The GA has found evidence confirming what members of the other 5Cs suspected to be true all along: The Pomona College Sponsor Group system is actually a system of Sponsor Cults.
The following entries are transcribed from an unmarked journal found recently under Marston Quad. All references to specific persons have been changed to be anonymous and gender
The Orientation Rituals are officially underway, and I’m so close to being a member of the Spamily. I’ve cut all ties with those people I formerly lived with and am now completely devoted to my new spisters and sprothers! Spama and Spapa have really done wonders in bringing us all together so quickly. All that’s left is the transfer of blood by the ceremonial knife that will finally seal us into one being, one mind, one soul. I can’t wait for the adventures ahead this year 🙂
OA definitely taught me a lot about what it’s like to go to a school which strives to be both Harvard and summer camp at the same time, but I’m glad to be back where I truly belong: in the Hall, excuse me, Spall. Class is now underway, which means lots of people to meet and, largely, ignore…no friendship will be able to compare to the connections I have with my spiblings.
Life is good. I eat, breathe, and live the Spamily. I just know when the 15 of us roll into Frank for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all the eyes on us are full of admiration and jealousy. It feels good to be in this group, it is my spast, spresent, and sputure.
Halloween is upon us. We’re planning on all dressing up as a cohesive Sponsor Group— hahaha, so easy! We won’t be going to any parties this weekend since mingling with outsiders is forbidden. That’s okay though, everyone knows Bonita Ave. is where all the fun times are!
I’m not in Claremont. I’m not with my Spamily. There is nothing to be thankful for.
Finals week. I love the Spamily more than anything, of course, but I do need some space. My GPA is beginning to look like I go to Mudd. Maybe non-denominational break will be…good, in some small way? Oh, I better hide this journal, I can’t be known to think such splasphemy.
Well, here we are again. Everything’s still…great. There has been a troubling development, though. One of our own has been spdopted! They said that outside our bubble, in the real world of Claremont, CA, things are very different. Less crazy. Publicly, I decry the traitor. Secretly, I wonder. I wonder.
It feels like I’m in a troubled marriage. We say the words, give the expensive chocolates, sleep in separate beds, but it feels like a show. I’m sure it’s me with the problem. I’m not trying hard enough. No more thinking about that cutie in my Bio class, no more casually saying “Hi” to passing acquaintances, for the rest of the semester it will be all SpoGro all the time.
This is proving to be harder than finding a Republican at Pitzer. I’m becoming paranoid, looking over my shoulder when I try and sneak off to North Campus (turns out there’s a whole other dining hall up there that serves PB&J at night!). Even my roommate can’t be trusted.
I thought last week would have given me a chance to escape, but I should have known why it’s called SPring Break. I can’t get out now, well, not without turning to unthinkable levels of sptrayal. Or, even worse…spatricide.
I’ve put those darker thoughts behind me. But troubled days are still ahead. Spama and Spapa are getting a spivorce! How could it come to this? We did everything right, we spent 16 hours a day together, we talked to no one else in the 5C’s, we were a Spamily.
I’ve done it. The most dreaded and fantasized about act in the Sponsor Group system. Sponcest. I should feel remorse, it should be eating away inside of me, but fuck it felt so good. I should have been doing this all year. We were united as both spibs and lovers. It was so wrong. But so right. And we’re not actually related, so it’s pretty much fine? Right?
They know. They know everything. They knew while it was happening. They know of my doubts and my disloyal thoughts. Do they know how scared I am of them? Can they smell my fear? I’m going to lock my door for the first time this year, just in case…
It wasn’t easy, but I’ve finally escaped from the…the SpoCult. I can’t risk anyone finding these words while I’m still a student here though, it’s still far too dangerous. I will inter my tale of love, betrayal, and survival back where it all began, in the ancient SpoGro ritual tunnels 47 feet under Marston Quad.
I guess it will be pretty interesting being a Sponsor next year.
– David Cremins PO ’18, Emily Armstrong SCR ’17, and Cally Cochran PO ’18