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In This Issue

• Forever Remember, or Else
• 8 Bits of Subliminal NES Perversion
• Letters to the Editor
• $$$ for Golden Showers
• Caliente Cab: Giving Your Stomach the Bad Touch
• My Date with the Fed: So Hot it Set 620 on Fire
• The Absolute Worst of First-Year Quotations
• Get Your Smack At the SmackTastic Supa-Store
• Sleep with Your Professors
• Tired of the Same Old Masturbation Techniques?
• Hentai: Your Mother Is Crying up in Heaven
• Beefcake! Beefcaaaake!
• NSOP Uber Alles

Just as summer was coming to a close, a plague of Orientation Leaders descended upon Columbia in Technicolor splendor. In preparation for the pre-Labor Day arrival of the 1,400 or so new denizens of Morningside Heights, the Class of 2006, the New Student Orientation Program kicked itself into Prozac-addled high gear.

NSOP, a noble endeavor if ever there were one, had busied itself most of the summer with the task of inventing "programming" designed to offer our newly annointed froshy brethren as carefree and easy a trasition to the world of CU as possible. The end result was downright horrifying.

There was one thing scarier than Orientation Week, though. The Orientation Leader Training, a weekend retreat to the Lerner auditorium where OL's romped with such bubbling glee as had not been seen since Kool Aid hour at Jonestown.

The psychological background necessary to inspire a person to become an OL is too frightening to examine. These are a breed of people who volunteer up what is left of their summer vacation to usher the new students into the gee-golly-super-keen world of college, and for no more payment than the satisfaction of an 18 year-old mind well warped. Spend a few hours in a room with 300 or so of these folk, and the old chant of "We got spirit; yes we do!" becomes a menacing threat. You imagine they will finish off, murder glimmering in their eyes, with "We got spirit, and if you don't, then it's off to the Gulag."

Many instances of NSOP's evil occurred during the OL training. One frightening installation was the colored-shirt hierarchy. In turquoise polo shirts, the members of the NSOP committee oversaw all, taking turns to bark inspirational messages through the loudspeakers. Below them were the Yellow Shirts, who took the OL's into smaller groups where they could be more easily brainwashed with fun getting-to-know-you games like "Why Apathy is Wrong" and "Sit on Me." And finally there were the OL's themselves, who were each given one lime green shirt to wear every day of Orientation Week. This color choice was key, as it is nearly impossible not to exude perpetual pep when your torso glows like an Irish setter at Three Mile Island. It is no wonder that during their two-day indoctrination, the Orientation Leaders were made to survive on Pixie Sticks, fun-sized Snickers, and bottled water.

For a few hours, reluctant newcomers sat in small groups as seasoned OL's scrubbed away their fears with Orientation folklore. ("Cindy and I met as OL's and we've been BFF's ever since." "Brad and I have been going steady ever since our NSOP. Isn't that sooo romantic?") Then the teaming masses converged for the true initiation rites.

The Alpha Male of the NSOP committee took the stage, microphone in hand, and led the assembled boosters in a rousing rendition of the Hokey Pokey, taking the time to cover all four limbs, the head, and the body in general. When a hesitant young OL-in-training blushed with reluctance at the thought of such an activity, she was dragged on stage so that the committee could make an example of her. Before long, the Alpha Male was leading the masses in a thunderous cry of "There is no shame in NSOP! There is no shame in NSOP!"

What more can one say? That chant really sums up the absurdity of the endeavor. But what we are left with, after all the hoopla and pageantry, are questions. After a week of non-stop over-thought coddling, the freshmen are turned loose, forsaken by their OL buddies, who must now go on and fight the losing battle for school spirit against the rest of the student body. One is left asking, "Why? Why bother? Why do we need this orientation in the first place? Why would the freshmen buy into such kitschy displays of delusion? And why does the NSOP committee insist on believing that incoming freshmen are a bunch of naïve children utterly unprepared for the rigors of what is in actuality a pretty cushy college life?"

I can't help thinking that, for once, the School of General Studies got something right. For the GS students, Orientation consisted of a few info sessions, a meeting with an advisor, and a brief cocktail party. Then, for the most part, the new students were left to discover Columbia on their own. NSOP could learn something from that.