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The Carletonian

The Carletonian

The Carletonian

V-Day Thoughts from Carls of Yesteryear

<play between words is a lot like sex ... take out one of your favorite poems and read it. Why do you like it? How does it work? Each autonomous word is meaningless but when juxtaposed in that oh-so-special way, the words, their rhythmic patterns, flexible lengths, uncertain pauses, tender and brusque consonants and seductive vowels, results in an epiphany, climax ... an orgasmic joy which lasts for about as long as it takes to put the poem away. Then you’re left with a little trace, reminiscence, sensation and smile everytime you think about the poem.
– Joon-Ho Yu, 1993

Valentine’s Day will begin on Friday morning when everyone will be stuffing his or her love interest’s boxes with flowers. Flowers will probably sell out quickly, so after 11 a.m. all the sly lovers on campus will swipe the unclaimed roses and switch them to their own beautiful baby’s boxes. One or two in their haste will forget to change the card – that means no kissy-kissy on Saturday, so watch out!
Speaking of the lip-lock, on Saturday Sayles Hill is going to be the place for making out for all the couples with roommates. Especially upper Sayles. You thought that one couple was bad, but on VDay … whoa boy, just try to find a free couch. For all the east-siders, you better get to the little room beside the Myers smoking lounge early. Fortunately for the ground crew, it will be too cold for Mai Fete. For all the frosh – a piece of advice. Get a campus job with security, become an actor or delcare a major in studio art. See, all those playahs get keys to the buildings that get locked at night. Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s no place sexier – and more alluringly dangerous – than bumping and grinding on the Nourse Little Theater stage or the Photolab floor.
– Sir Lovesalot, 1998

The reason I want to boycott Valentine’s Day is that I”m male and will therefore automatically screw this up. I’ve come to accept that having a Y chromosome means being good at watching anything that could remotely be called sports for hours, yet bad at things like Valentine’s Day. The sooner guys accept this, the easier it will be on them. If you just go for the dinner/flowers/candy thing, some will call you “boring” and “standard,” yet if you take her to Medieval Times and eat chicken with your fingers, you’re called “crazy.” It was much easier in grade school when everybody got everyone else a little card and candy.
– Bill Dicks, 1999

Poll: Where to Sex?
20 votes – In the radio studio on Air
19 votes – Dishwasher conveyer belt
16 votes – Altar in the chapel
15 votes – Pool table in Sayles
14 votes – Front lawn of President’s House
13 votes – In the Tunnels
12 votes – At SUMO
11 votes – Study carrols in Live
10 votes – Sayles snack bar
– Chuk Kittredge, 2000

To you dear teacher I address
This lace-trimmed valentine–
They said no and I said yes,
You’re to live with swine.

I won’t bring you an apple,

I won’t bring you a rose,

‘Cause I don’t like the winsome wart
That sits upon your nose.
–Moron and Muck, 1930

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