A relatively simple requestI would like to begin this year’s crop of unclassifieds with a plea: please submit some. You can write up to 30 words about just about anything you like (barring the obvious and, we hope, common sense prohibition against things libellous, sexist, racist and/or homophobic) and submit up to three per week. And it’s all completely free. Now where else are you going to get a deal like that?
You must include your full name and student number, or your unclassified will not be published. This is for legal reasons and is outlined in our policies and procedures, which, if you really want, you can pick up a copy of right here in SC 204, and is not just because I’m a control freak. Please e-mail your submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org
the unclassified serf
More unclassified info
Unclassifieds must be received by Friday at 4 p.m. to run in the following Tuesday’s paper. While we make every effort possible to include all unclassifieds, they are subject to space and time constraints and the possibility exists that they will not be published. We will make every effort to publish them in the next paper.
And here’s the kicker. We will not be held responsible if your unclassified doesn’t make it in the paper. That means that if a grade is riding on it, you should probably have a Plan B. And, barring exceptional circumstances, we will not write notes to your prof. ‘Cause that’s just kinda silly.
No offense meant to anyone there. It’s just that, if I were a prof, I wouldn’t take a note from the student paper.
as yet, nobody has responded to my plea repeated please for unclassifieds, and even I am growing weary of the sound of my own voice, I must fill this space with useless dreck. To prevent this tragedy from occurring again, SUBMIT UNCLASSIFIEDS!
OK, I lied. Just one more thing then I’ll go away.
White sugar is evil, because it causes tooth decay, hyperactivity and obesity.
Yet it is tasty.
Can anything that tastes so delicious truly be evil?
This paradox can be explored in more detail at the Brock Press booth during O-Week club days. Because we have 1723 Tootsie Pops and 4000 pieces of Dubble Bubble, complete with cartoons. And we’ll share.
A synonym is a word you use when you can’t spell the word you first thought of.
I also grow weary of searching the Internet for witty remarks. So, here’s some advance reading from you. A prize to any non-English major who can tell us who wrote it.
If Miss Rebecca Sharp had determined in her heart upon making the conquest of this big beau, I don’t think, ladies, we have any right to blame her; for though the task of husband-hunting is generally, and with becoming modesty, entrusted by young persons to their mammas, recollect that Miss Sharp had no kind parent to arrange these delicate matters for her, and that if she did not get a husband for herself, there was no one else in the wide world who would take the trouble off her hands. What causes young people to “come out,” but the noble ambition of matrimony? What sends them trooping to watering-places? What keeps them dancing till five o’clock in the morning through a whole mortal season? What causes them to labour at piano-forte sonatas, and to learn four songs from a fashionable master at a guinea a lesson, and to play the harp if they have handsome arms and neat elbows, and to wear Lincoln Green toxophilite hats and feathers, but that they may bring down some “desirable” young man with those killing bows and arrows of theirs? What causes respectable parents to take up their carpets, set their houses topsy-turvy, and spend a fifth of their year’s income in ball suppers and iced champagne? Is it sheer love of their species, an unadulterated wish to see young people happy and dancing? Psha! they want to marry their daughters; and, as honest Mrs. Sedley has, in the depths of her kind heart, already arranged a score of little schemes for the settlement of her Amelia, so also had our beloved but unprotected Rebecca determined to do her very best to secure the husband, who was even more necessary for her than for her friend. She had a vivid imagination; she had, besides, read the Arabian Nights and Guthrie’s Geography; and it is a fact, that while she was dressing for dinner, and after she had asked Amelia whether her brother was very rich, she had built for herself a most magnificent castle in the air, of which she was mistress, with a husband somewhere in the background (she had not seen him as yet, and his figure would not therefore be very distinct); she had arrayed herself in an infinity of shawls, turbans, and diamond necklaces, and had mounted upon an elephant to the sound of the march in Bluebeard, in order to pay a visit of ceremony to the Grand Mogul. Charming Alnaschar visions! it is the happy privilege of youth to construct you, and many a fanciful young creature besides Rebecca Sharp has indulged in these delightful day-dreams ere now!