It’s only fitting that the last cover of this board’s scene be the “bizarre and the beautiful.” If ever there were three more bizarre and yet utterly irresistible scene editors, well, they moved to China last year and probably won’t read this masthead anyhow. We’ve been through a lot and we couldn’t have done it without you, our faithful scene readers, who chuckle over the columns every Saturday morning, nearly choking on your mouthfuls of waffle. We don’t know who will be tenderizing their shapely bums on these well-warmed scene seats next week, but this board is simply teeming with talent, so we have absolute faith in them and, we promise, no bets going as to who will be the first to screw up. Because we know where we half-heartedly tried and failed, they will succeed and make us look really bad. Yes, we resent them, but we also like to think that their excellence might not exist if they hadn’t learned from our mistakes. We can’t help it — we’re so damn beautiful, we have developed incredible egos.

But we will miss scene. When we’re out Thursday nights, free from anxiety or shame over a stupid cover story or bagged review, we will think back nostalgically of the News, of the photo desk, so smashed out of their gourds that they still haven’t assigned captions at 2 in the morning, of the ugly graduate students partying outside our windows at GPSCY, and of bothering the sports desk for hours with nothing to do but wait and bitch. And we will miss it. Some of us will have something better or more illegal to do, but in the deepest recesses of our brains, the parts still unharmed by the ravages of alcohol, drugs and the Rumpus, we will long to be back at the scene desk, giving Will Sullivan lascivious looks, writing mastheads at the last minute and mocking Zander’s new haircut.

And we will really, really miss telling you how to live your lives. Because you need to be told. You’re too high-strung, my dear Yalies. If you don’t walk around with your own personal soundtrack, including songs by George Michael, U2 and Dido, you probably take yourself too seriously. And, if there’s anything scene advocates, it’s not taking yourself too seriously. Like our wise and wonderful Editor in Chief Emily Anthes just reminded us, “I don’t give a fuck. I’m not Rebecca Dana.”

Never have we heard a better motto. Try it as a mantra. Repeat it to yourself every time you take yourself too seriously. We promise you’ll feel much better. We already do.

“We don’t give a fuck. We’re not the new scene editors.”