Known for the holidays

All rise for the Honorable Chairman.

Thank you. Thank you all so much for standing one... last... time.

Is this really true, Duke? Have we come so quickly and irreversibly to the end of another semester, the first one that we've been able to spend together?

The answer is, as you may have figured out, yes.

We've been through a lot together, mi amigos. The Loop closing earlier, our football team disappointing us later, the new ACES causing the student body to burn Larry Moneta in effigy... it's been a very good year.

In my never-ending quest to give my professors reason to fail me, I had plenty of time this week to think of how I wanted to frame my final anonymous column. Write about all the things that happened this Fall? Pssh, please. Write about all the things that every Duke student should do before they graduate? Talk about clichéd. Write a poem about the Christmas season for all you nostalgic Dukies to enjoy? Booooorrriiinnnggg...

Which puts it right up my alley.

So, without further ado, I present to you my exam vision quest... otherwise known as "Mr. Chairman's Opus."

Two Locopops, and a C+ in-

Hold it, hold it. That's not it at all. I don't know how that got in there. I apologize that you had to hear my terrible singing voice... but now, without further ado, the genuine article (pun intended):

'Twas the night before exams

When all through the quad

Not a creature was stirring, except Ryan Todd

The stockings were hung on door handles with care

In hopes that some roommates would know to beware

The students were nestled all snug in their rooms

While Leachman and Bonk stayed up plotting their dooms

When out from the Blue Zone, there came such a clatter

I sprang from my loft to see what was the matter

Then what to my sleep-deprived eyes should appear

But a gaggle of people all covered in beer

With speakers of such immense size and such weight

I knew in an instant it must be Tailgate

More rapid than freshmen to section they came

I couldn't help notice them greeting by name

"Yo, Dasher! Sup Dancer? Oh Prancer, you vixen.

Don't vomit! Hey stupid, look yonder, he's blitzen!"

Their costumes were truly a sight to behold

Needless to say, I was totally sold

So out to the first lot with great haste I made

In hopes Mr. Brightside might soon be played

I threw on my hat and my T-shirt that read

"Don't cry for Elvis, he's not really dead"

To follow the ruckus I ran from my dorm

Hoping I too could soon be in rare form

I went straight to my work, I spoke not a word

And shotgunned with somebody dressed as Big Bird

In no time at all I became rather merry

My cheeks were like roses, my nose like a cherry

In the midst of this all someone rang up my celly

And it quivered all over like a bowlful of jelly

I wondered aloud as to who it could be

'Til I opened my eyes and what did I see?

It had been but a dream, I awoke to the ringing

Nearly 30 whole minutes the phone had been singing

Running late to my test, I yelled in my wake

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a great break.

Now, I know that some of you have made a game out of guessing who I am from week to week. To you, I say simply: Get a life. To the rest of you, however, I present a very dramatic, unexpected, altogether world-altering reveal that will quite possibly shake you to your very core and make you stay up nights as you contemplate that every minor witticism, every tiny, infinitesimal little keystroke in the semester-long history of the Chairman of the Bored was written by none other than the one, the only, the fabulously wonderful...

Whoops, look at the time. I've got another appointment to get to.

Meeting adjourned.

THE CHAIRMAN is taking a hiatus from his normal duties, citing exhaustion and pregnancy. BRETT ARESCO would like to think of some sage words with which to leave you all... but he has to go take a nap. First things first.