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Police Called on North Quad Party

 

It is a Saturday night and the CMC students are having a good time. They are drunk on alcohol, pre-professional bluster, and their urgent need to rut like herd animals right there in the middle of North Quad. They are drinking to drown out their pain. Pain from existential crises, pain from broken relationships where they do not “make love” as tenderly they should but only fuck like dogs in heat, pain from reading nauseatingly reductive attempts at knockoff-Bukowski minimalist writing. Suddenly, the wild strobes of police lights flash through the misty tequila haze, punching the students in the retinas. The students fall to the ground in pools of their own liquor-sweat, blinded and in pain. Their eyes swell and bruises form in their warm flesh. The pain. The lust. The lights. Above all, a numb incomprehension.

This isn’t an essay on who called the cops to North Quad last night — the morally superior conscience of the student body, the school newspaper regulars. This is a commentary on CMC party culture in broad terms, very broad terms, terms so broad that women as a whole are rendered mere “anonymous” sexual partners and everyone is a dumb drunk animal, humping in a field.

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Why were the police called to break up the savage, animalistic mating ritual in North Quad last night? Perhaps it had to do with all the “genitals grinding into warm flesh” taking place, which some would say falls under the crime of public indecency. Perhaps students felt it was a violation of their rights to have to read the phrase “genitals grinding into warm flesh” in the official school paper, which is public indecency at the very least.

It is a Sunday morning and the CMC students are having a bad time. They are pulling sheets stiff with vomit and semen from their flaccid genitals. There is no more warm flesh, only cold hearts. They are trudging to brunch like so many cattle being led to slaughter. After feeding on reheated eggs — dry, overscrambled, and tasteless as their souls — they are revived enough to stumble to Bauer. Here, they hang signs calling for the administration’s immediate firing. That’ll show them for trying to keep students from dying or the school from being sued. The herds return to their dull, useless lives of drinking, mating, chewing their cud, and doing Econ problem sets. The cycle continues. Only one student, wiser and more reflective, a man among the herds of cattle, understands. He weeps for his fellow students. They do not see. They are blind from their ignorance and being punched in the retinas. They do not see.

– Liat Kaplan CMC ’17

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