Thanksgiving break has come and gone, and now everybody’s back here at school doing whatever the hell else people do at school (I believe they go on Ferris wheels and buy cotton candy, but I might be thinking of carnivals). For those of you who aren’t familiar with it, Thanksgiving is a holiday which celebrates the anniversary of when Christopher Columbus flew down on his miraculous golden boat and made fast friends with the local savages (or Native Americans, as we call the savages today). Then Christopher Columbus created a time machine into the present to direct the film version of Harry Potter, which can currently be seen in theaters around the nation. I haven’t seen it yet, but I know it has something to do with Coca-Cola and worshipping cults.

On an unrelated topic , I would like to purchase the soundtrack to my alarm clock. It is by far the best sound that science has created. Sometimes I’ll set my alarm clock for a minute into the future just so I can hear the melodic sound of it going off. “Beep-beep! Beep-beeeeeep! BEEEEEEEEP!!!!” The rough translation of this sound into English is, “Hey asshole, guess what? It’s time to wake up, you little bastard! You’re such a bastard!” Hey thanks a lot, alarm clock. One day I’m going to get revenge on my alarm clock by randomly sneaking up on it and bashing it with my hand. “Hey alarm clock! Wake the hell up! Oh, wait, what’s that? You don’t like being woken up? That’s what I thought. You little bastard.”

Some people try to trick themselves into getting to class on time by setting their clocks a few minutes ahead, as if they are going to somehow fool themselves into thinking that it’s 8:30 when they know damned well that it’s only 8:25. So they just think to themselves, “Oh, well my alarm clock is fast, so really I have an extra five minutes,” and then they end up arriving at class the same time they would have anyway. So now not only are they late, they also had to do arithmetic.

I don’t think that people should lie to themselves about what time it is by setting their clocks ahead. If you get into the habit of doing that, you’re going to start lowering your gas tank gage to make it seem like you need gas when you really don’t, and changing your bathroom scale to make it seem like you need to lose weight when you really don’t. And then pretty soon you’re going to be living in a magical fantasy world where everything is skewed by your own fanatical perception, and you’re going to stop eating and sleeping and you’re going to just keep compulsively setting your clocks ahead more and more into the future. Setting your clocks five minutes ahead is the path to failure. You really just have to be true to yourself.

The Mario Kart 64 Robbery of 2001 has reached an inexplicable resolution. On this past Monday afternoon, the game, as well as the three controllers that had also been taken, mysteriously showed up in a plastic bag on one of my friend’s futon—exactly one week after it had been stolen. I still don’t know who the criminal was, but I do know that Mario Kart is back, and for once in my life, I nearly feel complete. All the Spanish-speaking kids who live in my hall will be ecstatic as soon as they learn that they get to play the game once again. Some of them had been becoming noticeably depressed. Everyday their eyes would get very hopeful and they would ask, “Eric, is … is el Mario Kart back?” I can’t wait to see the joy in their eyes when I tell them that it is. By the way, a special thank you goes out to everybody out there who has wished Mario Kart a safe recovery. That means a lot to me in the face of this horrible hate crime.

On another topic, taking a shower in a community bathroom is tricky business. For one thing, you have to wear pool shoes or waterproof sandals or something, because it is generally assumed that there is an inch-thick layer of gonorrhea encrusting the shower floor. For another thing, in my wing of Landon Hall there are only three showers: the one that’s freezing cold, the one that has no pressure and the legendary Third Shower, which is the Goldilocks “just right” shower that everybody yearns for. This turns the practice of taking a shower into a competitive game of musical chairs. But even the Third Shower has moments of inconsistency, because all community bathroom showers must legally provide a temperature roller-coaster thrill ride of excitement. If somebody takes a quick sip of water from a drinking fountain on the other side of campus, your shower could potentially turn into either a blazing downpour of liquid fire or an icy artic blast comparable to chewing Dentyne Ice™ brand chewing gum. When somebody goes so far as to flush a nearby toilet or use a neighboring shower, it’s anybody’s guess as to what your water temperature is going to be. MSU has a very bad pluming situation, and I’m pretty sure that all of the water here originates from the Red Cedar River. This could explain why tap water on campus tastes like ass. No wonder vending machines have the audacity to charge $1.25 for a bottle of water. Everybody wants to buy some non-ass water.

Tragically, somebody has stolen Mario Kart 64 from my dorm room. This is easily the worst thing that has ever happened to me, and I have spent the last four days trying to track down the criminal mastermind who could have done such a thing. So far I’ve narrowed the list down to the following people: everybody except myself. And sometimes late at night, I lay in my bed and I wonder if it was possible that I could have taken it after all. Because who’s to say that, in a fevered moment of panic, I couldn’t have destroyed Mario Kart on my own in a violent effort to sabotage my chances at ever living a happy life? I mean, how well do I even know myself?

Some might say that video games are a waste of time, but Mario Kart was enjoyed by everybody in the entire dorm. It brought together people of different genders, different races and different ethnicities (except the Turkish people, who weren’t allowed to play from day one). Through collecting nonsensical treasures in bizarre landscapes and then shooting them at other people, Mario Kart taught us that, underneath, we were all the same after all. It also taught us the meaning of Christmas and the true value of friendship, and that true love couldn’t be bought or sold. Finally, it taught us the true meaning of Hanukkah, which had something to do with candles if memory serves me correctly.

Living in a dorm without Mario Kart is a lot like living in a world without kittens. Sure, sure, it’s not necessary to have them around, but it sure as hell couldn’t hurt. Mario Kart and kittens are a few of my favorite things.

Incidentally, I’d like to give a special shout out to Miss Vanessa Kensington, who stormed into my dorm room one night at two in the morning and argued with my Ecuadorian roommate for about fifteen minutes in a fit of drunken delirium. That was definitely great and hilarious. Thanks for reading, fellow Marion forum member! Stay cool.