Slim-Bodied Undergraduate Look to Atlas As Ectomorphic Revolution Gains Momentum

Revolution in the ranks of the undergraduate ectomorphs has been the result of a recently published poem, "The Ectomorph," by Earnest A. Hooton, professor of Anthropology, in which women contemplating marriage were warned to "beware of the ectomorphic mate."

Last night found the CRIMSON office swamped with caustic replies, both prose and poetry, from irate "tall, skinny types," and runner had it that a now club, "The Uneasy Ectos," has already entered its formative stages.

Nickname Changed

One unhappy ectomorph announced that before the publication of Professor Hooton's masterpiece, he had been comfortably enjoying the nick-name of "Slim." But now he found himself expected to answer to the unseemly appellation of "the erratic ecto."

A. Jerky Brain '48, although not to be found in the University Directory, managed to submit his literary effort, ending:

Brother ectomorphs what care we

If women often think us queer?

Let this in turn a warning be:

Of roly-poly gals steer clear.

Another "gratefully ectomorphic undergraduate" made it clear that the only thing for a matrimonially-inclined female to do was disregard the song sad strictly "mess with Mister In-between," when he launched the following poetic trade against the mesomorph:

A WARNING AGAINST BONY, MUSCULAR MEN

"Twas Mesomorph, and the bony ridges

Did just out ape-like on the brow;

All muscled were the hairy arms

That crushing power did avow.

Beware the mesomorph, my lass,

When you what a man to idolize.

The bulging muscled shoulders warn

Of driving need for exercise.

The mesomorph's unruly hair

Oft hints of bareness in years to come;

His now lean frame that you admire

Will round and flabby soon become.

Then at home retiring you expect love

But find Morpheus kills his appetite

Ere even his head meets the pillow.

And no sleep you'll get--he snores all night.

Do heed my warning, if wouldst have bliss.

And lass, beware lest thou be drawn

To the muscled mesomorph's physique

Whose only asset is but brawn.

Come to my arms, my disheartened maid;

All men are not what they seem;

In ectomorphy you're sure to find

The incarnation of your dream.