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An Open Letter to Freshmen from a UW Super Senior

My dearest freshmen,


Welcome to Madison, you bright eyed, full of wonder and awe beautiful little Badgers. Clearly, you are some of the most intelligent children around since you chose attend the best university in the country – academically and alcoholically. As you grow acquainted with our fair city, I’d like to take a moment to offer you some advice that you may find useful as you embark upon your first semester here. Don’t worry—it won’t be anything like that SOAR bullshit you’ve had to sit through for hours upon hours. I’ll tell it to you straight. 


As an extra super senior here at Madison, I am the best person on campus to give you advice. I know everything there is to know about being a Badger by this point.


For instance, the first rule of Madison – if you see Bucky Badger and you don’t stop for a selfie Snapchat, you’re a traitor to your school. On the same note, if you don’t wear red on game days, go home. You may have thought you left mandatory school spirit at high school, but we take our herd behavior very seriously here. If you refuse to follow the group, I suggest you find a new one. Please note, this rule lasts a lifetime. Even the oldest surviving alumni are bound to the Badger spirit.


If you have a class that starts before 11a.m. drop it or figure out how to pass the final without attending lecture. Now, you may be thinking, “What if it’s a Wednesday morning class? Surely I won’t be out drinking on a Tuesday night.” Oh, naïve child. You say this now, but when dollar margaritas and free bacon call, you answer—you answer that shit so hard you forget what school even is. You need to learn how to function hungover. Now.  


This brings me to my next piece of advice. Children, there is more to alcohol than cheap UV Blue. Perhaps it’s the easiest type of alcohol for your under-21 selves to obtain, but if I have to see one more child puke blue on the sidewalk while his friends try to prop him up in a ridiculous attempt to disguise his drunkenness from the cops, I will purchase every bottle of UV Blue ever made and destroy them all.


Another note on alcohol, if you’re drinking a mixed drink and you can’t taste the alcohol, one of two things is occurring. Either A) Your makeshift bartender is a piece of shit who doesn’t know how to mix drinks. Or B) Your makeshift bartender is a God and should be cherished for the rest of eternity for their ability to mix alcoholic drinks that don’t taste like cheap vodka. If the answer is A, stop drinking immediately and resort to taking shots. If the answer is B, honey, your chances of remembering who was mixing that drink just disappeared because you’re going to black out very soon.


My final piece of advice to you, children, should you choose to accept it: Do not talk to me. I’m serious. Don’t talk to me under any circumstances. Ever. I will not buy you alcohol. I will not help you find a fake ID. I don’t care what your major is, where you’re from, or if you snuck into that wicked frat party this weekend. We are not friends. We will never be friends. Stop it.


Try not to die. Or flunk out. 


Your Friendly Neighborhood Super-Senior. 

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