Despite the logic of protesting students, campus preachers were found this week to be totally and unequivocally right about every word they’ve ever said. Fortunately, this will cut down on time students spend fact-checking them on outdated issues like science, evolution, philosophy and recipes for vegetarian cooking.
The preachers, local messengers of the Divine Being coming to bury us in fire and brimstone, have suspected this for quite some time. In fact, their strength has grown because of it.
Religiously appearing twice a week, the preachers have stormed their post outside the Brower Student Center in biblical proportions, carrying with them only warm tidings and the promise of eternal damnation. Students need this, too; in a collegiate breeding ground of paganism and meal equiv, you can never be condemned quite enough. I know I can’t. So, as the idea grew that whatever shouted suddenly became truth, these middle-aged dudes became prophets.
“Why waste your money at a school that teaches you useless knowledge and bury yourself in debt?” one angel of animosity asked me. Instantly, I knew he was right. What was preparing to enter the job market and securing a future for my children when I could yell at hungover students instead? I dropped out immediately and have since been reading the Old Testament from a box in the street.
Unfortunately, not everyone was as receptive. When being told they were “sinners from birth” and are “going to Hell,” a group of docile do-gooders decided there was no point to following society’s rules any longer. Instead, they rioted across campus, looting a pair of off-brand jeans from a stunned preacher and stealing other student’s plates at the Wok station.
Worst of all, some biology major tried to voice an objection, pitiful and smart like, during a daily sermon. Luckily, the lacrosse team was nearby to club him down with their sin sticks — just getting “Adam and even” with the science dweebs, one preacher remarked. He then handed out parchment of religious texts to replace existing textbooks.
The preachers were also able to disband all clubs with anti-Jesus initiatives, such as the College Democrats, Prism, Library Pillow Fighting and all other religious organizations. They did absolve the frat houses, however. Said one preacher, “Hey, somebody has to turn water into wine.”
But these are only minor adjustments to campus life, aside from the all-knowing preachers taking over the administration and renamining us The Church of New Jersey. Students can now take comfort knowing that, while being singled out and criticized for the things they’re not, they actually are. After all, the preachers said it.
“It was hard being told my sexual orientation was wrong,” said one Prism attendee. “But one look at Saint Ryan Gosling, and the preachers showed me the light and abs of the lord.”
We could learn a thing or two from these noble, soapboxing Trentonites. Really, we should take these missionaries lying down; humility, manners and their devotion to demonizing students on a weekly basis are only a few of the valuable lessons here. Not getting a haircut, as the Old Testament says, is still absolutely right. Our well-groomed preachers said that best.
As winter approaches, though, our omniscient, angry ministers may return to hibernation, getting their voices back for the coming spring semester. But at least we know the truth now, and only when hell freezes over will our friendly, neighborhood deliverers ever be wrong.