Page 96 - 1951 VES Meteor

A Passing Fad
The very sound of the word "riot" sets .our blood atingle. Lately, a large port1on of the student body has raised its own morale by means of these tumultuous uprisings. Such wanton of- fenses as ringing the bell and disrob- ing our fellows have been frequently performed for the good of the school's morale. But alas for these wanton felons, for the next day their
morales are sunk to their lowest ebb by a solitary, despairing glance at the demerit board. In addition, the Machine deprives these poor devils of two weeks rations of black bread and hot water! A fate worse than death, but such is the lot of those dogged rebels with whom the in- formers to the Machine catch up.
Reminiscent of gladiatorial combat are these roguish brawls. However, these uproars have features from which the most hard-boiled Roman would have recoiled: Instead of lions and tigers, these wranglings have skunks, and, for entertainment, inade- quately clothed wretches are made to dance before the aggregation of wholesome fun-lovers. Vigorous, red- blooded fun in the eyes of all, these loose festivities should pierce the thick shell of tradition and become an institution, to detract somewhat from the over-didactic atmosphere which casts its ominous shadow over our existence.
Thus a lighter side is introduced to the lives of us all. Fairyland awaits the venturesome on cold, dark nights, when the ringleaders are in a red- blooded mood.
(Slaves of the Machine will please ignore any trade secrets divulged. It might inspire that organization to rise from its doldrums of inactivity).
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Random Thoughts About Lynchburg And Its Inhabitants
Some nine months of our year are spent here in Lynchburg. Our life is pretty well wrapped up in the town, 1ts bnght (?) lights, its rolled-up side- walks, and the people who stare at us somewhat bewilderedly downtown every Monday afternoon. W e've
met a great many people here in town, people who have quite a lot to do with our weekends being pleas- ant ones. Several probably come into your ~ind imm~diately: Sam Trevey, erstwhde propr1etor of a gas station on Bedford Ave., to whom we are much indebted for witty sayings to spruce up the week, and for other things also; the saintly visage of Lum
Pearson, beaming at his fellow class- mates from behind the counter of ~is father's drugstore, and proclaim- mg loudly to aII the merits of V. E. S.; the smi ling waitresses at Mac and Ann's, who must be pretty tired of us by now; the two old gentlemen who rack balls at the pool hall. the ticket sellers at the theaters, and legions more, all with their own little niche in our life at school.
Lynchburg has its share of kennings, both good and bad. Among the former are the White House, the Vir- ginian, the Columns, the Steak Cel- lar, Mack and Ann's, Bill's Barn, and that old standby, the Florence, known to its habitees as Flo's Place.
One couldn't write an article about Lynchburg without mentioning Ran- dolph-Macon, where one attains the full stature of womanhood. R.-M. W. C. means many things to many people; to Ed Hotchkiss it brings bit- ter memorie~ of last year's infamous milk bath, but to most of us it just means that Sat. night won't be the loneliest night of the week.
So, as the sun sets behind the crystal cascades of the majestic (hah) James, we take leave of this Paris of the Blue Ridge, this Venice of the Virginia, until next weekend.
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THE METEOR
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