A little over one year ago, we began our tenure as scene editors for the 2005-’06 year, and it’s been a fairy-tale shitshow ever since: We’ve fared YCouture barbs, yoking nebbishes, the serrated teeth of Violet Woodward-Pu, and 4 a.m. production nights. But alas, our time as delightfully intimate editors has come to an end.
So, basically, now you’ll see us in public.
Today’s issue marks our very last scene, but before we move on with our lamentably postmodernless lives, we have a few people to thank. First and foremost, the Board of 2007, with whom we’ve violently argued, laughed, cried(?), and excessively made out. Thanks to you guys, we can no longer donate blood.
Thanks, too, to all the writers, reviewers and columnists we’ve worked with over the past year — you guys have been so understanding of our good intentions and bad attendance in edit sessions (and by “edit”, we mean inflate diction). And to our writers who landed lucrative book deals based on their work in scene, we demand a shoutout in the credits. That was totally our idea, Zach Marks … make THAT out of dining hall spinach.
To the future boards of the YDN, and specifically the 2008 scene editors, best of luck in your upcoming year. It’s an experience of unmitigated delirium, puns, alliteration, and Kelly Clarkson bliss — don’t act like you weren’t warned.
At the end of day, though, remember it’s all in good fun. Yale irony isn’t really irony. Fraternity relationships are expendable. The more syllables the better. And when in doubt, play your music a little louder.
– kevin, steph and david