How to Get a Date to Formal in the Style of...

Aaron Sorkin, President Obama, Ke$ha



[Wrong name of female character]—Oh, your name’s [actual name that sounds like the first one]? Right, right—we need to talk. Listen, college girl, the formal is on Saturday. The world is 50 percent men, 50 percent women. I’ll probably only meet a small portion of that number, but since you and I have a class together, we’re going to date because that’s how this world works.

This event isn’t the greatest event on campus anymore—there’s IncestFest and I can’t get us in—but we can at least be glad there’s no juggernaut, monstrosity of a formal like Five-House Formal this year, where the corrupt politicians of HoCo deemed that house sovereignty was no longer a value they held dear.

But back to the facts—80 percent of my friends will be attending this social construct, 50 percent of those friends will be bringing dates. Nine freshmen will be asked and did you know, if you yelled for over eight and a half years, you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee?

So tell me, [wrong name again], with a clear conscience, can you look me in the eyes, sit near me in Ec10 the rest of the year, and say no? What’s your logic? Give me some proof it wouldn’t be a goddamn great night in your life, maybe second only to a night spent watching “The West Wing,” “The Newsroom,” and “The Social Network.” Do you know what you want? Think about it.



My fellow American,

Now I know it’s reading period and you’re busy writing a final paper for your tutorial, but let’s be clear, you need a break. The obstacles we confront in the next two weeks are monumental, I don’t deny that. However, we can work together to get through it.

Just last week I was visiting a community down south, by Dunster house, and I met a young woman struggling to get by on her own means. This young woman was burdened by work, and could barely make time for her three blockmates, each of whom depended on her for basic care and love. When I asked her what she needed, she told me “Mr. President, you’re amazing. Marry me.” I told her I was happily married to my beautiful wife, Michelle, and suggested she go to a formal instead. You see folks, that’s what we need now. Not parties as usual, but real change, the type of change that can only come from dressing up in your roommate’s white shirt and your blockmate’s tie and getting drunk in your own dining hall.

Things—namely, you—haven’t been looking so good lately, so put on a nice dress (something red, white and blue would be fantastic, but nothing that will make my wife look bad by comparison. Just kidding, that’s impossible). and get one of your bags and let’s go. I can’t do this alone. But together, we can rise up against the trials set before us and make a real difference on campus. My opponent would like you to believe it’s not possible to get drunk before a 4:00 p.m. dinner. Together, I believe we can.




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