Diversity is the shit.

My university is diverse. To take a cue from SJP in the Family Stone, “We love the gays.” Our school loves talking about the 16% of us who aren’t US citizens. We’ve got every kind of alliance you can think of; gay-stright alliance, Asian heritage alliance, Christian-Catholic alliances, amputee-people-with-two-legs-alliance. (Ok, I made that last one up…)

Last Friday I walked in on an event in a campus building called “Hillelol”, as in the combination of a Jewish organization and Laugh Out Loud. Five minutes and three small penis jokes later I made my exit, but I was impressed nonetheless. I may not be Jewish or have a small penis but thank god someone at my school does. I love diversity.

One alliance that has received a lot of press lately is the Student- Janitor Alliance. Yes, don’t forget the little people. And in this case the little people are those who clean the toilets after the dining hall whips up a extra spicy batch of buffalo chili, and cleans the halls after Johnny Froshie has one Natty-Ice too many and splatter paints the wall with his upchuck. I’d say they deserve some support and representation.

When I lived in student housing I tried to be respectful and make their jobs easier when I could. But I wasn’t perfect. I remember one time, the Cockroach Incident of ‘07, where I may have done more harm than good. I came home from a party one Saturday night my freshman year and found a cockroach squashed on the bathroom floor. Did I clean up the mess and retire quietly to bed? Did I leave the cockroach where it was and wait for someone else to clean it up? Did I run away screaming? No, my friends, I did not. My mind started reeling; maybe that cockroach was pregnant and there were eggs inside of it when it was killed. Maybe the eggs were still alive and could hatch at any time and an army of roaches could come down the hall and attack me in my bed. So I took the most toxic thing I had in my dorm room, nail polish remover, and poured the entire bottle on the cockroach, killing every last one of those potential baby roaches.
Hindsight is 20/20. And my hindsight tells me that the chances of a pregnant cockroach breeding an army of post-mortem roach children on my bathroom floor are pretty slim. But I’m not a scientist.

Either way, the next day I averted my eyes awkwardly when Susanna was cleaning the explosion of nature and nail care, and I’ve felt bad about it ever since.

So while we’re talking diversity… if there are students advocating for Janitor rights, there are probably some kids who want to do everything they can to make the janitors’ lives hell.
An article in our school paper last week talked about a case of seriel vandalism in Carmichael Hall. A girls bathroom is being repeatedly smeared with excrement. That’s right, POOP.
I just. Don’t. Understand.
How does the university that fosters a alliance between well-intentioned collegians and under-appreciated janitors also house serial shit smearers?

Diversity. That’s how.

Trade ya!

You would not believe what the athiests are up to these days. Porn. Shocking, right? At the University of Texas a student group called the Athiest Agenda set up shop on campus offering to trade porn for Bibles.

This immediately reminded me of the man who stood across the street from my high school and tried to convince us to trade our sinful lifestyles for his Jesus themed comic books. Sometimes I took the comic books, although I politely declined his offer to “burn in the fires of eternal hell” when I flipped through it for a moment and then tossed it in the trash.

I don’t understand why every has to be aggressive, be, be aggressive. Can’t the God-less porn lovers live peacefully alongside people with Bibles in their rolling backpacks? It’s a little unfair to pose the Book of Genesis vs. raunchy intercourse question on college campuses. Unless you’re a student at the evangelist Liberty University, there’s no way that Genesis would win that battle of majority opinion.

Imagine you’re at an AA meeting, making a conscious effort to avoid the liquid devil that has robbed you of healthy life.
“Hi, my name is Frank and I’ve been sober for two weeks.”
“Hi, Frank.”
And then someone walks in with a blender full of Margaritas. Shit’s messed up.

If you see someone wearing a Nicorette patch you’re not going to offer them a cigarette. So some students at UT are trying to do right by the Lord, avoid temptation and foot fetishes. That doesn’t mean that they’re asking for the wrath of the pornography industry forced upon them. And let’s be real, just because they have a Bible, doesn’t mean they live under a rock. Any Tom, Dick, or Harry with a search engine has his pick of pornographic treats, the Athiest Agenda isn’t exactly bringing a rare specimen to the college crowd.

Cuz I got locked up, they won't let me out.

Tell your dog to mark his calendar, March 7th is a big day. Switzerland will put a bill to the vote to decide if animals can be represented in a court of law. Thus in cases of alleged abuse or neglect, the animal can get a fair trial.

Ok, “abuse and neglect,” whatever. What about all those other animals that should be sitting in the defendants chair, huh? What about Sea World’s very own serial killer, Tilikum the whale? I want to see the big guy held responsible! I mean, Sea World isn’t exactly taking the reins on this one. According to their experts Tilikum was just “playing.” According to a visitor, a unrelated third-party, Tilikum was thrashing the trainer around in the water.
“Playing” my ass. I say let’s send the blubbery bastard to the stand.

Maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe I’m bitter. Maybe once I was bit by a squirrel and felt that the furry little demon never got what he deserved. I’m pretty sure if I would’ve shown photo evidence of the blood gushing out of my mangled digit the jury would’ve been decidedly in my favor. You know what my bushy-tailed little friend, I think there is such a thing as 25 to life, cuz I’m pretty sure you don’t have the cash to pay for Cochran. And I don’t think he’d take a down payment in acorns.

But as the saying goes, there are two sides to every story. The other side to my story is that my cat pearl, bought for me when I was still in Pull-ups, probably could have made a pretty strong case against me. If Pearl accused me of dragging her around by her front paws, dressing her up in my doll clothes, strapping her into a stroller, brushing her teeth with my toothbrush or forcing her to “be friends” with my dog, I would sadly have to plead the Fifth.

As it turns out, Pearl will never get the chance to prosecute me for my crimes. In a mid-life crisis triggered by my family’s adoption of a few chickens and a rabbit, Pearl hit the road. And shortly after she hit the road, she probably literally hit the road as a feline pancake. She wasn’t the most slim or agile in her old age.

My personal guilt aside, I stand firm. Just because it has fur or fins doesn’t mean it can get away with murder. Unless it provides thousands of dollars in revenues as a major tourist attraction, then, of course, it can.