On Tuesday, March 24th I attended a Student Council meeting. Needless to say, I was inspired. Although this is a satire, there is an unreasonable amount of truth to these embellishments.
Presidential Address: Bringin’ it Home for the Council
By Tyler Sirokman
“Ladies and Gentlemen, give a warm round of applause to your new Student Council President!”
The newly elected Student Council President rose from her seat and approached the podium in the center of the stage, leaving the soft, wet cushion that so charitably absorbed the abundant flow of anxious perspiration in the moments proceeding her introduction. Upon reaching the podium, the entire crowd — one consisting of an innately jolly faculty advisor, the rest of the council members, who were now her former peers, and a five year old — snapped earnestly for their long-awaited Messiah, Rosie de Rivers. Although Rosie was expecting a larger crowd, she reassured herself that the attendance was only low because this inauguration was taking place on a Friday evening, and that most people probably had prior arrangements, and had those prior arrangements not been scheduled, people would be there taking her just as seriously as she was taking herself.
Getting comfortable in front of her crowd of subordinates, she gave a brief agnostic thanks to her potentially-existing god, as well as the people who elected her. As tradition, she reinvented and delivered some played out joke, but with a surprisingly unexpected, yet subtle reference to Beyonce. However, despite her humor, she appears to be doing great, keeping everything as customary as possible.
“I am undeniably honored to serve as the new Student Council President. Now that I can put this on my resume, I can start working on making serious changes around campus. Under my administration, my main goal is to simply continue facilitating weekly meetings and, of course, walk around campus with an intangible, yet considerably noticeable ego — two things that my predecessors have done thus far, two things that I encourage you to emulate and work toward.”
At this point, the crowd of student council members began snapping again, bubbly with utter excitement like a glass of cold Sprite. Even the five year old had to spontaneously leave the room to go urinate because the orator’s energy was nearly uncontainable. Rosie continued.
“At last, the hard work I’ve put in these past couple of years as a campus peon has finally paid off. No longer do I have to pretend like I’m doing something crucially important in this world — like joining Amnesty International and symbolically conveying my solidarity for people in the world who are actually suffering by encouraging students to put handwritten notes addressed to the university administration in boxes around campus. No longer do I have to bravely step off campus to go to the Worcester Boys & Girls Club and bring my part Irish, French, German, English, Cherokee, and Scottish perspective to the destitute in the name of urban development.” Rosie takes a moment to close her eyes and exert a warm, meditative sigh. “I wish President Gabriel was here to see me now. It would be like witnessing Christ’s resurrection, considering all of the hard work I relentlessly and single-handedly put toward coordinating events for Earth Week and Climate Change Awareness Day. At last, I can finally channel my college-girl ambitions and Messianic qualities in a way that directly influences my peers on this four-year, utopian domain.”
By now, the crowd of student council members had their arms above their heads, gazing directly at their great leader with eyes that, deep down, pleaded for a glory like Rosie’s. Even the innately jolly faculty advisor threw his arms up and wept with intense conviction.
“But before I get ahead of myself, I want to bring it home for you guys.”
At this, the crowd lost it. It was as if Rosie’s oration convoked a choir of cherubim. Tears fell profusely from the crowd’s eyes, and the university’s very own choir, spontaneously appearing, began belting out in song, singing in the highest of all notes.
“With the intention of completely reconfiguring both our constitution and the political anatomy of our council, I have a proposal — or rather, a declaration — to make.” She paused, and with her right hand, she snapped her fingers, instantly procuring a lumbering leaden gavel. With her other hand, she quickly lifted her palm to her nose and wiped away the drop of mucus dwelling at the cusp of her nostril, and simultaneously, she sniffed in deeply, making a sound that resembled the noise of crumpling paper. “I hereby exercise my presidential authority to displace the current treasurer, thus replacing her with a mathematician of my own preference, and I move to reduce our budget by nine percent.”
The crowd dogmatically verbalized their agreement with the proclamation by snapping together in unison.
“Now, with all of that extra money, let’s get fuk’n loaded and crash the pizza party at the Recycling Center — the very pizza party we mocked and reduced funding for in order to save money and pay for a C-List actor from Orange is the New Black to come and speak at some booboo ass event.”
Nothing but convention was challenged that evening.
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