Howdy folks. This is it. My last column for which underclass students will be on campus. So in it I have decided to talk about things that only certain seniors will get.

Remember when there was no Grafton? No random Tour de France detours through the Square? No black people? Ah, those were the days.

As you can probably tell, this time of year is full of reflection for me. Damn mirrors just keep popping up everywhere so I carry a rock with me at all times.

Anyway, I have been thinking (yes, it does happen from time to time) about those occurrences, experiences, people and gnomes that most have affected my time here.

If I had to pick one thing that really stood out in my Harvard career in terms of its influence on me, it would not be the Immoral Reasoning nor Social Paralysis 10. Rather, it would be the space-time continuum.

But if I had to pick two things, the first would be the space-time continuum, and the second would be the Nine-Nine List, brainwashedly known as The List.

Just what is The List? Some of you may have heard about it before, perhaps when you were awakened by it's message on your computer screen.

Others have no idea what I'm talking about and are calling University Health Services on my behalf.

Unfortunately, no one can be told what The List is, you must experience it for yourself.

But, seeing as that's not going to happen, I'll do my best to tell you about it.

The List is an e-mail community (our stock will split if we call it an e-community) of some seventy-odd black people in the class of 1999, with a few white people thrown in for reverse affirmative action.

It was founded by a crazy man our first year, and we've been duped into participation ever since.

Like a newsgroup or bulletin board, people post messages to The List--it's nothing fancy, just a never-ending reply-to-all e-mail message--and others respond, rebuke or what have you.

The discussions have spanned a wide variety of topics, and the phenomenon of The List has become some sort of hit TV show minus the commercials and unemployed white people in a Central Park West apartment.

I have entered the dining hall, approaching a table of friends, to hear them discuss the latest happenings on The List.

Students in other classes want to be added to The List. They sound like some sort of drug fiends:

Underclassman: "Yo, Baratunde, we go way back right?"

Me: "Yeah, way back to last semester."

Underclassman: "I heard your class has some wild stuff. Something about a list. Can I be down?"

Me: "No."

Underclassman: "Please, man. Just a lil' whiff. One message, just one message!"

Me: "Go back to your coloring book, child."

Sadly, some underclassmen have been known to spontaneously combust upon being exposed to The List.

Yes, The List definitely has had some benefits:

First. A knowledge base. If I have a question, I take it to The List.

"When is that paper due?"

"Why is Barbie so damned happy?"

"Who is Harvey Mansfield?"

"Why does Harvey Mansfield hate us?"

"How can we get rid of Harvey Mansfield?"

Second. A community based on love--although sometimes pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, covetousness and sloth make a cameo or seven.

Third. E-mail lovin'. Harvard kids love e-mail. I know because I've worked in the computer labs for years. People's days have been made and ruined by the arrival or absence of new mail.

With The List, however, some inboxes can be exploded by over 100 messages in one day. You know you are loved.

Fourth. Full dental coverage with a competitive deductible.

We have plotted the o'erthrow of the US government in at least 50 ways including but not limited to armed resistance, spiritual enlightenment and investment banking.

We have made fun of one another, and of course, other people.

So now that you've reached the end, you're wondering why I have decided to write about this.

Arrogance really.

Because The List is an example of why the Class of 1999 is better than other classes, and that's what life is all about: being better than other people.

No one else has a list. It has been attempted, and many other-classmen did not complete the journey.

For my last underclassman column, I bid you all farewell.

For those who have enjoyed my ranting throughout the semester, it ain't over. Soon you will be able to follow my madness at www.baratunde.com. Contact me for more information or to sign up for my newsletter.

Thanks to The List, Shaft, First Prize, Deuss and Stinky. Baratunde R. Thurston '99 is a philosophy concentrator in Lowell House. This is his final column.