Greetings, Emorians.
By some miracle, you bumbling imbeciles have managed to make it to yet another year. While I am sure your hometown escapades over winter break were positively thrilling, the time has come to leave the past — and your high school ex — in 2024. A time of new beginnings has commenced, and so far, Emory University’s spring semester has already made quite the splash — although, given this month’s frigid temperatures, “avalanche” may be a better term. Though I know even the most put-together students among us will be bombarding me with asinine questions and pleading for advice soon enough, let us begin this semester with a simple recap from yours truly. After all, I know you all are desperate to hear my comforting voice.
With 2025 comes the winds of change. However, I cannot help but wish that the winds were not blowing quite so strongly, as they seemed to carry a particular odor that has grown worse with each passing day. I was not at all shocked to hear that DeKalb County experienced a major water main break last week — those pipes are older than I am. As many know, the county instituted a boil water advisory, and rumors of a zombie apocalypse sent campus into a panic. Administration provided bottled water to students in lieu of tap water, but that only caused environmental science students to wail and gnash their teeth like a group of well-intentioned ghosts outside of any facility serving food or drinks. However, some students continued drinking tap water despite the warning, insisting that whatever chemicals are in the water could not possibly be as hazardous as the food provided at the Dobbs Common Table. I was unaffected by this debacle — since keeping my bones strong is of paramount importance, I only drink milk.
But after word got out about contaminated water, some students took hydrophobia to the extreme and avoided showers entirely. Body odor on campus increased exponentially, making the air hazardous along with the water. The only unaffected demographic was Emory’s computer science majors — since they are entirely unfamiliar with the concept of personal hygiene already, they have been training for this moment their entire lives.
Frozen water made a splash on campus alongside contaminated water, as students arrived in Atlanta to a winter wonderland (I was not present for this snowfall, as I was busy warming my weary bones in the fires of Hell). While the Georgia heat quickly melted the snowy campus, chilly temperatures have lingered long after the snow melted. Southern students are heavily bundled in knit caps, gloves and ski jackets, hurling merciless complaints about the windchill to Emory’s small army of New Yorkers, who in turn are insisting that anyone affected by the cold is “a putrid, sniveling, pathetic excuse for a human being.” What do you think, Emory students? Is Atlanta’s January weather pleasantly warm, or should we break out the parkas and snowshoes? With more cold on the horizon, weather-related discourse may not be dormant for long.
While the weather may be cold, things are certainly heating up when it comes to Greek life at Emory. The Emory Panhellenic Council hosted formal recruitment the week before the first day of classes. Desperate first-year students from all majors and walks of life made bloody bids for coveted spots, clawing and fighting for what many people define as the quintessential college experience. I have watched for hundreds of years as students put on their cutest outfits and flirted with their soon-to-be sisters, and yet I still find the entire exercise quite mortal, and, at times, rather incestuous. Personally, I have never felt the need to pay for my friends, but to each their own. I wish all of the new Greek cult members the best in this stressful time and remind them that if they are ever looking for another cult to join, I am always accepting new loyal followers.
As I gaze out at my kingdom, I cannot help but look forward to the ridiculous shenanigans and plot twists you silly mortals will get up to this semester. Maybe you are occupied with hunting down students enrolled in your dream course with a battle axe and a burning desire to take their spot before Add/Drop/Swap ends. Maybe you are hitting Midtown’s fittingly mid bars and trying to make the most of your time on campus before syllabus week turns into finals week (if this is you, I must request that you avoid walking by my statue post-party. My cape was dry-cleaned over winter break, and I simply will not abide some uncultured undergraduate vomiting on it). Maybe you are just trying to make it from one day to the next. If this is the case, good luck. My infinite wisdom tells me that this semester is going to be one for the books. Have an excellent 2025, Emorians, and never forget: Doolino knows best.
— Contact Doolino six feet under the Quadrangle
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