Children, children, must we throw our corn cobs? Now would someone mind telling me what that was all about? It seems to me like some of us have been in the cornfields a bit too long.

In case it hasn’t clicked yet, I’m talking about Saturday’s tailgate when some amazingly intelligent screw-up yelled, “Food fight!”

It’s sort of ironic that the very instruments of malice with which we pelted one another were donated by the Newman Catholic Student Center. Apparently there’s this epidemic going around NIU that causes a severe malfunction in everyone’s brain cells whenever the masses come together.

Certainly there must be some better way to deal with these pent-up hostilities of ours. I’m sure by now there are more than a few angry administrators contemplating the barring of alcohol at all future tailgates. I don’t like that.

Then again, I don’t like the idea of having corn cobs rammed up my nose. Although I attended Saturday’s festivities, I must have been in a low-risk area because I only saw two bloody people. One of which was the not-too-jolly officer who asked us to leave. Can’t really blame him, can I?

Now you would think with all the complaining we student types do about the lack of good times on this campus, we would take a little care in preserving what we have. I’m telling you right now, beer and football just kind of belong together and I’d hate to see it any other way.

So what do we do about those among us who insist on acting like eighth graders with their first good buzz? And why does everyone have to follow the poorly-inspired idea of one or two brain-damaged idiots?

You mean to tell me that if I run out at the next tailgate party and yell, “Give me money!,” you’re all going to do it? Probably not. But I’m sure if I pulled out a bag of quickstart briquets and yelled, “Let’s kill each other with charcoal!,” at least a handful of morons would think it a good idea.

Okay, so back to the question: How do those of us who just want to get drunk and mellow out with our buddies weed out the psychotic sadists who threaten our favorite weekend vice?

Perhaps the next time someone calls for a food fight, we should grab the nearest edible objects and hurl them at him. Then we can all get back to our harmless fraternizing and let him pick the corn kernels out of his eye sockets.

If that seems a bit harsh, just remember NIU President John LaTourette—who’s sort of like a parent when the neighbors come over for bridge. He wants his kids to make a good impression, even if it means taking their toys away—in other words, our sacred kegs.

Once again, let me just say that I don’t like that idea. So maybe we could try some altered version of the buddy system. We pair off, and if our companion starts acting like John Wayne Gacy on a bad day, we simply destroy him as a matter of our civil duty. How’s that?

Better yet, why don’t we just do the obvious and try to dredge up an ounce or two of common sense the next time such an occasion arises. That’s just one person apiece, ourselves, to be responsible for.

And if that’s too difficult for you to handle, I’ve got news for you—your life’s a scary mess. The next time you find yourself picking up a corn cob off the ground, ask yourself: “Self, do I really want to biff the nearest ignoramus in the head with this corn cob?”

If your answer is yes, proceed directly to the nearest quiet corner and commence bashing your own skull—because you are the nearest ignoramus.

Ah, life is simple, isn’t it? As for the rest of us, let’s just hope this one incident isn’t going to interfere with our happy drunken lives. I’d hate to imagine what would happen to the attendance at our football games if we had to cheer for our team while sober!

opefully it’s not too late and we’ll all make it to the next tailgate—you, me and the kegs.