Enough bull...

I have just two words for everyone still debating the issue of beef at Spring Fling: Eat me. Yalies only care about five things: eating, drinking, sex, music, and relieving themselves. (Note that this is an improvement over high school, where the only things anyone cared about were clothing, popularity, and drugs.) Occasionally, they also care about God, money, studying, and sleep.

This is why throwing a party is so blessedly simple. You don't even have to serve food. All you need to provide is music, drinks, and a nearby place to relieve oneself--the promise of sex inheres in the presence of multiple people in the same room. Never mind that this promise is rarely fulfilled; any good liberal arts major knows that dealing in theory is usually much more pleasant than dealing in reality. Anyway, at no point during the planning of a party does some granola-crunching beatnik say, "Wait, guys...do you know how much grain and water go into the production of one bottle of grain alcohol?"

Which brings us to April 27, when the YCC throws one of Yale's only campus parties. It can provide music and a nearby place to relieve oneself, as well as the promise of sex (with the suggestive name of "Spring Fling") by gathering together Yalies of both genders. Since the YCC can't legally provide drinks, it provides food instead, moving YUDH operations outside.

Then the organizers came down with a case of "save cow" disease. After slipping bad chicken and veggies past us last year, they have made the mistake of publicizing their intentions to try to serve up the same menu this year. They maintain that burgers and franks are environmentally unsound. If you can't forego red meat for a day, Calhoun's facilities will be available for consumption of slaughtered mammals. The Yale Carnivore Council believes that we should be offered traditional picnic fare, juicy meat and all, and that vegetarians should not be allowed to enforce their beliefs on others. On the surface, the issue seems to pit fascist, environmentally conscious vegans against rapacious, butchering carnivores. But the real battle is "cause freaks" versus people who just want to eat and have fun.

It doesn't take much to unearth the hypocrisy of cause freaks. They profess their ecologically sound vegetarianism and yet still serve chicken. They shout about carnivorous freedom, but can't be satisfied with a trip across the street to Calhoun. And if they really cared about the environment, wouldn't they all stay in their rooms and study rather than mash up the grass and throw trash all over Old Campus?

You'd think that, given my status as a staff member for a Yale publication, I would be used to meaningless debates by now. But you have to admit, it does give us something to do. We're complaining about one meal on a given day of the year because we're all supposed to be in training to become journalists, politicians and ideologues in the "real" world, where, when we finally get there, we will continue to bitch incessantly about silly things.

We are supposed to unwind and chill out at Spring Fling, in hedonistic celebration of the end of classes. So am I the only one who wonders why it is one of the most complained about days of the year? How much ink and hot air has been wasted whining about the bands, the food, and the money?

So enough of the bull, folks...just send in the cows.

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