Due to scheduling conflicts, I was not in the office until late on this particular production day. As a result, Jessica Valencia, Copy Chief, hijacked my column. This is the result.

Published: Monday, April 12, 2010 in The Whitworthian.

Dear Whitworth community,

This column is now property of the copy desk.

Jerod? Jerod is busy. I may or may not have told him the creator of “Bioshock” is on campus. He ran out with a blank disc and a permanent marker about an hour ago, muttering something about how kids and marriage will always come in second after this moment in his life.

You see, I have a mission, Whitworth. One that I have kept hidden from my fellow editors and peers until now. But the time has come to reveal what has been weighing heavy on my heart. There are problems on the horizon, my friends and it is imperative that you become aware of them.

The Whitworthian is about to undergo a change in power; one that will crack the foundation this publication sits on. The editor-in-chief position has gone to the man you all swoon over: one Mr. Jarvis. Quiet your cheers, students and staff. I was one of you at one point also. But I am here to tell you he is fooling all of you. The paper you have come to know and love is about to be defaced.

Do you enjoy the opinions section? How about a twelve-page opinions section? Good, in theory, but there are only so many opinions about Saga and ASWU a person can stomach. No one likes the food, or campus-wide e-mails; okay, we get it! Where’s the scandal? Where’s the fluff? I need my fact fix and I need it now! I want to read definitive information; I don’t care about what others feel. You can’t fact check feelings.

And I hate to break it to you Whitworth, but the second he puts his name on that door, my staff and I can kiss our jobs goodbye. Opinions columns don’t use quotes from anyone.

How am I supposed to check attributions if there aren’t attributions to begin with? If everything is opinion this and editorial that, I might as well change my title from copy chief to 7-Eleven cashier.

I’m a journalist for heaven’s sake; no one wants to hire me! My degree is the equivalent of an expensive high school diploma. The only difference is that when I go to fill the Slurpee machines I wonder if the company is cutting corners on their tax forms and whether I can unearth it.

But let’s forget about me for a bit. He will likely off me right from the get go. Think about yourselves.

Laughter is detracting from your academic life. There is no room for happiness on this campus! Whitworth advertises community, not this humor crap. In fact, it is frowned upon out in the real world. Libel! Defamation! Sound familiar? Joke about the wrong person and student loans won’t be the only thing you will have to pay off. Whitworth better start budgeting for a bomb shelter because they’re going to be raining down on us for all the finger-pointing we’ll be doing.

Which is why I’m calling for an uprising from the masses. It is time to put to rest all of this humor. No one laughs anymore. It’s gone out of style. Everyone’s about having a poker face. Stop singing!

Save yourselves, Whitworth! Is this who you want to be the face of The Whitworthian? We have an image to uphold as an award-winning publication. Do you really think your opinions editor, who says “lawl” and spells it like that can handle this office?

What will happen to me, the single revolutionary, when he find out his Muse has been hijacked by his compatriot with the red pen? You already know my story. It is written in all of the history books. What? You’re not a fan of history? You prefer humor columns instead? Do you hear that, Whitworth? That’s the sound of my mind and heart dying.