We grew perplexed reading this about Dartmouth's outdoor orientation programs for freshmen:

"Our Trips are just plain sweet. We offer everything from canoeing to climbing and everything in between. Check out all of our different types of Trips and what your outdoor-lovin' five days will look like. And if your New York City behind is not in tip-top shape, no need to fear! We've got all sorts of difficulties to suit your outdoor style."

These trips are pretty common; they might even be universal across the Ivy League. But these kids are about to spend four years at Dartmouth. Aren't they going to spend enough time isolated from society, a la Alive, as it is? Maybe the tiniest Ivy should offer its students a truly unique opportunity, like a trip to the mall or a nearby urban center, like White River Junction or Concord.

Also, what do they mean by "New York City behind"? Is that like a "New York City sense of humor"? Like a JEWISH behind, perhaps? Anti-semites. Seriously, have they BEEN to Columbia lately, seen how skinny they all are? All part of a balanced diet of cigarettes and nose candy.

Happier times...

The real victims in the 'Stend-Razing of Aught-Six, of course, are the kiddies in the Class of 2010. With the bar shuttered for orientation and Shiva knows how much longer, there's a distinct possibility the class never properly imprints an attachment with 2911 Broadway.

The West End was many things to many people. Mere pitcher-and-wings spot to some, mighty historical landmark ("Kerouac wuz here") to most, Rohypnol HQ to pretty much everyone ... we always made a point of stopping by whenever visiting the Unhappiest Ivy. Not to make too much of its Cubanification -- when the dropcloths come off, we admit, the new owners may actually have just cleaned up the place -- but the place really was that special. To wit:

One time I went up to the bouncer with the fakest ID in North America. It was a student ID for Fordham, and the only remotely official looking element was its lamination. The bouncer said, "Where is Fordham" and I replied, "I have no idea." He said, "Next time you should know. It's in the Bronx." And he let me in. He later threw me out when I puked in a booth.

--Stuart Dearnley, Columbia '01

Goddamn if that isn't college in a chestnut! More nuggets, taken from the Spectator's excellent collection, after the jump.

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