A round-up of the supernatural creatures haunting campus

the State-Run Send that Fool to the Dream Realm! media

Hurricane Spotlight: the encounterable supernatural creatures on campus

Honestly, they’re kind of boring with their whole “woe is me, my body has decomposed into the sands of time wah wah” nonsense.

Anna Johns

Head Propagandist

October welcomes us with a flushed, haphazardous greeting. Around campus, students must contend with the frequent tour groups guiding prospective students as well as the scheduled rise of ghost sightings of the People Who Came Before. TU upperclassmen understand the drill: play nice with the potentially recruited students and avoid direct contact with the spirits, whose pleading eyes and agape mouths beg for attention.

Here is a list of supernatural creatures you can potentially encounter:

1. The spiritual mass of foreign ex-

change students. Indeed, the largest concentration of spirits occurs in front of Keplinger Hall. There, the ghastly visage of smoking foreign exchange students stands in perpetual wait, silently chain smoking.

“It’s a little annoying to get around these guys,” says sophomore Chemical Engineering student Aaron Williamson. “Like, you can’t get their attention so they can move away from the damn door, and if you do, they kind of just… lazily blink at you and reluctantly move.”

“Oh, and that’s not to mention the cigarette smell,” Williamson adds. “I don’t know if ghosts, um, can get arcane afterlife cigarettes or something, but this smell just sticks to your skin.”

As a result, classrooms in Keplinger Hall reek of cigarettes, and this smell has also spread to the Esports and Gaming Lounge, populated by frequenters to Keplinger. “That’s actually fine with me, though,” Williamson says, “since it hides the natural musk of the people who use the lounge.”

2. Oliphant Hall has its own haunt: stu-

dent journalism, which died years ago. At night, the glow of the long abandoned Collegian office welcomes any straggler. Come in, something inside of you stirs as you examine the newspaper-layered door. Oh, yeah, by the way, there are some windows open, that force within you advises, because Managing Editor Zach Short demands a fucking breeze.

The editors inside welcome you in, needlessly enthusiastic. $10 per article, $5 per photo. “It’s a great way to make easy money,” the editors say, their voices mingling yet ringing hollow all at once, “and it looks good on a resume.”

Cookies sit on the table in wait for consumption. The editors stare at you with unblinking eyes, but there’s something—an emotion, surely—you can’t quite grasp that hides behind their gaze. Then, you notice the shackles laced upon the editors’ arms and that their mouths never quite move when they speak, and you realize all too late that the emotion you read was perpetual agony, a desperate plea for help in the shallow, shadowed realm that was once student journalism.

graphic by Anna Johns From left to right: a wounded Captain Cane, my ex-girlfriend Rhonda, Janet Levit and some smoking foreign exchange students. Hallowed be thy name.

Write for The Collegian, won’t you? Please?

3. The asbestos in the air of our Arts

and Sciences buildings. Years ago, TU’s administration promised to improve the air quality of buildings like Chapman Hall or Oliphant Hall. Untouched and unconquerable, the asbestos unionized, and the only method TU has taken to thwart its conquest is a sign on the walls warning all who enter these buildings of the silent menace, lurking and looking.

4. Janet Levit, former Provost, who is

still here for some reason. “Yeah, so, we voted no confidence two years ago, right?” says law student Jessica Hatsfield. “Why is she still here? Is she, like, trying to lower our law school ranking even more?”

5. The incorporeal form of Captain Cane, a stab wound buried in his chest.

Every night, Captain Cane takes on his selfimposed glide around the campus perimeter. His mascot form seems deep in thought, the words leaving his foamy lips mumbled and mournful. If a poor student manages to break his concentration, he launches into a soliloquy: “If thou didst ever thy dear university mascot love,” he says with uncharacteristic solemnity, “revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.”

“‘Tis given out that, sleeping in my mascot chambers, a serpent stung me. So the whole ear of the University of Tulsa is by a forged process of my death rankly abused!” he exclaims.

The rising sun paints his blue lavender. A pause, then a sniff. “But soft, methinks I scent the morning air. Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me,” he wails helplessly.

Jesus, dude, talk about trauma dumping.

6. My ex-girlfriend, Rhonda Stiltsberg.

Baby, please, come back. It wasn’t you. Maybe it was me.

My fraternity is morally (but also financially) bankrupt

Dad, if you are reading, please send money.

Kyle Garrison

Rushed Kappa Kappa Smegma

Listen, I know. Fraternities are tools for status quo maintenance by maintaining generational wealth through “networking” which is shorthand for nepotistic cronyism. Not to mention, the “brotherhood” is mainly a function of trauma bonding with the intent of conformity, forcing men into the mold that is toxic masculinity. That being said, we spent all our money on beer and expensive hazing activities—and the subsequent medical bills and legal fees—so we really need your financial support. Love you dad. I hope your corporate lawyer stuff is going well. I want to address the elephant in the room. Yes, interpersonal violence and sexual assault are absolutely a problem on college campuses, especially in Greek life circles. Fraternities allow—and even encourage—an environment in which the safety of women is put at risk. This culture created by fraternities is explicitly and intentionally designed to provide elite men with a space in which they can do whatever they want with no consequences. Both fraternity and university leadership distance themselves from this because they know it occurs and do not want to be liable, resulting in a kind of “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy but for sexual assault. Both groups are more likely to throw money at silencing victims than taking steps to prevent it from happening. Keeping that in mind, please, just one more party Dad. I know you sent me 10 grand last week. I promise I’ll do better at financial planning.

Another major issue with fraternities— and Greek life in general—is of course the lack of diversity. Many Greek life organizations even get away with flat out discriminatory practices in rush week. Whether it is sororities using a whitewashed beauty standard for Rush week, or both fraternities and sororities using the loaded term “professionalism,” to the same end. In some cases, it is more explicit, such as the extreme incident at OU, or in KA’s “spiritual founder,” Robert E. Lee. You want proof of racism in Greek life? Try to look at any group photo for a Greek life organization without thinking “Wow, that’s a lot of Mike Pences and Amy Coney Barretts but if she was blond. Wait, is that just Kyrsten Sinema? What was I talking about?” On a related note, I spent 8,000 dollars on some weed blondies—bro, imagine bomb ass weed brownies, but vanilla—while drunk and I only received a library cafe brownie and a bag of oregano. Please Venmo me, I am having a bad week. I was only partying 6 out of the last 7 days. I want to believe that there are good people in TU’s administration and Greek life leadership who will act in order to make women safer and minorities more included, but honestly, we might be better off getting rid of Greek life entirely and replacing it with something better and more inclusive. The draw of Greek life is community in an increasingly lonely and socially fragmented existence but surely, we can achieve this without sacrificing the safety and well-being of half the campus. Also, abolishing Greek life would mean I wouldn’t have to pay dues and could instead spend that money on white claws. It’s a win-win for everyone.

This depiction of “Dear Evan Hansen” is a little weird to me, but who am I to complain?

graphic by Anna Johns