I decided to take a break from my post-graduation spree of crime and debauchery in the city of Saigon to check out Student Life and see what interesting and wondrous things were happening at my beloved alma matter. Upon reading that the school is demolishing Koenig and plans to obliterate the other ancient dorms in the future, I nearly spewed my mouthful of coconut juice all over the computer monitor at this internet caf‚. (Luckily, I didn’t. They charge double if you do that.)

Could it be…Lee…gone? At the thought of this, it seemed like a vortex of darkness and despair opened in my chest, sapping all the warmth and joy from my soul. It was just like the time when I was a kid and we moved to the U.S. and I received news that our dog had fallen gravely ill. He was an old dog, sure, and not particularly attractive, but he was a loving dog, and he had his charms.

I do not understand why the old dorms are being destroyed when it is plenty apparent that students like them. Almost anyone who has spent any time in them will prefer living to living in a new dorm any day. I loved Lee the moment I set foot in its confusing, labyrinthine halls freshman year. Having no sense of direction, I would always get lost trying to find my room. But the doors to other rooms were always open, and I got to know my entire floor. At night, the floor moved out to the common room, and we would discuss important philosophical questions such as “why Jell-O is transparent” until three in the morning.

One time, we stood on the balcony and threw things onto the tree between Lee and Beaumont. We managed to get several slinkies, pizza boxes, a telephone and various other objects to stay on its branches; when the moon shone on it, it was beautiful, like a Christmas tree. I wonder if the chair is still there.

Just the thought of my beloved Lee being replaced by Ski Lodge Number Nine is enough to make me wet my pants in fury. Sure, our school has to grow and change; that is good and natural. But can we really call it growth to replace the old dorms, which are loved and preferred by the students and which can probably be considered historic buildings, with new dorms that, while more comfortable, are kind of cold?

I swear, I got the creeps each time I visited my friends in those places. They always seemed like hospitals where all the patients had died. A friend of mine who lived in one of those new dorms said she got recurring nightmares in which she was chased by government agents down its curving, lifeless hallway.

This is not an insult to those who prefer the new dorms, of course. I am sure there are plenty of new dorms that are not cold and hospital-like. I am talking about the gradual extinction of old dorms. Once they are gone, we won’t be able to bring them back; and no matter how the administration tries, it will never be able to achieve in the new buildings the atmosphere created by the old buildings.

The school should think about the advantages of keeping the old dorms. First, it would make students happy. The ones who love their old dorms will not have to see them destroyed, and everyone will be happier without the construction noises and disruptions.

Second, it would raise the University’s reputation as a school that cares about what its students want, instead of just a cash-making machine that decimates fond relics for the sake of stuffing in more students who fork over tons in tuition money.

Third, it would make alums like me happy, and happy alums mean more money for the school anyway. Because, I swear on my dog’s grave, that if a single door in Lee is moved, I will not donate even a penny to the school when I am famous and filthy rich.

I am disappointed with Wash U’s drop in ranking from ninth to 11th place. The past few years I have found great joy in calling up my friend from Emory and bragging to her about how well our school has been doing, and projecting that one day, when we moved up to third or fourth place, someone might know who we are. What the heck happened? We were steadily rising in ranking-and then this sudden plummet. My explanation: our fountain sucks. It was only a matter of time until US News and World Report noticed.

While perusing the University of Washington campus in Seattle, I was impressed and devastated upon encountering their fountain. Not only is it really big and round and has water that shoots into the air, but there are ducks. Ducks! We don’t have many ducks at Wash U, and even if we did, they would not be satisfied with the pathetic blue fountain in Bowles Plaza. If you notice, this fountain is painted blue and only has running water on occasion.

You might think that a fountain is no big deal. But consider why universities tend to have them. A well-designed fountain imparts some very important qualities to the school. For example, it adds an aura of peace and relaxation. In the summer, it provides heat reduction and perhaps thirst alleviation to passing students. Most importantly, it represents the proverbial fountain of knowledge. When people see a fountain on a university campus, unconsciously they think, “Wow, this fountain is really impressive! This school must be overflowing with knowledge and ideas!” What tragic and condescending thoughts visitors must have when they visit our campus and see a wilted husk of a fountain, painted blue and practically begging for a sledge hammer to end its hackneyed and meaningless existence!

While our school is beautiful in many ways, it lacks a coherent symbol of its own greatness. Face it, a demon-like bunny-donkey composition made to resemble Mr. Hanky from South Park just does not cut it. The Bunny, while fun and-until recently-practical for student groups’ advertising purposes, does not impart the feeling that we are an elite university. Neither is the new statue of George Washington in front of Olin library. If anything, these icons scream that our school suffers from a failure of imagination. At UW in Seattle, they too have a statue of Washington; however, he is standing on a pedestal hundreds of feet in the air, looking optimistically at the horizon.

Of course, you might argue that even with all these impressive features, UW is still behind Wash U in the rankings. My point is that while our school is great, it could be made greater with a new fountain. With the successful fundraising campaign, we obviously are not short on money. We should stop wasting money planting sissy tulips and daffodils and invest in something permanent.

An institution as fine as ours deserves not just any fountain. We need one that screams we’re better than Brown and Cornell. I have a few ideas. One: a big, mirror-like fountain surrounding the statue of Washington in front of Olin, with ducks and maybe some Japanese koi. Two: rig the Bunny so that impressive spouts of water shoot up from its head and body parts, to symbolize that we are literally bursting with knowledge. Or three, my favorite: giant bolts of water shooting in huge arches across the Quad. When in full effect, optical illusion makes it looks like the Quad and all the students inside are surrounded by a cool giant glass bubble.

The possibilities are endless. Once we have a cool fountain, our ranking will improve, I am sure. At the very least, if we can’t have a new fountain, then let’s put the Bunny on a pedestal hundreds of feet tall so that it can be seen from miles away. If this does not symbolize our greatness, at least it symbolizes that we have enough money to put the Bunny on a giant pedestal. And this way, the Bunny can stop giving the creeps to people who walk by at night.

Before you flood me with e-mails of condolences and offers for dinner, you should know that it was a mutual break-up, and we are still friends-well, as much as the restraining order against me permits. For the purpose of this column, I will call her Annette, just in case she does not want to publicly admit that we were an affectionate couple for three wonderful years.

Annette and I broke up due to our differences. For instance, she was a faithful Christian, while I wanted to found my own religion, Vuism, and have all-encompassing power over all my followers. She was ambitious and studying to be an orthodontist; I wanted to be the househusband of an orthodontist. You would think that we’d complement each other on this one, but she said she would be “ashamed” of me. What gender bias!

These were differences that we knew from the beginning would tear us apart. But, like the characters in the miniseries “The Thorn Birds,” we could not help but move steadily toward the metaphorical thorn that ten weeks ago finally pierced our chests through the ribs and stabbed us in the hearts-a grisly image that might make a good plot for CSI: LA.

However, this op-ed is not a chance for me to engage in free therapy; it actually has a point. I am amazed that there is no academic course or guidance in that all-important area, the Romantic Relationship. College students are probably most concerned about two things: finding the right career and finding the right person. There are plenty of resources for the former. Unfortunately, for the latter, there is practically nothing at Washington University. Sometimes we have visiting speakers, such as Dr. Ruth or the Dating Doctor. Sometimes there are forums on various topics concerning sex. The rest of the time, we are forced to rely on our friends’ bad experiences, our own bad experiences, or the pages of magazines like Cosmopolitan and, uh, Maxim.

None of these resources are scientific, and even if they were, a 90-minute forum or article on “how to achieve orgasm” cannot resolve all the complexities of relationships. What we need is at least a three-credit class on forming, sustaining, and terminating romantic relationships.

Fortunately, this subject is being studied at various institutions. John Gottman at the University of Washington, for example, has studied thousands of couples and came up with a magic ratio that predicts whether couples stay together or breakup. That ratio is five-to-one: positive experiences to negative experiences in the relationship. Positive experiences are things like holding hands, leaving affectionate notes and doing the dishes without being asked. Negative experiences are things like arguing, leaving without saying goodbye, hurling small appliances and cooking pet rabbits without permission. Take a look at your relationship. If you have a lower ratio, you might be in trouble: increase positive experiences.

Where did I learn that? From a social work class called Interventions for Treating Couples. I learned stuff there-such as “be nice to each other” and “don’t cheat”-that, if I had known earlier, might have saved my relationship. Unfortunately, there is a social work prerequisite for this class, so it is hard for undergrads to take. That is unfair, considering that undergrads probably need the most guidance.

So, I am suggesting an undergraduate course. Here is a sample syllabus. Week 1-Intro: Why we fall in love. Week 2-”How about five goats?” Courting rituals across cultures. Week 6-Sustaining the relationship: Reach out and touch no one but your partner. Week 9-Changing norms: The househusband. Week 12-Resolving conflict: Hurling toasters the positive way. Week 13-Why did you leave me, Annette, why, why?! Week 16-After the break-up: Resisting the life of crime and drunken debauchery.

Everyone thinks that relationship success depends on just common sense. Not true. If you had bad experiences or are stuck in a nightmare of a relationship, it’s not entirely your fault. The University needs to consider adding more resources in this important area.

Until that happens, um-I’m a Pisces; I like bunnies and long walks on the beach. I’m looking for an ambitious, progressive, non-smoking woman who can cook, preferably an aspiring orthodontist.

Dear Editor:

Over the last several weeks, many church leaders, including St. Louis Archbishop Raymond Burke, have stated that they will deny Senator John Kerry the ability to receive Holy Communion under their jurisdictions. As a member of the Catholic community, I find the actions of these Church officials deplorable.ÿI am appalled by their use of such a sacred thing as the Eucharist as a political statement.ÿAside from excommunication (a strategy I am sure the archbishop would be pleased to employ), the Church cannot deny someone Communion, no matter what their voting record, no matter how fundamental to the church their sins are perceived to be. Such an offense would have been criticized by Christ himself.ÿAfter all, let he who has never sinned throw the first stone.ÿThe Church is an institution that is meant to protect its people and promote their relationships with God.ÿOstracizing of any sort clearly violates its teachings and the very principles it is designed to uphold.

As a pro-choice Democrat myself, and without trying to defend my political leanings or opinions,ÿI am not at all “pro-abortion” or a “baby killer.”ÿI simply feel that criminalizing a moral decision will not solve any of our problems.ÿCall me a pragmatist, but the only thing that overturning Roe v. Wade would accomplish would be a return to dangerous back-alley abortions, threatening our national health. In fact, there is excellent correlational data that shows a link between the legalization of abortion and a very significant decrease in crime.ÿAn excellent analysis of this data can be found at http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=174508

WhileÿI do not believe abortion is a good choice for women to make, criminalizing that decision would prove disastrous and ineffective.ÿWhy don’t we actually work to do some good?ÿLet’s make the need for abortion decrease.ÿLet’s improve education.ÿLet’s fight poverty. Let’s not try to convince an entire demographic that some politician should receive despicable treatment because he wants to achieve the same ends through more practical means.ÿ

Amy Overington
Political Science and Spanish
Class of 2007

During my four years of veganism, I’ve discovered that most people find great joy in antagonizing us. The last time this happened to me, someone said, “Ha ha, you’re a vegan, you sissy. What do you eat, leaves and cardboard?” This was followed by, “You should drink some milk; you look like an emaciated drug dealer.” Mom is really terrible sometimes.

Even most of my friends take part in the ribbing. My last roommates, for example, made me really paranoid. “One day,” they’d say, munching on some bacon, “when you’re sleeping, we’ll sneak into your room and drop a McNugget into your mouth. Muwahahaha!”

I’ve taken most of the jokes pretty lightly. In fact, I started coming up with an idea for a superhero-2-D Man, who is vegan and thus really skinny because he could never find any food to eat. Because of this, 2-D Man is invisible from the side. When evil strikes, our superhero turns sideways, becomes invisible, sneaks behind the bad guys, and punishes them with his trademark weapon, a frozen block of tofu. 2-D Man’s weakness is raw beef, which, if he were exposed to it, would cause our hero to faint from lack of iron.

However, lately I’ve gotten very annoyed at the insensitivity of my omnivorous counterparts. I think the reason is that, now that everything has to be politically correct, the group of people that we can safely make fun of is shrinking. Before we could make fun of, for example, midgets and people who lisp. Nowadays, you can’t really make fun of midgets anymore, so society turns to the vegans, widely defined as fanatical, insane vegetarians who subsist on grass and dirt.

Omnivores just don’t understand the stuff that we vegans go through. It’s pretty awful when I go out to eat with my friends, for example; even after thoroughly inquiring about the nature and composition certain dishes, I have the small nagging fear that maybe, just maybe, there is a cow in the food I have ordered. Shopping is a big pain, too. I have to read every single ingredient of every purchase. Sometimes I stare wistfully at the Oreos, cursing Fate and Nabisco for putting whey in their tempting, luscious cookies.

Even interacting with the really nice and sympathetic omnivores can be taxing. They oftentimes ask questions like, “So where do you get your protein?” and “Do you take vitamins?” My favorite question is, “So what do you eat?” After the billionth time answering, it gets annoying!

When I was a freshman, I founded and was president of the Vegetarians’ Union, or VU. We fought really hard to get better vegetarian and vegan food on campus, as well as to educate people about relevant issues. We marched up to Bon Appetit and lobbied for soy milk and soy nuggets at Center Court. It was a difficult task because our pleather shoes kept breaking during the march.

After accomplishing a lot of our lobbying goals, VU became inactive. This put a damper on my plans to amass a giant army of plant eaters to take over the planet and replace all meat with meat-flavored, textured, isolated soy protein. An equally insidious consequence is that now there is no official advocacy group here to counter stereotypes and negative images of us herbivores, which has led to the rampant verbal abuse and flagrant displays of ignorance that we have to endure daily.

Thus, I am calling on all vegetarians and vegans to put down your slices of Tofurky and stand up for yourself and for other plant eaters everywhere. Like 2-D Man, we have been invisible; however, we’ve forgotten to make ourselves visible again. But now it is time for us to organize, to show everyone that we are not all skinny animal huggers. If we stick together and stick to our ground, we will eventually gain respect from the rest of the campus.

Otherwise, let’s prepare frozen blocks of tofu, just in case.

Dear Editor:

Someone please explain to me how the Ervin Scholarships are not discrimination?ÿ Without a doubt, they discriminate. And I do mean discrimination.ÿI’m tired of people saying reverse-discrimination.ÿWhites discriminate against blacks and blacks discriminate against whites; blacks do not reverse-discriminate.

So again, someone tell me-without ‘ands,’ ‘ifs,’ and ‘buts’-why the Ervin Scholarships are not discriminative? One of the biggest arguments going around campus is that the “Ervin Scholarships were somewhat discriminatory, but… they foster a black community.” Well, I don’t buy that for a second.ÿ I have fostered a great community with my floor mates (an interracial one, at that) without the help of a special scholarship.

Another phrase echoing throughout campus is “diversity.” I hate that word. What exactly does it mean?ÿIs it something that someone can create or invent? People say, “Without the Ervin scholarships the campus will lose its diversity.” Since when did diversity only come on the form of blacks? If the administration desired to build a truly diverse student body wouldn’t they try to attract students from different parts of the country? People of different religions?ÿPeople that talk differently? Maybe the admissions committee does try to attract these people, but they sure don’t have special scholarships for them.ÿSo if true diversity is the goal, why not a scholarship for students from southern states only, or a scholarship reserved for Christians? On campus these two groups are definite minorities, but there are no scholarships in place to help change that.

Finally, I have to ask, “What is ‘equal’ about the Ervin Scholarships?” Nothing.ÿ Look at it.ÿWith the Ervin Scholarships black students have more chances than white students to earn Washington University scholarships. To me, that’s anything but equal.

To the administration: Job well done.ÿYou did the right thing.

David Garvin
Class of 2006

Woolf’s article about Weir’s speech misleading

Dear Editor:

I’m very disappointed after reading Richard Woolf’s provocative article on Allison Weir’s Israel-Palestine speech. Given his propensity for distorting facts, it’s incredibly unfortunate that Woolf is a graduate history student.
Woolf claims that Weir attempted to legitimize suicide bombings in her speech.ÿ He also claims that she characterized these bombings as helpful for the Palestinian people. I attended Weir’s speech, and I got no such impression. In fact, Woolf’s article seems purposefully misleading, no matter where you may stand on Israel-Palestine issues.

If there was one thing that Ms. Weir repeated-over and over-it was the fact that she did not condone suicide bombings.ÿI’ll say that again, because when discussing Palestinian issues, it always bears repeating.ÿMs. Weir did not condone suicide bombings. She repeatedly referred to every life lost in conflict as “tragic,” including the deaths of Israeli children at the hands of suicide bombers.

It’s unfortunate that Woolf can’t debate Israel-Palestine issues on his own -without distortions and slander. Allison Weir’s simple desire to discuss Palestinian issues does not make her a terrorist sympathizer, just as Woolf’s discussion of Israeli issues does not make him a supporter of the murders of Rachel Corrie and Tom Hurndall by Israeli troops. It’s unfortunate that any desire to see another side of this issue is characterized as extremist. But Woolf’s focus upon Israel as a victim is extreme also. And it does not help his position to distort facts in opinion columns.ÿ

Rose Kowalski
Class of 2004

I blame the media. The image you probably have of a typical social worker is a self-righteous middle-age white woman who takes a kid away from her big sister because, due to the death of their parents in a tragic accident, the older sister has to struggle to raise her little sister, while the insensitive government is trying to take their farm-unless they could raise $50,000 in a talent show in time. They usually do, and the social worker grudgingly disappears into the sunset until it is time to break up another family.

This is awful, because what kid wants to grow up to be a self-righteous middle-age white woman? We have numerous TV shows to inspire college students to jump through the flaming hoops of Orgo and Physics. We also have numerous shows to direct young minds towards legal careers. The only social worker present anywhere is Maxine from Judging Amy.

This perpetuates misconceptions about social workers and thus leads people to look upon us with a mixture of awe and pity, much like the way we look upon kindergarten teachers, disc jockeys of Country-Western stations, and Michael Jackson. Worse, it prevents students from considering a career that is both interesting and lucrative.

OK, maybe “lucrative” is not exactly the most accurate description of social work. We do, after all, have a cardinal rule about dating at GWB: social workers can’t date other social workers, because it perpetuates the cycle of poverty among social workers, and our mission is to alleviate poverty.

While the field may not snag you a mansion with a pool by any means, the work itself compensates plenty in other ways. One misconception people have is that all social workers are like Maxine. Ha! The field of social work is incredibly varied. I am actually studying MACRO social work. In fact, I’m interested in international macro social work, dealing with big issues like policies for sustainable rural community development and for effective prevention of child prostitution in various countries, etc.

Those sound cool, right? Unfortunately for everyone, people just don’t realize what is possible in the field of social work. This is why I am going to write to David E. Kelley and pitch him this idea for a show next fall. It’s called “MSW” and revolves around the activities of a social work agency.

Pilot episode: Vick, a young, charismatic guy finally at dinner admits to his Asian parents that he is-gasp!-a social worker and not a lawyer like they thought, causing the parental units to run screaming into the wilderness. In the first episode, the agency sends Vick to the UNDP office in Vietnam to organize a microfinance program to help impoverished farmers in the Mekong Delta start small businesses. Meanwhile, back at the agency, Caroline, the Executive Director, is preparing to testify before Congress to push Individual Development Accounts (IDA’s) for the poor.

What, you don’t think that would make a good show? That’s just the pilot. In the subsequent episodes, we delve more into the character of the protagonists. For instance, Vick falls madly for another social worker while working in Vietnam; can their love survive against the cardinal rule? In another episode, the agency struggles to overcome its own biases in terms of diversity as one of its social workers admits that she is-gasp!-Republican.

In the season finale, the parental units return from the wilderness and admit that helping people improve their socioeconomic status so that they can afford a good doctor is just as important as being a doctor-and thus not a shame to the ancestors.

Studying abroad is not just fun; I think it should be mandatory fun. The school should require all students to spend at least one semester in a different country. This is a good precedent to set among universities. Eventually we would be known as a progressive university whose students are polylingual and knowledgeable of global events-basically we would be like high school students from other countries. We’d send overseas the most ignorant students first, the ones sometimes heard asking questions like, “Just who is this Coffee Annan?”

Requiring students to spend time abroad would free up some space in terms of housing. Apparently, the school has been turning some doubles into forced triples. Having lived in a triple myself freshman year, I can say that it is an unpleasant experience, with potential problems such as the doubling of the daily probability of coming back from class and being met with a sock on the doorknob; this is not only inconvenient, but also rather unhygienic.

Instead of forcing students to live under such ridiculous conditions, we should send a number of them to Japan and Ghana. Then we can accept more incoming students and thus, lower tuition for everyone. We’ll make going abroad sound attractive, such as by saying it is an enriching and educational experience, etc.

However, students should not have to wait until they are forced to go abroad to do it. I have been abroad twice now (three times if you count the 16 semesters I spent in Vietnam) and let me tell you, they have been some of the most enriching and educational experiences of my life-even beating all those informative episodes of Destinos that beginning Spanish students are required to watch. I went to Spain for a period of time that can only be described as “!incre¡ble!”

So there I was in Seville during the middle of the heat wave, probably the only non-tourist Asian present. I tried to blend in, but the neighborhood where I lived was not a tourist area, so whenever I wandered around-weak from hunger because I was vegetarian and Spain’s national vegetable is the squid-old women would stare and small children would point. Then the old women would stare at the children to let them know that it was rude to point at the lost Chinese man. However, during my time there, I met some really nice people, observed some comparatively fascinating customs, and vastly improved my Spanish.

Going abroad really gives you a chance to see how things are different from where you live. In Seville, for example, college students go home to take a nap in the afternoon; whereas here, we settle for the convenience of lecture halls. In Seville, the dogs are really friendly and personable. An American dog might bite you if it is in a good mood, and file a lawsuit if it is in a bad mood.

One of the nice people I met overseas was a bar owner, Juan, who had a lazy eye, and who offered me jam¢n, or ham, every time I sat down at his bar. He invited me once to his place for a lunch of delivered Chinese food. When his friends arrived, they looked rather perplexed. After we had gotten drunk enough on wine, they revealed that they thought Juan was crazy for inviting the food delivery guy to lunch. We had a great laugh, and they came to better appreciate us Chinese people. This is the type of stuff you can only learn abroad.

So if you’re thinking about going abroad, just do it. Do it for your own enrichment and for your classmates who like clean doorknobs. If you go to Seville, tell Juan I say hi. If you’re vegetarian or vegan, let him know, and he’ll offer you some squid on the house.

Thus, I went home dejected and unable to speak, except during those times when I could take the positioner out to eat. Not knowing sign language, I went into my room and remained there, planning to live apart from civilization until the prescribed two weeks had passed. At night, I wandered out of my lair to be at one with nature and to despair over my solitude, a creature feared and pitied by all. I think this was also how Bigfoot started. He was probably an insurance salesman or something until one day, he got a positioner.

I soon snapped out of that and went about my business. However, these past few days, being unable to articulate, and thus more observant, I have noticed several things about humans and human communications at Washington University.

First of all-wow, people talk a lot. Have you noticed how much communication you do through talking? A lot.

Second, some people are so self-absorbed they really do not seem to notice whether you are speaking or not. To find out who your real friends are, wedge an orange slice into your mouth and call up your acquaintances. The ones who say, “What is wrong with you? You sound like a moron,” are good friends, because they care enough to notice that you sound more like a moron than normal. The person who continues talking obliviously while you growl in frustration is: A) probably too self-centered to be a very good friend, B) training to be a telemarketer, or C) Ralph Nader.

Third, a lot of communication is ritualized. Some phrases are heard so often that they are now devoid of meaning: “See you later,” “I love you, too,” “Have a nice weekend,” “Why can’t you be a doctor like those Nguyen kids?” etc. Most of these phrases are so automatic that they can be replaced with positioner-induced humming and still be understood. But life is too short for ritualized banalities. Try to be original. Instead of “See you later,” I recommend “Have you gotten checked for melanoma lately?” Instead of “I love you, too,” try, in a sexy voice, “Oui…j’aimerais du fromage.”

Fourth, while it may be inconvenient, it is nice to just shut up for a while. There seems to be a direct inverse correlation between how much you talk and how much other people listen. Or maybe people just feel sorry for me because I look like I got punched in the mouth. In which case, there seems to be a direct correlation between looking beat up and having people listen to you (which, except for JFK, would explain our political system).

Fifth, based on my observations, girls in general seem to be much more skilled in deciphering nonverbal communication than do guys. This disparity between the sexes can be explained by looking at cavemen times when men were hunters and women were gatherers. When gathering, the women often stumbled across vicious animals. They learned quickly how to read these animals. Many a cavewoman lost her life, for example, by interpreting a saber-toothed tiger’s low growls to mean “Aw, he’s lonely; he needs a hug.” The men, on the other hand, just surrounded and speared the beasts, and then the survivors hung out at the local cavebar.

The most important thing I have learned in these last few days, however, is that communication is important, and not being understood by people is frustrating for everyone. Which is why I am shocked and amazed that American Sign Language is not offered at this school. It is probably just as important to be able to say and understand “Thank you” and “My name is” in ASL as it is to be to able to say and understand “Bonjour” and “Quiero Taco Bell.”

Until next time, go get checked for melanoma.

Just think about it-a real, tangible bubble, a clear, blue-tinged hemisphere made out of ultra-light plastic or something. It would span from those trees in front of Brookings and encompass the main campus, the Village, and the South 40. It would be very big, probably the only man-made thing visible from space besides the Great Wall of China and Janet Jackson’s right breast.

At the very least, a giant bubble surrounding the campus would allow us to justify complaining about living in a giant bubble. But there are many other advantages. A giant Plexiglas dome would, for example, distinguish our school from Fontbonne. As we expand the campus, there is a real danger of people mistaking Fontbonne for part of Washington University. Those nine students at our neighboring school might just decide they want to be annexed into our bubble community, and we certainly cannot let that happen. At least not until Fontbonne raises their tuition a minimum of twenty times their current amount. A big bubble would keep the riff-raff out.

Much more importantly, if you’ve been paying attention to the news, you realize that Bush has shifted NASA’s priorities into setting base on the moon with the long-term goal of putting humans on Mars. While you’re reading this, the rovers Spirit and Opportunity are inching their way toward various rocks and pebbles, searching for signs of life. I am willing to bet all of the money I owe in student loans, however, that there already is life on Mars-intelligent life, and they would rather not be found, and they might get angry at our meddling.

Besides protection from extraterrestrial threats (Martians) and terrestrial annoyances (Fontbonne), a giant dome would definitely get our name on the map in a way an astronomical rise in ranking could never do. Then, when we meet someone from Cornell or Brown, which are obviously inferior schools though no one outside the University knows this, they would no longer raise their noses at us. They’d probably envy our bubble and might finally admit to our academic superiority.

The giant bubble will be hard to build, with all the logistical issues involved, such as making sure it does not magnify sunlight and cause buildings and students to burst into flame-or worse, melt the Bunny into an ugly lump of metal. We would probably have to hire migrant workers to scale the dome occasionally to clean up bird droppings. It must be able to withstand any physical attack. The whole project would be expensive, but think of it as an investment not just in the future of our school, but also in the future of the world. Some of you have probably read the short story by Theodore Sturgeon called “Microcosmic God.” In this story, a scientist living on an island creates a race of intelligent beings (in a petri dish, no less). The tiny beings, who live entire lives in seconds, evolve at light speed and make profound scientific advancements within days if not hours. Word gets off the island, and mean, lying people steal these advancements and use them to evil ends, forcing the scientist and his creations to throw an impenetrable force field around the entire island. They live happily, isolated in their dome, while the rest of the world carries on destroying itself.

The point of that story is this: The world around us is starting to go downhill. Mean, lying people seem to be running things. Aliens might be attacking anytime soon. It is therefore in our best interest to preempt some defenses by building a giant indestructible Plexiglas dome around our school. Then, if the world should ever collapse about us, with angry Martians firing laser rays (hopefully at Brown and Cornell first), we will be safe and calm within our bubble, watching “American Idol” and studying, comfortable in our bastion of learning. We would laugh at the Fontbonne students trying to get into the bubble. Years later, when things settle down, we would emerge to rebuild the planet.