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DARTBOARD

A summary of views, commentary and sometimes comedy.

By Daniel Altman

'TIS THE SEASON

It seems that final clubs are starting to proliferate at the rate of a capella groups. This week, the mysterious all-female "Lynx" sent out invitations to its punch; whether this new club will be a gathering place for bulemic socialites or a locker-room-away-from-home for husky she-jocks is so far anyone's guess. What is certain is that the punch season is upon us, and Dartboard's own bard couldn't let that go without some choice poesy, in that choicest of forms, the limerick.

First off, a little composition dedicated to the beleaguered members of the established final clubs:

You're an inbred Exeter freak

Of champagne and vomit you reek

It's true you're stone dumb

But papa's an alum

And that's what the final clubs seek.

An ode to the Owl:

Throughout the Owl's punch you were wise.

You wore all the right prep-school ties

Your fatal misstep

Was to use the world "schlepp"

Blowing your WASPy disguise.

And lest we forget the pioneering final club for women:

A Bee girl must always be prim

Her figure must always be trim

But her Southern-belle genes

Ensure, by her teens,

That her wits will be nothing but dim.

It won't be long before we hear the annual anti-final club screeds by campus egalitarians. Why don't we spare ourselves yet another hearing of the standard pontifications about the value of equality and the inevitable echo about freedom of associations? Final Clubs, phooey. Think of these little dens of iniquity in our midst not as clubs, but concentration camps for nitwits...and be grateful!

SHARK ATTACK!

We're sure that the charges of negligence and fraud against Law Professor Laurence Tribe '62 are nothing but the merest moonshine. Yet that shouldn't stop us from enjoying the spectacle of lawyerly litigiousness gone wild. Tribe is being sued by Lightning Lube, the company which he represented in a suit that contested the verdict against the company in a suit against it. It looks like chickens (or in this case, sharks) have come home to roost. And sharks cannabalism is such a rare thing that when it happens, all the rest of the fish in the sea can't help gathering to savor the spectacle.

We at Dartboard see this as a hopeful trend, more encouragement that we are swiftly moving towards the day when lawyers will sue only other lawyers. With the increasing saturation of the bar, perhaps our country will finally achieve a critical mass of lawyers and thus perfect a self-sustaining interlawyer lawsuit chain reaction. The L-bomb would be a powerful weapon, alone capable of devastating productive societies. President Clinton, do you want to end the trade deficit with Japan? Just a few years of "the Cambridge Project" and the L-bomb could be at your disposal.

A TOKEN OF APPRECIATION

Generally, one of the blessings of the Harvard Telephone network is that one doesn't have the same number long enough for irritating telemarketers to get hold of it. Yet there's one telmarketing scheme that no Harvard student can avoid: the Senior Gift. And other Harvard's little fundraising lackeys are starting up their juggernaut. For those who don't find the insistent and personalized dunning only slightly offensive coming from a University which in all other matters financial is an impersonal as an ATM, here's some advice.

Be prepared for your call and you can get a little psychic satisfaction from it. Here are a few snappy retorts to parry soliciters' thrusts:

When asked if you'll, "contribute to the Senior Gift," you can simply reply,

1) "I'm sorry. I thought that a 'gift' implied something of a value given as a token of love or appreciation. Maybe you're thinking of 'extortion,' you bloodsucking maggot."

2) "Gift you say? I think I gave already. No? Really, I distinctly remember giving. Yes, now I remember! If you just check you'll find that I gave you $80,000 over the last four years you blood-sucking maggot!"

3) "I'd be happy to give a gift, but I'm just waiting on one thing. Word about a job? No. Actually, I meant word that hell had frozen over you bloodsucking maggot!"

But above all, remember, a joyful invective is the gift that keeps on giving!

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