Btw, a lot of other crap was going on when I read this article. But now I'm ready to post it. (aka, the tone of my blog is not altogether a cesspit of depressing crap)...

Yup, they finally said it.

Okayokay, lemme post a little bit of it here...hell...the whole thing...

"Go bears

By Mark Slee and Evan Tana
Features Columnists
Monday, November 22, 2004
last updated November 21, 2004 10:12 PM

This weekend, Cal dominated our football team. No big surprise. Irrelevant. This column is not about football. Spencer Porter’s got us beat when it comes to sport. He also has us beat when it comes to Friday recess.
Enough ballyhoo. What we’re here to say is that Stanford’s Cal-bashing is a load of nonsense. Rubbish. Malarkey. It’s more reflective of a pervasive inferiority complex than of any supposed superiority.

The fact is this: Berkeley is pretty much unequivocally better than Stanford. That’s a bold statement, and we’re here to make it. If anything, Berkeley does not need to “Burst any Bubbles.” They’re living in the real world, not this palm tree-laden, Sunday brunch-studded adventure of ours.

Let’s start by comparing each college’s college town.

University Avenue is littered with overpriced chic restaurants catering to yuppie 20-something-folk, no fewer than three Persian rug stores and multiple independent theaters. We like independent theaters. So we’ve bat one for three. Not bad in baseball. Bad by any Stanford grading standard.

Telegraph Avenue offers restaurants with the finest five-dollar plates of ethnic cuisine, record shops with sounds the likes of which your Dashboard Confe-ssional-loving emo self has never heard and homeless drug addicts, not the entrepreneur-gone-bust-in-the-dotcom-boom vagrants of Palo Alto. Something about Berkeley’s homeless reeks of legitimacy.

Let’s continue by comparing each institution’s academics.

You’re not smarter than the Berkeley crowd. Remember all that crap they feed you freshman year about how you all really deserve to be here? Wake up, kiddos. Reality: it’s all a load of bulwarky. There’s someone at Berkeley way more qualified than you, but less willing to shell out the big bucks for private school. Or they were less approved of by our admissions department.

Those of us that are from out of state are lucky not to have to deal with the guilt of knowing we’re paying three times as much for a less rigorous education. They actually have to do some hard work to get good non-inflated grades across the bay. They sink or swim over there. If we don’t swim, we get to sit down with our friendly advisors from the UAC for milk, cookies and a pep talk at the CoHo.

Anyways, onto our good point (as if we ever have such a thing). How do we psych ourselves up for Big Game? Gaieties. Now, we hate to hate on Gaieties, but how the hell is a musical theater production supposed to get people psyched up for a football game? Imagine if someone told you that Cal was organizing a sick mass ballet routine to get revved up for Big Game. What would you think? I know . . . let’s sign up for a five-unit yoga class next quarter.

This all begs the question: why haven’t the two of us just gotten into our bumbling brown Mercedes and skedaddled up I-880?

You’re right. We haven’t, and we won’t. We’re walking ironies. In fact, we can’t wait to stay here another year. As much as this place pales in comparison to Berkeley, we’d still rather be here than there. It’s kind of like belonging to a country club. You recognize that you’re an undeserving privileged youngster and that everyone else is probably a hell of a lot more genuine and interesting than you, but shit, your membership was by invitation only. Suck on that.

Send Mark and Evan hate mail at mcslee@stanford.edu and etana@

stanford.edu. They are sick of only hearing how crappy their columns are in non-electronic form."

Awesome, n'est-ce pas?

No comments: