Cheers & Jeers

Drew Acquaviva, Staff Writer

Well, this is it. The season finale of Cheers & Jeers ‘011-’012. It’s been a good year for satire. For those who are graduating, good luck and I hope you’re not homeless soon, or ever. I’m among that category soon-to-be graduates. It’s high time I break things off with Le Moyne. It’s not you, it’s me. Actually, it’s you. If you want to pay for it, I’ll stay here forever. No problemo. This final Cheers & Jeers is dedicated to all things Le Moyne. It’s the least I could do since my bank account doesn’t have $50 million to spare.

CHEER of the year- Fred Pestello 

President Pestello is a pretty good guy. Not only is he good to live with (not once did I have to call the landlord on him when we both lived in Mitchell), but he seems to have a good vision for the future of the college. Luckily that future is not likely to result in a “Planet of the Apes”-style future. I kind of have to support him by default just because of that. However, we are being lied to. Sometimes when we think Dr. Pestello is on campus doing President-y things, it’s actually his secret evil twin, Dr. Frod Postello. The difference is very subtle: our President Dr. Pestello wears a green and gold striped tie, but Dr. Postello wears a green tie with gold trim. I just hope that we don’t someday run into the situation where we have to shoot the evil twin but neither is wearing a tie so I have to ask a question that only the real Fred Pestello would know in order to shoot the right one. Naturally, that question would be “If Eric Dolphy and St. Ignatius got into a fight, who would win?” I won’t reveal the answer in case Frod Postello reads this column. Rest assured, I’ve known about this evil man for quite some time and have been thwarting his plans to destroy Le Moyne. Now that I’m graduating, I must spread the word so another may take up my cause. Good luck, and Godspeed.


JEER of the year- the housing lottery

Every February starts the same: half of campus is abuzz with stress about where they’re going to live next year. Plans are made and friendships are destroyed, both with such speed it would make Einstein dizzy. Every year, Residence Life (or whatever they call themselves now) says that they’ve revamped the process to make it less stressful: “There are TVs to watch along! We added days in between!” Great, so that way people have another 24 hours to mentally prepare for the inevitability of being a junior living in St. Mary’s? It doesn’t matter how many changes you make. The fact remains that you’re trying to organize a campus-wide game of musical chairs, except that instead of one chair, it’s an entire building of rooms that is absent. The sad reality is that changing the process to an entire “Hunger Games”-esque competition as described in our inaugural edition of The Landshark might be where we’re headed. I have hope that one day, there will be a housing process that doesn’t suck eggs, but then we’d have to deal with the horsemen and the reign of fire and the end of days, so it’s just better to plan ahead. And if it turns out that your plans don’t work then we proved last fall that the quad has lots of room for shacks.


CHEERS to grass

Don’t get your hopes up, this is actually a cheer to grass, not… “grass.” I harp on Le Moyne a lot for needing new facilities. So far my list includes a new auditorium, events building, dining hall, at least two dorm buildings, tennis courts, track and field, pool, more parking and the fountain from the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. Okay I just made up that last one, but let it be known that Le Moyne’s ambitions do not match its facilities and that makes me get sarcastic and bitter. However, the college faces an internal conflict between providing these new buildings and maintaining its most literally attractive feature: the campus is attractive. Unlike most colleges and universities in the country, Le Moyne actually has grass and foliage in places besides the athletic end of campus. When you think about it, events like Dolphy Day wouldn’t exist without the grass to lay on. Physical Plant would have to triple its snow removal budget if the entire quad was one big walkway. I’d much rather lay around on the grass with some friends complaining about the new buildings that Le Moyne needs than actually being in those buildings, so kudos to the big guys for listening to us by not listening to us.


JEERS to the commencement speaker

For those who don’t know, our commencement speaker will be the New York Commissioner of Education and president of SUNY, John King, Jr. I’m not exactly sure what a man in these positions does, other than operate the Bat signal. When I first heard about this, my immediate thought was “That’s an odd way to spell Tina Fey.” Then I realized that apparently the administration actually chose to not get Tina Fey. I mean, she’s expensive but we just wasted $50 million on a new building when we could have used that money to get Tina Fey as the commencement speaker? Poor form, Le Moyne. I would gladly trade a building for that. My next confusion came in the fact that the president of SUNY is coming to talk to us. Strangely, I was under the impression that Le Moyne wasn’t a SUNY school. This guy’s idea of a Liberal Arts school is SUNY Fredonia. I have a small suspicion that some things are gonna get lost in translation. Maybe he’ll liven things up with a couple of one-liners. I was expecting a quip about being able to “see Russia from my house,” but I’ll even chuckle at a self-mocking but endearing “ugly SUNY Albany campus” joke.


JEERS to the high pitched noise in the cafe

Sometimes when I’m getting food at the exhibition station of the caf, I’ll get whatever the dish is with veggies or extra meat or what have you. Unfortunately, sometimes I also get it with a side of a 7 million decibel high pitched noise coming from an as-yet unidentified machine. It can’t be the ice cream machine because it’s ice cream. Such a machine can only create joy. This high-pitched noise is intermittent, but everyone knows when it’s there. A shock wave passes through and everyone in line suddenly flinches. It’s like a dog whistle for college students. This may be a Catholic school but the only corporal punishment I’ll accept here at Le Moyne is crotchety old nuns hitting me with a ruler because I swivel my hips like Elvis. As far as the reason behind the noise, you could say that it’s just bad machinery. On the other hand, I think they do it on purpose as a test of wills. How badly do I really want my General Tso’s chicken? If the sound clears out the area, they know that the dish they’re serving isn’t popular enough. Well played, unnamed caf gods, but now that I’ve figured it out, could I maybe not get an instant headache as a prerequisite of my meal?