EVANSTON – At 2:52 pm, three Evanston City officials armed with duct tape, white gloves, and laws from the 1920s cornered 2,000 Northwestern students as they walked west towards their off-campus residences.

“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.”

Dillo Day. It’s that time of year in late May when it may or may not be snowing. The free pizza tastes great, but so does all the other shit you may or may not have eaten. One thing is so certain that even Heisenberg wouldn’t question you: if you are from around here, you’ll see all those people from high school you thought you’d never see again. You know, the kids who don’t know who Heisenberg is.

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.

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EVANSTON – On April 22, members of Northwestern’s Happiness Club dissolved their organization due to the 34 degree weather. For some context, it was 78 at Emory, 84 at Rice, and 69 at Vanderbilt at the time the decision was made. Just saying.

“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.

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