The Alligator Editorial Board
As we conclude the yawn-inducing third week of a young fall semester, the Editorial Board couldn't be more relieved. It's been a week of complaining and nagging, so we'll be glad to let the precious weekend swoop in and massage our temples until the headache drifts away.
Even though we've been averaging about three hours of sleep each night this week and are feeling unusually grumpy, we'd still like to offer a gift.
Hopefully, this week's edition of
Darts & Laurels
will put enough pep in your step to keep you from losing your cool this football-less weekend.
Leading off, we'd like to send an are-we-gonna-get-to-move-in-by-Thanksgiving DART to the management of University House 13th Street.
We drove past this place all summer, and we could've sworn we saw progress. Maybe we only saw the first two buildings because building three's would-be residents are still halfway across the city at Cabana Beach.
Cabana is a nice apartment complex and all, but given the choice between killer pool parties and living within walking distance to school, we don't trust our cars enough to get us to our first period classes every day. We reserve our drive time for heading to the pool party, not getting to Turlington Plaza.
Next, we're going to award America's collective collegiate student body an Andrew-Dice-Clay-was-always-a huge-tool-anyway LAUREL for having the lowest percentage of student smokers since 1980.
It's about time at least 80 percent of us realized cigarettes are dirtier than Bob Saget's newfound sense of humor. Somehow, though, cigarettes manage to be funnier than the gimmicky reincarnation of the cardigan-clad original host of American's Funniest Home Videos. As a footnote, if you don't know who the Diceman is, don't waste your time looking him up. Your dad may disagree, but trust us - he's not worth it.
Looking to the bright side, we would like to donate a really-love-your-peaches-wanna-shake-your-wait-didn't-you-play-our-moms'-pep-rally LAUREL to Steve Miller of the Steve Miller Band because he just keeps rocking and rocking. And rocking. And rocking, until he finally falls asleep watching "Murder, She Wrote."
Okay, we love "The Joker," but why is this the second year in a row that UF is hosting a band that was on our dads' lunchboxes in sixth grade?
Thank you, Grandpa Steve for ushering us into our next point. We'd like to toss a this-here's-the-story-of-Billy-Joe-and-Bobby-Sue-two-young-lovers-who-wanted-a-Gator-Growl-act-who-hasn't-been-covered-by-Seal DART to Student Government Productions for lining up consecutive geriatric snooze fests for UF's homecoming. We've got to side with the young'ns on this one. The Growl needs fresh faces, not long-lost Southern rock so-so's.
To wrap up this week's edition, the Editorial Board would like to help drive a nail into the "Go Gator Nation" ad campaign coffin. Instead of using an actual nail, though, we'd prefer to use a was-that-really-the-best-you-could-do DART to UF for the bizarre ad campaign finally being put to rest.
It's hard to imagine that, after gathering the Braintrust at the almighty UF advertising roundtable, the best effort put forth was to repeatedly say, "Go Gators."
We aren't advertising students, so we might have the wrong idea about how these things work, but we'd like to think that if our ads can encourage fellow Gators to go to Mars, we could at least market ourselves a little better.
Go enjoy your weekend. Go Gators.
