My time at The Every Three Weekly began just last year, when I approached the Gargoyle’s booth at Festifall and asked if they could point me in the direction of the University’s humor publication. I joined the E3W as a staff writer shortly thereafter, and the rest, as they say, is about to be described with a level of detail and nostalgia so tedious it would make even my mother cringe with boredom.
I transferred to Michigan last year as a junior, and became an editor this year. It’s no exaggeration to say that the paper has been one of the most rewarding aspects of my college experience. Second only, in fact, to watching the University’s Quidditch team practice. (You never know where inspiration’s gonna come from. Unless you’re on the Quidditch team, I guess. Then you probably pretty much know your inspiration’s always coming from the Harry Potter franchise.)
There’s just so much I’ve loved about the paper: the writers’ meetings, the editors’ meetings, layout, handing out issues on the Diag – even that time Kevin threatened me at knifepoint for saying Charlie Sheen was an embarrassing hack and was the probable reason President Bartlet didn’t have any male children on The West Wing. It’s been a blast, and I’ll miss it terribly.
And a sincere thanks, by the way, to everyone who was a part of it. Fellow editors, writers, design staff, Mary, and also to the University group under which we operate, who, in exchange for our committing truly depraved sexual acts on them and occasionally each other for their enjoyment, fund our humble endeavor and allow us to bring a little laughter to our campus.
Thanks also to you, our loyal readers. And thanks, I suppose, to our disloyal readers as well. And ya know, fuck it. Thanks even to all the people who still aren’t sure whether the E3W or the Daily is the one that’s supposed to be funny. I’ll admit, though, that their editorial content does often imply the kind of self-loathing one would normally ascribe only to comedy writers.
And finally, I think I speak for the other editors when I say that next year’s editorial staff would love to field more complaints, especially from people who only skim the issues looking for something to complain about, you sad, sorry souls. So please, bring ‘em on. Even the smug, self-important drivel we sometimes get for casually calling someone “illiterate” who, unbeknownst to us at the time, literally cannot read. We’re actually really sorry about that last one.
Nah, I’m just joking. Seriously.
Originally Published: Apr 2013