Eleven Warriors

Sunday

A group of students found themselves somehow entirely surrounded by a chain link fence construction zone.

A soulless monster tried to sell used textbooks on facebook.

And sidewalk chalk ads for "Sizzling Hot Summer Storage Prices!" failed to win over a majority of students.

Monday

The merciful, almighty university offered freshmen forgiveness.

The OSU police busted a meal plan-based prostitution ring.

The weird roommate inexplicably transferred to Bowling Green.

And the bell tower began taking requests.

Tuesday

A total of ten words were read during reading day.

A survey found that 78% of campus hipsters prefer the Hansford Quadrangle to the Oval.

Students who hadn't yet begun studying made sure everyone else knew.

And students across campus mourned the passing of the SEI professor review deadline.

Wednesday

Cardale Jones was significantly worried about his physics exam.

And students across campus took a 5-minute study break (5 minute pause from normal activities to study).

Thursday

Aaron Craft slept through his second straight exam.

A missing student from 1993 was found asleep at the "18th Avenue Library" (SEL).

And Urban Meyer stole 15 recruits from the NFL draft.

Friday

Freshmen thought they were excited for summer break.

A construction worker gazed down upon all he hath wrought.

And this for real happened just off-campus due to a power outage(!!!):

Saturday

A freshman's "Get Involved!" t-shirt finally became cool.

And a heartfelt goodbye was made between roommates who will lose touch forever within 3 months.

For more fake campus news, be sure to follow The Fake Lantern on twitter or facebook and check out TheFakeLantern.com and then do whatever you want after that.

From the T & C Dept*:

Pittsburgh Police authorities have arrested three Pitt Panthers for the possession of a bong, a quantity of heroin, and a deli ham and cheese sandwich (a former NYC officer who works in Pittsburgh now called it a "grinder").  Drew Carswell, Khaynin Mosley-Smith and Eric Williams were detained for use or possession of drug paraphernalia.  Carswell, a junior tight end, Mosley Smith, a junior defensive lineman, and Williams, a junior linebacker, all played relatively small roles for the Panthers in 2012.  But because of the bizarre circumstances surrounding the packaging of the heroin, police are now seeking information on the whereabouts of Mark May, an employee of ESPN, who has yet to turn up at his residence, 720 Panther Pantie Way, Hazbin, PA.   The residence appears to have been hastily vacated.

The heroin, as it turns out, was wrapped in women's underwear, size 16, with frayed and stretched waist banding.  This led police to conclude that the underwear had been worn most likely by a man for some time.  Preliminary DNA evidence found in the material somehow implied that Mark May, the standout Panther of yesteryear, was most likely the previous owner of the "heroin wrap". 

Efforts to locate and interview May on the subject have failed.

That is all.  Resume Offseason.

The Time Traveler

*Tongue n Cheek Department :)

As a fan of the Almighty Cleveland Browns, the NFL Draft is akin to Christmas Day. Usually, the Browns are taking a Top 10 talent before the Browns chronic ineptitude ruins them by the end of their rookie contract. Other times, we’re spending first round picks on 28 year-old rookie quarterbacks. Yet, every year, like the kids of deadbeat parents, us Browns fans awake on draft day with a naïve twinkle of hope in our eyes.

This, however, isn’t about the Browns’ struggles since their valiant return to the league in 1999. I doubt ElevenWarriors has the bandwidth to host such a diatribe, nor would this ever be mistaken for a Cleveland Browns blog; there’s way too much optimism here and not nearly enough self-loathing.

Yet, the NFL Draft, led by autocrat Roger Goodell, offers another chance to shame the league about something not involving concussions and the long-term mental health of its players: its lack of a minor league.

My three readers know there is no love lost between the NCAA and me. In fact, when reports surfaced on Twitter of a possible college football bowl in Dubai, my first thought was “These two institutions built on the back of the indentured servitude deserve each other.” 

The NCAA is in dire need of reform, something which I believe will finally happen once the O’Bannon verdict is delivered this summer. This is all well and good, and should be welcomed by anybody who believes in fairness. But any rant against the NCAA, and believe me, my pasty digits have typed plenty of them, usually falls short of naming another culprit with even more blood on its hands: “the National Football League” (said in my ESPN Analyst Serious Business Voice).

I can see how the NCAA spiraled out of control. When the NCAA was ordained in 1910, it’s not as if its Earthshakers envisioned multi-billion dollars in television contracts being handed out annually. I have less sympathy for the NFL, whose owners compromise some of the most ruthless business people in the world. (Doubt me? Browns owner and billionaire Jimmy Haslam’s Flying Pilot J, a Fortune 11 company with 17.77 billion dollars in revenue in 2011, was just caught chiseling a few million dollars off trucking companies in a cost-plussing rebate scheme.)

I have zero clue how the NFL has gotten this far without a minor league system, but if I listen closely enough at night, I can almost hear NFL owners clinking Scotch-filled glasses together as they chuckle at their ability to weld their minor league system to the NCAA. How many miles on their private jets has this bought them? I shudder to think.

If I were Mark Emmert, I would make my appeal thusly: the NCAA was never meant to be a minor league system for the NFL and NBA’s talent. Perhaps Emmert is holding this card up his sleeve for a rainy day, because I doubt NCAA football would be as lucrative if the Terrelle Pryors and Greg Odens were replaced with Joe Bausermans and Evan Ravenels, but it’s something that makes sense.

Elite football prospects have two options after graduating high school: go to college or take three years off from playing competitively, and given not too many NFL draftees are hailing from their mother’s basement, the system has been rigged to funnel elite prospects into the collegiate ranks. This is where the NFL wants them: where NFL teams aren’t spending money on the development of talent in their de-facto minor league system.

This use to not be the case for the NBA, but after years of NBA general managers failing at evaluating talent (aka their jobs), the NBA raised the age requirement to enter its draft. This has led to the “one-and-done” phenomenon; something Mark Emmert himself has said makes a mockery of his fabled white unicorn, the student-athlete.

Could a professional minor league co-exist with the NCAA? Looking at college baseball, there’s no reason to see why not. In that sport, prospects have the option: sign a minor league contract or go to college for at least three years. That’s why you never see the glut of “WE MUST PAY THESE ATHLETES” rants about college baseball like you do about football and basketball athletes... because choice exists in baseball.

I get that an 18 year-old basketball prospect could forgo the collegiate system and head overseas to play professionally, a la Brandon Jennings or Jeremy Tyler, but how many 18 year-olds are ready for that kind of independence? How many prospects have the kind of support network to help them through the inevitable culture shock?

Choice is the crux of American society, is it not? While the NFL has grown into becoming the most moneyed league in the Americas, it has left prospects bereft of a viable alternative to the NCAA and its colleges. The same is true with the NBA, only to a lesser extent.

If every prospect was ready fit for college or came from a family of privilege, perhaps this wouldn’t be the case, but one only needs to skim the backgrounds of this year’s draftees to the reality of the situation.

A sky-scraping pile of criticism has been heaped at the foot of the NCAA’s throne; most of it is fair, yet perhaps it’s not as big as culprit as people have been led to think. If the NCAA wants to avoid paying its players, and by every indication it does, then perhaps it should pass the buck upward.

I received the email below from the Columbus Division of Police via OSU regarding their investigation of an arson that occur a decade ago and tragically killed two OSU students and three other young people.  The fire was at 64 East 17th Avenue on on April 13, 2003 and occurred in the early morning hours after a party.  I have had a lasting memory of this as I was living just north on 18th Avenue at the time and witnessed the fire and the aftermath.  

I wanted to post it here on the off chance that someone in our community may have been at that party or may know something that could help police.  If so, please do the right thing an contact an investigator. 

The Columbus Division of Police needs your help

 

The Columbus Division of Police is asking for our assistance in reaching out to members of the alumni community. You are receiving this message because you were an Ohio State student during the years 2003-2007.

You may recall the tragic fire that occurred on April 13, 2003, at 64 East 17th Avenue, in which five people died. Two of the young people, Alan Schlessman and Kyle Raulin, were students at The Ohio State University. It was ruled an arson by the Columbus Division of Fire.

The Columbus Division of Police is seeking help in gathering leads for its criminal investigation of the cause of the fire. While the 10-year marker of this tragic event has just passed, Columbus Police believes that it still may be possible to solve this crime, but it will require assistance.

A birthday party had been held at the house prior to the fire being set, and according to witnesses there were many students who had attended this party. If you attended the party and have never spoken to an investigator, please contact Detective Dana Farbacher, Columbus Division of Police, Homicide Squad-CCU, at (614) 645-7581 or DFarbacher@columbuspolice.org. Even if you are unsure whether you have information that may be helpful, if you have not yet spoken with police about this matter, please take the time to reach out to Detective Farbacher.

Even after 10 years, this case remains active; and the law enforcement community, the families, and the university and campus communities are working together to solve it—with your assistance. As always, these students remain in our thoughts and prayers. Thank you for any assistance you may be able to provide.

My daughter and son, who are 10 and 8 respectively, stepped out onto the front porch this morning ready to scurry off to the bus stop.  I told them Daddy needs a kiss first (like I always do) and I too stepped out onto the porch and delivered said kisses.  They pulled their hoods over their heads, leaped off the porch and bounded down the driveway toward the bus stop.  And by the way, I simply don’t ever remember being that excited each day when I left for school.  But I digress.  This is not a story about my disdain for school.  It was raining at a pretty steady pace this morning and there was a slight, albeit not a big, chill in the air.  I stood there for a few seconds and just as I was about to turn around and walk back inside, it hit me.  One of those memories you have imbedded in your subconscious like a tick on a farm dog came bubbling to the surface.  A memory that isn’t brought on by a voice, a sound or because you were talking about it or something similar.  No, THIS memory was brought on by my surroundings and all that they entailed at that exact moment.  It not only put an instant smile on my face but brought a tear to my eye just as quickly.  The rain, the dark gray cloudy Columbus sky, the smell of wet concrete wafting up from under my feet and the sight of my sons red Buckeye rain coat as he ambled down the driveway brought forth a cherished memory of my father.  All of a sudden I’m standing in The Horseshoe on Nov. 2, 1985.

Now come on, if you are either around my age (42, which made me 15 at the time) or are a Buckeye Football history nut of the highest ilk, you know that date as it applies to Buckeye Football lore.  The #1 ranked, Chuck Long led, Hayden Fry coached Iowa Hawkeyes were in town for a tilt w/ our beloved Buckeyes.  Sure the Buckeye pulled off a huge upset in knocking off the then #1 ranked Hawkeyes, but this memory that I keep speaking of has very little to do w/ the actual game.  This memory is all about my father.  You see my Dad passed away way to young from cancer at the age of 61.  It’s been 8 years since he’s been gone and all the memories of him are fond ones these days.  The grief has passed long ago and even when I do tear up over a memory of him, it’s due to happy thoughts not sad.  My point is I’m not looking for sympathy or condolences in regards to my father.  Sure I miss him but I think of him from the side of positive thoughts these days.  I just felt the need to tell this story as it dawned on me that lots and I mean lots of my memories of my father are dripping, nay immersed, in Buckeye Football.  And my friends, there is absolutely nothing wrong w/ that in the least!!

As I stood there on the porch allowing the memories of my dad from that day to flow over me I couldn't’t help but chuckle and even talk to myself about these thoughts of my old man.  I heard “Did you see that son?  My goodness that son of a bitch can play ball”  being yelled in my ear like he was still standing right next to me.  He was referring to a hit on Long where Pepper Johnson strung the play out and then smacked him on the sideline.  I remember my dad throwing his arm around my shoulders and screaming “Holy shit!  Spielman just knocked Harmon back 2 yards” after Spielman met a leaping Ronnie Harmon in the hole for a loss on 4th & 1 from the OSU 10 yard line.  And by the way, my father liked his cuss words.  Now he didn't drop F’Bombs or other over the top cuss words and he also never cussed directly at you while he was upset.  But boy did my old man like to use “Son of a Bitch”, “Shit” & “God Dammit” as adjectives when he spoke.  He was a military man.  He graguated from Navy ROTC at Ohio State & spent another 25+ years in the Navy Reserves and that’s just the way he spoke.  I was used to it & it was never hurtful, so why sugar coat the man’s shortcomings, right?  But my favorite moment from that day was shortly after Spielman had notched his second interception on the day w/ under 2 min's to play, sealing the victory for the Buckeyes.  We all go crazy inside Ohio Stadium jumping around & screaming like little girls at an American Girl Doll store. Everyones high fiving & yelling in the steady rain and my dad puts both hands on my shoulders, gives me a couple of violent shakes, steadies me, says “God Dammit son, does it get any better than this?” and then pulls me in for a celebratory hug.

Like I said above there are so many memories of my father that center around Buckeye football.  I was so lucky growing up as he sat on the Board of Regents at Ohio State so of course he had season tickets.  He had (4) tix and right around the age of 11-12, I started going to home Buckeye games every Sat almost w/ out fail.  Not bragging but simply stating how lucky I was to see an almost uncountable number of Buckeyes games and I was lucky enough to see them w/ my Dad.  I remember tailgating every Sat in the St. Johns lot w/ my Dad, my Uncle and whomever my Dad brought on his 4th ticket.  Almost every time I throw brats boiled in beer on my grill here at home, the smell reminds me of those crisp fall Sat’s at his tailgates.  Eventually he retired from the Board of Regents & gave up his season tix.  I had moved on thru college, got married & moved to Cincinnati.  We would still get to one home game each year but had not seen a game together since 1999.  Then, I got one final beat all-end all memory w/ my father and Ohio State Football!!!  I scored (2) tickets to the Ohio State vs. Miami (FL) National Championship game in that magical season of 2002.  I’ll never forget when I called my wife at work and proclaimed “We’re in dear.  We’re headed to the desert to see the Title Game.”  And God love my wife as she told me right then on the phone, that I needed to ask my Father to go and if he didn't want to go, then she’s all in of course. I didn’t even need to say “are you sure dear” or“no, you should go.”  She got it.  She understood to the inth degree.  She not only knew all about me & my Dad’s history together in regards to OSU football but she also knew what it would mean to me and my Pops to see that game together. I know, right?  How great is this woman?!?!  The phone call to my Dad to ask him to head out there w/ me was a great phone call.  He laughed and said “No son, I appreciate it but I’m too old for all that revelry these days.”   I simply told him that he didn’t have of a choice as we hadn’t seen a game together in (3) years, it was the Buckeyes playing for the whole ball of wax for crying out loud and besides, his daughter-in-law insisted he go.  He chuckled and said “I knew I liked that girl for good reason.  Okay, I’ll go.”  I made sure to treat him to the whole trip.  The game tix, plane tix, hotel, etc. was on my dime.  It was the least I could do for all the games and all the fun he had treated me to over the years simply because I was his son. 

The Buckeyes National Championship win over the Hurricane’s in Tempe was the last Buckeye game I attended w/ my Dad as he passed away (6) years later.  It’s not that we didn’t watch and talk Buckeye football when we were together but my life was full of inertia at that time and he obviously had gotten sick as well.  But that last game we saw together sure was special!  I’ll never forget the smile on his face as we walked out of Sun Devil Stadium, his 58 year old voice hoarse from screaming the whole game.  He threw his arm around me as we walked toward the car and said, “Honestly son, I started to think I wouldn’t get to see the Bucks win another National Championship in my lifetime.  Thanks for bringing me out to see it.”   And of course I responded w/ the obligatory “You’re welcome.”   But looking back, I wish I would have said something that would have been much more appropriate.

So Pops, I’ll say now what I should have then……….

“No Dad, thank you!!!!”
 

COLUMBUS, OH - According to sources close to the student athlete, Cardale Jones is "significantly worried" about his physics 1251 final exam. "He's been at the library for 8-9 hours," said a friend of the academic all-American, who wished not to be named in this report. "I've never seen him so focused, or studying." Reporters were eventually able to locate Jones on the 8th floor of Thompson Library for a short study break interview. The star Ohio State quarterback, who was biting his nails with test anxiety, was hunched over his computer with notes and quizzes scattered around him in a 3-ft. arc.

"I've calculated the grade I need to obtain on this exam, and frankly, the results are very concerning," said the backup quarterback famous for his school-first philosophy. "If I don't score -- at the very least -- an 87%, I'll risk receiving an A- in the class. And I'm still not crystal clear on the concept of Gaussian surfaces. I'm sorry, but I just can't accept that. Please let me return to my studies." With the interview clearly finished, Jones then firmly gripped his temples and intently returned his stare to the season 1 episode of Two Broke Girls he had been watching on his MacBook.

If there's one thing America isn't good at, it's naming our scandals. What would we do if Richard Nixon hadn't paid Joe Paterno to break into the Watergate Hotel? Where would we be? With the originality of the goofs who dubbed the college football playoff "the College Football Playoff", I shudder to think.

Regardless, coming off a 12-0 season and entering the walkthrough that will be the 2013 regular season campaign, I think it's a good time to remind everyone just how lucky we were for "Tatgate" and its subsequent bowl ban. I was an unabashed defender on Terrelle Pryor on this very website, and since then my opinions of TP and his misdeeds at Ohio State have only grown more favorable.

Is there any rational thinking Ohio State fan (somewhat of a paradox, I admit) who would choose Jim Tressel over Urban Meyer? Because, without Tatgate and the Senator's inglorious exit, Urban Meyer would be plying his trades at another, lesser university than the one found in central Columbus.

Jim Tressel was a great coach, an Ohio State legend, and one of my life's regrets is I wasn't old enough to riot in the aftermath of the 2002 national title game. Yet, I truly believe we had witnessed the unforgiving ceiling of the Ohio State program under Jim Tressel: a lofty winning percentage sprinkled with disappointing losses to the likes of Purdue and Illinois or from programs like USC or Texas. Maybe I am on my own with this belief, but I do not think Jim Tressel would have ever won another national title while at Ohio State.

Winning the Big Ten used to suffice when the Big Ten was a legitimate football conference. Those days have gone the way of standard definition television and CD players. Sure, Tressel owned Michigan in a way few Ohio State coaches ever have, but it came in the twilight of Lloyd Carr's career and the abomination that was Rich Rodriguez's era.

With Urban Meyer, Ohio State will get all of Tressel's glory plus the talent required to take the Buckeyes into honest national title contention. For me, it boils down to 2006's BCS Title Game. It was Urban's best vs. Jim Tressel's best, and Florida gave us an ass-kicking that still makes me grimace in pain when I recollect on it. Had Urban not called the dogs off at half-time, they may have hung 100 points on Ohio State. And if you think Teddy Ginn would have made a difference, please turn off your computer and take a long walk outside until the drugs and alcohol dissipate from your brain and central nervous system.

No, Tatgate had to happen. I love Jim Tressel, and I thought him returning for this year's Michigan game was one of the best trollings of the 2012 calendar year, but I don't have any sympathy when it comes to his ouster. At best, Jim Tressel was strategically negligent with his star quarterback's extracurricular money-ginning.

I think he knew what was going on, and each time Terrelle Pryor pulled up to the WHAC in a new car, Tressel turned a blind-eye because he knew in the snakepit of college football, what Pryor was engaged in was a small-time misdemeanor. (He also knew JOE FREAKING BAUSERMAN was the back-up quarterback.)

As awful as the 2011 season was, it's a tax I'd pay tenfold to lead to yesterday and tomorrow's glory. The bowl ban ended up being a blessing, because I'm not sure Ohio State could've banged with Alabama in last year's national title game. While I doubt Urban Meyer's teams will ever get handed a mauling akin to the ones suffered by Tressel's teams from time to time,  12-0 was a perfectly acceptable capstone for me, the liquor-swilling fan whose game day preparation includes "which Ohio State shirt I'm going to wear."

I'm sure the players felt it left something to be desired, and that's the perfect scenario entering this season. Urban Meyer, pop psychologist, knows this. It's what has lead to "the Chase" you hear so many Ohio State footballers referring to this off-season. The 2012 season might have been an unsatisfactory meal for them, which is good, because it means there's still a hunger within.

Granted, I predicted the 2011 team would finish 11-1 with a Rose Bowl Victory, but last May I also predicted Ohio State would finish 12-0. I was laughed at both times, but this year, I feel even better about my prediction for the team: 12-0.

There are some who prefer to revel in past glories, "back when a handful of nickels kept the jukebox rolling all night." Some prefer to live in the future, where things can yet be altered, but to me, neither is worth as much as the present. Without the bowl ban, I'm not sure if I would feel as confident. I definitely wouldn't feel as confident if Ohio State was coming off a national title win or loss, and either way, it would have all weighed the same as everything else in the past: about as much as wind.

And to think, the storm that is brewing in Columbus started with Terrelle Pryor and others getting discounted tattoos. If Urban Meyer wins multiple national titles at Ohio State as I think he's poised to do, perhaps one day Ohio State will erect a statue of another Ohio State legend: Terrelle Pryor... tattoos and all.

I own a construction company here in Columbus and yesterday I was picking up some things at Lowe's on Silver Drive near Columbus Crew Stadium.  As I was checking out, a man briskly walked by the register and towards the exit with a bag in his hand and was stopped by one of the clerks.  The guy obviously wasn't trying to steal anything but rather had brought some stuff into the store with him to see if what they had in the store fit or worked with what he already had.....like I've done a thousand times before.  The man politely obliged when the clerk asked to check the bag before he continued on his way.  

However, I didn't put all of this together until after the fact because I was way too busy trying not to be star struck as the man in question was none other than Ryan Damn Shazier!!!!  When I realized who it was I immediately pushed the paper feed button on the register printer and grabbed the pen from the cashier and slowly approached the poor guy who had just been cleared to leave by the mighty Lowes theft control officer.  

As he turned to leave I was standing there like a total weirdo with a pen and a piece of receipt paper.  He looked perplexed as he glanced at me and then my paper and pen, and said "what?....Oh!" and he chucked as I asked "Can you spare a second for a fan?"  As he was signing his autograph on my crappy receipt paper I turned to the clerks and asked "Do you know who this is?  This is freakin' Ryan Shazier!.....Linebacker for the Buckeyes?"  They all looked at me like a bunch of morons and said in unison "Ooooohhhh."  

Ryan handed me back my receipt paper and kind of smiled about the situation and I thanked him for the autograph and wished him the best of luck for the upcoming season and he went on his way.  Let me tell you, when you shake his hand you definitely get the feeling that this is not a man you want running you down and crushing you.  

It wasn't until after I had finished checking out and loaded up my materials that I realized why he had been stopped and what was going on.  Kind of a funny situation but I was so dead set on getting that autograph because I had recently chickened out on getting Kenny Guiton's autograph in the parking lot of AMC Lennox.  Kenny and his (I assume) girlfriend were recently walking into the theater as I was walking out.  Because it was dark out I didn't recognize him right away, but I was definitely staring at him and he gave me the "What are you looking at" look.  By the time I realized who it was I thought it would be extremely awkward to run up to him in a dark parking lot and ask for his Herbie Hancock.  I could have at least yelled "Go Bucks!" across the parking lot or something goofy like that.  

Any of you guys ever chicken out getting an autograph?

In a week that saw the bombing of the Boston Marathon.. its subsequent manhunt that put Boston under martial law... a dilapidated fertilizer plant blowing up in West, Texas that killed at least 35 people... an earthquake in China that caused 200 deaths and over 8,000 injuries... a bomb in a popular Baghdad coffee shop that killed at least 27 people... a quadruple murder in Akron that still lacks motive or suspect... the continued American use of extrajudicial international killings via flying kill-machines...  and a plane crash that killed an Air Force Major General... I have found my palette for sports entertainment suddenly lacking.

Granted, this is a trajectory I have been as my body rots with increasing age, but last week was kind of a smack in the face for Americans who do a rather remarkable job insulating themselves from world news and the plight of their fellow human beings. (LOL if you think I don't include myself in that last sentence.)

This is why I have come to detest the camera-whoring antics of the likes of Buck-I-Guy or whatever ridiculous moniker some grown-ass man has taken before caking himself in levels of makeup that would make a prostitute blush and heading down to the Horseshoe. Have people like that ever removed themselves from the bubble of adolescence required to make their behavior acceptable?

How privileged and unbecoming am I, the guy who feels real emotions over a team of millionaire strangers kicking or passing a ball about a field? What the hell would I be able to say to somebody who lost their legs in the bombing of the Boston Marathon? Or worse yet, somebody who lost their legs in the woebegone effort in Afghanistan?

Somebody will read this, hop off their leather recliner, (spilling the latest powder-infused Frito Lay chip all over their grease-stained sports shirt), and guffaw something like, "BUT THIS IS WHAT THE TERRORISTS WANT, TO TAKE MY FREEDOM AWAY!!!11" In this scenario, I'd point out that ONE nineteen year-old stoner on the lamb was able to put a major American city under martial law, but I feel my point would be lost on my astute, fictionalized, chip-mongering critic.

I don't understand the notion of "healing through sport," as if my running a marathon is supposed to bring back the dead or ease the daily horrors that plague this world. To me, continuing to find the same utility in sports would be akin to sticking my head in a vat of sand. There is nothing special about sports, it's just another pointless activity used by humans to kill time as we hurdle through space on a galactic pebble. Sports has the same healing power as knitting or conventional baking.

Will I continue to watch and try to enjoy sports? Yes, because like all human beings, I am a creature bequeathed of deep flaws rooted in hypocrisy. I don't know any other way.

But I doubt it will ever be like it used to be, and perhaps that's a good thing.

Sunday

Everyone just slept until Monday.

Monday

Fisher went out of business.

And students couldn't believe it was the last week of classes, but would have been angry if it wasn't.

Tuesday

The OSU police inadvertently arrested a real criminal at Kennedy Commons.

Every dorm was evacuated "for the fun of it."

The Ohio Union was evacuated due to a suspicious package; The OSU police didn't bother with an emergency alert since nobody talked about it online.

The suspicious package was reportedly a backpack wearing sunglasses that had a creepy mustache.

And the weird roommate couldn't find their backpack.

Wednesday

OSU student wellness began a "Wrap your suspicious package" awareness campaign.

President Gee explained why no emergency alert was sent to students during the Union evacuation.

Campus roommates were pretty excited about it being the last Wednesday of the school year.

And it was announced that the South Oval would host the 2013 Summer X Games.

Thursday

The forecast called for a beautiful day to have 4 assignments due Friday.

The OSU police busted a COTA/CABS drag racing circuit.

ESPN Sports Science determined Braxton Miller was magic.

A number of Oval Beach bods were not quite ready.

Following the NFL schedule release, campus Browns fans were thinking 12-4.

And campus Bengals fans could just feel Super Bowl this year.

Friday

The Ohio Union Activities Board hosted an impromptu "Flicks for Free" screening of "The Town."

And Jim Tressel (for real) got a twitter account.

Saturday

High Street was renamed 420th Street in a zoning error.

A survey found 89.5% of students spend more time calculating grade scenarios than actually studying.

And seniors were glad that the best 4 years of their lives were finally coming to a close.

For more fake campus news, be sure to follow The Fake Lantern on twitter or facebook and check out TheFakeLantern.com and laugh irresponsibly loudly while you read so other people ask what you're reading but then don't tell them.