Dear Class of 2026,
I hope this message finds you well. Haha, just kidding — I stopped believing in hope a long, long time ago.
Anyways, I wanted to check in with you idiots. At this point in the semester, you’ve probably
had at least a few low points: Maybe you bombed a quiz, or your professor tore your D1 to shreds. Maybe you woke up one morning m McCosh smelling like bad beer and stomach acid. May:be you made one too many bad decisions and — God forbid — you hooked up with someone from the Daily Princetonian. (Seriously, why do they have so many members?) If you’ve had any of these not-so-great experiences at Princeton, it’s okay. They happen to everyone.
And you deserve every last bit of that suffering.
Frankly, I can’t see how ANYONE could tolerate you guys. I shouldn’t have expected anything better from people who spent a disproportionate amount of their adolescent years studying, practicing, rehearsing, debating, tutoring, creating non-profits, stressing, crying, and throwing up from stress. You are some of the most awful people I’ve ever met, and that’s including Tea Cruz.
I wish I could say that the Class of 2026 is especially insufferable, but I can’t. It’s all of you. I don’t understand why we’re investing a small country’s GDP into thousands of overworked, mentally unstable college students. Tourists seem to love our architecture, but they don’t realize that the real spectacle is walking all around them. With every passing day I spend on this campus, I become more and more convinced that Princeton is just some insane nightmare; a cruel joke that’s been played out for almost three centuries; a twisted social experiment whose ultimate purpose is to torment me, Christopher Ludwig Eisgruber, for wrongdoings in a past life.
My goal as President, then, is simple: wrath. I will make walkways on campus less accessible. I will add another semester of Writing Sem. I will uninstall the elevators and air conditioning in your dorms. Clearly, there is something fundamentally wrong with this student body — one that doesn’t put their plates away in dining halls, and one that thinks it’s okay to flush masks down the freaking toilet, for Christ’s sake. Sympathy is the last thing you should be asking for.
This university is a godless place. And, reader? That is entirely YOUR fault.
With worst wishes,
Chris
JUPITER DING ’24
