'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:
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Harvard Theater
