Maybe the Apocalypse is Coming a Little Sooner Than We Expected

If SOPA passes, we are all going to die. Like literally, die. It is quite possibly the worst thing that has happened to our country in centuries and I refuse to stop posting/tweeting/complaining like I actually understand politics/talking about it until the government starts listening to me. Or anyone else, for that matter.

For those unfamiliar with SOPA and who have not been on Wikipedia or Google…or Facebook…or Twitter…or been conscious for the past week, it is the government’s way of saying, “Well, we can’t do anything about the recession so we might as well do something else to pass the time.” And don’t forget about PIPA, SOPA’s less known but cuter sister, that was created just because we want to show Pippa Middleton how much we wish we could be her.

But either way, it’s gaining momentum, and the end is near. If SOPA passes, the internet will start becoming a giant black hole of censorship. Before we know it, freedom of speech will cease to exist. And finally, all human happiness will be stomped out because we all know that a world without torrenting and pirated Youtube videos is a dark and lonely world. That will leave us crying in corners wondering why we didn’t email our Congress representatives when Wikipedia told us to. If you haven’t learned that Wikipedia is always right yet, you probably never will.

So who cares about December 21st?  What we should really be worrying about is the government passing SOPA. In fact, it’s probably going to get here before we know it. And if it does, who knows how everything is going to work out with a government that thinks that removing all pirated information is going to be fine. Just because the government is “representing the people,” it does not mean it is our friend. Chupacabras do exist.

*Some content from this article may have been removed due to an improper use of copyrighted text

The start of second semester is upon us and for most it is a time of celebration. Seniors embark on their final semester of high school, freshmen are just starting to realize what high school is, and sophomores and juniors continue to care about their grades too much. But the second semester parties were forced to end early when members of the student body received one fateful email declaring the closure-but-not-closed hallway procedure to be implemented at Deerfield High School this semester.

This past semester there has been an increase in complaints about hallway activity. Teacher and fig-lover Mary Carpenter said, “One day last semester, I could hear a boy in the hallway breaking up with his girlfriend. That was obviously more interesting than what I was teaching, so none of my students paid any attention to my lecture on economics in back-country China.”

It is complaints such as Ms. Sharpe’s that have caused for this new policy change. However, what goes unnoticed by many administrators is that it displaces some of DHS’s most loved and least known clubs. Clumping Addicts Anonymous holds meetings in the hallways every second of every day, and with nearly 1000 members at Deerfield High School and 1003 members worldwide, the news of the closed-but-not-actually-closed hallways means that CAA will have to meet at the used-to-be-blocks, or worse—an E-Hall lecture room. Other clubs, such as Vent Talkers USA, who are responsible for all of those half-heard conversations that filter into the classroom through the locker vent, to the Tumbleweed Association of Deerfield High School and the Pacific Northwest, will all have to adapt to the new hallway policy, trying to accomplish their usual tasks while having a destination in mind.

When asked for clarification as to what a destination was, Dean James responded, “It can be a locker, but not if you plan to hang out at it. But if you go to the WERCS, then you can hang out there. It’s a fine line really. Like, a destination might be M-Hall. Wait, no, a destination can’t just be a hallway. Can it? …Put your cell phone away! Oh, now we allow those. There is nothing to see here!”

On the plus side, this will promote learning. So…that’s always cool.

Finals Are So Stressfullll

By Alice Sharpe, Type A Freshman

My first high school finals are coming up and I’m totally freaking out! These tests will determine my whole life—literally. My final scores decide what grade I get in my first semester of high school, which determines my GPA, which affects what college I go to and then what job I get and how much money I make and if I can find the perfect husband. So, yes, if you ask me, finals are a HUGE deal. How else am I supposed to handle my three adopted children from Africa and adorable twins without a spouse that I met at an Ivy League university? Brad Pitts are not just falling from the sky, people.

So that I don’t slack off, I make sure to check the IC app on my phone at least five times an hour just in case a teacher posts something. Last week I made my older brother show me how to calculate my semester grade, so I know exactly what grades I need to score on these tests. Since I don’t have a free period, I make sure to re-calculate my grades every off-lab in order to prioritize classes for studying. Spanish will be the toughest: I actually have to rely on natural talent to ace my speaking final and my Quizlet is down…

But I think I can do it. I designed a study schedule over winter break to organize my studying. It took the entire two weeks to create, but it will be totally helpful when I do start studying.

Right now I am in the process of taking all of my stuff home so that I can start studying. True story: my backpack was so heavy it set off the passenger fasten seat belt alarm while I was trying to get some sleep in the backseat when my mom picked me up from school. But who needs sleep when these grades are so important? Right now my hand’s cramping up, but these totally safe 5-Hour Energy drinks are helping me pull an all-nighter to get this article in for deadline. Wish me luck!

Finals Are Lax, Bro

By Brody Macabro, Type B Senior

My last high school finals are coming up and I’m pumped. Man, I’m so ready to go to college. These tests will be a breeze. Now that I think about it, the six weeks of finals I’ve experienced here at DHS have been pretty sweet. The total time of like one school day spread over a week is nice. So, if you ask me, finals are really no big deal.

I kind of forgot my Infinite Campus password, so I have no idea how I’m doing in my classes. Spanish should be the easiest, ‘cause Profe said we only have an oral exam, and I went to the dentist last week. I can definitely pull off a C+, piece of cake. After Spanish on Wednesday, I’m jetting out of town since I have 678 free. True story: I dropped science to get 7th and 8th free and I go home and take a nap errday.

It’s been a nice first semester, you know, going home for lunch and coming back to school for practice to keep my gym waiver. Yeah, that’s right, I’ve basically got four free periods, five if you include math (which I do—first period?! It’s like the scheduling people are begging me to sleep through it).

But back to finals. I figure I’ll start studying over the weekend if I remember to take my textbooks home. I made a pretty classy schedule for the weekend, with some links to Facebook and StumbleUpon to reward my hard work organizing. I also totally recommend Sporcle.com for some prime procrastinating. It’s awesome: when my mom walks in, I just tell her I’m studying geography, and she totally buys that they still teach that in high school social studies! It’s like, psyche mom, I’m in Psych!

So is this article long enough yet? Oh crap, I think I lost the gym syllabus. That final’s gonna be challenging. Oh wait, there isn’t one. Aw yeahhh. You know what, Imma peace now. It’s time for my nap.

St. Alfonzo, MN–8 1/4-year-old Jimmy O’Toole astonished the world on Thursday with his discovery that, contrary to popular belief, clouds are not a mass coalescence of water molecules, but in fact cotton candy (a mass coalescence of sugar and carcinogens). When asked about the data on which he bases his fantastic new hypothesis, Jimmy had this to say: “For one thing,” he said, raising a pudgy, pudding-stained finger, “they look the same. For another, they smell the same…from a distance.” Shortly after the prodigy of Mrs. Fitzhugh’s third grade class revealed his new hypothesis, the American Association of Meteorologists called a meeting and issued their own statement. The statement read, “That seems as reasonable as anything we could have come up with.” The same afternoon as the revelation in St. Alfonzo, the ADADAR (American Dental Association for Dentistry (And Redundancy)) flexed their muscles in Washington where they pressured President Obama to reinstate the ban on clouds. Millard Fillmore banned them in 1851, but the Act was repealed as part of the Compromise of 1877. The ADADAR estimates that clouds must be responsible for at least 80% of all tooth decay in the United States, and probably diabetes, too. When asked what he planned to do now that he had revolutionized science, the brooding genius replied that he has ambitions of joining the race for the Republican Presidential Nomination.

With the holidays coming up I have noticed that all of these other families have “family traditions.” My family doesn’t have any, but I want us to. What kind of family traditions would you suggest I start?

Sincerely, Holiday N00b

Dear Norbert,

Your query shows a lack of invention on par with Bizzaro Edison. I have to change thousands of years of social convention AND take out the trash? Serious bogosity. You, sir, have awoken a sleeping giant with your mention of the upcoming holidays, so prepare for some loud shouting and perhaps the eating of small, disobedient children.The phrase that comes to mind when I think of the impending holiday season is not “glad tidings” or “goodwill to all.” Rather, it is “grievous offense.” I am offended by the soulless corporate machine that is ramming the holidays down our collective maw like some grey-flannel Molly Pitcher. I am offended that most of you don’t get that reference. C’mon people! Battle of Monmouth?!? The continuous genuflections before the god of commerce wears my knee-bones to dust this time of year, these ministrations returned to me in the form of socks or the occasional animatronic singing bass. What is Santa Claus but thinly-veiled home invasion made possible by the tacit condoning of sweat-shop oppression for the 2ft. and under crowd? You may keep your Schultzian pageant of passive-aggressive children, sir. Just make sure it doesn’t bump Ace of Cakes from my idiot-box.

If you want to start a new holiday tradition, how about writing a carol that is relevant to your own tepid personal experience? Most carols are just plain unreasonable or, like Tito Jackson, they just are not germaine. Global warming has ankled the sleigh industry. You can’t talk on a cell phone while driving in D-town. You think you’re going hove into view astride a horse-drawn barge festooned with bells without the sweet kiss of a DFPD truncheon? Write about what you know from your own mundane parade.  Example:

(sung to the tune of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen)

“I just came in for laxatives and half-price candy canes,

Oh blast! My former girlfriend looking at me in dismay!

They’re not for me, I swear!  But then she just walked away

Now its shame, discomfort and five-ninety-five

Next time I go to Walgreens with a mask.” 

Consider this my holiday present to you.  Save the gift receipt.