After studying about a semester of politics, our school's student coucil officers have decided to completely revise the student council, write a constitution, and create a student senate. However, though we lack no ideas for the content of this constitution, we do seem to have problems getting started with the writing of said constitution. What do you suggest?
All you need to get started is a good title and a good introduction. Once these are in place, the rest of it flows out like law-water from a constitutional faucet. (What?) Thankfully, I have a readymade stock of constitutional titles to get you started. Take your pick:
Constitution 2: Reconstituted
Student Counsel: The Guide for Student Council
What to Expect When You’re Expecting … a Constitution
There and Back Again (But This Time It’s About a Constitution)
As for the introduction, just take lyrics to popular songs and replace key words with school or government related terms. It’s like a mad lib, except legally binding. Try this one out:
I like big constitutions and I cannot lie. You other representatives can’t deny. That when a school official walks in with an itty bitty budget allotment and a petition for new gym equipment in your face you get annual elections.
As you can see, Sir Mix-a-lot’s ode to bottoms lends itself quite well to legal documents.
Hey, there Reid!
Due to a recent Open Thread photo containing peacocks, I have a severe case of pet envy. How and where can I procure a peculiar pet of my own?
Most exotic and amazing animals can be found locally in a few places. One, of course, is the black market. However, markets such as these can be hard to find (they’re very shadowy), and when you do find them, you’ll find a lot more than peculiar pets. (“Human toes? $40 a dozen? That’s a great deal, but why aren’t they sold in groups of five?”) The more practical answer to your bizarre pet envy is the zoo. The zoo is full of amazing animals—giraffes, zebras, zebra-giraffes, giraffe-zebras, zebraffes, and all the other accidental hybrids you get when you house zebras and giraffes in the same enclosure. But how exactly do you get them out? The answer: confidence.
Here’s what you need: zookeeper outfit (expensive), a surly look of apathy (requires intense training), and a moustache (must be real, they can tell). After you got the look, simply walk into the zoo, hop over the observation rail, grab your animal and start walking away. People may try to stop you, so hit them real hard with that practiced apathetic glance; observers need to assume you do this kind of thing so often it’s not even fun. If anyone does try to stop you, mumble the following words as mumbly as you can: “’Scuse me … ma’am … sermthin, sermthin … cough … uhhhhhh medicines … sermthin sermthin … doctors.” Does that make any sense? No. But with a good enough, natural moustache, they won’t even be listening. All they’ll be able to think is, “Goodness! What a ‘stache!”
Once you get out of the front gate, you’re home free! Get your peacock, or spider monkey, or gir-ebra to your bedroom, give it an awesome name (Sir Dance-a-lot, Spoons, Greg), and cuddle up with your new, untrained, possibly uncontrollably violent new pet.
How do I make myself stop reading when I'm really into a book but it's 2 A.M. and I should go to sleep?
I know I’ve brought up the whole “take a hammer to the head” thing before, but dang, if this wasn’t a perfect application of said solution. But disregarding that other (better) option, allow me to suggest one other: spiders.
Here’s how this works: before you begin reading for the night, give your book to me. Somewhere in the book, not at the beginning, but certainly nowhere near the end, I am going to hide a single, terrifying spider. When will you find it? I can’t tell you. How big is it? I can’t say exactly, but when I first saw it I did start crying. Thus, as you keep reading, you have to carefully balance your interest in the book with the very real threat of seeing a life-ruining spider. Each page you turn only increases your odds! Eventually, no matter what is happening in the plot, your spider-fear will overtake you, and you’ll be forced to take a break for the night. That’s when I take the book back, remove the spider for another night, and begin crying again. Did I mention the spider is big?
Why is Chuck Norris so famous?
Please. Don't. Judge.
Because sometimes fame is nothing more than the fear one instills in the hearts of many.
That’s it for this week! If you need any advice, leave a question in the comments and I’ll answer it next week.