Whoops: Nobody Else Brought Clubs To The Club Fair

We all love the Flinstones, that classic wacky cartoon with Fred and Wilma getting up to Stone Age hijinx with their kids Pebbles and Bam-Bam. They were inspiring crusaders of a time where hitting things with big clubs was an acceptable pastime. When we were invited to this club fair, in our excitement The Doily Allergen came as prepared as any club-owning members would be. With our big sticks. There’s no love like a club’s love of clubs to bring to a club fair.

But when we arrived, what we discovered was far worse than any club fair ripoff.

Excited freshmen walking to and fro with free memorabilia in hand, positively beaming at the prospect of newfound community. Seniors looking for free food to scrounge and take back home with them so they can afford to buy booze this week instead of groceries. And in all that madness, not a single actual club. Just “clubs.”

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

“Club (noun);

a: a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon.”

Not only until you reach the THIRD translation of the word do you find anything resembling what the university thought was acceptable to hold on campus. In other words, we were right to bring our hitting sticks and everyone else is stupid.

Alas, we had to put together a fantastic poster on the spot and put out our best article headlines purely randomly, all while setting our clubs aside to lay in defeat on the ground. At the end of it all we had the best table there, with literally hundreds of people asking us how they could ever be as cool as our newspaper.

Answer: Bring a club next time.