Last week, most sophomores either signed into or bickered an eating club. Of those, the majority got into their club of choice. The ones who got hosed will learn that Ivy isn't that cool anyway. So one expects that sophomores – or, as they're called by the Society to Assign Politically Correct Names to Students and Inanimate Objects (SAPS), "Secondyearpeople" – should feel a sense of fulfillment right about now.
But this is not the case. In fact, they feel a little anxious, agitated, maybe even down right sexually frustrated. What has caused this erogenous ennui? The answer: the class of 2000 has been deprived of the one thing that reminds them they're alive – denouncing gay marriage in the chapel. Oh, wait. Sorry. That's the one thing that reminds old, conservative alumni they're alive. Actually Sophomores are upset because it hasn't snowed yet and they haven't had the chance to run in the nude Olympics, 1997-98.
In all fairness, I should also point out that the lack of snow has prevented a few members of the classes of '99 and '98, also known as "The Four Year Club," from running. But their ennui has less to do with sexual frustration and more to do with being losers in general.
A number of Princeton organizations have tried to figure out what exactly has happened to our snow. Some people believe that not only do the new railings in Blair Arch keep people from slipping in wet or icy conditions, but that they are so unbelievably ugly that they actually prevent snowfall altogether. The Campus Crusade for Christ recently accosted me in the shower, trying to get me to read a book called "Mere Nudity" by C.S. Lewis, but the ink ran when the pages got wet, so I'm not sure what that was all about. And the housing office has pinpointed a lack of snow due to the heat given off by excess lighting used by students trying to study during reading period last month. The fire inspector will therefore propose to prohibit the use of all electricity during reading period and finals.
It seems that the real reason we haven't had enough snow to warrant drunken groping in public, however, has been tropical storm El Niño. But so far, only the Princeton Tory has directly addressed the problem of El Niño, suggesting in a recent article that the best way to thwart a tropical storm with a Spanish sounding name originating somewhere near California is tougher immigration policy. Personally, I don't see what snow has to do with drunken groping – you don't see snow in the tap room of T.I., do you?
I'm from Chicago, where we had plenty of snow over winter recess, but none of us ran naked. I think that might be because in the Midwest we have a different remedy for sexual frustration which is that instead of playing weird sex games in the snow we actually have sex. And my friends from New York City and Los Angeles didn't get any snow, but everyone knows that people from New York and L.A. grope each other drunk or not, and certainly independent of precipitation. Princeton sophomores, however, seem destined to have their sex lives ruled by El Niño.
But say, who needs the nude Olympics? We can find other cool things to do naked that don't involve snow. Like for instance, while I'm writing this editorial, I'm naked. Naked as Sin. You have no idea how naked I am right now. Naked, naked, naked. Ironically, as I look outside my window this morning, I see that it's snowing. I hope it sticks; I'm naked, but I could be nakeder.