And on the eighth day, God created the Wa's holy Boli

In the beginning, there was Princeton. God looked upon Princeton. Princeton gazed back at God, and voiced its general satisfaction with the state of things. God took a nap, but meanwhile, Princeton began thinking furiously. What did it need? After much deliberation — during which time God finished His nap and rounded off the rest of existence — the answer became clear: a lake.

In due course Princeton arranged for Mr. Carnegie. He was born, matriculated, accumulated, expectorated and finally donated the profoundly necessary lake. Princeton gazed upon the lake and smiled. The lake was good.

But soon Princeton was plagued with doubts. What purpose did it serve on this Earth? Why did God keep avoiding questions about its endowment? (Back then, Princeton was a little self-conscious about its size.) There were also larger issues at stake. Why did God forbid us to eat the Boli of Knowledge?

One day Princeton raised these concerns with God at its bi-eon meeting with the Almighty, just so: "God, why can't we eat the Boli of Knowledge? They even reduced the price so we could afford it with our merely adequate endowment."

The divine response reverberated throughout the universe, yea, even unto the Institute Woods: "Cease thy whining here: See what my Job's like." And, tying one hand behind his back for an extra element of challenge, God made students.

Now at first Princeton did not quite know what to do with its students. It tried putting them in the lake, with silly little unitards and quaint water-craft useless for either commerce or nautical transport. Most of the students left the lake within a week. Princeton tried ignoring them for a while, but the students started living in its buildings and peeing on things when they got drunk. Soon there were so many students dawdling around campus that Princeton had to make an admission office to keep the population down.

Not even the zealous efforts of the admittedly discouraging admission office could stop every student from wandering in the gates. There was nothing for Princeton to do but to create a faculty. Being a proud product of the Lord, Princeton was not about to do this halfway — on the contrary, a most able faculty was crafted. Princeton looked smugly upon its work, and it was good.

But soon the mortals grew bored — the faculty demanded better students, and the students demanded a more interesting faculty. The wailing and gnashing of teeth grew intolerable, and there was nothing for it but to create the vacation. This concept worked quite well for a while, granting a brief respite for Princeton by reminding the students that there was in fact more to the world. (By this time, God had completed his second great earthly edifice, Atlantic City.) Soon, though, the students figured out they could just come back and start peeing on things again, and nothing bad would happen to them. The students seemed to enjoy this lifestyle immensely.

Princeton would try many things to make the students leave, including grades and George W. Bush. Nothing seemed to work. At long last, Princeton realized the only sensible thing to do would be to charge students huge amounts of money to go here. And finally, there was enough money in the endowment to buy the Boli of Knowledge. At first, the Wa employees were unwilling to sell such a highly valued commodity at its reduced price to a mere college. Princeton was adamant, however, and the Boli was bought.

When God saw what Princeton had done, He was furious. (Pundits contend that God had intended to eat the Boli himself later in the evening.) He bellowed forth in great rage and furious anger, just so: "For thy sins Natalie Portman goeth to Harvard!" Princeton was pretty disappointed for a while, but got over it eventually. Princeton ate the Boli of Knowledge, and it was good.

And that, oh children, is why Princeton students think they're so damn smart.

Ed Finn '02 is from Ankara, Turkey.