Dear Mark Twain,
Last week you came back from the dead and tried to snatch my job. Today I’m asking you to kindly board the choo-choo Twain, I’m sending you back to the Dead Poets Society.
I wasn’t exactly hedging on Twain the Rock Johnson making an appearance around these parts any time soon, so naturally this is a bit of a shock.
For starters, do you even fun? Are you familiarized with the cornerstone of the fun page — the boxy, number-based traditional Japanese activity that keeps this very paper alive and thriving? It’s called “Sudoku” and it brings our readership from a few of our grandparents to around eight engineering students.
I’d also like to know a thing or two about your ability to subsist as a 179-year-old human. Will we need to outfit the office with oxygen tanks? What about a defibrillator? Are you capable of choking down pizza three times a week and inhaling beer like it’s air?
Mark Twain, I challenge you to a duel — a hand-to-hand combat-style fight for the coveted position of fun editor and all its shimmering glory. Alley beside the SCC, next Wednesday. You better shape up before I Huckleberry Finnish you OFF! –Emma Cosgrove