So, it’s been more than a month since the day the middle of America emerged from their underground tunnels to elect a xenophobic, spray-tanned member of the Lollipop Guild as President of the United States. If you’re anything like me, you’re probably still feeling a bit disoriented. And that’s completely understandable.
For some people, the outcome of this election was like Christmas come early in a Starbucks cup splattered with the image of old Saint Nick fighting the “War on Christmas” on his trusty steed, Rudolph. For others, it felt like we had finally worked up the courage to ask a hunky football player to prom just to find ourselves laughed at and shoved in a locker.
Here at The Princeton Tiger, we decided to turn that rejection into something beautiful. It wasn’t easy though. We had to take someone like Trump, at once so frustratingly ridiculous and absolutely terrifying, and somehow try to make people laugh. We trashed our old cover ideas— a sad hamburger or Eisgruber’s face photoshopped onto American Gothic— for one a little bit more sophisticated. And that article I wrote about the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pantsuit just didn’t seem appropriate.
Somehow, though, after the requisite amount of blood (from the first years), sweat (from the only two members who work out), and tears (all mine) were shed, this issue appeared under our pillows one morning.
Inside you’ll find jokes about all things American—- from assimilation to flaccid monuments, from basketball to patriotic amphibians. Page after page of nothing but the most deeply thought-provoking material. The New Yorker better watch out.
I’m glad that I was here to watch America’s greatest college humor magazine produce some of their best work, especially as this is my last issue as Chairman. I say farewell not because my graduation and emergence into adulthood looms but because I’m getting the hell out of here for a semester. I’m practically on the plane to London as we speak. Hold down the fort while I’m gone.