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columbia's only paper with a liquor license
Issue 17.4: dysfunction
Posted: November 3, 2001

Letter From the Editor


Well, it's been an interesting couple of weeks for The Fed staff, what with Halloween, coming out of the closet, and full-contact wiffle ball. First and foremost, The Fed staff has ended it's days of cross gendered sexcapades. After being turned down by all the big brand names, we turned to Columbia groups for sponsorship for our much acclaimed Fed Bash.* First to open it's openly gay arms to us was the Queer Alliance. They were so nice, and didn't pressure us to join their ranks even once. But we thought to ourselves, "Is it right for us to always be taking and never giving in return? This is the season when it is better to give than receive.** So what the hell? We've always been pretty androgynous. Let's try something new!" And we haven't regretted it yet. So now The Fed is gay. Gay gay gay.

With our newfound comfort with ourselves, we moved on to our next task: kicking ass at the Fed-Jester kickball game. The Jester challenged us to said game in the new issue out in boxes in Lerner now. We saw the challenge, and rose to the occasion. The Fed staff began a strenuous training regiment for 23 hours. We did intense arm lifts, crunches, and went on a special high caloric diet to keep up our stamina. Namely, we went to the bar and drank a whole lot. When eight o'clock on Thursday rolled around, we were ready for some drunken WWF kinda kickball madness. We had a huddle in the office. I practiced my air punches so everyone whould know I mean business. Somebody grabbed somebody's else's butt in a masculine and ungay sort of way.***

We took South Lawn in an uproar, clapping hands in line, or whatever sort of stuff you do when you take the field and you're all sorts of tuff. When our cheering for ourselves died down, we looked around to see that our sheer presence on the field had trampled our opponent. Or so I said so that the young guys on staff wouldn't see my pain. We had been stood up. Unwilling to back down, we switched to plan B: wiffeball. Later, I was to regret our decision to make the innocuous game into a contact sport. There's really no dignified way to explain that the bruises all over your body are the result of a game no one else has played since puberty.

We ended the night in good spirits, but you could tell everyone felt a little hole in the space that sould have been filled by a traditional Jester whoopass. When Mike Noble pile-drove Robin Koytcheff and broke his nose, you could tell his heart wasn't in it. Not until our Halloween party, when my friend Rennie unwittingly appeared in a Jester costume, did we feel whole. Well, after we sent her to the hospital, I mean.

At our Fed Board meeting the following evening, and after receiving Rennie's medical bill, we rethought our abusiveness. Is it really necessary to resolve all of our conflicts with violence? Are we indeed a dysfunctional paper? Are we sending out the wrong message? But thank goodness for all the little Feddies. They agreed with me. Indeed, we tend towards the snarky, abusive side, but that's exacly our charm, or so we told ourselves to make ourselves feel better. Who would we be without the shameless self-promotion? Then we felt better. Because admitting your faults is almost like not having any at all. so enjoy this dysfunctional issue of The Fed. Its general confusion and inconsistency makes us feel like we're almost normal the rest of the time.

Cheers,

Meghan Keane
Feditor-in-Chief

 

* By much acclaimed, we mean "pretty good." For Lerner at least.

** Unlike the rest of the year when we feel absolutely no shame taking every cent possible like the capitalist pig that we are.

*** Later he was to be reprimanded for acting out against our new Fed gay policy.