Your ticket for a kind of brighter-ish future

There has been quite a roar about the Oakland University Student Congress.

After forgetting to dangle the deadline for submitting candidacy, the circumstance has been labeled everything from ‘sloppy’ to ‘fishy,’ which I believe to be accurate, as the Oakland Center basement always smells like some trout chowder of sort.

The website has been blowing up with our own form of blogger debate coverage, from buttals to rebuttals to prebuttals and a picture a student uploaded mooning the camera.

There is a storm brewing for a shift of power on campus.

Since the OUSC has extended the deadline for candidacy, I take this offer as an open invitation to throw my hat in the political game and plot to democratically overthrow the student government!

While my personal experience is limited, my keen observation skill of recent Republican presidential debates tells me all I really have to do is dismiss the poor as peasants. Thanks for the lessons, Mitt Romney.

In need of a running mate, I’ve volunteered the services of Multimedia Reporter Jordan Reed. His shining optimism and workhorse ethic will strengthen and contrast many of my crude and pale points.

Since technically “The views expressed in Mouthing Off do not necessarily represent those of  The Oakland Post,” I can lay out key points of my inevitable rise to infamy without disturbing the peace.

While I have many savory ideas for progressive change, one of the biggest issues that begs to be addressed on campus is the state of our food.

Everyone loves their speedy Subway, or the partially hydrogenated oils coating the Chick-Fil-A, but we’re a blooming school and our food needs must be met. We’re going to turn the OC into a food Mecca.

The underlying reason is to prevent racial prejudices. For example, Great Lakes Crossings food court is impervious to any type of filters. They have the spectrum covered on stereotypical foods for every member of society, being accepted with open arms and an army of eating utensils.

I may just have a Panda Express habit I can’t seem to kick. The soy sauce patches do not stave off the cravings, as they would imply.

Another notice I’ve taken is a lack of camaraderie in peers. Some feel there is nothing to tie them together with their school, to really make them feel as if he or she is a cog in some machine bigger than them.

Hence we need more sporting events on campus. One of the main orders of business will be to invoke the barbaric rituals of the arena to the O’rena. Epic battles fought by sword and shield on blood soaked sand, where the victor reigns tall only after execution of the enemy.

I also move to get Spartacus off of television programming.

Perhaps in a more tame, watered-down version of decapitating wager my soon-to-be rival, Ben Eveslage can accept my challenge of might, sheathed in robe alone. It can be billed as a battle of the dolls, his doppelganger being the famous Ken doll (as he impersonated this past Halloween), and mine, a 1999 edition of 3-time WWF World Champion Mankind (That I looked identical to during the Halloween of 2005).

Another intense idea has me frothing at the edges of my mouth — solving the parking problems.

The reason for the parking idiocy eludes me. Maybe people are running late for class or they’re too far up themselves that they don’t notice their horizontal parking job.

Regardless, student involvement is a must. At the homecoming tailgate, the car smash was a big hit. Pun intended. See where this is going?

Enough with the tickets and stickers on windows, time to demolish the vehicles of perpetually bad parkers. Five volunteers will be granted sledgehammers and have permission from the board to pummel the reprimanded vehicle into particles.

If any of these issues apply for you, I’ve got your vote. If none are of interest, Mr. George Washington thinks you might want to change your mind — 25 cents still goes a long way.

I don’t hold any grudges against the OUSC for any past missteps, to err is human, as I prove on a daily basis. If the student body is looking for a scapegoat for their grievances, I’ll gladly bear the albatross.