Has this ever happened to you? You’re out for a stroll with your hubby in Riverside Park, admiring the trees and grass, when suddenly he starts talking about how the trees remind him of this one time he was watching an avant-garde film by some Dutch man whose name you won’t even try to pronounce, where the trees began to laugh and cry all at once, and how that really told him a lot about his soul and how the confines of city life just aren’t for him?
And then, stuffing his hands in his pastel shorts, he starts to tell you about his favorite 17th century Dutch artist, but then he stops to think because there are just so many favorites it’s hard to pick one?
Or maybe, passing by a cheese shop, he just has to pop in and get a slab of his favorite type of Swiss cheese—which is Emmental, the only kind of Swiss he would ever consider eating due to its unique texture and mild, savory taste?
Or does he tote a copy of Infinite Jest to a cafe brunch, where there is no conceivable scenario in which he would get reading done?
Was his Alaska cruise okay, but not as good as his Joseph Conrad-esque sailing trip down the Congo, which inspired him to buy a second vacation home in Africa for when he gets tired of his Malibu beach house?
Does he tell you he’s having a tough time deciding which litigator he wants to help him with his DUI because the last one was all right, but the one who helped him with the bar brawl over a misquoting of Kant got him more in damages?
Does he “dabble” in painting and visit Cape Cod a few times a year to paint the sunset over the sand?
Have you ever seen him genuinely excited while watching a game of golf on TV?
When going a few blocks down the street, does he sometimes take a cab because the urban scent perturbs his sensitive nose?
If yes, then your significant other is probably a pretentious asshole.
In Other News
She is distraught that Joey has not responded to her calls for weeks about his care package and that nice girl from Bacchanal.
You can’t be emasculated by this guy. He’s got a ponytail, 1970s aviator glasses, and pink socks under his L. L. Bean boots.
Sixth Floor: PART OF THE COLUMBIA CS CLUB
Seventh Floor: PROFOUND AND EVERLASTING LONELINESS
Eighth Floor: WRITES FOR SPEC
For your reference, a good rule of thumb for networking is that, if Mo Bamba played in the background for 75% of our conversation, I probably don’t intend to strike up a professional relationship.
“Now, the dipshit’s gone and pissed off Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat of the Woods with the Thousand Young,” Core professor Ricardo Hernandez said.
In his concluding remarks, Bollinger made a surprising revelation: “I have been notified by my ancestors that all lands previously inhabited by the Lenape people have been granted to me, personally.”
Otis Wofford, CC ’22, expressed his discontent with the decision. “Women, men and gender non-conforming folks being a part of the same institution? The social justice warriors are out of control.”
At first we thought our challenges wouldn’t be insurmountable. We thought that with discipline, resolve, and a heavy dose of hard work, Spec would persevere.
But then came the op-eds.
“I’m told at one point, the quiz registered full attendance while only twelve students were in the room,” police chief Marcellus Johnson explained. “Something had to be done.”
“He just looks so thin and pale in his facestagrams that I knew I had to give him his own mother’s medicine: my famous Latkes!” Marsha said.