This column spawned as a reaction to the allegations of anyone who truly believes that “He Said is Dead.” I initially found this odd considering women usually have a problem with this column. Thus by Aristotle’s logic, this would make you all women.
Instead I’ll just remark upon how enthralled I am that the beach folk actually make their way to campus on Thursdays to pick up The Mirror, lest go to class. Perhaps if you knew how to properly balance living and learning, you, kind sirs, would have submitted your own He Said to The Mirror at the end of last year and beat me to it.
Just because you live at the beach doesn’t mean you’re the man. For those seniors who still have their panties in a bunch over not making the cut for Off-Campus Boarding last year, I ask why? In exchange for renting an old decrepit beach house, you would have had to pay far up the ass. But oh, $800 a month per person isn’t a lot of money. No, not when your daddy pays for every penny of it. But, my on-campus senior comrades, the costs don’t stop there. In signing their contract, all those daddy’s girls have most likely forgotten about utilities, groceries and gasp, heating oil that’ll get forwarded right to their home address. So while we’re all toasty and warm in our apartments, and “shacks on campus that have been robbed of their basements,” you’ll be enjoying your non-insulated beach front property. Life’s a beach, isn’t it?
Honestly, what’s the appeal of living at the beach anyway? The only reason I can surmise is that it equates to some sort of status symbol. Yes, we get it: your family has money. However, the vast majority of the senior class (because of personal finances) can’t afford to live at the Beach their senior year. Thus, I suppose that sacrifices must be made to ones social standing and reputation in the eyes of certain “privileged” individuals. And take off your Ed Hardy shirts. You’re not cool, and you never will be.
