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An open letter to Mark Twain

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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

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