2000-12-14 - Fall Orgo Night
The College Reading Room of Butler Library
[March in to Roar]
Ladies and Gentlemen, and organic chemistry students, back despite the Furies' best efforts to keep us out of Butler, it’s the most grandly-triumphant band in the world, the Columbia University Marching Band!
[fanfare]
Featuring:
J. Bob Dylan - Tangled Up In Blue
J. Supreme Court - Tangled Up In Blame
And J. Robert Downey Jr. - Tangled Up In Blow
[fanfare]
Welcomes itself back to spirited, saccharine, strangely antiseptic, sedulous, semi-circular,
recently renovated, yet still in need of renovation, College Library, where the shelves are
long-lasting, but sadly not the men, and the women are checked out but long overdue. Featuring the marching band loaded, Gargamel's plans thwarted, as well as a horde of Crusty Seniors to keep you damn unruly kids in line, the band now presents its 32nd consecutive, 69th semi-annual drive to lower the curve in Organic Chemistry while consummating the world's largest simultaneous Orgo.
{ALTERNATE:} Welcomes itself back to fertile, fetid, frozen, fairly rectangular, flippant, fornication-inducing Van Am Quad, where the chocolate beverages are hot, but sadly not the men,
and the women are frigid but prepared to get Van Am Jammed. Featuring the marching band chastised, the tradition of Orgo Night compromised, as well as a horde of insouciant Columbia students who are wondering why the fuck the Library kept them out of Orgo Night, the band now presents its 32nd consecutive, 69th semi-annual drive to lower the curve in Organic Chemistry while consummating the world's largest simultaneous Orgo.
[Play "Who Owns New York"]
Though Columbia University prides itself in its promotion of liberal thought, the committee on instruction balked at a new student-proposed course requirement for English majors, entitled, "Ass-Fuckingly Foul Language in the Literary Tradition." In the controversial curriculum, students are required to discuss naughty language from ancient culture to modern times. While scholars worldwide are shocked by this unprecedented proposal, one Barnard College student is quoted as calling the uncensored version of The Iliad "a labia-curling mind-fuck." English Professor Michael Rosenthal remarked, "I thought the violence in the original Greek was pretty fuckin' graphic, but I do have to admire the creative translation of the phrase, 'jizz-jizzling.'" The proposal has not only been criticized for its objectionable content, but also for its academic legitimacy.Notsradamus authorities have also questioned the validity of the texts that are used in the course, arguing that the translation that the United States would become "Dick Cheney's anal floss" is a gross misrepresentation of the original text. The work in this new curriculum that has received the most criticism is a recently discovered early edition of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Skeptics argue that Austen lacked the social position to be able to learn, and much less write, some of the language contained in the text. "This is ridiculous!" claimed Peter Pazzagilini, "Lizzy would never call Mr. Darcy a 'cunt-rammin-ringmeat-whore-of-the-winds!'" In honor of the Ivy League tradition of creative obscenity, the band now forms the Helen of Troy's "Tight-like-a-Boetian-sea-nypmh's" cunt and plays Sweet Cunt of Mine.
[Play "Sweet Child O' Mine"]
By all accounts, the fall semester was a less than a great one for University public relations. From the infamous Said controversy to the sexual misconduct policy hoopla to the most painful media outrage of all, finishing behind Dartmouth, Cornell and Penn in the U.S. World and News Report magazine. Things have gotten so bad that Playboy Magazine has announced that it will be snubbing Columbia in its latest "Girls of the Ivy League Pictoral." It's become painfully obvious that the Columbia spin machine has become about as dependable as a used Hyundai on the Long Island expressway. Administration and faculty morale has become so low that even the JJ's place guys have taken to listening to Radiohead and Tori Amos while working. President George Rupp defended the school's sexual misconduct policy, but when further questioned he admitted that he knew little about the policy, but then claimed that he had read a Virginia Woolfe novel at some point and had even thought of attending a showing of the Vagina Monologues. When asked about the recent barrage of media attacks from New York's top newspapers, Vice President of Public Affairs Alan Stone said "Fuck the New York Times! Those bitches will be fucking sorry when we take away their Pulitzers faster than you can say 'Wen Ho Lee.'" The vice president then refused to comment on the humiliation and turmoil associated with being placed lower than Penn. Instead he simply took another swig from his whisky flask. In honor of New York's tradition of media masturbation, the band now forms a tube of K-Y Jelly and plays, because we feel like it, Sweet Dreams.
[Play "Sweet Dreams"]
Earlier this Fall Provost Jonathon Cole announced the formation of the 18th school of Columbia University, a kindergarten and grade school to be built at the corner of 110th and Broadway. The band shudders to think what might happen when a large population of high schoolers is introduced to the University community, because it'll probably involve chloroform, rohpynol, and Fiji's Fire Hydrant. One of the most frightening aspects of this development is the application of the core curriculum philosophy to the high school experience. Instead of classic picture books like "Clifford: The Big Red Dog," Kindergarteners will read western canon alternatives, like "Cerberus: The Three-Headed Hound of Hell." These nascent hordes of *N'SYNC-listeners will also have to put up with other annoying aspects of life in Morningside Heights. Sixth graders will take anthropology to avoid their pre-algebra requirement. And juniors will whine about the new drop date after getting loaded the night before their first AP History test. But the band feels compelled to posit the most pressing questions of all: will their cafeteria serve edible food, and if so, will they take dining dollars? In honor of the memory of Mike's Papaya, the band now forms the Lawrence A. Wien jungle gym and plays "Yard Shack."
[Play "Love Shack"]
The University recently had to cancel many student functions because of an unexpected flood in Alfred Lerner Hall. The flood was caused by a LionPAC stunt in which a life-sized cardboard cutout of Edward Said was placed in front of an automatically flushing urinal for several days. The crisis has Lerner architect Bernard Tschumi unexpectedly delighted. "In fact," he says, "the flooded ramps only add to the neon blue-enhanced, Neptunian motif running throughout the building. Lerner Hall is now the post-modern, post-apocalyptic, aquatic wasteland of the 21st century that I always envisioned." The band would like to point out the uncanny resonance of Tschumi's remarks with the premise of the unquestionably inspiring, early '90s Kevin Costner-epic: WATERWORLD. It would appear then that, in designing Lerner, Tschumi had a model to follow for his own production of a multi-million dollar debacle that would earn him universal scorn and derision. Nonetheless, the Administration has been quick to co-opt the potential benefits of the flood in Lerner, characteristically attempting to obscure the idiocy behind all of its projects. Indeed, the flood did prove a sure bet to shorten the otherwise interminable lines at Café 212 and Ferris Booth Commons. However, students had a hard time believing Athletic Director Dr. Jonathan Reeves' claim that the new Lerner would help prepare them for the swim test. In honor of all elemental purges of architectural blights, the band now forms G.W. Bush drowning in a Potomac flash flood and plays "Enter Aquatic Blast."
[Play "Enter Sandman"]
The band would like to take a moment to congratulate the nation's 43rd President, George Walker Bush. The President-Elect bragged about the first positive achievement of his administration during last night's historic acceptance speech. After receiving a congratulatory gift of a PlayStation 2 from the Japanese Prime Minister, Bush spurred a rally on the NASDAQ by making positive comments about the latest Sony video golf title, "Tiger's Grand Waikiki Challenge III." Public reaction, however, has been mixed, as a raft full of Gay refugees from Miami Beach was turned at the shores of Haiti by the struggling nation's Immigration bureau. But after 36 days of confusion, it's become fairly obvious that the country's most cuddly functional illiterate is going to be able to lead about as effectively as Marcus Camby can play center. The last month of at-times unwatchable CNN coverage could have been avoided if we'd followed a plan devised by the University Political Science professor Nolan McCarty: Let George do it. That's right: United States President George Rupp. Why, he's got something for everybody! His ability to generate and misspend huge amounts of cash will make any tax-and-spend liberal happy, while his commitment to Ethnic Studies should warm the heart of any neo-fascist alienated by today's compassionate conservatives. And aside from the fact that he's a raving alcoholic, the man is positively scandalproof. Come on, seniors! Are you better off than you were four years ago? That's what we thought. George Rupp: the Teflon president for a non-stick age. In honor of Enhancin'-and-Enlargin' our way to the 21st century, the band now forms an executive order to move Tax Day up a month for all new taxpayers and plays "Shit On Me."
[Play "Take on Me"]
Well, that's all for us tonight. But before we go, here's a few study hints for that big Orgo exam tomorrow:
KCR, or Potassium Chromate, is used to enhance the pigment in dyes, while KCR, or Columbia's radio station, is used to enhance the self-esteem of effete jazz snobs.
6.02 x 10^23 is Avogadro's number, while 4-2825 is Rupp's number. No, really. Call it. Say hello. He might invite you over to the residence to knock back vodka tonics. He does that quite a lot, you know.
If your litmus paper turns blue, it means the solution is a base.
If your litmus paper turns red, it means the solution is an acid.
If your litmus paper makes the walls breathe as your eyes go BLAM! while the sun sets behind the swirling fluorescent kaleidoscope of Fruity Pebbles in the endless chain of karma sucking you up like the last piece of lint in the great belly button called Earth, it means YOU'RE on acid.
[March out to Raw]
{Historical Notes: This script, written for the Orgo Night in response to the Great Crisis of
2000 (in which the Library administrators futilely attempt to snatch Orgo Night from Our
Heroes), was enjoyed by a crowd of roughly 300 people in the reading room. However,
some freaking yahoo pulled the fire alarm halfway through the show and the band was
forced to finish at Van Am Quad. Ultimately, it proved a successful night, complete with
a bang-up show/toilet paper shower in Barnard Quad. - Thomas Berman, December 15, 2000}