From the very inception of NARP Meets World, it’s been a constant war of attrition between the editors of this paper and myself. Each week I bang my head against the wall in hopes of a semi-entertaining joke finding its way in the paper. Most of the time, it’s an incontrovertible strikeout. The only funny thing is how pathetic the column is. But every now and then, I am able to produce a witty joke that manages to get a small chuckle. These moments are exactly what I live for. You guys, my readers, are the only reason why I continue writing this nonsense of a column every week. I live for the fans, die for the fans.
Even though my heart solely desires to create creative content for my fans, the Man at the top is trying to keep me down. Each week it’s the same haunting complaint: “Write about sports in your column.” And my response is always the same: “Nah.” Let me know if this is just a me thing or a them thing, but I just can’t fathom why I am expected to write about sports in a sports column. Sports in a sports section? That’s ludicrous.
But as I am backed into a corner by my editors, forced to consider the unbearable reality of distorting the focus of this column to that of sports. I cannot help but look over my shoulder at the progress I have made thus far. In this depressing and desolate time, where it is just myself, a lowly NARP, versus the world out there, all that comes to mind are the echoing words of DJ Khaled: “They don’t want you to win.” I should have known from the start that this fool’s paradise was too good to be true.
And here I am, at wit’s end, contemplating the future trajectory of NMW. I see myself with two options at hand: comply with the Man’s “requests” or continue on my journey of providing quality entertainment for my fans. Unfortunately, both options ultimately end up with the inevitable termination of this column. Complying with the editors means that I have to discard the very roots of NARP Meets World, a sports column that was supposed to be about anything but sports. But if I dare to continue on my current path, there is no doubt that the editors will bring this column to an abrupt end. It’s an apocalyptic lose-lose scenario that ultimately ends up with all that I stand for being taken away.
Yet in the midst of all this uncertainty and apprehension, I cannot help but laugh at the requests of the higher powers of The Dartmouth. As I am strong-armed into complying with this flagrant censorship, now it’s time to activate my trap card. My friends, contrary to popular belief, I am not that big of an idiot. I foresaw this exact scenario the very moment I created this column. Open your eyes folks! My editors want me to write about sports, but in their legalistic quest to uphold the integrity of the sports section’s content, they’ve completely overlooked the best game ever to be played...this column!
You see, the very essence of this column is a game of tug-of-war with the editors. How far can I push the egregiousness of the content in this column, and how long will it take for my editors to stop me from doing it. My editors want me to talk about sports, yet I’ve been playing an epic game with them this whole time.
And now, as week nine rolls into full speed, we are left wondering what we should do with our pathetic lives. Where shall we all look to for refuge from the harsh demands of Dartmouth? Where shall we find our weekly source of unique and creative content that is surely bound to make us laugh? But most importantly, what are we now going to use as firewood for the harsh winter of Hanover if not this column? These are the questions that keep me up at night, and they should be worrying you too.
For many of you, I know just how sentimental this column has grown to be. Alas, NMW has grown to be a very memorable part of my own Dartmouth experience. But my friends, I ask you to stay strong in the face of the tyrannical leaders of The Dartmouth until NARP Meets World makes its comeback. For comfort, I would like to share with you a favorite bible verse of mine.
“The grass withers, the flower fades, But the word of our God stands forever.” -Isaiah 40:8
Before you quickly label me as a heathen and cast me off as a social pariah, let me preface by saying that I am not God. But in some sense, I have become some sort of savior to you all in the midst of the brutal academic rigor we willingly pay 60 grand a year for, providing a refreshing sequence of jokes that are sure to take your minds off work for a few moments.
And as this column comes to an end, I ask that you do not forget the wisdom I have shared with you the past five weeks. Nothing gold can stay, but forgetting this column is simply cray.
Just kidding. I still have one column next. Got ’em boys!
