Now, I missed the activities fair last weekend, but I heard it was the same old crowd. While the weather is still holding out and, with it, seasonal optimism, Game of Thrones fans surely know that winter is coming. Before long, the sun will disappear, and along with it your immune system, and the weight of accumulated points per class will begin to solidify your GPA destiny. Same old same old does not get you out of the gloom, that’s for sure. So while the leaves are still green like first years, I figured I would revisit the “wishing” theme of my last 10’o clock list and offer some suggestions for clubs that might benefit the Kenyon community.
- Klub Krud: If someone had the gentle heart to actually form this club, then Krud victims might be less effective at spreading their terrible affliction. It seems like there are always a few people with the Krud who are in denial about the truth of their predicament. No, it’s not cool, you’re definitely contagious, especially if you hack stuff into your hand before you take a shot in pong. Even if someone is “no longer contagious,” in reality, their pallid appearance is a bit of a mood killer, to put it lightly. Klub Krud could offer a quarantined area for the contagious, full of antibiotics and cold medicine. Maybe it could even have music for them to lurch around to as they sweat out the virus. Maybe it could save us all.
- Death Eaters: You know, the wizard purity movement from the Harry Potter books. They conjure snakes of smoke and other supposedly terrifying stuff. Before anyone who learned how to close read and deconstruct in the last one month to three years decides to condemn what I just said, I’d like to clarify that I in no way condone wizardism or any of its offshoot movements (unicornism, elfism, etc.). The Death Eater group I’m envisioning would simply pretend to be those reprehensible characters, sort of like certain students astride brooms pretend they are flying across the Quidditch pitch. (Brief aside: there is more flying in a game of basketball and better broomwork in a curling match than in a game of college Quidditch.) Anyway, it’s possible that if we have a fake intimidating political wizarding movement, the greater Kenyon community might consider the absurdity of Harry-Pandering this institution to current and prospective students. Wouldn’t the supposed magic of our college be better represented through homage to more serious literature? Like say…Twilight? Oh damn. That’s not Josh Radnor approved. Maybe fictional places just shouldn’t symbolize the very realness of a college experience. Perhaps then fewer people would come out the Gates of Hell on Graduation Day wondering if they should send an owl to that interviewer they haven’t heard back from yet.
- Kenyon Exterminators: This would easily be the most popular club on campus. Finally, someone would be around to take the mutant spider population of New Apts to task and to rid my Acland of the absolutely creepy centipedes that occasionally make unwelcome cameos. Even better, this group of devoted and highly trained students would help the rest of us fend off those Asian Lady Beetles that not only bite, swarm and smell horribly, but also manage to cultivate enough trauma so as to haunt their victims with the sensation of phantom insects crawling across their skin.
- Peirce Lingerers Club: The premise here is simple. For people who spend an absurd amount of time in Peirce, a club might finally allow them to feel like a part of something bigger than the confines of the servery. They could sit around and tinker with dining hall floor plans, run experiments on “cup liquid” and explore the vast potential of the panini press.
- The “I Like Feel Uh…Like” Club: For all those students who cannot express themselves without using the word “like” after every word they speak. Members could like, like, I don’t know, like talk like about things that like, you know, you like care about ’cause like your readings for class were like kind of like cool or you, like, did something over, like, the weekend. That was a miserable sentence to write, but someone needs to speak out against the madness that kills the momentum of discussions daily.