My relationship with this paper has been a long, occasionally violent romance. Four years ago, I was a doe-eyed freshman with dreams of writing for the University of Michigan’s leading humor publication, which to my surprise was not the Michigan Daily but a ragtag team of self-deprecating Jews and sentient MacBooks dedicated to being funny roughly once a month: the Every Three Weekly. However, mentally preparing myself for the innumerable offers of raunchy, casual sex I would receive as an E3W staff writer soon proved to be in vain as my application was soundly rejected.
Humbled but determined nonetheless to take my place among Michigan’s satire adonises, I reapplied to write for the E3W my sophomore year – this time with a more refined command of topics most dear to the paper: shitty dining halls, latent homosexuality in frat culture, and, of course, the neoliberal Death Star that is the Ross School of Business. I was rejected yet again and spent the remainder of that year at the bottom of a bottle, bouncing around from whorehouse to whorehouse just trying to feel alive again.
During my junior year, I came out of my drug-addled haze long enough to send an email to the E3W threatening to disfigure the warm, supple body of one of their editors if I wasn’t accepted to the writing staff. They reluctantly agreed to take me on the condition that I have a DPS escort accompany me to writers’ meetings.
And the rest is history.
Now, as I sit in my harem of frothy-loined E3W groupies – which to the untrained eye may resemble the UAC office during an Impact Dance practice – writing my farewell to a paper that, much like a child bride auctioned to the highest bidder, has come to love me with time, I am at a loss for words.
Under my watch, this paper has blossomed from an occasionally funny, self-indulgent spectacle that spouts trite social commentary to an occasionally funny, self-indulgent spectacle that spouts trite social commentary with a moderately good layout. Growth like that does not happen overnight – it takes countless hours of yelling at someone much more talented with Adobe InDesign to move text boxes “just a smidge” and adjust keming (whatever that is) – but clearly my dedication to producing content worthy of the laughs of literally dozens of students knows no bounds.
So what parting words do I have for the publication that has effectively served as my only creative outlet during my undergraduate career? FUCK THE PREVIOUS E3W ADMINISTRATIONS THAT REJECTED ME. LOOK WHO’S EDITOR NOW, ASSHOLES. Seriously, I’m fucking hilarious. Way to rob me of two whole years with an organization comprised of some of the brightest and funniest people I’ve ever met, you jackasses. I’ll never forgive you.
Originally Published: Apr 2013
