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In This Issue

• Happy VD
• I Want to Be A Matzoh, Matzoh Man
• Letters to the Feditor
• Lee Bollinger Asks: Are You Hot or Not?
• I Hate New York. Now More than Ever.
• Ab Electrocution Devices Found to be Shockingly Unsafe
• Waking up Gay On Sesame Street
• Lunchables for a Dysfunctional World
• Bad Places to Wake Up
• Removing Used Sex Partners is Simple & Fun!
• Columbia University, a.k.a. Outkast's Bitch
• Report from the Frontline-Dancing
• Anarchists betray the goals of liberal politics
• In defense of not defending - but instead attacking - TA Unionization
• A Crash Course In Punk
• R.I.P. What Bar
• Damn You, Nickelodeon
• Newsbriefs del Pueblo
• Pulpit Fiction
• Horoscopes? Why, yes. Horoscopes.
• Angry Cell Phone Guy Turns Me On (Real Hard)
• Fruitloop and Dandy
• Another View of The Fed
• THEY Watch
• The Staff of 17.6

For the second year in a row, the Intergreek Council (or as we like to call them, "Safety in Numbers") hosted a 28-hour dance marathon in the Lerner Auditorium to raise money for pediatric AIDS. It all seemed innocent and well-meaning enough, but how did a function like this operate on the practical level? To learn the answers, I secured a CUDM II all access laminate and headed in.

The period from midnight to six am on Sunday - or hours twelve through eighteen - promised to be by far the weirdest, or at least that is what my sources had led me to believe. I was sorely disappointed. I discovered no random spectral apparitions, no babbling Delta Theta Something-or-other girls in the corner, and no spontaneous combustion.

One instance of absurdity was provided by an elderly man with a long, scraggly beard and a bushy shock of gray hair who had gained acces to the building with his alumni reading card. This aged member of our community insisted on dancing about in what at first appeared to be no pants, but what was later discerned to be really short shorts. I mean, really short.

The staff of CUDM II treated this man's presence like that of a potentially lethal substance. I personally did not see him as posing any immediate threat, but various members of Alpha team could not resist double-checking every few minutes to determint whether they could find reason to "bounce" said gentleman.

This very staff seemed to be the only source of entertainment at the entire ordeal. A distinct caste system, which I suppose is common in the Greek world, could easily be determined by the colors of their t-shirts: white for dancers, or commoners; light blue for moralers, or indentured servants; orange jumpsuits for the moraler head team - intermediaries with their eyes on advancement, I realized; and dark blue for the steering committee, or ruling class.

The steering committee seemed the most involved, shouting into their Talkabouts as they maneuvered around loopy dancers and lost VIPs. I would say they were stern and completely devoid of any humanity, but they offered me a baked potato without any prompting, so my objectivity is completely gone.

The moraler head team, with their lifer-orange penitentary jumpsuits, seemed at once bothered by and obsessed with enforcing odd little rules of the event, such as not letting anyone but the dancers have any of the water, snacks, or methamphetamines stored in the student kitchen.

The moralers themselves, in the beloved pansy blue, seemed a perfectly dissaffected working class. They openly criticized and defied the no food rules, and many spoke openly about their contempt for those above them in the caste system. Those that were the most vocal also offered a lovely bouquet of Wild Turkey and Bacardi with their sentiments.

All in all, CUDM II appears to have been a testament to modern Greek ingenuity. Even with maybe half the dancers they had last year, I'm sure it was a success. I really wish I'd gotten a shirt.