Am I by myself on this one or is The Hatchet’s Crime Report the most entertaining thing in here? I love reading it for the stories of disorderly conduct, the destruction of property, the drug and liquor law violations. And granted, some of the things in the report aren’t so kick-ass.
But where else do you find a collection of guys who randomly masturbate in cars, or think that a basement kitchen window is the entrance to a hardware store? What about the girls who are in the Crime Report for sucker-punching another girl on two separate occasions?
Here’s another one: Two guys got into a bit of a tussle over tickets to see comedian Margaret Cho. What the hell is that?
“Dude, give me tickets.”
“Bro, no way. Margaret Cho kicks ass. She was on ‘Saturday Night Live’ like nine times.”
“Nine times?!”
“Yes bro, nine times.”
“You’re gonna die, dude.”
“Bring it on, bro.”
You can fight over the honor of a woman or the last Meximelt (you will be in my heart forever, my dearest Meximelt), but never, ever is anyone excused to fight over Margaret Cho or whether guys with mustaches are cool.
The Crime Report is where GW is most alive. If you still laugh at the phrase “Something Happens Here,” then you aren’t drinking enough and need to get out of the Hippodrome.
Spend an afternoon wandering J Street and you will probably see a physical altercation between some employees. You might also get in on the little numbers game they play that can actually be quite ludicrous. Spend an evening in the back stacks on the fifth floor of Gelman Library and you are bound to find somebody having sex with or without a partner. Spend the night outside of the Aston, and undoubtedly you will see something strange. Spend the morning with your eyes clenched shut so you won’t have to see yourself in the Crime Report, with last night’s sexual escapades described in painful detail.
I want to see more action from the GW campus. Russ Rizzo can’t be the only one stumbling around campus at 7 a.m. after a hard day’s night of editing. I want some buffoonery to occur, some hijinx.
Flipping through the Student Code of Conduct, I found the punishments to be like kissing your cousin – not that bad. The penalty for selling drugs is only a one-year suspension. This pales in comparison to the 12 to 17 years you’ll be doing at the local federal prison. It should be noted that this discovery in no way serves as an endorsement for illicit narcotics trafficking.
By the end of the semester, I want to see a fireworks violation in the Crime Report. Forget that, I want to see a whole gang of them in there. The time for living slips from our grasp like Grade E meat from the back end of a taco. The Crime Report published every Thursday is the purest proof we are alive, we are human and we are unbelievably fallible.
Because I am a senior, my time for spontaneous nudity on Friday afternoons is growing closer to my finely clad end at Commencement. I implore all of you underclassmen and perhaps some of you Aramark employees to start a food fight or streak the basketball game.
For the love of Peter, Joseph and Mary, misuse the fire safety equipment or interfere with a University event. Put Mr. Bubbles in the fountain or change the New Hall sign so it says “Spew Hall.” Grow a mustache and eat chili without a spoon. But, damn it, don’t fight over Margaret Cho.
-The writer, a senior majoring in philosophy, is a Hatchet humor columnist.
