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In This Issue

• Country of Cuba to be Bought and Renamed
• Frat Guy: Hot Bitches, Not Being Gay Crucial for Success in Next Four Years
• It's a Journal, Not a Diary
• Why Columbia Can't Stand Your Kind
• Magna Carma Libertatum
• Point-Counterpoint: My Roommate Keeps Having Sex in Our Room While I’m There
• How to Succeed in Lit Hum Without Really Trying
• (Taxonomy of) Hot College Coeds
• "Dear Mel"
• Class of 2010: Peer Profiles
• The Thinking Freshmen's Guide to Columbia's Libraries
• The Motorcycle Diaries
• Remembrance of Orientations Past
• A Brief Primer on the Basics of Columbia-Speak
• The Hierarchy of Columbia
• Facilitating Your Future Alcohol Addiction
• Orientalation
• An Illustrated Guide of the Columbia Hipster
• The Adventures of Ice-Bitch
• Points of Interest in Morningside Heights
• A Typical Night in McBain
• Portrait of A Loyal Member of Our Staff
• Get to Know The Fed’s Staff with Two Truths and a Lie

Ria Mar-Fan

Quicker than a fizzy lifting drink

We, the landed dorm residents of fair Columbia University, are here assembled in order to codify the laws and practices of this hallowed institution and its greatly famed system of elevators. The elevator, that confoundable box of magic, flight, sorcery, and discarded beer cans (Thursday through Saturday nights), is an essential part of life for all Columbians, from the most wide-eyed, callowest freshmen to the fattest, oldest, and creepiest of General Studies student.

From the fair halls of Carman and John Jay to the itinerant squalor and trashcan fires of Wien, there exists a system of laws of elevator conduct that all must abide by, or, like any fair society, suffer punishment by being pushed down the famous stairs of Low Library and torn apart by ravenous Asian tour groups.

These rules, ordained by the Lord himself, are heretofore presented to the public so that our new students may learn them and learn to love them. Here are, in their complete form, the "Theoretica Fundemetallica Entersandmanus" of Columbia University:

If ye dwelleth below the 5th floor of any building, fuck thee, Thou taketh not the elevator, thou taketh the stairs and walketh.

If thou art a resident of Carman, Wien, the campus of the East, or Jonathon Jay and thou art corpulent (corpulent=lazy fat-ass) taketh the stairs and loseth some weight, gluttonite. With such regular exercise thou mightest even avoid the attack of the heart thou wilt undoubtedly recieveth when thou art lying on the couch eating cheeto-ed bread while watching reruns of John Ritter's "8 Edicts for Wooing My Nubile Daughter of Recent Menstruation and Bosoms".

It is acceptable and righteous in the eyes of our Lord to drop a class because it meets on a high floor in Hamilton Hall. The Lord saw fit to make man in his form and the birds in theirs, and as we all know, it is rightly impossible for a species to "evolve" in order to meet its environmental challenges.

If ye enter the elevator whilst having a conversation on the cellular telephone, make sure'st to speak loudly and clearly, that way the entire elevator can also appreciate how important you clearly findeth yourself to be.

If thou art an Orthodox Jew on the floor second, firstly, stop poisoning our wells and eating our babes, and secondly, walketh up the two flights of stairs. Pretendeth it is your holy day "the sabbatheth" every day of the week.

If thou art accuse'd of being a witch, thou must flieth up to thy floor. Then, contemptable bride of Satan, ye must submit to ritual torture and burnings. If yee are proveth'd to not be a witch, thou art permitted to take the Carman elevators but only after ye suffereth an honorable Christian death.

If ye be a player of football and ye must take the elevator up to thine floor because thou art too physically unfit to walk the stairs, then don't wondereth aloud why Columbia loseth every damn football game.

If thou art a serf, get thee back to thy fields! Who taughteth you to read anyway? Gutenberg? I'll get thee Gutenberg!!!

Johannes Gutenberg shalt no longer be permitted to useth the Columbia elevator system.

Whilst in the elevators of that libidinous convent known as Barnard, be wary of exciting the fragile nuns that reside within. Standeth in the corner, talketh to no one and for the Lord's sake don't maketh any jokes about female drivers or spousal abuse. Those voracious conventites will bite off your male organ of protuberance, amorousness, and unmade babes.

If ye want to put up fliers or advertisements in the elevator, don't bother; in this 15th century world of ours, only eight percent of population knows how to read. Besides, all non-biblical literature is blasphemous.

Finally, if thou must break wind inside of an elevator, slam'st thy hand against the "emergency stop" button and allow'st the others in the elevator to stew in your rich gastronomic bi-product. All the others will be wow'd that not only do'st thou have enough food to create gas, but that your diet of meat is much heartier than the turnips and cabbage that those filthy, stupid and gas-less commoners eat. The maidens love it too.