You don’t deserve my Chronicle Op-Ed

You don’t deserve my Chronicle Op-Ed. My opinions on Duke’s institutional policies on how Duke should approach Greek life are far too intelligent for you. What I have to say about the Israel-Palestine conflict is beyond your understanding. In fact, my comments on wealth, the Duke social scene, or even politics cannot even be comprehended by your everyday mind. I wish I could share with you my radical, nuanced opinion on what should become of Greek life on campus, but your tiny brain would not understand. For everyone else here, getting accepted to Duke was an accomplishment; for me, it was a blip eclipsed by my acceptances to Harvard and Yale, and made entirely inconsequential by the sagacious thoughts passing through my brain at any given second.

Frankly, Duke’s humdrum problems bore me. The answers to your questions of how wealth inequality impacts students, responses to graduate staff stepping down, or the CHP plant are simple to me. I wish I could share them in an article, but where you see a linear scale of arguments, I’m capable of seeing the issue in a spectra of all possible viewpoints. In issues like K-ville opening or closing you see two sides. If I were to try to explain how I see this issue, I would say I visualize it in four dimensions and can see each point in those four dimensions as an aspect to this problem and solving for the cumulative quantum superposition of the points provided me the answer. But that would be trivializing my thought process.

I have viewed campus housing in more dimensions than you’re capable of imagining, and have the perfect solution to campus community, but you’re more likely to single-handedly design and fly a ship to the moon than even grasp how I could solve the issues of freshman move-in.

I wish I were able to share my solutions with you all, but until your brains grow 10x in power, I’m embarrassed to even communicate with most of you. Even writing this column, I’ve wasted an amount of time in which I could’ve processed more impressive thoughts than you could accomplish in your entire lifetime. Irregardless, to bring you a little closer to my level of intelligence, I’ll close this column and grace you all with the very beginning of my advanced thoughts on K-ville: LMo was right.

Senior Drives Freshmen to East

They just seemed so helpless as we left WU together that night, and I didn’t know enough about their culture to know if they’d survive the downpour. Are JUULs even waterproof? Or are they like toasters? Will they get electrocuted if they use them in the water? I couldn’t risk it.

“Any freshmen want a ride back to East?”

I was immediately showered in a chorus of “yeet”s, “ily”s, and “you’re the GOAT!!”s, so—emboldened—I led the flock out to my car.

Four grateful (?) freshmen piled in. I turned the key, and one of my mixed CDs from 2012 began playing Passion Pit’s “Take a Walk.” Freshmen #1 and #3 exchanged a look in my rearview mirror. Noticing their discontentment, I chuckled nervously and asked if they had any song requests.

Freshman#1: “Can you play a Big Booty Mix?”

Freshman#2:  “Oh, yeah! Do 14!”

Freshman#3: “No, 11 is the best, and everyone knows it.”

Freshman#4: “Agreed. You have to play 11.”

Scrambling to hook my phone up to the aux cord, I pulled up Spotify and typed “Big Booty” in the search bar. Freshman#1 looked over at my screen and rolled her eyes.

“They’re not on Spotify.” She took a drag of her JUUL, the vapor-to-air ratio in my car getting greater every second.

“Oh, really? Apple Music?”

“Ew, that’s beat. They’re on SoundCloud,” she huffed with an exasperated sigh.

Is it possible to suffocate on fruit-flavored vapor?

“Oh, I don’t have SoundCloud. Any other requests?” I racked my brain for relevant artists. “Billie Eilish?”

You could no longer smell the “fresh linen” aroma of my Bath & Body car freshener over the funky fumes getting swirled around by the air vents.

Freshmen#1-4 began chanting, “Big Booty 11! Big Booty 11!”

With the dizzying mango vapor filling the car, I reached for the button to put the windows down. A manicured hand shot out to hold down the child locks. I was trapped. The sticky, sweet “smoke” penetrated my lungs and obscured my vision. Through the fog, the menacing chanting continued: “Big Booty 11! Big Booty 11! BIG BOOTY ELEVEN!”

What. Have. I. Done.

Duke Admin is using Duke Dining to turn us into sheeple

Vincent Price is the 10th president of Duke University.
Vincent Price’s initials are V.P.
You know who else is VP?
Larry Moneta.

Larry Moneta ordered a vegan muffin from Joe Van Gogh last year.
Where do vegans go?
Hell is a good guess, but no.
They go to Sprout, whose food is close enough to Hell’s.

Some signature items from Sprout are mock chicken and avocado toast.
Mock chicken has 11 letters.
Avocado toast has 12 letters.
Guess what has 13 letters?
That’s right, Vincent E. Price.

Vincent E. Price has clear relations with the Duke Dining system, or at least with vegetarians.
But that’s not enough to prove causation.
We must investigate deeper in the dining system, even into the depths of hell.
Who runs hell’s kitchen?
That’s right, Gordon Ramsay.

Gordon Ramsay is blond and angry.
You know who else is blond and angry?
Tallman Trask III.
Tallman Trask ran over a parking attendant in 2016.

2016 = 2^5 * 3^2 * 7, which has 36 factors, which is nothing relevant to the theory, I’d just thought I’d show off my math major skills.
However, the sum of the prime factors of 2016 is 12.
Multiply that by 3 (which is the number of people Tallman Trask has hit with his car this week) and you get 36.
We subtract the life of one parking attendant to get 35.
35 is the number of restaurants Gordon Ramsay currently owns.

There is another tie between Tallman Trask and Gordon Ramsay, suggesting major ties between our dining system and external operations.
We are getting close to proving this, but we need one more vital connection to complete this trinity.
Trinity College is a school at Duke.
Trinity has 7 letters, which is not a multiple of 3, but that is for separate discussion.
If you thought that this bit about Trinity was going anywhere, you’re really dumb. You must be a Trinity student.

What else is vital to Duke?
Research, but not when it’s fabricated.
According to NPR, Duke paid the U.S. government 112.5 million dollars for falsifying studies and data.
The whistleblower behind this bust was Joseph Thomas, who said “a Duke researcher fudged data to help the university win and keep grants from the National Institutes of Health and the Environmental Protection Agency.”

Fudge is a type of dessert.
You know what technically counts as a dessert?
Muffins.
Larry Moneta ordered a vegan muffin from Joe Van Gogh last year.
Now do you see “The Loop” in my reasoning? Flawless.

Larry Moneta’s incident caused Joe Van Gogh to leave Duke.
The whistleblower’s name was Joseph Thomas.
He must have been a real square.
The number of letters in Joseph Thomas squared is 144.
The number of letters in Joe * The number of letters in Van * The number of letters in Gogh = 36.

The difference between the two is 108.
But we must adjust for tax. 108 * 1.0475, the tax rate in north carolina, is 113.13.
That’s odd.
The product of the odd factors from the prime factorization of 2016 is 63, and we subtract 0.63 from 113.13 to get 112.5, the exact amount in millions that Duke paid to the US government.

Larry Moneta is not only tied to the EPA and NIH, but he is also secretly tied to the U.S. government.
We bring our three conclusions together, but in a different light.

Sheep graze on grass and eat vegetables. Vegetarians eat vegetables and whatever the fuck is in mock chicken.
Through Vincent Price, we are getting food similar to a sheep’s diet.

The government feeds us information through the news. Duke Dining feeds us.
Through Larry Moneta, our food is being controlled by governmental agencies, trying to turn us into sheeple.

Gordon Ramsay famously said on Hell’s Kitchen, “Where’s the Lamb Sauce?”
And now through Tallman Trask, he’s clearly trying to pour that lamb sauce on us.

From these findings, we conclude that Duke Dining is attempting to turn us into sheeple.

And if you combine the initials of the National Institutes of Health and the Environmental Protection Agency, you get NIHEPA. When rearranged, they spell HAPEIN.
This is a very poor rendition of the word “happening.”
Which leads us to conclude that THIS IS HAPPENING.

To Duke admin, we can only demand the answers and the truth of what’s in our food.

#LambSauce

The Real Reason Duke Killed the Light Rail: Tallman Trask III

I got the email from President Price a few weeks ago. He said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “Fuck Durham, amirite?”

Now, the Duke administration has plenty of reasons to hate Durham. Without Durham, Duke could flourish as the Ivory Tower it was meant to be. We wouldn’t have to deal with discussions about race, poverty, and the responsibility of North Carolina’s 3rd largest employer to support its workers. But the Light Rail is flawless. It would’ve created jobs, it would have run on sustainable energy, it would have provided necessary transportation to over 26,000 people a day. And sure, Duke students wouldn’t have used it (see Bull City Connector) but goddamn it if it doesn’t hurt my rich white savior complex to see it go down like this.

Price’s excuses just didn’t add up. “The railroad would be really shaky and that’s not good for hospitals.” But the Light Rail goes by UNC’s hospital too, and they raised no complaints. GoTriangle even offered to run the train on an elevated platform over Erwin Road, at considerable expense to the taxpayer. No, there had to be some other reason. So I started poking around. I started asking questions nobody else wanted to ask.

Questions like – what’s so special about Erwin Road?

Everyone in the Duke Administration wants to focus on it. Every time GoTriangle tried to bend over backwards for Duke, there was always a new excuse on why it wouldn’t work–on Erwin Road. Tallman Trask III even suggested in 2013 that the Light Rail would work, as long as it bulldozed through the historically black Crest St neighborhood instead.

A lot of people don’t know that Trask is Duke’s official Light-Rail liaison. He was one of the three, among President Price and Health Affairs Chancellor Eugene Washington, to sign the letter that killed the Light Rail. It goes further than that, though. Trask has been trying to shoot the plan down since the late 1990s, when it was first formed.

I went to Erwin Road late one night to reveal the truth. I had a hunch about what I would find, so I brought a shovel. At the corner of Erwin and Fulton, I started digging. I dug wide and shallow, covering as much ground as possible. It wasn’t long before I found the first finger, the nail sticking up through the dirt. Then I found another. Soon I realized I was in the middle of a mass grave–some of the bodies in the first stages of decomposition, others picked clean by maggots until they were just gleaming white bones.

The first time Trask got wide media attention was in 2014 when he hit a black woman with his car and drove off. Was anyone really surprised by this incident? His name is Tallman Trask III. That is the most comically evil white person name anyone has ever been christened with. Does anyone seriously believe this is the only time this has happened?

The unbelievable truth is that Tallman Trask has been running over black people (in his car) ever since he came to Duke 25 years ago. He’s been hiding the bodies, right on Duke’s campus, because he knows he’ll never be challenged. His parking permit lets him go anywhere.

The Light Rail posed two problems for Trask. First, construction on Erwin would reveal him as a killer; Trask probably wouldn’t lose his job, but Duke’s US News Ranking would plummet. Second, more people taking the train means fewer people walking to work–which means fewer people for him to slaughter with the fender of his shiny white Cadillac. So, backed into a corner, Tallman Trask III made the only choice he could. He killed the Light Rail like he killed all those innocent Durhamites buried out on Erwin Road.

Freshman meets really nice guy at Shooters

Bright lights and an air of sweat set the scene as I interviewed Freshman Anna Gates. “Everytime We Touch” was blasting, but we were able to exchange words in bits and pieces. Anna had just met a “really nice guy” on the Shooters II dance floor. Mere seconds ago, he had been grinding with her until they started swapping spit. I witnessed what she was now describing as “the best moment of [her] life” from just inches away. I’ve seen a lot of Shooters makeouts over three years, but something was special about this one. I set out to discover what made this makeout session different. After he started to walk away, I went over there to ask her about him. In between the hook of “Tipsy” I heard “SNu,” “really nice,” and maybe “Goldman Sachs.” One couldn’t quite be sure because at that point her friends grabbed her and started screaming excitedly.

You could still make out the gleam of his gold Rolex as he walked toward the bar. Anna’s eyes followed him, and I pushed forward with the interview, but she couldn’t hear me; she was fixated on what her friends were calling “that super hot dude in SNu.” The excitement between her and her friends was so palpable that it was spreading to the rest of the Shooters audience. You could feel the entire dance floor bouncing in excitement that Ms. Gates had found such a nice boy. Her friends speculated that maybe she could even become Mrs. Hot Dude in SNu. Anna was right there with them; she started to speculate that he could’ve been “the one, which would be so” I lost her a little underneath Lil Wayne screaming about big booty bitches, but I think she was noting how “perfect” it would’ve been considering that Miley Cyrus’s 2009 banger “He Could Be The One” was playing when they first started making out.

The poeticism didn’t just come from the music, though. The entire crowd had noted it as faces turned and cringed at just how cheesy this love story was. Even when he first came up to her, he was asking her genuine questions about her major and what her passions were. A real catch. He was guaranteed to be wealthy too.  It was obvious that She needed to lock him down by smushing her face into his and slobbering all over his neck. Congratulations, Anna!

It’s so rare to see a love story like that at Duke, and I’m privileged to have witnessed that and gotten to share it with you.

At press time, Mr. SNu was unavailable for comment, as he was making out with Anna’s roommate in the cage.

The Great James

I remember O-Week. I remember awkwardly shaking the hands of my future classmates as I tried to make myself look as normal as I could, despite everything that my FAC told me about being myself. I don’t remember much other than that. But what I do remember was walking into the Griffith Theatre, and watching some student group performing a skit about “Duke Superheroes.”

Presidents of multiple clubs, 4.0 GPA,  always overloading, and the “got so much money that they put the FLEX in FLEX points” kids were all brought down to reality. They were stressed, tired, and lonely. They were put into perspective. The moral of the story was that everyone experiences struggle and success in their own ways. I believed that too. It gave me comfort. I finally felt like I could belong in a class of perfectionists.

But one man subverted this equal system for me.

And his name is James.

Some say James is the Chuck Norris of Duke, but he’s not. Chuck Norris is the “James of Shitty Western TV Commercials.”

I didn’t know about him until I saw him outside of Twinnie’s – Holy Shit –  this guy was dripping swag. And even though he is the type to work by himself, he’s extroverted and manages to start up a conversation easily with anyone. Meanwhile, I struggle to get off my bed and talk to people at Marketplace, while donning the free Duke sweatshirt I got from the Financial Aid office during O-Week.

He is smart beyond belief. He is all the Ps at once: Pratt, Pre-Med, Pre-Law, and Pretentious. I met James in person during Compsci 201 discussion, and let’s just say that all greens appeared on his screen every time he was coding for APTs. Meanwhile, Big Ola was busy trying to explain trees and how to use Stack Overflow to the rest of the children. I’m not a Pratt student (because I value my own life), but his work from EGR 101 is from another dimension. His team created a device that stimulates the nerves of those with nerve pain, so they can properly move, which they named the Genetic Nerve Operator Causing Comfort, Healing, and Improvement (GNOCCHI).

And don’t get me started about party life. SLG Rush was a breeze for him, he essentially knew everyone before showing up to the parties. He did a keg stand for 75 seconds.

I don’t know what James is doing now, but rumor has it that he’s working on his new proprietary invention: Rider Augmented (by) Mutually Exclusive Nodes (RAMEN). It’s a better version of Rider. The absolute genius. I don’t know why he names his inventions on noodle dishes, but no one at Duke is complaining.

I don’t know how he does it. I don’t know whether or not to be in fear or in awe of him. He is the quintessential Duke dream, someone that comes in and wins at everything,  aces every assignment with ease, and somehow has much more fun than you do at all times. He is the Urban Dictionary definition for “finesse.”

How is this kid real?

The author wishes to dedicate this post to the Duke Memes page for inspiring him to make all of his pitches for this month related to “James,” which annoyed the hell out of the dept of. staff.