Spooooky conspiracy theories

Spooooky conspiracy theories

A week out from Bacchanal and the troubles continue to mount. Every day, new reports come in on our site and others, statements are issued by student government bodies you have never heard of, confusions are placed on top of confusions are placed on well-intentioned bureaucratic nightmares. And now, rain in the forecast.

Surely, this mess can’t have it’s roots in Columbia itself. We are after all, the bright young leaders of tomorrow (!), as brilliant as we are willing to move beyond our personal biases into a place of compromise, overseen by an administration revered for its effectiveness and extraordinary compassion for the students it serves. 

At least, we all can be, providing we find just the right thing to blame. For our collective reputations, for our sense of worth and righteousness, for our well placed and quite vehement anger, we at Bwog offer you a number of scapegoats to choose from: 

  • As in the seminal Christmas classic It’s A Wonderful Lifean angel  has interfered with the course of human history to prevent a terrible future. Three years ago, Billy Freichner was shown what would unfold should he cancel his Furnald party: Furnald would remain a silent, lifeless husk, never assuming its place as the premier party dorm; no less than six ill-conceived distance relationships would remain unbroken, triggering an escalating plague of sexual frustration; and the Columbia social scene would collapse almost entirely, eventually resulting in a highly politicized and poorly orchestrated Bacchanal. Freichner returned to his time and prevented this awful course of events, his party going down in Columbia legend, but we, we are forever trapped in the other timeline, doomed to serve forever as a paving stone for his better world.
  • On a night of thunder and wind, a witch, acting according to the evil compulsions of Satan, turned her magic to where it might do the greatest harm and brought a page of the Bwog comment section to walking, talking, horrible life. Irritable and unimpressed, Mr. Section’s first action was to take an obscure position in student government, where he halts progress to this day.
  • As it turns out, God is a fan of high grossing films of the late 90s. As you read this, Ben Kornick is realizing that somehow, Bacchanal is still somehow short exactly $15,000. As he wonders where he can find that kind of money, a nearby television is announcing the entry deadline of the NYC musical hockey tournament, with a grand prize of exactly $15,000. Can Ben, his ragtag group of Bacchanal committee members, their Juilliard trained pet cocker spaniel, and new transfer Vince Vaughn win the contest and save Bacchanal???
  • Up until last month, Bacchanal was running smoothly. But smoothly doesn’t sell online ad space. Following in the footsteps of Hearst, the Spec’s Michael Ouimette launched a devastating but subtle yellow journalism campaign designed to stir up controversy and page views. Today Bacchanal, tomorrow Cuba.
  • Bacchanal has always been secretly funded by a small but powerful cult as part of an elaborate occult ritual requiring pulsating music, the sweat of the young, human sacrifice, and marijuana smoke. Intended to give the damned souls of the long gone asylum purchase over the grounds they once walked, the ritual was canceled this year. The asylum ghosts don’t want to walk here any more. They find us depressing.
  • The Bacchanal fiasco is your brain‘s way of telling you that this, all of this isn’t quite right. None of this is real. You were hit by a falling air conditioner in September and have been in a coma since. That’s why you’re so unhappy. It’s time to wake up, dear. We all miss you terribly. Can you hear me? YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP. PLEASE. WE LOVE YOU, PLEASE, PLEASE WAKE UP.
  • Spring Bacchanal was originally canceled along with Fall Bacchanal. CCSC President Peter Bailinson tried to save it by wishing upon a mysterious monkey paw he bought from that one guy who sells books outside of Tom’s.
  • There never was a Bacchanal. “Bacchanal” was the only successful element of the now long dead #OurBlue campaign, an attempt to inspire the student body with false memories of a happy community.
  • PrezBo’s wig got caught in the machinery lurking below… No. We can’t do this any more. President Bollinger we’re just acting out because we want your attention. You’re our president. Where are you? Why don’t you love us anymore? Did you ever love us?
  • All I can tell you: Henry Kissinger, a soufflé contest, and the lost colony of Roanoke.
  • Columbia’s squirrel population, a highly intelligent and vicious breed, are secretly sabotaging Bacchanal, along with your grades, and your love life, all to send a message to Bwog staffers, who have been lax in providing them with publicity and fresh first-year blood.

Spoooky atmosphere via Shutterstock