I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, but I do wholeheartedly believe in a good plan. I respect well-thought-out endeavors, and I truly relish when someone throws a bit of humor into the mix. This sounds vague, but in every good plan, there should be something funny. For example, on a main drag right by my house, there are three businesses built from right to left as follows: St. [insert saint name here]’s Animal Hospital, Burger King and a discount fur mart. Let that sink in. Sick/dying animals, sub-par meat and a discount fur mart. Whoever in the city offices let that combo happen deserves a bottle of wine and a chocolate cigar. There is no way that this ordering is an accident, and I can prove that my strange town is not the only place where hilarious establishments remain incognito.
Look around campus. There are plenty of areas that are too strange to be accidents. Take a gander at President Bravman’s home. It is a beautiful piece of property that is exceedingly well maintained, but when I look at it, I seem to remember the importance of the phrase “location, location, locomotion.” The train that runs right behind it goes no faster than three miles per hour, which is clearly justification for its aggressive horn sounding.
We all know that the statue in front of Vedder looks like a penis. Everyone sees it, and everyone should be over it; however, someone needs to explain to me why administration put this phallic structure in front of a dorm. Living in Smith as a sophomore, all I heard most nights were entire halls walking back from registers at 10:30 p.m., giggling about the huge rock member in front of their building. If I haven’t yet proven to you that upperclassmen are far more capable of being mature around something like a large, onyx penis, then you must be hardheaded.
The Christy Mathewson gates are hugely sentimental, and they clearly have a place in the history of this campus. That being said, what are they keeping out? Isn’t the purpose of gates, to close something off? This is the first set I have seen that isn’t even connected to a wall. I know that it means a lot to walk through the gates, but isn’t that phenomenon somewhat stifled by my ability to simply stroll around them?
Somebody please explain the abdominal alcove in the gym to me. I’m not much of a frequent exerciser, but on the rare occasions I drag myself to the Krebs Family Fitness Center, I have trouble comprehending the area dedicated to bettering my core. They gave us the Harry Potter cupboard under the stairs and a foul set of gym mats for an exercise that everybody wants to do before they saunter home in their sweaty Greek crewneck t-shirts.
Before my position as a columnist is revoked, I just want to reiterate my message: look around for once. If, while walking outside, you take the time to objectively gaze at things, you will undoubtedly notice happenings and structures that were once foreign to you. There are some really funny things going on in the world and trust me, a huge stone phallus and some disjointed gates are hardly the cream of the crop.