On Erecting Statues

The totem hiding in the bush.

Disclaimer: We at the Golden Antlers are capital-J Journalists. We would never stoop to the level of reporting that merely focused on hypermasculine, heteronormative phallus jokes. Now let’s get out there and make a difference!

Look, we haven’t commented on the sculpture outside Collins until now because we thought most of the dick jokes would write themselves. And they did, to some degree. But wherever there are untapped jokes, we swing by to rub a few more out. For the uninitiated, the following are some facts about this “totem”:

  • Erected: February 15th, 2017
  • Length: just a smidge under 70 feet
  • Girth: A good 8 inches on the sides
  • Bend: Surprisingly straight
  • Color: Blindingly white. Like #TeamEdward pale.

I’ll be honest, I eat at Collins a couple times a week. I follow the same ritual every time. I enter with high expectations for the coming meal. I look around, realizing I’ve entered a realm of knockoff stir-fry and head for the chicken. I pray that the food poisoning deities spare my digestive tract. I hum “Careless Whisper” as I finish enough Golden Grahams to make me forget that there is no Cinnamon Toast Crunch. And now, as I leave the venerated banquet hall, I am  visually beaten about the face by what I can only assume is a beacon to space.

We, the most artistically-focused college this side of La Verne, needed something to spice up that dreary siteline to  the spaceship from Alien the stormtrooper base  Bob’s Gym. We needed something to tell those prospies looking for the arts in “liberal arts” that we gave two shits about them. And this erection plugs every gaping hole that we, as an institution, are trying to fill. We need an idol to worship every time we sink to our knees, wondering if Roberts and Kravis are really just playing Risk with golden pieces and plotting to absorb other colleges while simultaneously depriving us of any sense that there are occupations beyond finance and pushing us to fulfill our destiny of being employed in white-collar service industries thus killing any hopes we had of joining the Peace Corp and enjoying the relationships we have with our loved ones.

Anyway, it was a gift from a trustee. Pretty sure I just saw a group of guys jerking each other off in a circle around it, screaming “WITNESS ME!”


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