To be, or like not to be: that is like the question:
Whether ’tis like nobler in the mind to, you know, suffer
The slings and like arrows of outrageous like fortune,
Or to like take arms like against a sea of like troubles,
And by like opposing, you know, end them? To like die: to like sleep;

No more; and I think by a sleep to say we like end
The heart-ache and the like thousand natural you know shocks
That I think flesh is like heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be like wish’d. To like die, to like sleep;

To like sleep: perchance to like dream: ay, there’s the rub I think;
For in that like sleep of, you know, death what dreams may like come
When we have like shuffled off this like mortal coil,
Must I think give us pause, like: there’s the like respect
That, you know, makes like calamity of so like long like… life;

Vandy loves football.
Football does not love Vandy.
Low scores? We’re still smart.

Time to go to class?
Pick up The Slant on your way.
Learn something legit.

Yay, it’s a new year!
Classes starting, it’s Fall time!
Fuck going to class.

In the spirit of the Commons’ reminder poem to first year students about signing up for classes, we thought we’d contribute a few of our own:

Freshmen, Freshmen, don’t forget,
Even when you think your set
For Thanksgiving Break,
For goodness’ sake,
Hide your booze,
You snooze, you lose.

Hear ye, hear ye,
The night ‘tis dark and dreary.
Bitches, find a Vandy Van,
You might have to wait,
In your drunken state,
Or find some dude and spend the night in Kissam.

It is almost December,
So make sure you remember,
To button your coat all the way.
No matter the degrees,
Even if you freeze,
You still have class EVERY DAY.

[by the way, the original goes:

Remember, remember,
This coming November,
Course registration soon starts.
For one-hour courses,
The Commons endorses,
Try Commons seminars]

–Ryan Carr and Lindsay Kramer

Thou still unplaid’d youth of OAR
Thou lost child of N’Sync and Billy Joel
Sylvan rhetorician, who canst thou pronounce
“Sufijan Stevens” and “Sigur Ros”:
What cupid-wing’d does wait in Ray-Ban suspense.
What obscure bands are these? Why listen to drone?
What is the point of the Game, “Namedrop-Obscure-Bands”?
What is “static”, “hiss” and “noise”?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those that no one

Has heard are sweeter for your need in superiority.
Unworthy to the uneducated ear, but, only to your gage-studded one.
(The rings matches the one in your nose)
Fair indie, guitar-strumming, ‘neath the trees
Thy song, nor even the trees can bear to hear;
Bold singer, never, never canst thou listen
To Sean Kingston or Al Greene—yet, you do not repent
Of your banal footwear of loafers and ankle boots,
And that red scarf—not hailing from Arabia—perish.

Sacrifice thy horn-rimmed glasses
And thigh-quelching corduroys
Fair attitude! O naked faux-hawk
Unveil from the straw fedora.
With soap and shower, thou
Bathed from your inventory of band tees

shalt remain among us

“Plaid is Rad, Rad is Plaid”—that is all
Ye know on earth, not music.