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SPORTS!
Check it out. Big game day today. Water
Polo, coming off a huge win, or rather bloodbath, yesterday, has another game
today, right after school. Roll out of your period 4 classes and head over to
the pool. Remember your ponchos, cause it’s bound to get real wet. After WoPo,
you already know that it’s Knight Time. Grab a quick snack at Ortega’s and head
over to Grom City High School for un partido grande against a school from
Tijuana. Hopefully they know that we play real football in America and don’t
show up in shin guards. Roll on the eye black, get your dungeon tanks,
sacrifice some sixth graders to the knight of whipple chill, and just get
weird.
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Lyrics
Quizzes
Colin Garon sucks, so he didn’t mention
Mr. Davis, Gloriana, Mr. Maycock, and Mr. Rybak (who was very upset) for
getting “I Am the Walrus,” by The Beatles two days ago. Colin still had the
nerve to post “Respect,” which every human on earth identified. However, Mr.
Davis was quick to point out that Otis Redding wrote and sang the original
version of the song, making the one hit wonder Aretha Franklin effectively a
subpar artist. Sorry Colin.
Articles
Free My People!
By: Jack Piegza (Guest Legend) [endorsed by Dan
Forssman and men everywhere]
My
fellow Bishopians, I come to you with a crisis. A situation so
mind-bendingly awful I can barely write this article, but I will push on for
the sake of oppressed thighs everywhere. Let me start from the beginning.
As
I sat attentively in Biology class in the scorching hot science center, I heard
a small voice cry out to me. Then it did it again. This tiny little voice
I heard was screaming out, “Save me! Please save me.” I thought to myself,
“what ever could this poor, subjugated, little creature be?” I realized the
grieving voice was coming from inside of my pants. It was my legs. My
quadzillas were being shackled by the inhumane atrocity of pants, and their
little hearts could barely take it anymore. In the midst of the warmest time of
the year in La Jolla, my money-makers were not only trapped inside a classroom,
but were also imprisoned in the deep dark confines of my khaki pants.
Balderdash I say!
In
a community as “open-minded” as The Bishop’s School for Boys and Girls, why is
it that we continue to condone thigh-abuse? Thighs are second-class
citizens, kept beneath a layer of Lands End’s smothering cotton. They
continually look up at a glass ceiling through which they cannot pass. Except
this glass ceiling is covered by khakis. They don’t even have a killer view
from their horrid prison. Our poor legs sweat it out in the darkness, but I say
it is time for them to see the light!
On
top of these physical horrors, Bishop’s is also inspiring gender segregation by
implying that the men wear the pants in every relationship. I will not put up
with this. As our nation, our society, moves along the arc of moral justice,
why does Bishop’s lag behind? Why do we profess such high morals and values
while subliminally placing women in subordinate and subservient roles? I will
not put up with this. Three inches above the knees? Why is that a rule made
solely for women? We are all better than this bigotry. We must move past it.
My
fellow Bishop’s students, a revolution is upon us. A revolution so
radical, so monumental, so mind-bendingly awesome, it will put Che Guevara and
George Washington to shame. This is not your ordinary
revolution. Nay, this one that is far more practical. This is one
that will have far more long-lasting consequences. This is a revolution that
could release you from the tyranny of the poorly air-conditioned Science Center
and pasty mid-winter legs. This revolution I speak of is the shorts
revolution. The Chubbies Revolution.
As
the great philosopher Brick Tamland once said, “I would like to extend to you
an invitation to the pants party.” I would like to invite you to my pants
party. As with any true pants party, pants are optional. If you are a fan of
hot, sweaty, humid conditions, then you are welcome to continue forcing your
thighs lower and lower in the hierarchy. But I, a fan of true democracy, put
forth that the Bishop’s students are given a certain freedom as to the length
of our lower garments. Shorts are the next logical step in the progression in
the Tibial and Fibular Rights Movement. Students and teachers alike, join us as
we dare to sit in the front of the bus, the bus whose destination is Shorts
City.
I
have a dream. A dream that, one day, I can walk thigh in thigh without having
to bypass the oppressive barriers that are khakis. A dream that shins and
calves alike can breath the fresh air after being framed and imprisoned for a
crime they didn’t commit. A dream that we can look past what society tells us
is a good and proper uniform, and look to the students, the people who count,
and allow them the freedom and responsibility to wear shorts. A dream that
dreams aren’t just dreams, but are rather accomplishments. Join me in my quest
for SHORTS!
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