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COMMENTARY: You Need to Chill with the School Spirit- OL Captain Leonard Goldstein

Captain Goldstein

Captain Goldstein

Look, I know all you orientation leader applicants want to be an OL, but you need to fucking chill with the school spirit.

Sure, I did nod in approval after finding out that you had been to one whole sporting event. But when you felt it necessary to explain that you tailgate swim and dive meets on the regular, I knew that your school spirit level was an egregious breach of Emory’s proud heritage of apathy, a tradition sewn into the fabric of the university. Back in my day, we wore school colors only after having the admissions department blast Emory sweatshirts onto our Ivy League apparel using tee shirt cannons at close range.

And sure, every freshman girl at Emory thinks for a time that having a Facebook album full of songfest selfies titled “mEMORYz” is original and cool. But the fact that Swoop has been in your last two profile pictures? That’s a psychotic level of school pride, and I’m not sure Orientation as an institution can handle your love for the half-assed-cartoon-eagle we are forced to call our mascot. When I was a freshman, I didn’t write on social media about Emory unless the institution embarrassed itself on a national level or we got rank 20, those were the days.

The insanity has been mounting over the course of the last two hours of interviews. Even if the DUC isn’t as bad as it used to be, the only thing the pretentious orange squeezer juices up is  my rage. I wasn’t emotionally prepared for the in-depth discussion commending Emory for its vegan and gluten-free options with the gravitas of a campaign speech. That’s a level of university pride that just fucking crosses the line. You aren’t a true Emory student until you sullenly stare at every meal like a slightly preppier version of Gordon Ramsey. I truly miss the days when the DUC just served nutrient packs which had one flavor of vitamin-glue. We had no need of sustainable locally-grown initiatives- each carefully made ration was hand-crafted in Wagner’s basement.

The last straw was the saccharine expressions of residence hall loyalty. I know living in Raoul is cool and all, but tearful odes to the “second family” on your floor? Back in my day, all 1000 freshman lived in McTyeire, it was dog-eat-dog and we fucking liked it that way.

Emory as an institution is afflicted with too much school spirit, and you are part of the problem. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to salvage the night and head over to the administration building, the last haven for cynicism on this god forsaken campus.

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