Late last night, a symphony of sharp cussing could be heard from every corner of the quad, coinciding with the Freshman Class’ registration period.

“This is $&#*# $&#@(!” one screamed, having clicked three seconds too early after waking up an hour before to prepare for the big moment. “I’M DROPPING OUT TO BECOME A STRIPPER” another replied, having to quickly pick up REL103 to fill the blank caused by an unexpected time-out of the WebAdvisor website.

“Shut up, at least you got Micro-theory,” a third friend yelled in response. “I’m not going to freaking graduate.”

Down the street, in the depths of the of the Registrar’s server room, sounds of resonant, maniacal robotic laughter were heard by a puzzled janitor.

–Will Hardage ‘20