Congratulations, You're Not A Moron

I've been informed that I ought to blog a little more often, thought it becomes increasingly difficult as teachers at my high school feel pressured to give second-semester seniors every last bit of asinine busywork they have left over in their file cabinets, not to mention the whole process of applying for college and then for scholarships that will allow me to afford said college. Incidentally, I'm going to Ithaca College, in Ithaca, New York, so it'll be a nice change of scenery for a lifelong (and bored) midwesterner.

I don't have anything to write for you at the moment--I'm too busy attempting to put together this month's Omega (the student newspaper) to write anything apart from stories about Advanced Placement testing and how stupid grade grubbing suck-ups are. However, I did write a short satire that got rejected for this month's paper, since it was silly, condescending, and apparently not all that funny. So...you all get to read it. Here you go...

Congratulations, You're Not a Moron
by Jacob Brower

Congratulations. You made it all the way from the headline to the actual story, so give yourself a pat on the back. This makes you special.

Seriously, take a glance to your left and right—there should be other students with newspapers open in front of them. Note their glazed expressions as they scan each page for pictures and completely ignore anything longer than a paragraph.

These people are sad human beings, prime examples of the dregs of high school society who have become too lazy and indifferent to read. Not you. You are special. You saw the catchy headline above the face of a handsome welcoming young man and thought, “Hey, I bet that guy right there with whom I attend school has something important to say.” You were smart, and you were right.

In any other issue over the past two years, my column might have pointed out the evils of censorship, the presence of reverse sexism in school, what the administration screws up, or even the vast amount of butt-prose gracing the pants of females everywhere. Then, when the glassy-eyed, non-reading types complained about Spirit Week and other subjects they didn’t understand, you may have responded, “Hey, moron, the newspaper informed me about that particular subject along with many other informative and exciting student-related tidbits, because I can actually read.” I appreciate readers who have made it this far, who know exactly what I’m talking about—which is why I didn’t feel a need to write a profound editorial this month. This piece is all about you.

I salute you, the curious, intelligent, well-read students of DGN. When your parents complain about teenagers being stupid you exclaim, “Not I! By reading Omega I have become enlightened!” When fellow students clearly aren’t reading the paper, you scoff and tell them, “Take heed, these are the words of journalistic prophets! Read them and find the true meaning of life.” You point at the many words on the page and whisper like fields of corn, “If you read them, truth will come.”

You have been excellent readers over the years, and I love you. It’s a platonic, non-disturbing affection, but it’s love all the same.