By John Dumm
Dean Patrick Starr, as part of a schedule of miscellaneous do-goodery, hosted a Spring Semester Advisory Event in the County College of Morris student lounge Wednesday, Jan. 10, looking to grant guidance and approval for the course selections of late registrants for the semester and ensure the smooth re-integration of the entire student body into academic life as per normal.
In a brutal, if not surprising, turn of events, the event failed miserably, opening with Starr attempting to demonstrate course-curation on a sample WebAdvisor account, leading to mass panic and depression within the conference room as he found that literally every course offered by CCM had already been filled.
In the wake of this event, advisory staff were consulted to compile a more thorough and well-researched plan for dodging the potential embarrassment and anomie associated with a skipped semester
Advisor Apera Osunniyi (Art Futurology) recommends students take advantage of this period of relatively light obligations and clear scheduling by taking a step back, re-evaluating the stressors in their lives, and seeking more fulfilling ways to occupy themselves, such as auditing literally every class that sounds remotely interesting, usually by pretending to be the delinquent guy who never shows up and spends every class asleep. Advisor Eric Manny (Applied Eschatology) suggests an advanced technique, similar to the above; students unable to enroll in classes at CCM itself should take advantage of our generous degree transferability programs, usually intended to be enacted after you complete your two-year CCM tenure, yes, but with sufficient abuse of either special pleading, nepotism, or the advanced (and recurring) CompSci technique of “Reverse Buellering” yourself into class registries, you can complete your degree at Rutgers University and take it with you when you go to Rutgers earlier that year, shaving up to six months off your Ph. D run and breaking the event flag for graduation, letting you collect infinite associate’s degrees in your starting field. Exploit only works for degrees that lead to doctorates in Theoretical Physics.
For freshmen and other young students who cannot speedrun their degrees at Rutgers et al., Manny recommends attempting to re-integrate in your old high school, leveraging your Legitimate College Experience to get placements in AP classes and “educationally slingshot” into a scholarship qualification, or another college entirely, such as Rutgers, the only school that hasn’t patched Sloppy Bureaucratic Time Travel.
Advisor Anderson Graham (Militarized Psychiatry) takes a more traditional approach to unofficial collegiate education: apprenticing yourself to a native denizen of the Game Room, learning their trade directly (Graham recommends a Guilty Gear player) and either offering to help them take notes and study in class, rummaging through their notebook when they’re in the bathroom, or devoting your entire being to video games and winning their brain and/or soul from them in a Shadow Duel. Graham recommends you not think too hard about the existential fate of the Gameroomer banished to a timeless umbral prison realm in this process. The Philosophy department has published reams of workable arguments that game room residents are not technically real people, and cannot feel pain.
Advisor Aidan Fitzgerald (High-Energy Industrial Sociology) has come forth as promoting perhaps the most practical and responsible response thus far, and has offered to elaborate personally.
“It is of course absolutely, literally vital to the CCM community that you stay enrolled in at least some classes so you at least have an illusion of … productivity,” said Fitzgerald, insisting to Youngtown reporters that they deliberately emphasize the pause with ellipses. “Just about everyone on campus is a valued member of the community who contributes to overall campus thrival both academically and socially, no matter how much they may believe otherwise about themselves. However, certain factions on campus: campus security, the theatre department, the LGBT Ministry, the shadow government supposedly run by the Student Government Association but in actuality engineered entirely by SEGO, have compiled criteria for named exceptions to the above statement. Absolute annoyances with no real academic future and a known track record of student and staff harassment et cetera, that nonetheless managed to clog up the class system anyway!”
Fitzgerald proceeded to insist we make editorial note of his pushing his glasses up and steepling his fingers before he proceeded.
“If someone were to find a way to remove these elements, they could detoxify the school’s social pool and bump the waitlists on mostly engineering courses in one fell swoop,” Fitzgerald said. “And, of course, if you happen to be on the waitlists at the time.”
At the Youngtown editing team’s behest, he added a disclaimer against the reprehensible act of actually harming fellow students for personal gain.
“Now, of course, the consequences for actually committing murder are catastrophic, Fitzgerald said. “However, all is not lost. SEGO has connections to the Game Room, and the Game Room itself is inhabited by people more like the Predator than actual people, per se. They’ll aid your righteous quest for character slots in exchange for literal sandwiches, and have dedicated so much of their memory to the muscular pretzelling required by old-school fighting games that they are mentally incapable of ratting you out!”