The Friday Ketchup

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You look at the clock and it reads 3:00 AM. A crumpled-up candy wrapper sits to the side of your textbook. I don’t remember anything of the last ten pages I’ve read, you think to yourself. Maybe it would be better for you to go to sleep at this point. Surely a few hours of rest would do you better than to keep studying. I’ll just close my eyes for a minute, you say, then I’ll be able to finish this up. You look back at the clock. 9:30 AM. You’re late for the test. You rush to put on your clothes and run out the door. A few minutes later you arrive at the classroom, out of breath and sweaty. The professor hands you the test along with a stern look of disapproval. You take a seat and turn to the first page of the exam. You can’t believe it. This isn’t what you’ve been studying for at all. Your head starts swimming and you begin to feel nauseous. The prompt sits on the page mocking you. It’s the Friday Ketchup.

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The Friday Mustard

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Source: terapeak.com

Hey, big news here at The Thrill. This segment is no longer the Friday Ketchup. Instead, from now it is the Friday Mustard. Now I know some people might be upset about this change, but I think in the long run it will be for the best for all of us. I want you to know that it isn’t your fault. The content you know and love will still be here providing your life meaning and fulfillment, but now it will have a new yellow coat. No need to worry. It’s the Friday Mustard. Continue reading

The Friday Ketchup

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Welcome back from break, kiddos. I hope you all got to spend some time tanning like I did. I sure do love peeling off the skin from every inch of my body, the intense satisfaction of it slowly detaching in my fingers. Like a molting snake I am born anew, tan and clean. All look in awe at my bronzed body, basking in my otherworldly glow. I have absorbed the Sun and taken its light. Darkness runs from me and the pale northern hordes are forced to shield their eyes from my brilliance. I am a golden god. Nothing can stop me. It’s the Friday Ketchup. Continue reading

The Friday Ketchup

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It’s the last day before Spring Break. That’s right, soon you’ll be sitting at home or at a beach or somewhere else relaxing and enjoying your downtime, forgetting about everything at Kenyon, including all that work that your professors assigned over break. That’s right, you won’t be reading that 300-page book for your English class, or that dense 50-page article for Political Science, and you definitely won’t be writing that paper due a few days after you get back from break. I mean, why would you? It’s not like once you get back it will all come crashing down on you like a pile of bricks, crushing your very soul along with your GPA. I’m sure it will be fine. Enjoy your break. You earned it. It’s The Friday Ketchup
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The Friday Ketchup

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You look into the mirror and an unfamiliar face stares back at you. Bloodshot eyes. Greasy, unkempt hair. A bit of dried drool sits on your lower lip. You’re not entirely sure what day it is, though you’re not sure it even matters. Sleep seems like a long-forgotten dream now. All you can think of is the Hobbesian state. You fear a life that is nasty, brutish, and short, so you give away your liberty to the Leviathan, all for a little safety. Sure, he can take away everything, but at least you aren’t getting torn apart in the wild. Look at yourself, though. You’re a mess. A slob. A broken soul slouching along in a decaying body. Maybe Nietzsche was right about liberalism. You’re the last man. The Übermensch never came. The slave morality has crushed your soul and all you desire is a little comfort. You sigh and leave the bathroom. It’s comps week. It’s the Friday Ketchup.
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