“Evanston would be just fine without Northwestern,” Tisdahl probably said during her press conference. “And since I’ve solved all the city’s other problems, especially theft, I felt it was time to shut down the Keg.”

The arthritic Evanston populace applauded Tisdahl’s decision, raising their catheters into the air in celebration. Now the city is safe, they chanted. Now I can let my grandchildren walk the street at 3 a.m., they chanted.

Somebody pass me a goddamn rum and coke.

“We were completely ready to step up our regulations and require two forms of paper or plastic identification,” said Tom Migon, former Keg owner and now homeless man who sits outside of CVS. “If we were the 9th-best college bar in the country, just imagine what going to a bar outside the top ten would be like.”

What the hell is going on? Where am I? Why does this place not feel like I’m walking through the streets of Hong Kong, but sweatier? Why isn’t there such a long wait for the bathroom that people are pissing in plastic cups? Where is the dance floor full of nerds pretending to live it up at college by randomly making out with people they cannot see?

Did they even serve alcohol at the Keg?

If there are typos, I don’t even care if I get a Medill F anymore. What reason do I have to go to Northwestern?

“We are going to address this issue and blah blah blah,” Dean of students Howard Burgwell said. I mean, what do they want from us? What am I supposed to do?

Fuck this. Now I’m going to have to buy a better fake ID.

Occasionally, students were granted admittance to a fraternity, resulting in a bunch of guys running outside, touching each other in close quarters, and singing songs. McCormick Freshmen Noam Kupfer was one such new member.

“It was like a mosh pit at a concert, but without all the punk-rock chicks,” Kupfer said. “It was awesome. One of the best moments of my life,” he added.

Sororities also spent the entire week engaging on dispassionate girl-on-girl flirting to demonstrate the desirability of their social situation. Many sisters put on skits to show how fun and attractive they are.

The Greek girls were able to show off their superior social skills gained from being in a sorority, such as the knack for learning hometowns, majors, and campus activities. By doing this in a systematic manner, according to Quad-Delt president Hannah Andreasen, sororities show freshmen they really know how to meet people naturally and make friends.

All of this culminates in a celebratory party with people of the same sex and a bunch of secret, cool rituals, the likes of which have not been seen by freshmen since day camp.
“I can’t wait until my friends at home see how cool I am,” said Kupfer, referring to the 80 new same-sex friends he added on Facebook.

“I even heard there is a night when we get to sing and dance with girls,” whispers Kupfer, wearing his new fraternity t-shirt filled with Sharpied-on inside jokes to be promptly forgotten about.

“We’re out here protesting for real American jobs, not Oakland jobs,” said Sarah Smalls, a leader of the former Occupy Oakland movement. “All we’re asking is to make a comparable amount of money as the people on Wall Street without doing much work.”

Smalls also cited a startling inequality: highly educated people are making more money than those who are less educated or unemployed.

“We thought Oakland was the right place to protest because it represents everything that is wrong with America,” Smalls said through a megaphone in a one-on-one interview. “Its name is bland, its police are not the nicest people, and it is the setting of Moneyball.”

“And we just want some of those balls,” the reporter imagines she added.

While all of Oakland’s middle class, who were eating at Chili’s on Fourteenth and Fairmont, were happy to see the protesters leave, the mayor expressed his disappointment in a public statement released on MySpace.

“We are deeply saddened to see the occupiers leave. The movement was a real boon to our economy and helped reverse the population decline in the city. We hope the occupiers come back to protest. Compared to Raiders fans, they were quite civil.”

The Flying Buttresses have vaulted to the top of the charts thanks to young Bohemians and God. Bill, a blacksmith, is just one fan among the legions of TFB enthusiasts.

“These guys rock harder than my anvil,” quoth Bill. “They’re not afraid to go dark.”

“They’re totally bubonic,” Bill addeth.

The critics are also jumping on the Buttress wagon. Balthasar Hayworker, a serf known for his cast-iron pitchfork and acute taste, raves about such singles as “I Can See for Isles and Isles,” “Pumped Up Knickerbockers,” and “Smells Like the Holy Spirit.” The man on the corner holding a slate agrees.

But not all of the Empire has been converted to following the TFB. Horatio Hamburger, Hamburg’s eldest councilman, complained that The Flying Buttresses are just a bunch of rabblerousers.

“Kids these days,” quippeth Hamburger, 34.

Rumored titles on their next album include “Gaining My Religion,” “I’m Too Vaulted for My Ceiling,” “I’ll Meet You in the Vestibule (It’s Going Down),” and “Oh My God”

“Where the fuck was Central Park?” asked 26-year-old Tony “The Tony” Margarita. “And why the hell did they not give out cigarettes at the water station?”

“Fuck your mother,” he added.

Other New Yorkers complained about the modest times most Midwesterners ran. Several felt they received way too much elbow room, that it was uncomfortable to have people actually looking in their direction, and that the race was not as long as the New York Marathon.

Some people, including Milos Antic, the first place finisher from Africa, were happy the New Yorkers were there.

“Having so many New Yorkers in the race motivated me to run faster because I wanted to get as far away from them as possible,” said Antic in a phone interview. He did not have time to be interviewed in person as he was on his way to his second marathon of the day.

Chicago Marathon officials promise that they will try to be more accommodating to New Yorkers for the 2012 Marathon by sending them down narrower streets, raising the entrance fee, and hiring actors wearing Red Sox hats to fall behind them at every stage of the race.

“We got them when they least expected it,” Elizabeth Chambers, one of the officials, said as she wrapped her arm around 60 students’ throats. “Don’t try to stop us.”

“I’ll fucking kill them! I’ll do it!” she added.

Evanston City officials cited unsafe living conditions as the impetus for such drastic measures.

“We cannot have all these people buying food in our community, paying money for living quarters, and studying at least five nights a week when they litter half-dozens of Keystone Light cans onto the public streets.” said Chambers as she gouged the eyes out of a Northwestern Junior.

There are a few Evanston residents that disagree with the city’s actions. 82-year-old Barbara Willard, an active member of the Women’s Club and an alumna of the class of ’51, thinks the city should take a different approach.

“They should cut their ears off,” Willard says. “Then they’ll know how bad it feels when they play their rocking party music and no longer have the aural capacity to hear it.”

The 2,000 Northwestern hostages are trying to fight back against the three city officials who, according to tweets from inside the holding chamber, are simultaneously raping all the students. Their ASG-provided emergency defense mechanisms, however, have proven completely ineffective and largely imaginary.

“If I knew I had to deal with this much bullshit,” wrote Weinberg senior Jon Blinderman on a bloody Bob Marley shirt, “I would have gone Greek.”

They’ll act all surprised to see you, which is strange because you go to Northwestern. You’ll say it’s nice to see you too and regret not sneaking in alcohol taped to your uppermost, innermost thigh like your friend did. (Friend. An interesting word, no? I think friend can be defined as someone you would be happy to see on Dillo Day.)

Then they’ll want to know where the alcohol is. You are stuck like a freshman scared of jaywalking on Sheridan. Of course you know where alcohol is, that is an inane question. It is Dillo Day. But you don’t want to lie. You’ve already lied once by saying you’re happy to see these numbskulls. You’re worried about karma — and unlike that kid from your high school, you still have finals.

You sigh. “Yeah,” you say, “just go up to the SigEp house and say Morty Shapiro sent you.”

You part ways. The spring returns to your step as you realize that if Nelly couldn’t ruin Dillo Day, your loser classmates don’t have a chance.

“It just wasn’t worth it anymore,” said former Happiness Club president Ben Ulman. “I don’t even know if there is such a thing as happiness when it’s grayer outside than the area in the Protess situation.”

The Happiness Club’s last event involved putting their yellow smiley face stickers on the ground as it rained. According to Ulman, they wanted it to look as if the smiley face was crying.

“Northwestern still has a lot to offer,” said former Happiness Club member and tour guide Alyssa Novasad. When asked to elaborate, Novasad paused, said something to herself that sounded like Parseltounge or Xhosa (it’s hard to tell the difference; both languages use clicks and trills), and then said, “Well, umm, half our student body doesn’t really like to go out.”

But the Happiness Club appears to be as dead as Nietzche, leaving a bright spot that… Oh, brightness! What I wouldn’t give for some warmth, for the smell of tulips in the soft summer breeze, the feel of hot asphalt on the sole. That, my friends, is happiness. I would join that club.

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony,” Ulman or Ghandi or maybe Novasad said.

Rain or shine, says Ulm… You know what I think? the rain is not God crying because He feels bad for us, but Him laughing so hard He cries at the notion that such smart people would actively choose to live in Evanston. When it thunders, it is God keeling over at the idea an educated group of mortals would choose to live this far from the equator when they could live in such places like Orlando or Mexico City or even Nebraska.

“I’m really pleased with how our team competed,” said Frank Vogel, who is practically their head coach. “If the NBA just added spirit points, I think we could be officially winning this series.”

The Pacers have played with a lot of heart, which has pleased announcers in the same way people smile when a dyslexic kid accidentally writes his numbers in the right order. People across the state of Indiana are applauding the effort of their almost-.500 team. Fans say it has made them feel better about being in a state nearly worth living in and basically having a job.

“I didn’t expect it to be much of a series,” admits Charles Barkley, who is virtually a genius if you change his IQ score. “But these feisty Pacers have put the ball in the hoop several times and have tried really hard.”

“I just didn’t see it coming,” Barkley added.

Basketball has been good to the state of Indiana in 2011, with the Butler Bulldogs essentially winning the college basketball championship for the second straight year, if you don’t count the final game.

Listen to this class breakdown and try not to be over-fucking-whelmed by the diversity rainbow. 30 percent Native American, 25 percent African American, 15 percent Asian, 10 percent from countries that haven’t even formed yet.

… Let me pause to give you a second to clean off whatever you just jizzed onto your screen…

5 percent Caucasian, 3 percent South American Indians who have not yet encountered civilization, 2 percent Bora-Bora, 18 percent other.

I have no idea what we are going to do with all this diversity, but I love it.

Just think: the class of 2015 is going to make all other classes look racist by comparison. To those not in the class of 2015, you should feel as guilty as a Japanese nuclear power plant. Political ads and the Disney Channel don’t have shit over Northwestern’s diversity pita-pocket.

With great diversity comes great responsibility. Starting in 2012, we’ll be instating a rule that groups of students walking around campus can’t have more than two people of any one ethnicity. I want Northwestern to be in a constant state of admission-pamphlet-picture-readiness (APPR). If you are in a picture with at least five different races, please tag me. Maybe tag me as the sun because I’m fucking shining glorious equality on you all.

So, Northwestern, we have vanquished the invisible hand and replaced it with one of every color. You know, when you mix all the colors together, you get black—and what looks more diverse than that?