Well, hello there, youngsters. I find myself labeled a “Senior” this year. A Senior Citizen, that is, so gather ‘round and listen to some stories about the good ol’ days. I for one am outraged by the decay I see everywhere around me.
To begin with, I wasn’t lactose intolerant as a youth. Drink your milk now, kids, because there may come a day when you can’t drink it anymore for fear that your classmates will finally figure out that your name rhymes with “diarrhea.”
While we’re discussing first names, I just want to get one thing established right away: I’m clearly the superior Jantz Funnies Editor. The Editor-in-Chief, if you will, although I’ll admit that if this editor were actually in The Chief, she would be surrounded by dairy and highly uncomfortable.
Anyway, back when I was young and filled with hope and milk, the world was a lot different. Back in the day, Convocation was on Monday and Chapel was on Friday as God commanded.
Plus, we didn’t have all of these ridiculous technologomagadgets. Those were the days before everyone around me was iLiterate.
Kids these days spend three meals a day eating upscale cuisine at the dining establishment known as “The Rott.” Man, some of these good-for-nothing punks still call it “Westlawn Dining Hall,” and I hear some of them have even tried the cucumber water.
On a related note, the average length of hair among Funnies editors went down by about one Rapunzel last week. A co-editor, and incidentally, fifth cousin, and also incidentally, brother of mine, didn’t believe me when I informed him of my plans to cut off all of my hair. He offered to let me sculpt his hair if I followed through. So, kids, the moral of the story is that you should be careful when you’re making deals with the devil/your sister, because you will end up looking ridiculous.
Ridiculously dashing, that is. I’m here to let you know that you, like David, can get a limited-edition haircut, carefully sculpted by yours truly, at the low, low price of [free food]. Ears not guaranteed to remain attached.
My recent forays into the field of hair removal have allowed me to finally answer that hallowed question asked of Seniors since the days of yore: “So, what are you doing when you graduate?”
I’d like to open a hair-cutting salon, but my arthritis is starting to kick in.