Author: Ben Pelegano

An Original Acrostic Poem
















Note: Ernest Lemingways are literary sheeples followers, or more appropriately Lemmings, who are willing to fall off a cliff defending Ernest Hemingway solely because they heard he’s good, not because they have opinions of their own.

Side Note: Deer Ears are notoriously good at keeping people with the name George calm.

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Proposed SGA Constitution changes put to the vote


If you call tails

But flip heads,

Where do you end up?

I thought tails never fails.

Without a push from fate

Or statistics

Your piece could take a bad bounce

Off each peg on the Plinko board

And plummet to the

Leftmost place

While you plead for a prize

Worth playing for.

And when you scratch off

the metallic shavings,

Who knows if “Try Again,”

Is a command or

Just arrogance.

We scratch to even the scorecard,

To string out already strung out hopes.

We try to savor luck as our savior

But sadly the odds are stacked,

So we squander all sanity by

Thinking the same result will switch.

You can court lady luck

Dress up nice and buy her flowers,

But there’s a reason the banker

Always wins in monopoly.

So flip again,

But in the end,

You make your own luck is just

An empty promise,

If you don’t own

A two-headed coin.

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Proposed SGA Constitution changes put to the vote

Twas the Night Before Halloween

On St. Olaf’s campus ’twas was All Hallows’ Eve; not a creature was stirring, not even editor Steve. All the costumes were hung in the dorm rooms with care, in hopes that 10 p.m. Friday soon would be there. The students were all sleeping restlessly up in their beds, while visions of bio tests satanically danced in their heads. My computer fully charged, and I with my coffee night-cap, had just settled in for a night of studying random crap.

When out on the quad there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bowl chair to see what was the matter. Away to the Adironacks I flew like a flash, tore off my Snuggie and ran into the door with a smash. The moon on my skin – that hadn’t seen sun – made me look like a ghastly ghoul on the run.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature pride with eight tiny lion cubs, oh dear! With a weird humanistic leader, so furry and anon, I knew in a moment it must be Ole the Lion. More rapid than cross country his coursers they came, and he whistled, and roared and called them by name! “Now PDA! Now, Tha! Now, McDowell and Palmero! On, Kneser! On, Stumo-Langer! On, on Roz and Clay! To the top of Old Main! To the top of the Mohn Hall! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

In that moment I wondered if I were asleep; maybe I ate one too many Cage cookies – that wouldn’t be a big leap. So up to the residence hall the lion flew, with a bag full of grades and some dashed dreams too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the halls of resident, the screaming and cursing of each little lady and gent. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, down all the chimneys ol’ Ole came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with students’ tears and soot.

A bundle of Fs he had flung on his back, and he looked like the crusher of souls, just opening his pack. His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples – how merry! His cheeks were like dead roses; his nose like a black cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a first year’s head he held tight in his teeth, and its cries of “but I study!” encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly! He was a a cursed human soul all dressed up, a right deadly, old, demon elf, and I wish I hadn’t laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had everything to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the Moodle grade books with Fs, then turned with a jerk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, down to hell he descended, not rose! He sprang to his paws, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the a post-coffee poop missile. But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Halloween to no one, and to no one a good night!”

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Proposed SGA Constitution changes put to the vote

St. Olaf Sentiments: October 24, 2014

Oles are involved; it’s an understatement, I know. Professors often joke about busy we are, yet still give us hours of homework. Group projects almost never get accomplished because you can’t find a solid hour that all three group members have free.

“Ooooh, sorry. I have choir, then intramural basket weaving, then I have to go home and study for my music, psych, chemistry and studio art quadruple major. Oh, and I’m pre-med,” you might often hear classmates say. With these busy schedules, it isn’t surprising that when we do get a moment to breathe, we usually spend it talking with friends, playing endless hours of League of Legends or just reading a nice book. We Oles also know how to take time for ourselves.

So you may ask yourself a question in midst of this whirlwind of activity: when will I have time to sleep? The answer is – and should be – never.

If you are awake and alert all week long, you’re doing St. Olaf wrong. If you’re able to form coherent sentences in the morning and actually taste your breakfast assuming you even have time for it, then get less sleep. There is so much to offer here that taking any more than the necessary 5.23 hours of sleep is just cheating yourself. You’re not paying thousands of dollars a year to be fully awake for your 8 a.m.

We can’t help it. If we’re not staying up until 3 a.m. to finish an essay that we’ve been forced by our own negligence into procrastinating for, then we feel that we have been blessed with a few precious hours to make our own. Long conversations with my friends about literally anything and everything have resulted in my most sleepless nights. Take advantage of this. St. Olaf is filled with amazing people who want to talk to you well into the witching hour 3 a.m. – 4 a.m.. On that note, don’t stay up long enough to truly experience the witching hour; it is terrifying.

Staying up past your bedtime should be a habit. Better yet, don’t even have a bedtime! Nothing at 8 a.m. is more important than something you can be doing at midnight. There is a unique camaraderie you will feel when you walk into an early morning class, look around and see rows of tired faces. You’re all in this together. Hell, even the professor is probably tired after engaging in raucous, professorial conversation at The Contented Cow. Revel in it; this opportunity won’t last long.

Now, you may say, won’t my grades suffer because I’m so tired all the time? No, and here’s how to avoid the sleepless slump: naps. If you haven’t noticed, people nap all over the place – the library, Fireside, the Caf – it doesn’t matter. Just close your eyes for about 20 minutes every few hours, and you’re good to go. However – and this is important – don’t sleep in class. You’re better than that, I know you are. It’s too easy to sleep in class. If you really need to rest in class, be the first one to participate, make an informed comment and then go on autopilot for the rest of the hour.

You also may be one of those people who claim they can’t function without a full eight hours of sleep. This just means you’ve never tried anything less. Sleep is just a social construct like deodorant or believing Smash Mouth was ever cool. Also, here’s a novel idea: coffee. Granted, the cups in the Caf these days don’t allow for a lot of caffeine ingestion thanks to all you selfish poops who stole all the good cups, but a few trips back up to big pots of coffee will not only allow for more caffeine, but will also get your legs pumping, which will make you slightly less tired for about five minutes!

Here are some other tips to stay awake during the day. Pee your pants; the fear of being ridiculed will pump your body with adrenaline. Moon Pub Safe; they will chase you, and the subsequent run will perk you right up! Scream alarm noises in the middle of the cage; people will eventually punch you in the face to get you to stop and this will undoubtedly wake you up.

All kidding aside, St. Olaf offers so many wonderful opportunities that you’re missing out on if you go to bed early. Being tired is part of being an Ole. You have four years. Four fleeting years to get as much out of this place as you can – so go for it. Your 8 a.m. may look a little bleaker, and your research paper may take twice as long to finish, but at least you’re making the most of your time. Be tired. It’s who we are.

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Proposed SGA Constitution changes put to the vote