And by supper I mean column.
When you've read this paper every day for many moons the way I have, you become quite familiar with the final column. Columnists from the days of yesteryear often refer to it as the "goodbye column," or sometimes dress it up and say "farewell column."
Even the back-page flunkies you've read this semester have that obligatory piece where they ruminate on the job they have done, the community they have served and the power they have wielded.
For some, it is a time to take stock of the nonsensical fluff they have delivered weekly. Others take the opportunity to communicate that final message, summing up their philosophies in one fell swoop.
And then there are those who merely relish the last stroke of the pen. It reminds me of when I got my braces taken off in the eighth grade. The entire day, I kept saying, "This is the last time I'll wear my denim jumper with braces," or, "This is the last time I'll have bangs and a bad perm with braces."
But I'm not going out touchy-feeling. I refuse to ball up like a frightened armadillo and go quiet into Winter Break.
I plan to send my faithful readers back to their snugly homes with my final message lingering in their psyches, the image of my busty picture hovering around their brains like cigarette smoke.
While I was in the shower Sunday trying to figure out what the hell I was going to write about, the only thing that came to mind was a Web site my buddy told me about -- http://www.mulletsgalore.com. (It's worth a look, I assure you.)
Nay, I've already made all my positions on University nonsense clear, separating most campus activity into two categories: rulz (always with a 'z') and blows.
