Minutes to Madness, #1
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jesse_dylanWhen I was 20 or so, a friend and I ran elections and took over the honors society at the local university. I promptly flunked out of the honors program (hey, 2 years is a decent run considering I was on academic probation the whole time), but not before writing 10-20 sets of weird minutes. I feel they should be cataloged here for posterity. Sorry about the formatting, but I don't actually care?
__________________________
"Veronica needed to leave really badly, but she couldn’t, because we’re slow as molasses in a month of Sundays in winter walking to school uphill both ways with no shoes and no toilet paper and in diapers randomly attached to limbs in order to craft a snow-suit and combat the wicked winter wonderland and Funion-breath (munch)."
Sept. 19, 2002 General Meeting Minutes
Jesse Dylan Watson (secretary)
Attendance
In attendance, surprisingly, was the entire advisory board, except for Chrystal Ruby (and I’m sure she would have been there had the rest of us somehow, mercifully, failed to show up). Heading up the pack of “can it really be him, or is it just a mirage??” sightings was Joseph Brewer. Also present: Courtney and Krista from the “when in the hell do I graduate?” squad. It was also nice (and in some cases not so nice) to meet many of the freshmen and freshwomen (although I admit the women were a bit fresher than the men—it’s just a particular of the gender, methinks). Attending were Krista Friesen (not to be confused with Krista Doubek, the true jock-strap of the organization, above), the biology guy with the poofy hair who refuses to date me (Drew Henry), Holly Ames (who Joe seemed to fancy), and Zach Grant (the scary art major my girlfriend had a lot to say about—all, ahem, good things, of course). There may have been others present who weren’t able to get a writing utensil to properly put a check beside their name.
The meeting was called to order at about 6:03. Hercules the Pug promptly urinated at 6:04, and then followed it up with a wonderful defecation at 6:05. The director and secretary arrived shortly thereafter, making a mad beeline for the pizza (which had already been thoughtfully and thoroughly picked over by mad dogs, so no one got any pizza).
Introductions
Everyone had a chance to say a little something about themselves before the eventual reports. The purpose was so that we can all frantically try to remember each others’ names during the first 20 minutes of the next meeting.
The next sequence of events was rather muddled, thus proving that, as attractive as an agenda may look, it will probably not be followed very well.
Committee Reports
Again, our committees are as follows:
T-shirts: Jen
Bulletin Board Nazi: Amanda
Social Events: Christal (whose name is consistently misspelled—sorry about that; it’s different everywhere I look)
Frightened Fundraising: Veronica
Website: The constantly downtrodden Ryan, may the Force be with him.
As far as I could tell, no one really had a damn thing to say here, although I do tend to think the nice young man at the head of the Creole Fest was very attractive. This constituted the “others” heading under committees, apparently.
Presidential Diatribe
At this point the president talked quite a lot about certain issues. Homecoming was discussed, and we passed a motion to pay money for it (rather a shame, I thought). It was also suggested, not by the president but someone else, that we protest the slogans of “Dam Beavers,” “I Love Beavers,” etc, as well as Beavers in general, but this was ignored.
Hamlet’s Mill was talked about. It hasn’t been produced for the last 4 years, but the secretary has generated enough of his own material to warrant going to press (although everyone has taken most of it from the folder and read it already—keep on the lookout for more).
Also touched upon: Grad. Convocation, Volunteering for Homecoming (as hell froze over), and Game Day (where we should really be playing Magic: The Gathering if anyone cares about it anymore, you Risk fiends).
Vice President
As the President ran out of breath and reached into the jacket on the wall for her diabolically invented canister of revitalizing liquid, created in her mad science laboratory, the Vice President was able to get a word in edgewise about procuring a guitar, and other musical instruments, for the honors room. As was mentioned before, this is a splendid idea to promote peace, happiness, unity and friendship. We now have some wooden instrument with fishing line strings, but this hardly cuts it. If anyone would care to donate instruments, it would be highly appreciated. We’re too busy turning cars into Beavers to get them ourselves.
Director’s Statement
By this time, the president’s mechanoid brain had recuperated, but she was deftly cut off by the ancient evil embodied in the Director, who shouted, “Bring the dog to me!”, laughed maniacally, and had some things to say.
Basically, these meetings are not mandatory, i.e. they will not keep you from flunking, but it is strongly suggested you attend, as it may have an impact on your eternal soul. Another important point was that the dean is a half-decent fellow who marginally cares about us. Also, it is of utmost import that honors classes be taken when they’re available (if you need them), as the rotation is delicately set up, and one false move by even 10 degrees could destroy the climate of the entire Earth and severely alter the ozone.
A.D.D.=G.P.A., we need folks to volunteer for assessment, and a final word of wisdom: “Do not be ascared of the weirdoes. You’re one of them.”
Endnotes
Finally, we tried to elect a member-at-large and failed abysmally. Of the most importance was that all meetings will now take place on Thursdays at 6pm. This is not to say that there will be a meeting every Thursday, although if you care to turn up and watch the President’s jacket talk to itself in the corner of the room, that is your prerogative. What it simply means is that meetings, when scheduled, will always be at 6pm, not 7pm. There was a reason for this, but it escapes me. There will also always be food of some sort at every meeting, which is of vast comfort.
The meeting was adjourned in time for Dr. Kibbler’s lecture, which, unfortunately, none of us attended because we were too fascinated with watching Hercules the Pug urinate and talking about how much we hated certain people who don’t read minutes (and so of course it’s none of you three).
Finis
__________________________
"Veronica needed to leave really badly, but she couldn’t, because we’re slow as molasses in a month of Sundays in winter walking to school uphill both ways with no shoes and no toilet paper and in diapers randomly attached to limbs in order to craft a snow-suit and combat the wicked winter wonderland and Funion-breath (munch)."
Sept. 19, 2002 General Meeting Minutes
Jesse Dylan Watson (secretary)
Attendance
In attendance, surprisingly, was the entire advisory board, except for Chrystal Ruby (and I’m sure she would have been there had the rest of us somehow, mercifully, failed to show up). Heading up the pack of “can it really be him, or is it just a mirage??” sightings was Joseph Brewer. Also present: Courtney and Krista from the “when in the hell do I graduate?” squad. It was also nice (and in some cases not so nice) to meet many of the freshmen and freshwomen (although I admit the women were a bit fresher than the men—it’s just a particular of the gender, methinks). Attending were Krista Friesen (not to be confused with Krista Doubek, the true jock-strap of the organization, above), the biology guy with the poofy hair who refuses to date me (Drew Henry), Holly Ames (who Joe seemed to fancy), and Zach Grant (the scary art major my girlfriend had a lot to say about—all, ahem, good things, of course). There may have been others present who weren’t able to get a writing utensil to properly put a check beside their name.
The meeting was called to order at about 6:03. Hercules the Pug promptly urinated at 6:04, and then followed it up with a wonderful defecation at 6:05. The director and secretary arrived shortly thereafter, making a mad beeline for the pizza (which had already been thoughtfully and thoroughly picked over by mad dogs, so no one got any pizza).
Introductions
Everyone had a chance to say a little something about themselves before the eventual reports. The purpose was so that we can all frantically try to remember each others’ names during the first 20 minutes of the next meeting.
The next sequence of events was rather muddled, thus proving that, as attractive as an agenda may look, it will probably not be followed very well.
Committee Reports
Again, our committees are as follows:
T-shirts: Jen
Bulletin Board Nazi: Amanda
Social Events: Christal (whose name is consistently misspelled—sorry about that; it’s different everywhere I look)
Frightened Fundraising: Veronica
Website: The constantly downtrodden Ryan, may the Force be with him.
As far as I could tell, no one really had a damn thing to say here, although I do tend to think the nice young man at the head of the Creole Fest was very attractive. This constituted the “others” heading under committees, apparently.
Presidential Diatribe
At this point the president talked quite a lot about certain issues. Homecoming was discussed, and we passed a motion to pay money for it (rather a shame, I thought). It was also suggested, not by the president but someone else, that we protest the slogans of “Dam Beavers,” “I Love Beavers,” etc, as well as Beavers in general, but this was ignored.
Hamlet’s Mill was talked about. It hasn’t been produced for the last 4 years, but the secretary has generated enough of his own material to warrant going to press (although everyone has taken most of it from the folder and read it already—keep on the lookout for more).
Also touched upon: Grad. Convocation, Volunteering for Homecoming (as hell froze over), and Game Day (where we should really be playing Magic: The Gathering if anyone cares about it anymore, you Risk fiends).
Vice President
As the President ran out of breath and reached into the jacket on the wall for her diabolically invented canister of revitalizing liquid, created in her mad science laboratory, the Vice President was able to get a word in edgewise about procuring a guitar, and other musical instruments, for the honors room. As was mentioned before, this is a splendid idea to promote peace, happiness, unity and friendship. We now have some wooden instrument with fishing line strings, but this hardly cuts it. If anyone would care to donate instruments, it would be highly appreciated. We’re too busy turning cars into Beavers to get them ourselves.
Director’s Statement
By this time, the president’s mechanoid brain had recuperated, but she was deftly cut off by the ancient evil embodied in the Director, who shouted, “Bring the dog to me!”, laughed maniacally, and had some things to say.
Basically, these meetings are not mandatory, i.e. they will not keep you from flunking, but it is strongly suggested you attend, as it may have an impact on your eternal soul. Another important point was that the dean is a half-decent fellow who marginally cares about us. Also, it is of utmost import that honors classes be taken when they’re available (if you need them), as the rotation is delicately set up, and one false move by even 10 degrees could destroy the climate of the entire Earth and severely alter the ozone.
A.D.D.=G.P.A., we need folks to volunteer for assessment, and a final word of wisdom: “Do not be ascared of the weirdoes. You’re one of them.”
Endnotes
Finally, we tried to elect a member-at-large and failed abysmally. Of the most importance was that all meetings will now take place on Thursdays at 6pm. This is not to say that there will be a meeting every Thursday, although if you care to turn up and watch the President’s jacket talk to itself in the corner of the room, that is your prerogative. What it simply means is that meetings, when scheduled, will always be at 6pm, not 7pm. There was a reason for this, but it escapes me. There will also always be food of some sort at every meeting, which is of vast comfort.
The meeting was adjourned in time for Dr. Kibbler’s lecture, which, unfortunately, none of us attended because we were too fascinated with watching Hercules the Pug urinate and talking about how much we hated certain people who don’t read minutes (and so of course it’s none of you three).
Finis