The Compostmodernist: Trivia Edition

Dieter Huneryager

Last week, I wrote a column for this paper that was rejected by my editors on the grounds that it contained a gripe about how Kohlerites smell. Obviously, I was being facetious – Plantz residents are the most pungent, considering they have the highest percentage of Connies (facetious again) – but it puts me in a predicament. If I am to be forced to censor my observations on people who need to shower more often, then this week’s topic could prove especially difficult for me to discuss: Trivia.
All throughout this past weekend, upon entering any residence hall, I was drenched in the stench of a dozen or so greasy participants who had foregone sleeping and bathing in order to take the trivia championship away from the dynastic Yuai team in spite of the fact that defeating them is virtually impossible. If your trivia team has caffeine, they have speed. If your team is forfeiting their social lives for the weekend, the Yuais never had a social life to begin with. You just can’t win, so why not shower?
In spite of my criticism, I do generally participate in trivia, at least to some degree, each year. In the dead hours of the early morning, when most of my friends have gone to sleep and I am teetering on the brink of sobriety, I usually develop the hankering – nay, the hankerin’ – for something on which to nosh. Out of the 33 weekends I’m at Lawrence each year, there’s only one during which I know I’ll be able to find food after 3 a.m.
Generally, I’ll start off by going downstairs or to a nearby residence hall and see if any trivia teams have pizza or lesser foods. This year, I struck it rich on the second floor of Hiett, where there was a layout of pizza, chips and pizza. Using my mastery of both lies and deception, I pretended to be a trivia player and nabbed a couple slices of cheese and some Pepsi. To further the illusion, I asked one of the players if this was meant for the Brokeman O’Hiett team: it turned out not to be, but I took it anyway.
Though I love late-night noshing, the Monday following trivia weekend is generally the most irritating day in January. It’s the day when trivia players either skip class, which is fine by me, or go to class and bitch the whole time about how they were too exhausted to do the reading and how tired they are.
If one voluntarily chooses to take part in this event, an event whose past winners are only important to trivia masters and Yuais, then one should accept the fact that staying up for fifty hours is going to make a person tired and one should therefore stop whining, or worse, bragging.
One can neither whine nor brag about having fully participated in the Great Midwest Trivia Contest. One should only bow one’s head in shame.