PHILOSOPHY - About the Author
Here begins the obligatory self-absorbed goodbye column.
I always told myself I wouldn't write something as sappy as this because doing so would be so run-of-the-mill. Whenever a Wildcat columnist is finished with a column he or she has written for more than a semester's time, they always finish with this kind of lameness: "Oh, how I will miss college and writing for the Wildcat so very, very much, and this was the best time of my life, and I don't know how I will go on!"
But I was going to be the trend-breaker. No goodbyes - I was just going to grab you by the nuts or (if you're female, substitute an appropriate female body part here) and take you on a 500-word ride one more time. Like a cup of Folger's, I was going to be good to the last drop.
But no. Here I am, doing what I said I would never do.
So, I guess this would be a good time to set the record straight. I will answer some long-asked questions that have been thrown at me since I've written this baby. I'll do it in a lightning round.
Do you really have an 8-year-old illegitimate son named Skippy? (No.) Did you really interview Rocky for your column back in September? (No.) Are you really an alcoholic? (No.) Do you really masturbate as much as you write about? (No comment.)
The sad truth is, I've had to stretch the truth on occasion in order to make my column more interesting.
So, it's true that I have misled you. But if it's any consolation, my real 8-year-old illegitimate son is named Spanky, Rocky is just a fictional character, and thus can not be truly interviewed, and my life-destroying drug of choice is crack cocaine.
Whew! I feel so relieved now. Whoever said "the truth will set you free," was right. Well, except in O.J. Simpson's case - the truth wouldn't have helped him very much. In his case, the saying would go more like: "a high-powered team of attorneys will set you free."
It's been fun writing this column. I got paid $33.99 every two weeks for my efforts, but money wasn't the reason I wrote. The real reason I did it was the free crack cocaine my editors provided me.
It's given me the chance to vent to my fellow classmates regarding just about anything my crazy mind saw fit. It's been a privilege, really. Kind of like being president of the United States. Only instead of getting sexual services from White House interns, I got 14 column-inches a week to try and make some people laugh.
Just as Clinton enjoyed the time when he got weekly hummers, I had a great time writing this column on a weekly basis.
But the good times never do stand still. Bill had his impeachment, and I have graduation - that is if I pass my management final on Wednesday.
Not that I'm too disappointed about completing my degree requirements. I've had a full and prosperous time in college and at the Wildcat. The first time I walked through the doors of this newspaper as a freshman in August of 1996, I was hell-bent on becoming a sportswriter.
After I complete this story, I will walk out of this newsroom for the final time. This is goodbye. A week from today, a full-time job as a features reporter at another paper awaits.
Just as I was writing this, I overheard a sophomore reporter say, "Man, this school year went quick."
Don't they all?