Mary Jane's Place, Freshman Year, Column 1

Student Activism on the Rise

It happened just the other night, I was having a dream about a crazed masochist pounding his fist into my door over and over, laughing hideously, seemingly possessed by a demon known only to him.  I then awoke, and to my surprise found it was true ...

I have no idea how long the knocking had been going on, but it continued as I sat up straight and forced my eyes open.  I fell out of my loft and stumbled towards the door on fumbling feet.  I nearly caught a fist with my face as I swung the door open wide, but I didn't have time to worry about that, being more concerned with the madman who rushed into my room and let fly a scream resembling the cry of an Amazon warrior in heat.  Obviously, he was trying to tell me something.

"The horror, the horror!" was all I could make out as he rushed to and fro and then to again.  "They're after me, the Reds are coming, lock the doors, run for your lives!"

I played it cool (the best I can at 3:30 in the blessed A.M.) and asked the first question that popped into my mind.  "Who the hell are you?"

"Doesn't matter, head for the hills, women and children first, follow me!"  He seemed to have tired a bit (you see, he'd stopped running about) and stood in the middle of the floor waving his arms like a helicopter. 

Again, I moved for clarification.  "What?  Where, when, how ... Why?"

"I'm here to save you, man, don't you understand that?"

I thought again, which was certainly a mistake.  "No."

"They're here, right now, right here at this very college!  Their sheer disrespect for Mom and apple pie alone is enough to make me believe that they are planning to fire bomb Platt this very night!"

Actually, I didn't see this as terribly bad, but I let that point drop unanswered.  "Let me get this straight.  They're here-"

"Right-"

"Now-"

"Right-"

"And they're after us-"

"Right-"

"And apple pie as we know it?"

"Right, let's get out of here!"

"Just let me ask you one more thing."

"OK."

"WHO THE HELL ARE THEY!"

"The Communists, the Fascists, and the completely despicable, neo-Nazi socialistic satanic graders!"

I looked at him very carefully, and somehow, he wasn't smiling.  "Graders, you say?"

"Yes!  That's how I first uncovered the whole plot!  I got a physics assignment back and it said, '4/20.  Please use a darker pencil, better bond paper, and bring me $3,000,000 in small bills if you ever want to see your physics grade again.'  It was then that I knew our system of government was done for."

"And you say the communists are working with them?"

"Of course!  Every professor on campus is either card carrying, sympathetic, or leaves old Bloom County's tacked up on his door!  I also have factual evidence that someone at Financial Aid used all my scholarship money to support the rebels in Nicaragua."

"I see.  And I suppose the Fascists are behind it all."

He looked up at me as if I had just asked if I could borrow a cup of yak's blood.  "You're joking, right?"

"Well, I didn't think I was."

"The fascists aren't even on campus!  They're all Scrippsies* who have refused to go out with me because I'm not an Engineering major.  If that isn't fiscal policy supported by right wing extremists, I'm Karl Marx!"

I thought I had it figure out now.  “So, you’re Karl Marx?”

"No!"

Well, I had to ask.  "So, what can I do about all this political activism on the five colleges?"

"You can tell everyone who's anyone about it in The Muddraker, that's what!"

I spoke to him as I'd speak to a five year old who wasn't potty trained yet.  "Well, it's true that all the beautiful people read The Muddraker.  However, do you really believe that we have room to print such drivel as this?"

He checked to see if I had a straight face which, of course, I did.  "Yes!"

"Well, you're wrong, OK?  Now, go on home.  Try the L.A. Times in the morning.  I hear they deal in silly things like this."

He slunk out of my room and slithered off into the night.  I had heard that college students weren't interested in political issues anymore.  Unfortunately, it isn't true.

* A "Scippsie" is a student of Scripps College, the all women's school literally across the street from Harvey Mudd College in Claremont, California.