The end is nigh in 2012

The end is nigh, brothers and sisters. I don't mean to alarm you, but as we speak the University is traipsed by men with guns — and badges. And war is surely imminent. It will be a hard fought war, one between those with guns and those who pack. Come spring, the packers will make the first act of aggression, and soon enough the university will fall into anarchy.

As you know, next semester the university will start enforcing a new smoking policy. Come January, as smokers congregate in the new smoking zones, they will grow restless. At first, this will be a strictly physical sensation due to their low lung capacity and lack of chairs, but soon they will find a leader,

"I want chairs," she will say.

"We want chairs," they will chant.

"We want chairs," they will sit. Behind the LAB. Under a tree. Away from the zones.

And the fuzz will come to where they sit and rain down fines like turret fire. They will issue loads of tickets to real-sounding pseudonyms, and the smokers will take this sitting down. And they won't stand for it. Having committed to the role of subversive douchebag, they will humor many plans.

"Officer," they will say, "the zone boundary is line of sight."

"Officer," they will exclaim, "it does say ‘designated smoking zone' and it is in my dorm room. Ipso facto."

As the semester progresses and other smokers get tired of looking for the apparently nonexistent zones by Walker, Scott and Cook, the packer ranks will swell, and their fearless leader will green light her most successful plans to date.

Uniform hoodies, oversized glasses and impromptu musical numbers will make the capture and prosecution of packers almost impossible. And at a much later date, they will fondly remember the week when all the ‘designated zone' signs disappeared and freedom was briefly regained its status as cool.

As the rebellion becomes stronger, the police will respond appropriately. First, they will shift their rhetoric to garner public support. Calling cigarettes WMDs and dubbing smokers ‘lung terrorists,' they will say, "Actions must be taken." In a briefing, Bob Hopkins will explain, "There are known knowns, known unknowns…and something I can't recall…but these buttheads definitely have to be put out."

Tired of always being dissed by the Alpha Beta smokers, the nerds will answer the call. Acting as bad-skinned enforcers, the number of fines will soar for a while until one of the nerds shacks up with a fine number from the Pi Delta Pi house.

Then Hostages. Negotiations. Montage. Apocalypse. Zombies.

Of course, I could be wrong, but just in case I'm not, maybe we could get some chairs?