Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at changes in campus life.
Forming a beer mug on the field, the Band notes that a certain member of the University administration has declared the Pub to be a lemon. This campus resident has complained that the level of noise emanating from the open windows of the Pub has disturbed his usual nocturnal activities. The juke box and bands were almost elemonated this year, and it is sobering to think what might go next. Several possible solutions have been suggested, including hiring a string quartet for Yale weekend, or moving the Joseph Henry House and the library to New Brunswick — nothing ever
happens there. The Band suggests, however, that the best solution to this problem is to move the Pub to the Chapel and rename it “Gordon’s Gin Mill” remembering that “blessed are the poor in spirits, for they shall be comforted.”
“Get Me to the Church on Time”
The Band notes with dismay McCosh Infirmary’s sexist policy of prescribing contraceptives only to females. The Band condemns this penalization of the Princeton male. This example of discriminatory rubber-stamping by the University administration is SECH a shame.
“I’ve Got Rhythm”
The Band finally notes that Blakely laundry was washed out in bidding to provide linen service for the campus. According to the Aid Office, Blakely’s image was stained when their spotty delivery record left their customers’ drawers full of old sheets and pillowcases. However, Blakely responded crustily that this was a lot of bunk. The Band sadly notes that Princeton men will no longer be lying on Blakely’s contours, and bids a fond farewell to Blakely Laundry.
Ladies and gentlemen, The Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at useless publications.
The first currently circulating document of dubious distinction is the ROTC report. Commissioned last year to study the military’s one-year extension and to make recommendations for the future, the group pondered…and reviewed…and discussed…and expanded…and condensed. Finally, with the deadline coming and the report not in, action had to be taken. Encouraged by threats of Corporal Punishment, Major Repairs pulled himself away from Private Parts and took pencil in hand to write the report. Containing many modules of mental midgetry, the document was released to an anxious campus, and overwhelmingly approved by General Apathy. The Band salutes the Admiral Work of the committee.
Next the Band turns its sights to 48 University Place, home of our favorite campus higher-priced spread. We are proud to announced publicly for the first time, that several recent articles from The Gaily Printsanything
have been selected for inclusion in a new literary anthology entitled: 18 Writing Styles to Avoid.
Fully confident that The Prince
will exhibit its usual tact and good taste, together with its customary libelous insults and misquotations, the Band reveals the subject of the next dynamic, hard-hitting expose: the politics of leaf collection and ivy clipping. Forming
- a Yellow Rag, or
- all the screws The Prince can fit, or
- a literary litter,
the Band salutes the true utility of The Prince
“Where Has My Little Dog Gone?”
The Band suggests, however, that the most useless publication is Prospect
magazine, published by the Concerned Reactionary Alumni of Princeton. Their commodious office, located on Palmer Square, is so small you have to go outside to change your mind. Fortunately, the editors’ minds are narrow enough to fit through the door. Forming
Prospect’s contribution to intelligent discourse, or
- the factual content of one of the better issues, or
- Kate Smith singing “God Bless America,”
the Band pays a left-handed compliment to our friends on the right.
“I Got Plenty of Nuttin'”
October 6, 1973
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at places we’d hate
One place we would least like to find outselves is in the shoes of that illustrious statesman, Spiro T. Agnew. News leaks from Washington indicate that our verbally vexatious Vice-President has been soliciting funds for the renovation of his new “Western White House” at San Quentin. However, far from abandoning his political aspirations, Agnew seems well on his way to yet another term. Forming a license plate on the field, the Band wishes him well in his solitary quest against impending prohibition. Will Spiro ever find a home without a bar?
“Fool on The Hill”
(Band forms a license plate with a 2 in it)
Speaking of coffins, can you
think of a worse place to be? Well, that is exactly where Lady Li Tsang spent the last couple of millenia. Amazed at the excellently preserved body, scientists at the excavation site in China have estimated Lady Li’s age at 2,137 years, to which Dr. Kung Fu, discoverer of the tomb, responded gravely, “Funny, she don’t look a day past 800!” Utilizing sophisticated techniques, doctors were even able to determine the Ladi Li had borne children. Asked to comment, she said, “I don’t feel much like a mummy!”
“How Dry I Am”
(Band forms ‘MOM’)
Speaking of confinement, the Band would hate to share the plight of those champions of isolation, the submariners. To ease the strain created by “stimulus impoverishment,” these sailors vie for space in the sonar room to hear the mating calls of whales. Or, when obsessed by the dangers of the turbulent sea, submariners often find themselves prowling around the craft hunting for leaks in the six-inch-thick steel hull. The Band sympathizes with these brave and lonely seamen, making their way through the swirling brine of the bottomless abyss.
(Band forms submarine)
All kidding about jails, coffins, and sea floors aside, though, folks, the place we’d most hate to be is situated right here at the bottom of the Ivy League — Columbia University!
“Roar, Lion, Roar”
(Band forms underscore)
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at The Guiness Book of World Records.
Laying an egg on the field, the Band notes that the fastest recorded time for plucking chickens was set in the 1970 contest at Miami, Florida, on November 15, when a team of four women plucked three birds each naked in 6 minutes, 31 seconds, so averaging 2 minutes 10.4 seconds a piece. The Band comments, “For a naked chicken, that ain’t bad!” Forming a crestfallen cock on the field, the Band salutes this definitive demonstration of dynamic digital dexterity.
Speaking of world’s records, the record for the fastest weight loss is held by a Cornell coed, Ms. Dolly Dimples. Dolly, who was an animal husbandry major until they caught her at it, lost 400 lbs. in 15 minutes when she gave birth to a cow on the floor of the Big Red Co-op. When asked to comment on her great loss, she replied, “I always thought Prof. Bovus was full of bull.”
“I’m an Old Cowhand”
Speaking of Cornell students, the world’s most brainless animal was the stegosaurus, also known as the lesser morondon, which weighed in at up to 4,000 pounds but had a walnut-sized brain weighing only 2.5 ounces. It roamed widely across the Northern Hemisphere about 150 million years ago, trying to remember where it had been. Constantly outwitted by trilobites and a number of advanced ferns, the last stegosaurus became extinct when informed that his SAT scores were too low to get into anyplace except Cornell. Forming a walnut-sized brain on the field, the Band overhears the stegosaurus’ plaintive cry.
“I’ve Got Plenty of Nuttin'”
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at lunchmeat.
First the Band rests its weary feet beneath the sign of the fallen arches. It has recently been made public that McDonald’s has surpassed the 12 billion mark in hamburger sales, and, to celebrate, killed their second cow. In an exclusive interview with the Xavier Lax, purchaser of the 12 billionth hamburger, the Band queried, “How did you find your meet?” Lax replied, “I lifted up my pickle and there it was.” Noting that McDonald’s was one of the few restaurants unaffected by the recent meat shortage, the Band asks, “What’s your beef?” and answers musically with “The Horse.”
Passing on to our next piece of lunchmeat, the Band bites into Otto Kerner, former governor of Illinois, Brown class of 1930. Otto first captured the public imagination at the precocious age of 5 1/2 when he copped the Boy Scout’s elusive silver beaver award by helping his first old lady cross a six-lane divided highway. After an outstanding undergraduate career at Brown, Otto was admitted to the Illinois Bar in 1934 and put behind the Illinois’ bars in 1968. Forming a brown-out in the legal profession, the Band salutes this fine example of “Brown in The Nation’s Service,” and overhears Otto’s lament.
“What Kind of Fool Am I”
Speaking of meat-packing, the Band salutes that Mary Poppins of the meat world, that winsome man selling tin-canned ham, the Princeton weenie man. Like Princeton’s postmen who deliver the meat whether it’s “chile today or hot tamale,” the weenie man delivers his
meaty wares outside the dorms and (pause) under the stairs. Many weenie men have gone on to even greater fame, and at least two, Justice Frank Furter and Chief Justice Warren “Whopper” Burger have warmed their buns in the Supreme Court. Forming
- a 1000% pure meat weenie
- a mustard stain, or
- the newest addition to Princeton’s modern sculpture collection,
the Band notes the approach of colder weather and warns our favorite weenie man that “It’s never to early to try snow tires and to add anti-freeze to the sauerkraut.”
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at the Presidency.
Turning its attention to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the Band listens in as an impeachable White House souse discloses the President’s keen interest in averting a national energy crisis. In an effort to head off a personal power failure, Mr. Nixon has decided to conserve energy by shrinking his staff. In addition, the President has arranged to generate his own heat by modifying the White House furnace to burn discarded papers and tapes. Forming
- an inoperative tape system, or
- a shred of evidence, or
- Nixon’s latest Gallup Poll mandate,
the Band overhears Nixon getting his instructions down pat.
“Come On Baby, Light My Fire”
Marching out to the White House garage, the Band observes the addition of a new shock absorber to the Nixon household. This new, low-noise Ford, completely equipped with built-in tape deck and pollution controls, is known to get good mileage, but can’t blow its horn and drive straight at the same time. Dodging and darting around Washington, this model has run into one hearing after another issuing its plaintive plea…VEEP, VEEP. While Ford’s suggestions may be good, the Band has a better idea.
“See the U.S.A. in Your Chevrolet”
The Band next looks in on the Justice Department, at the office of former Watergate Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox. The Special Prosecutor was first appointed by the President to probe the depths of the Watergate Affair, but his investigation was pressed so far that Nixon discharged Cox. The Band observes that Nixon really feared that Cox was
“Getting to Know Yow”
Finally, the Band notes that, only three days after we did an Agnew joke at Columbia, Vice President Agnew resigned. With this in mind, we dedicate our show today to President Richard M. Nixon.
“With a Little Bit of Luck”
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at heavenly bodies.
The Band first trains its telescope on a celestial phenomenon known as the black hole, a topic of recent research by Princeton’s noted Professor of Physics, John A. Wheeler. Professor Wheeler has found them to be dense concentrations of antimatter; the only denser entities known to man are Yalies and the editors of Prospect
magazine. An outstanding characteristic of these hitherto unprobed entities is their inclination to absorb anything that comes within their sphere of influence. Professor Wheeler’s course climaxes with a trip to New Haven for first-hand exploration of the only black hole in the Ivy League. Forming
- a black hole
- a sphere of influence, or
- a naval orange,
the Band notes that
“He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands”
The Band now directs your attention upward, and reminds you of the coming of a new comet this month. We all know that comets display magnificent tails, and astronomers inform us that they are actually frigid bodies of gases. In recognition of the celestial occurence, the Band proposes renaming the comet in honor of Yale’s principal benefactor. Forming
- a comet,
- a coming event,
- Yale’s principal benefactor, or
- none of the above,
the Band notes that “Eli’s Comin’.”
With the termination of the Skylab program, the Band proposes new directions for NASA’s rockets. An exciting space probe could include penetration of the asteroid belt, observation of Jupiter’s gyrating moons, and an exploration of the plutonic relationship between Venus and Uranus. Forming
- a moon of Jupiter,
- an asteroid belt, or
- a NASA hole,
the Band sends its best wishes to Mission Control and gives three cheers for Old NASA.
(If yalies throw oranges) Thank you, ladies and gentlemen; this show has been brought to you by the Florida Citrus-Growers Association.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at Freshman Parent’s Day.
The Band first peeks in on Mom and Dad as they mount the stairs at 7:37 Saturday morning. eagerly anticipating a warm reunion with their long-lost offspring. Little do they know that their darling is still recovering from a long, hard night at the Chancellor Green Library. Forming
- a blood-shot eye, or
- the bottom of a beer mug, or
- the cruel, early-morning sun,
the Band overhears Charley’s lament.
“Hard Day’s Night”
Moving right along, the Band watches Mom and Dad as they are subjected to a lively round of panel discussions. Their first flop — er, stop is “The Efficient Use of University Funds,” chaired by Prof. Marvey Breezler, renowned for his long-awaited commission report which proved conclusively that there is no problem, and therefore no solution. Forming a 1500-page report, complete with graphs, statistics, maps, pictures, blueprints, and quotations from the Harvard Law Review,
the Band applauds Prof. Breezler’s windy conclusions and overhears his final comment: “Everything’s hunky-dory in Tigertown.”
At long last, we follow Mom and Dad to the panel discussion entitled “Living and Learning at Princeton” or, “Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Dorm Life, But Were Afraid to Ask,” chaired by the Dean of Student Affairs. We overhear the panel discussing such burning campus topics as new housing, and cohabitation, academics, and cohabitation, extracurricular activities, and cohabitation, ROTC, and cohabitation. When asked to comment on “viable social alternatives,” one University administrator replied lucidly, “It is sometimes thought by many of the students that in most, but by no means all, cases it is certainly true that social alternatives did been had, but by this time already, we don’t got some, ain’t it.” The Band salutes this forthright statement on a critical campus issue.
Finally, Mom and Dad move on to Palmer Stadium just in time to witness the most exciting, stupendous extravaganza on campus, presented by those pernicious perveyors of playful perversity, The Princeton University Band.
(cowbell cadence to move off field)
October 27, 1973
Ladies and gentlemen, the United Press International Band present news on the march. (opening from “Dragnet Theme”) The story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have to changed to protect the innocent.
(Band marches out to theme)
President Carl Albert today vetoed a prison reform bill which would have allowed political prisoners to be placed on parole after three and one half hours.
“Hail, Hail, the Gang’s All Here”
(Band forms ‘PEN’)
Attorney General John Siricca announced a clearance sale at the White House including 1500 reels of slightly-used recording tape.
“Sound of Silence”
(Band forms precision marching tape recorder)
Vice President Thomas Eagleton electrified the nation before a battery of reporters with his shocking treatment of the present energy crisis. He charged that Con Edison’s resistance to transforming their rates to maintain the present guidelines would result in a federal antitrust suit.
“I Think I’m Going Out of My Head”
(Band spells ‘AC-DC’)
Acting Director of the FBI, Walter Cronkite…… (auf Deutch) It is with great pleasure that in spite of heaving in Washington I can now say that peace is at hand. We control the airwaves, the bus stations and the capitol. Resistance across the nation is collapsing.
“Deutchland Uber Alles”
(Band forms ‘FBI’, changes to ‘SS!’)
And that’s the way it is, 1973. (Band forms ‘1973’) And I’ll bet you thought you wouldn’t have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore.
“Happy Days are Here Again”
(Band forms ‘1984’)