriously, who really gives a rat’s ass about the friggin’ fees committee? Net: People with money, maybe. I guess since I have the luxury of having school paid for by Mommy and Daddy (surprisingly, I’m not a frat boy), I can afford not to. Net: Ahoy, polloi! I’m not too concerned about whether my fees go to the Moroccan Women’s Dentistry Club, Net: Male American anthropologists might or Students Against Rabid Dogs. Seriously though, why does the petty infighting among the petty members of a petty organization elected by a petty few students deserve so much coverage in the Daily? Net: It has something to do with the dissemination of information, but we’re not sure. We missed the last strategic planning meeting. I mean, they could expand Network or at least have more articles about sex, drugs and rock and roll — preferably in that order. Consider this a challenge, denizens of Networkia. The times, they are a-changin’ … Net: ABRUPT TOPIC CHANGE ALERT! our beloved football team is going to a bowl game (sans most of the front office) … is it the dawn of a new MSA-free era? The wind chill factor in hell has been dropping, folks! Act up! Destroy MSA!

From Mathlady: Wow — has today been a great day! Net: Let’s see … the first snow, a brisk wind, 8 o’clock class and a parking ticket. You can shove that great day … oh, never mind. Not only did I get to dig out my winter coat and go scrape beautiful wet snow off my car, but at this very moment you are listening to the rantings of a woman who just paid her final tuition payment of her undergraduate career. Net: So, when Clint Eastwood escaped from Alcatraz, did the remaining inmates cheer? That’s right people, as of Dec. 20, I will no longer be a University student — and consequently, no longer insured under my parents’ policy — but who cares? Life is grand!
Finally, I am feeling the excitement every four-years-plus student should feel as they’re approaching graduation Net: Or, in the case of most, their junior year, but, unfortunately I have misled you all. Net: Bitch!
See, I shall never truly be finished at this fine University — or so it’s beginning to seem — because with any luck I will be accepted to graduate school next summer –and become a freshman all over again — argh. Net: Fear not — in our eyes, you’ll always be a crotchety old super-senior with nose hair and gray around the temples. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. But I digress. This Thanksgiving, I plan on reflecting on the good days I had here at the University. Net: Those five years the Gophers basketball team didn’t play an official game sure were a treat, huh? And I plan on having at least a few more before my reign is through here. Happy Thanksgiving!


From Tschuk!: An Ode to Winter Driving:

I hop into the truck because
I couldn’t start the car.
I pick my gloves up off the floor
‘Cause that is where they are.

I slip and slide and spin around,
Oh man, my hands are cold.
And I’m still on the driveway,
Just wait until the road.

I can’t go fast, I must go slow,
Speedometer reads thirty.
The salt is caking on my tires,
The snow looks really dirty.

I see cars in the ditch,
To my left and right.
The faces in their windows
Are white and pale with fright.

And then I start to fishtail,
I try to hit the brake.
But now I’ve lost control,
What a story this will make.

And then I hit the gravel, and
My treads finally dig in.
Now safe, I think, “What a thrill,
To drive in winter again.”
Net: Have a jolly holiday, all. We’ll regale you with tales of a drunken Uncle Net and how he kicked the dog when he thought no one was looking (except the dog) upon our return.