Let’s face it, the modern age fucking sucks. In my opinion, the sooner the nuclear apocalypse that will destroy civilization and reduce us to fighting Terminators Mad Max-style from the back of Holden pickups like in Demolition Man the better.
Hi, I’m Critical Critic and I’ll be your bitter, hate-filled host this year. For those of you who are unfortunate enough to have attended this craptastic “university” last year, I’d just like to clarify a few points. Yes, I have well and truly sold out to the Man. Every Thursday I head on up to the Salient office, where Emily Braunstein injects cocaine directly into my veins while Jeremy Greenbrook stuffs my pockets with cash taken directly from VUWSA’s overflowing treasure hoard. Then we all go out drinking with the University Council and try to persuade them that this year it would be super fucking awesome if they tripled all our fees and charged admission to lectures. Some of the more intellectually-minded among you may recall certain comments I made about letters page pseudonyms who sold out and did columns; to you let me just say that if you instead put all that effort into earning money with which to pay hookers, you might manage to get laid before the end of the year for a change.
For those of you who have just made the greatest mistake of your lives and are starting your first year at New Zealand’s worst university (Lincoln and Massey aren’t real universities and don’t count), I’d like to greet you with a mix of fuck you and thank you. Fuck you because you first years are indescribably fucking annoying, what with your getting lost, your enthusiasm, your actual attempts to learn something and your shamefully low tolerance for alcohol. Thank you because your naiveté and innocence remind the rest of us of when we were young and retarded, and also because the fact that so many of you start at this shithole of a tertiary institution every year reassures us that enrolling here was, in fact, a mistake that anybody could have made and that we are merely less lucky, rather than less clever, than those of our school friends who went to good universities.
One of the things that distinguishes the first year is their willingness to believe in all sorts of stupid things that everyone knows aren’t real. To be fair this is quite a common phenomenon. Many otherwise intelligent people believe in aliens, Jews, Bigfoot, Moon landings, the sequels to The Matrix, and the fundamental goodness of mankind, whereas a cursory examination of the facts clearly reveals that none of these things can have any basis in reality. First years, however, believe in very special university-specific urban myths: The ‘hot boy café’, the ‘fair assessment’, ‘student politics’ and ‘library hookups’, for example. Actually, I’d like to take some time to finally knock this last one on the head. Most first years hear the story about somebody who totally hooked up in the library the other day within two weeks of commencing study at Victoria. Frequently ‘that room by the lift’ is mentioned.
In short, this has never, ever happened. In the entire 130-year history of Victoria University nobody has ever even come close to having sex in the library. There is nowhere in the entire universe less sexy than the Victoria University library (my bedroom a possible exception). Let’s face it, why on earth would you do the nasty in the library, seriously? At the best of times, the library is crowded, cramped, uncomfortable and incredibly hot (not in the good way). Even assuming you could find somewhere empty of people (actually this is pretty easy – just look in the aisle with Salient back issues) does anybody seriously think that doing the baby-making boogie is a viable option? Unless there’s some sort of new sex move in Cosmo or whatever that replicates the motion of an air conditioner, you have more chance of becoming a university laughing stock after being treated for heat exhaustion than you do a university legend.
Don’t feel bad if you fell for this myth, though. Careful and thorough research by yours truly has determined that this myth is even older than the current Editor of Salient. In a 1960s back issue I found a reference to the library as a scene of righteous tunes and groovy chicks, which I’m pretty sure is hippy speak for skanky hoes and slutty bitches. It goes further back than that, though. In the 1500s chronicles repeated rumours that “verily persons of the male and female genderes engaged in ye fornication in ye libraries of ye olde universities”. Does this trend show a deep connection in the human psyche between reading books and getting some or does it merely show that most people are fucking stupid and will believe anything? You decide.