Gentlemen of Concordia, it is through a strong sense of civic duty that I have been impelled to pen this short treatise decrying what I consider to be a grave moral failing that plagues our illustrious institution.
Indeed this issue is not solely confined to our central campus but may be applied to society as a whole and is perhaps indicative of the decadence our good nation has fallen into. Some might argue that the lack of public moral outrage is in itself grounds for moral outrage! How we found ourselves in so desperate and somber a situation in the first place is a mystery that is, for the moment, unsolvable. But let us focus on our more immediate circumstances. How can we hope to improve those around us when we cannot even help ourselves?
Firstly, let us allow our more sensitive readers a moment to compose themselves. To guard against an unwanted gasp and to take care not to faint at the horror of the nature of this crime against reason, sensibility and common courtesy.
I refer of course to those villainous male students who (let us keep in mind are in university and thus for the most part over the age of twenty) insist on urinating on the toilet seat and to add further insult to injury, refuse to flush what little they actually manage to get inside the pot!
A semester ago I had the curious misfortune to catch one of these strange men red-handed. What follows is a description and dialogue of the event.
Our story begins last semester, around the exam period, in the washroom of the third floor of the library. I was busying myself at a urinal when a fellow student strolled in and proceeded to lock himself in a stall. That was all good and well and I continued about my business. Well, a few moments later he emerged from the stall and began washing his hands at the sink (at least). I noticed he hadn’t flushed and I looked back at the stall in disbelief. There was urine all over the seat. I looked over and tried to address him (forgive the break in character):
“Yo.”
No reply.
“Yo!”
He obviously heard me but was steadfastly ignoring me. He washed faster.
“YO FLUSH THE TOILET!”
He finally looked over at me, dead in the eye, and screamed: “YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” And bolted out the door.
It is truly a despicable age we live in where the common man rails against the heavens and offends all decent Victorian sensibility. I, for one, have grown tired of standing (for it has been made impossible to sit) idly.
Let this treatise then be a righteous light that cuts through the grim fog of decadence and moral decay and leads the way to a more enlightened state of being and existing within our Concordia community.
God save the Queen.