Every student living in the campus dorms has had to deal with the “Resident Advisor,” a member of a paramilitary organization tasked with the protection of private property owned by the Kent-led Syracuse bourgeoisie. While most foolishly open up their doors to be searched when the RA commands it, this is the dumbest fucking thing they could do. According to the 2nd Amendment, the NRA, and my crazy Uncle Ricky (recently killed in an unfortunate aquatic skeet shooting accident, bless his heart), I have the right to hole up in my dorm room with a sawed-off shotgun and exercise my God-given right to stand my ground.
When I was a freshman here at ‘Cuse, things were good. The l*b*r*ls hadn’t imposed the suffocating mask mandate and open carry was as common as Canada Goose. DPS were actually allowed to protect the civilian population, each carrying no less than two hunting rifles filled to the brim with buckshot. Noted Syracuse alum President Joe Biden was well known around campus as the president of the Politics Club, yet lesser known were his fraternity days spent shooting holes in the tires of local school buses. Even Syracuse alum Aaron Sorkin got caught up in the fun, his senior thesis being a play called “The West Bang”, a tense political drama depicting life inside of the White House if every staffer and politician had a gun. Opening night resulted in 15 casualties (6 of which were audience members), but that’s the unavoidable price we pay here in America for our freedom of expression. The first and second amendments are next to each other for a reason.
When I used to ask my Uncle Ricky about his time in Syracuse, he always responded incoherently with some choice words including “Smith and Wesson Wednesdays”, something called “gun sex”, and “Get the hell out of the bathroom Adam, those Arby’s jalapeño poppers are tearing my ass up. You little pervert.” Despite his premature death, he was actually the sole surviving member of his class due to the prevalent gun violence on campus at the time.
Those good times ended quickly. Kent’s meteoric rise to TV fame as the first socially awkward Bachelor allowed him to easily slip into power as Chancellor, bringing his vicious militia of RA’s with him. At first they were hesitant to exert their power, nervously walking the hallways of dorms and turning a blind eye to the occasional one-on-one gunfight in the lounge. As the generations of RAs evolved and inbred, the weaklings died out and only the most savage remained. A drop of alcohol found in a dorm room now called for the student to attend a dreaded Barnes counseling session. While some students poured out their hearts and souls, all were met with the same cold advice: try making a planner. As the timidity of the RA shrank, so did the prevalence of heavy weaponry and the free spirits of the students. No longer can this be allowed.
It may sound scary to stand up to The Man for the first time, so here are some final tips and tricks to ease the anxiety.
1. Use deep breathing exercises when your RA starts banging on your door. They can smell fear.
2. Remember, they’re more scared of you than you are of them.
3. Have fun!
Ignore the obnoxious propaganda of the bulletin boards, “fun facts” backed by colorful construction paper thinner than the veil with which they obscure their purely capitalist ideology. Your show of strength further protects the rights of your neighbors: the stoner to your right, the borderline alcoholic to your left, and the actual alcoholic across the hall. Now is the time to decry your oppressors, take up your arms, and awkwardly shove your desk against the door of your split double.