As the semester comes to an end, the sound of weeping students echoes across the seventh floor of the library. Their sultry song signifies the arrival of the dreaded finals season. Unfortunately, Doolino can’t publish the answers to your exams, but he can give us the answers to life’s great questions. From emotions, fashion and proverbs, Doolino answers all.

 

Dear Doolino,

I switched my major from chemistry to anthropology last semester (thanks CHEM 203) and I sure am changed! I’ve learned the truth about this oppressive world and I’m dying to do something about it. But like, where do I even start?

I’m currently trying to abolish prisons, the police, racism, sexism, colonialism and capitalism, but I’ve noticed that it’s not as easy as just shouting #staywoke at random people on Cox Bridge. Doolino, how can I be the best revolutionary that time has seen?

Love,

Lil’ Comrade

 

Dear Lil’ Comrade,

In this digital age, it’s actually easier than ever to be your best revolutionary self. Back in my day, not only did you have to stand in public in order to revolt, but you usually also had to have legitimate demands. It’s a completely different story today. To show the world your newfound knowledge of global oppression 

and disgrace, get on Twitter and follow a bunch of people that share the same political views as you. Now you must simply spam your profile with retweets to make sure every person that follows you understands your message.

If you’re down for a good fight, you should change your bio to something witty and edgy, like, “Eat the rich.” If you’re a true comrade though, you’ll proudly start Twitter beef with B-list celebrities. That’ll make sure all your friends and followers know that you go to liberal arts school.

I have faith in you,

Doolino

 

Dear Doolino,

When the Lady of Misrule herself entered my Orgo class, everyone shouted, overwhelmed with glee. Everyone except me, that is. You see, along with the normal elation that comes with leaving class early, my professor begrudgingly told us that we should learn the material we would’ve covered independently. The problem doesn’t lie in my understanding of the missed material, but in the lack of a rescheduled class date.

Just like everyone other freshman on the campus, I came to Emory to learn! The fact that the opportunity to go to this class has been denied to me is disrespectful and not in line with what I’ve come to expect from the rigorous and academic-focused Emory community. I emailed the professor to ask if she could schedule an additional session for this weekend, but she denied the request. What should I do to get the lesson that has been so rudely denied to me?

Best regards,

Classless in class

 

Dear Classless in class,

I’ll have you know that Dooley’s annual classroom catastrophe is one of the hallowed, time-honored traditions of this sacred campus. If you can’t get with it, maybe you should not have gone to Harvard, better known as the Emory of the North.

Love,

Doolino

 

Dear Doolini Lamborghini,

Whatsuh vro. I just dropped about three bands on some fire Balenciaga shoes, so you could say I’m rockin’ the fitted. Drip City, population: me. The weather outside got totally not cash money tho vro. Totally not Gucci. I’ve got this new VLONE hoodie that matches my revolutionary Balenciaga platform Crocs (which slap by the way), but now that the weather is pushing 80 degrees, I just drip when I wear it outside, and in the bad, non-stylish way. How can I look fresh and stay fresh even when it’s hot out, my slime?

Cordially,

Litty Ricky with the Itty Bitty Sticky

 

Dear Litty Ricky with the Itty Bitty Sticky,

Let me share with you a parable from a wise sage by the name of Big Shaq, from the Hypebeast Bible. Big Shaq was on a date sitting across the table from a girl. The girl asked him to take off his jacket, a Canada Goose down jacket. His reply would later become Hypebeast Law. So said the sage: “Man’s not hot.” (See the female version à la Cardi B: “A hoe never gets cold.”) From thenceforth, all who spent ridiculous amounts of money on winter clothes were forced, by the Hypebeast Law, to always flex, no matter the perilous discomfort they faced. Neither snow, nor rain, nor gloom of night may prevent their drip.

Keep dripping,

Love,

Doolini Lamborghini