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October 12, 2009 | by  | in Opinion |
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Sando spews forth

sando

So, this is it. The final Salient column of the year. Well, I mean presumably there could be another Salient column, but not by me. I’m sorry, but I am not in charge or even capable of designing this magazine, there are reasons, strange and disturbing reasons why I am not the designer for Salient, and that lack of competency is one of them. So, I apologise profusely if this isn’t actually the last column in Salient this week. It’s just not my fault, people.

Over the course of the year, I keep getting told stuff by randoms who hope that I, in my position as a high-status Salient volunteer can pass on the real truths to the nation. Well, why not give them a go?

I’m a student journalist, after all:
Peter Jackson is a scientologist. At least that’s what Graham, this guy sitting on the bus next to me, said. He reckons that Jackson’s funding a big Scientology branch to be opened in the space where Dymocks once was. Tom Cruise’s recent hugging of Jackson adds more credence to this, he says. As someone who can not see why a famous director and famous actor could possibly have dealings with each other on a professional level I support this random drunken psycho who insists on telling me things. Apparently his brother has foetal alcohol poisoning. Graham’s brother, not Jackson’s. I’m not entirely sure Peter Jackson has any other family members, excluding those hobbit kids Bill and Kate, and Fran Walsh.

An anonymous political science and psychology student claimed that many students who have not encountered Victoria University Vice-Chancellor Pat Walsh automatically associate the man with zombies. According to the legend, whenever it is even slightly foggy, and all you can hear is the sultry sound of a first year throwing up her 12% Woodstock premixes, Pat Walsh is (supposedly) there: waiting to grind his teeth into the skull of her delicious Taranakian flesh. I’m not sure if this statistic is true, but it sounds true, and that’s good enough for me. I must admit that I also held this notion until the first time I met the man. Now I consider him more like a tomb lich, what with his pale skin and long delicate fingers, probing and testing the air in front of him for the ichor of the student soul. It’s what sustains him; that and research funding.

I also heard that it’s likely that bunch of classes are going to be unofficially capped next year, so if you want to actually get into that interesting 100-level religious studies course, or flip your major from a daddy pleasing double degree in sociology/bio chemistry into a film/theatre combined major, you should apply for your classes as soon as possible. Stop reading this and apply now, there are way too many recession-hit adult students and annoying teenagers coming in for the university to cater for everybody. Conspiracy? Probably, unless it’s like actual policy.

Okay, so this ex-student politician that used to live around the corner kept telling me things like Jasmine Freemantle spends a lot of time in her office “alone” with “people.” Not even, bro; if she’s in her office with another person then she isn’t alone, as there is another person right next to her. She might be alone in her “office”, like when people talk about John Key being in the office of Prime Minister at all times, even when he’s eating a McFlurry and crying because his Irish wife thinks he’s getting pudgy (he’s not, by the way. He looks great.), but then she’s only existentially alone and everybody knows that existentialism as a philosophy just isn’t relevant to “the real world”, which is the world everybody but students live in; just ask John Key’s wife, Bronagh. I couldn’t as I don’t have access to her email. Lame, eh?

So, yeah, that’s the calibre of special information I was privy to as a Salienteer. God I love being a journalist.

Next year is Twenty Ten. It’s literally the future. Take advantage of it, see cool theatre, rock the Fringe Festival, laugh at the comedy fest and finish up your double degree in Classics and Film Studies. It’s not going to be useful, but it’ll be fun.

Good night everybody!
—Sando. thesando.com

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About the Author ()

Nic Sando is a god amongst men, fifteen fathoms high he be, with strange and wyrd powers at his disposal. Only a fool won't harken his ears to the east when he hears The Sando man stumping his way. http://thesando.com

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