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WHEN
there is no divorce suit of sufficient interest to
be attended, or no high society scandal to be read
of in the papers, your true blue University student
will devote his time to politics. Next to the
diversions first named, the latter is the most
popular form of vice in academic circles.
College is made up of many types,
just as is any other of the many subdivisions of
life in America, but these types divide themselves
into one of two great bodies, morally -- those who
take part in politics, and those who don't. Of
course there are various kinds of politics. There
is class politics, which is the worst form, and
University politics, which is an even worse
form.
The object of class politics is
to elect somebody president who will either keep
all the frat men off the dance committees, or put
one of your men in as chairman, so the whole gang
can sneak in free. It doesn't make the slightest
difference who the president is, provided he
belongs to the right gang. Then he can do no wrong,
unless he should forget to pass the plums the right
way.
The object of University politics
as distinguished from class is to elect to the
athletic board the largest possible number of
track, tennis, and basketball men possible, so that
football, which is but a minor sport, will not be
favored too much financially.
There is always keen competition
for offices in both class and University politics.
Not because the office itself is considered such an
honor, but because it is a fine thing to get out
over the country that Johnnie is president uv his
class, by gumbo, and also such news is ordinarily
worth some extra collateral from father.
Consequently the University is quite full of
offices of one sort or another. There are often so
many that it is more of an honor to be an ordinary
proletarian than the holder of the emoluments,
especially since the proletarian is supposed to be
honest, and ordinarily a pretty good fellow. The
office holder is often his exact opposite.
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University elections are
sometimes exciting; sometimes "cut and dried," and
sometimes supposed to be that latter, but really
the former. Pink Holmes is in authority on this
phase of University politics.
University politics is very
similar to politics outside. It is the best
politician that wins. The students line up for men,
riot upon their judgment of his ability, but upon
the emoluments which he may have offered them or
which they hope to obtain from him. The candidate
must entertain the influential few, pass the
cigars, and make the glowing speech and seductive
promise. He must secure the withdrawal of some
rival candidates and besling the rest with mud. And
then on the voting day he must see that his vote is
turned out, that his supporters know when to cheer
for him, and that as many illegal ballots are cast
for him as are cast for his opponent. And after it
is all over he cleans himself from mud, washes from
his hands impurity, resolves again to follow in the
paths of righteousness, and curseth himself for
being thrice a fool.
Our political life this year has
been rather pleasant than otherwise, however. Verne
Bates was n't elected to anything in particular and
the D. U.s have had their Sophomore ring broken.
The Iron Sphinx now aver that they are going to run
secretly next year. Next year, we will have the
Australian ballot system anyhow, and it has been
predicted that a great change will come over the
face of the Uni politician. Let it come, and keep
the change, we say.
It will mean the end of ring
convention politics, stuffing of hurried class
meetings, and the stuffing of ballot boxes that has
become so great a menace to the candidacy of an
honest man. It will also mean more time to vote,
woman suffrage, and, as election lasts all day, we
presume, no end of refreshments of one sort and
another. It may even serve to remove class politics
from the joke section of college life, into the
sanctity of that section devoted to major
activities. We hope so -- for the sake of the
politician. Long may he wave.
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