I love horror movies. I can’t tell you how many times I have seen a scantily-clad college co-ed running for her life faster than Usain Bolt yet still somehow being caught by the killer. The skankatrons hop fences, run several hundred yards through corn fields, fly planes to other countries, even run all the way from one room to an adjacent room and shut the door. Yet inexplicably, the killer suddenly appears directly in front of the co-ed and subsequently kills her.
This got me thinking, if these serial killers can cover such vast distances with little to no effort, then wouldn’t they also make excellent Olympic runners? Hear me out: if we could train them out of their little “brutally decapitating anyone within reach” problem, they would dominate all track and cross country competitions.
Just think about it. You’re a genetically-engineered runner from… let’s say Kenya, and you’re ready for the one-mile run in the Olympics. You confidently look to your left and see several world class runners stretching in their short-shorts and jerseys all ready to run like Forrest Gump. You got this; no big deal. You look to your right and see an imposing seven-foot figure built like a dump truck wearing faded jeans, worker’s boots, leather gloves, a ripped-up jacket, and a bloody hockey mask. Everyone lines up, and the moment is tense. The starting gun cracks and you sprint ahead while Jason – his number “13” written in blood casually blowing in the wind – begins to saunter forward. One lap, two laps, three laps pass, and, to no one’s surprise, you’re still in first! You quickly glance backwards to see how far ahead you are, and when you snap your head back around, Jason’s torso meets your face as he stands there giving you a cold, blank stare that gives your bowels a certain… incontinence. He has already finished the race in 3 minutes 13 seconds, a full 30 seconds faster than the world record. Another solid win for the USA. You see this, weep openly, vow to never compete again, become an alcoholic, catch syphilis, develop jaundice, slit your own Achilles tendon, and die alone.
That’s why I believe that we, as a nation, should rally together in support of our serial killers as runners. I imagine there might be a few legal speed bumps when they inevitably kill every spectator at a few events, but once that is all ironed out it will be clear sailing (for us at least) and gold medals galore! Conceivably, we can keep this up for millennia since serial killers never seem to die – although further studies are still required. So, in this humble reporter’s opinion, here’s looking forward to the future, and Team Jason for Summer Olympics 2012! Let the screaming… I mean cheering… yes… let the cheering begin.
Killing and Cardio: They Were Born for This
A Halloween Mad-Lib
So I headed out to the party dressed as a sexy (noun). But then I saw some (Derogatory noun) wearing the exact same (animal) ears as me. Well, as you know, I don’t take that (Swear word). So, I marched right up to her and I said “Hey, I’m the only (Swear word) (Noun) in this (Adjective) party!” And then I (Verb ending in “ed”) her in the face! And all she said back was (Animal noise). Some guy dressed as a (Adjective) (Occupation) came to break up the fight. He kept shouting “Whoa, thats my pet (Animal) you’re fighting!” Anyway. at that point I (Color)+ed out, and I woke up in a police (Noun) and I’ve been charged with animal (Type of crime) and public (Noun ending in “-Unkeness”)
Haunted rambling
There is a dorm located in the perfect center of campus, with its own sand volleyball court, shady trees, cozy single rooms and dining center—which no one knows about. This dorm is McTyeire, home to foreign exchange students, squirrels without tails (truth), a confused hoard of Spanish immigrants and me, a Russian and European studies major with a love for only having to walk downstairs to get breakfast. Now I know what you’re thinking: “Sign me up for next year! I love convenient food and freaky looking squirrels!” But be warned, like a padded bra, not everything is as it first seems. So far this year my air conditioning, heating, showers, and Internet have all broken, for weeks at a time. Even a metal toilet paper holder in McTyeire has fallen off its wall and wounded my foot (there is a scar, people).
Our center spread (pgs 4-5) this issue is Halloween themed and has a special section on haunted places around campus to avoid. However, the most haunted building on campus was not actually included, as you may have already concluded, this building is McTyeire. Many occupants of McTyeire take on pseudonyms to avoid the ghost (I for instance also go by Masha, маша if you will), however, nothing seems to deter his dastardly work. The work of the ghoul of McTyeire is fiendish and diabolical, but mostly it is inconvenient.
So far this year I have been having a difficult time thinking of what to fill this space with. Conveniently, the last two issues I could fudge creativity by talking about our publishing changes or plugging our new website (<shameless> www.theslant.net!! <shameless/> ). Convenience has driven me to writing about obvious topics for this column like convenience has driven you to buying your toothpaste for twice what its worth from the munchie mart. However, now in a remarkable twist of fate, inconvenience has inspired me.
Haunted places around Vandy
Your old room in the commons is haunted by the ghost of your virginity. It’s still there and freaking out all of the new freshies.
Confederate Memorial House. ‘nough said.
Library lawn is haunted by the ghost of Harold Stirling Vanderbilt. The ghost hasn’t moved in a few decades, and some have begun to think it is simply an old statue, but that’s exactly what he wants you to think.
The library is haunted by the ghost of happiness, youth and joy. If you listen closely, you can still hear the grad students lamenting the loss.
Coincidentally, the ghost of Cornelius Vanderbilt, great grandfather of Harold Stirling, resides between Kissam and Kirkland, frozen forever after getting plastered one night.
The Kissam dorms themselves are haunted by the monster under the bed. Or wait, maybe that white apparition is actually just mold.
Other easily spotted ghosts include the ghost of Fred, the miniature man who can often be spotted atop the stairs by Stevenson. After one student excitedly brought a Medusa head to class, he’s been writhing in pain there ever since.
Stevenson center is haunted by the ghosts of a thousand students who got lost trying to figure out that rubick’s cube of a building. They are now doomed to forever roam the halls at night, asking everyone they see, “Hey do you know where room 2312 is?”
Your walk home from the party is haunted by a ghost which is always right behind you, but ducks behind a bush whenever you turn around. (And you thought you were just paranoid!)
Frat row is haunted by a ghost that makes all who wander there forget things. Things like tests looming on the horizon, papers that need to get written, and the concept of human dignity.
Each house in the commons is haunted by its own “House Ghost,” further cementing the idea that the entire commons system is ripped off from Harry Potter.
Furman: the German and Slavic Languages department is here. That’s scary enough.
Olin is not just where engineers go to die, it’s actually where they have died. Beware the fourth floor.
When asked “Who you gonna call?” Chancellor Nick Zeppos enthusiastically responded “Ghostbusters!!” but on further reflection retracted this statement and instead decided to contact the proper local authorities.
When asked “Who you gonna call?” Dean of the Commons Frank Wcislo responded “the police if you don’t get out of my house.” Because of this, the third floor of the Commons Center remains haunted and unoccupied.
That creepy inflatable mascot we have at football games is actually the ghost of the real Mr. C.
Drunk or Zombie?
What is disheveled, stumbles around and indiscriminately desires flesh? Hint: they want you to join their masses. It’s either a zombie or a drunken horny fratstar.
Every Halloween, we zombie hunters are presented with a problem: how can we tell the difference between a drunken Vandy student and a real flesh-eating zombie? Both tend to have their clothing ripped off by the groping fingers of the mindless. Sure, I suppose we COULD ask them, but what if they are dedicated actors or mutated super-zombies? Come on now, let’s be serious here.
In the wake of such inspirational documentaries like Zombieland and Zombie Strippers, we must remain vigilant against the threat of the undead. If in doubt, blow off their heads. Their mouths look bloody and they look ashen? Gone. They stumble around and moan? Kablam! You stumble? BOOM! Let’s get over ourselves—we have a world to save.
However, we also have to show restraint. Just because your friend snobbishly one-ups your own knowledge of zombies doesn’t give you a legally-authorized reason to shoot them. In fact, none of the reasons I present are exactly legal. Don’t worry though: the end is going to be tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next day. But just like any other apocalyptic prophet, you should trust me: it’s obviously happening soon.
A key element of our protective anti-zombie strategy is that no one dress like the undead this Halloween. First of all, we don’t want any unnecessary deaths. Second, this prevents you from dressing as Edward from Twilight to get laid, which will only work with 13 year-olds. Finally—and this is most important—I want to be the only zombie on campus this year.
That is all. Over and out.
Vandy Vans Extend Hours for Halloween
In the spirit of Halloween and a budget surplus, VSG proudly announced yesterday that Vandy Van hours will be extended to include the ‘Walk of Shame’ period (7-9 AM) this upcoming weekend.
This special route will include stops at each of the Commons houses (as opposed to the normal stops of merely Ingram and North), as well as the back doors of Branscomb; alongside newly tinted windows on the vans to ensure complete privacy and complimentary makeup and mirror use for students to un-dishevel themselves on the ride home.
“With the absurd amount of money raised at Homecoming and our concern for the welfare of Vanderbilt students, this just seemed like the right thing to do,” a VSG officer said. “We’re very excited to further provide services to our student body and further coddle the freshmen.”
Attempting to legitimize this proposition to the administration, said officer laid out VSG’s main talking points: “This is an issue of health as well as dignity. It’s late fall and the weather’s cold – twenty minute walks barely dressed are an incubation ground for illness. Furthermore, these ‘Walks of Shame’ irreparably damage a lot of people’s reputations, and paired alongside the Halloween costumes of today.. the results would be disastrous.”
General student response to this proposition was overwhelmingly positive, freshmen girls of questionable morals are especially excited. “Now I can wear my six inch stilettos and corset and go totally all-out for my costume and not have to worry about getting home from wherever (hopefully Towers!) the next morning. Thanks a lot VSG!” one such girl said.
Some members of the administration at first weren’t as pleased. “Sparing these students the embarrassment of facing the repercussions of their actions does them no favor,” one senior administrator lamented. After taking into consideration how poorly large numbers of half dressed, sloppy girls traipsing across campus Sunday morning would reflect upon the school to alum and prospies, though, the following statement was issued: “If we were to give them a test in trigonometry and a test in dignity, I suppose we’d rather them fail the test in trigonometry.”
