Category: Humor

UNDERGRADUATE DINING HALL—In the aftermath of what has been described by witnesses as “the greatest dining blunder in the past 10 years,” a local student has been taken into school custody, reportedly after attempting to acquire food in the undergraduate dining hall at 10:47 a.m. EST. 

The news has blindsided Fordham Lincoln Center (FLC), as it is common knowledge that from Monday to Thursday, the dining hall serves breakfast from 7 a.m. to 10:30 a.m., lunch from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. and dinner from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. 

The No Meal Period (NMP) from 10:30 a.m. to 11 a.m. has been a fixture of school dining policy since Fordham’s inception. The nature of the 30 minute blackout in meal coverage is largely unknown. Popular speculation points to a spacetime anomaly necessitating daily stabilization, explaining the interdimensional time beings on Fordham’s dining services payroll.

Upon detection and subsequent apprehension, the 18-year-old Caucasian male perpetrator in question was led out of the hall in handcuffs, stomach growling in defiance.

“You don’t mess with the schedule. Rules are rules, and if people start eating whenever they want, we’ll have anarchy,” explained a dining hall representative on the condition of anonymity. “Who could possibly be hungry at 10:45 a.m.?”

The idiocy—or boldness—of the student’s actions has rocked the university to its very core. Support for the mealtime terrorist has manifested in elevator grumblings and unabashed dorm rants—which, thanks to McKeon Hall’s strategically thin walls, have allowed for quick detection and suppression by RAs. Conversely, support for the continued enforcement of the NMP has been resounding.

“It’s my job as an American to uphold every last societal convention I’ve been raised on to the letter,” said one concerned onlooker, peering through the street-level windows of the dining hall. “Liberal universities have kids questioning too much, and they act surprised when students choose to eat a sandwich after 10:30 and before 11. 10:45? Typical leftist ignorance.” 

He ran away, shouting “Ignatius was a witch” over his shoulder, before he could be reached for further comment. 

It is, understandably, ludicrous to imagine the precedent that could have been set had the student been served during the NMP. Similar alarming incidents of rogue eating, most notably foolhardy attempts to eat dinner after 7 p.m. on Saturdays, point to a similar conclusion: opportunities to fill students’ hedonistic stomachs outside of regular operating hours spell doom for the university. 

This has not deterred school officials, as rumors of closing the NMP swirl through the university. A potential restructuring of operation hours smacks of 1930’s appeasement policy—all those familiar with “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” know the ramifications if an example is not made of this morning’s attempted 10:45 a.m. sandwich. 

The 30 minutes between breakfast and lunch belong to no one. Fordham must not bend to the demands of its ravenous students: the NMP is a time for reflection and meditation just as the hours after 8 p.m., 7 p.m. on Saturdays, and 6 p.m. on Sundays are undoubtedly meant for intellectual stimulation and full-bellied studying. 

The university surely holds its breath as a verdict is deliberated. In the meantime, students can rest easy knowing their full academic plates can be paired nicely with even fuller dining hall platters during normal operating hours. Fordham has put its trust in reason, tradition and cooler heads winning the day—one can only hope that rogue eating may prove to be just a passing fad.

Top university officials dropped a 500-pound bombshell on the student body just weeks ago—what has been described as a “giant metal ram” by onlookers has been installed on Fordham’s singular stronghold of grass.

Standing four feet tall and composed of a gray metal composite with gold accents, the ram is Fordham Lincoln Center’s newest addition. Robert Moses Plaza, allegedly a gathering place for the school community, now falls under the watchful eye of the quarter-ton metal beast.

“I didn’t know what our mascot was, and I didn’t want to know,” said Alan H, a freshman known for blowing off floor meetings and taking the elevator to his 2nd floor class. “This is another bold-faced attempt by the university to foist spirit on our school.”

Murmurings among the shocked crowd gathered around the metal colossus suggest students are outraged, distressed and under the impression that school pride was just kind of a thing that Rose Hill did.

Cult implications have run rampant through Fordham’s beige, undecorated walls. Students fear that erecting effigies is only the first step toward the slippery slope of school spirit.

“What’s next, pep rallies? If I wanted to get my buddies together and spell out “Fordham” on our chests, I would’ve gone to Penn State,” said Colby W., a junior who enjoys living weeks on end without setting foot outside. He quickly fled through the Gabelli doors before further questions could be asked.

Within minutes of the statue’s arrival, hundreds of charters for pep bands, intramural sports teams and improv comedy groups inundated student council email servers. Levels of mindless prejudice and unfounded feelings of personal supremacy—side effects associated with “team spirit” and “rivalry,” per a 2010 study—have undoubtedly reached all-time highs in the university. Mascot-emblazoned spirit wear was completely sold out three days following the incident, with more on the way. The result: hundreds of students rallying behind the siren song of the metal ram.

Ranging from casual acceptance to violent rejection, the reaction among the population has been mixed. Another freshman, Kelsey L., weighed in: “Sure, now we have a puppet to draw a false sense of collective from. But was there tofu in the dining hall yesterday?” She continued, urging our correspondent to watch What the Health and see the truth.

Long-term effects on the student body are still under close watch; already young people have been spotted attempting to tailgate before important mock trial events. Experts posit that if the ram’s presence remains unchecked, full-sized flag football games may appear on the plaza as early as 2020—with disastrous effects on local social ecosystems and sedentary lifestyles alike.

It is yet to be seen whether foreign notions of “school spirit” and “school pride” brought about by the newly-ubiquitous ram will stick to the hearts, minds and nondescript buildings of Fordham University Lincoln Center. Nevertheless, the ram remains: keeping watch over the subjects of its new domain and patiently waiting for a game of KanJam to start in its midst.

Go Rams.