Day One of Columbia’s Social Experiment was today, and New York City media are already going totally batshit about it. First New York Post columnist Andrea Peyser took time out from writing about celebutards to muse philosophically on why Columbia is actually doing this. Her theory:
Columbia brass looked into the future — and saw a screaming void. You see, if no one connects, no one dates. And if no one dates, then an entire cultural industry, a genre virtually created on campuses such as this — the self-flagellating memoir — disappears forever.
Whatever that means. In the process she also seems to have been attacked by a crazed flasher, who told her his password was “sailor” and then toddled back toward campus like the village idiot he probably was.
Fox, ever the sly one, is the first to outright describe the bizarre passwords that Columbia students are now being asked to ritualistically recite to each other. Unfortunately for the poor saps scouring campus for someone to play code-word association with, Fox didn’t say what the password actually is.
But we know today’s prompt! Big reveal! It’s–get ready–“jacket.”
Hypothetical scenario: say the Columbia RAs go ahead and sacrifice a goat or whatever, and determine from the patterns of smoke plumes that rise from the carcass that one of your classmates should be a password holder. For the sake of argument, say she’s sitting on your jacket. HOW DOES THAT CONVERSATION GO?
Awkwardly, probably. Actually, that word should really be crowned prom queen of this whole situation. A few Columbia students are mildly excited, others are a bit peevish, and most of them are too busy texting to notice that Fox 5 is following them with cameras.Instead of having a citywide meltdown, maybe we should be commending Columbia undergrads for assimilating so well into the ethos of New York City. After all, the rulebook does indeed say that you’re not allowed to talk to anyone who smiles, wears colors, or is not from New York.