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Proof St. Paul Campus Remains the Most Unfortunate Place on Earth

The split of the University of Minnesota campuses between Minneapolis and St. Paul has never made a lot of sense. Pretty much all classes, resources, and semblances of a social life can only be found in Minneapolis, leaving St. Paul with the dregs of agriculture students. Fortunately for them, St. Paul has the weird combination of being in the middle of the city and yet when you’re there, you feel like you’re on a farm in rural Iowa.

No one goes to the St. Paul campus, otherwise known as the place where if the earth was flat, the world would drop off into space, so The Black Sheep decided to investigate exactly how the St. Paul campus has been holding up since that one time you were forced to visit during Welcome Week.

Trees?? Trees! Everywhere trees! And they’re not even attractive trees. At least St. Paul and Minneapolis campus are both suffering the horrors of winter. Maybe we’re not so different after all.

“Livestock Pavilion.” LIVESTOCK PAVILION? Do they keep cattle in this small building? Are there cows roaming free in the halls? Are they on leashes? Do the ag students have to train cattle to walk through a building?

Never mind, clearly St. Paul campus is leagues apart from Minneapolis despite being a ten-minute drive away. It seems like an eternity.

A moment of silence for all of the unfortunate freshman who waited too long to register for housing and were stuck in Bailey for a year. We’re so sorry for your loss, we feel your pain and hope that the bus ride back at 3 in the morning after getting wasted at T-Hall was worth it.

Shouldn’t the St. Paul campus be able to ward off illness by natural herbal remedies or something? Or is the Boynton on this campus specifically for the cows roaming the halls of the Livestock Pavilion?

Whatever the answer, the medicine they use is clearly circa the nineteenth century, since that seems to be where we’re trapped when we visit St. Paul.

Hey, it’s the shittier version of Coffman! It’s hard to be shittier than Coffman–and at least this place isn’t named after some old, dead racist even if the name is a bit dull and uncreative. Maybe the inside will bring some hope that St. Paul is superior to Minneapolis in some way to make up for, well, everything else.

Nope, nope, nope. Rooster art inside. Art made of roosters. Rooster-likeness in art form. Time to leave immediately and return to civilization as fast as we can.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding. A barn? A barn and a silo? Alright. We’ve spent enough time here. The Black Sheep is happy to report that St. Paul hasn’t changed a bit; it’s still the same unfortunate, middle-of-nowhere, cattle-centric hell that it was last September, just with a little more snow on the ground.

There’s no need to come back unless you’d like to try to wrangle some cattle trapped in some hapless professor’s office. It might be more fun than your midterms.

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