Late Night Bwog is a beautiful and precious concept. It’s a time when our readers ask deeply contemplative questions such as, “Who the fuck is running Bwog these days?” and our editors ask, “Who scheduled a review of rubber bands for 2 am?”
Both of those quotes appropriately exemplify our organization. Bwog is a place where the staff probably has too much freedom, the commenters would be ashamed if anyone discovered their identities, and our writers appreciate the commenters in the way that only true masochists can.
Now we’re 10 years old—and what a strange 10-year-old we are. In some ways we act our age—we’re wild, disruptive, and have a very bizarre collective imagination—yet in other ways we are a whole other beast. Picture a drunk 10-year-old who goes to Columbia and you’re pretty much there.
In true drunk 10-year-old fashion, we propose a toast on this day of our birth. We raise our glasses to our founder, Taylor Walsh, and the past Bwoggers who sustained this strange creature for a decade; to the Columbia Daily Spectator for its friendship through the years; to the famed administrators of Columbia and Barnard, including Prezbo, Dspar, Deantini, AHinks, Dean Awn, and Dean Boyce, for providing us endless amounts of content; and finally, to the current staff who make every day stranger than the last in the best possible way. Cheers!