Key:
| a: | P.C. Obie |
| b: | Hedonist Obie |
| c: | Academic Obie |
| d: | Misanthropic Obie |
| e: | Slacker Obie |
| f: | Artsy Obie |
For example, if your results were: 10 a’s, 12 b’s, 5 c’s, 13 d’s, 4 e’s, and 6 f’s your percentage breakdown is as follows: 20% P.C., 24% Hedonist, 10% Academic, 26% Misanthropic, 8% Slacker, and 12% Artsy.
A P.C. Obie cares about the world around them. And the world around everyone else. And we mean everyone. You are obsessive and neurotic, prone to taking extremist positions, and extremely good at making enemies. If there’s a cause, it’s yours. It doesn’t matter what it is, save the lesbian nazi whales. Go ahead, it’s what you do. Sure it couldn’t hurt if once in a while you stopped to actually think things through before randomly protesting any event, but it wouldn’t look good on your resume if you displayed any common sense.
A Hedonist Obie loves the good life: sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll. If you didn’t live in a co-op at Oberlin, you’d live in a frat house at any random university. In fact the only reason you’re here and not there, is probably because your parents had enough money to let you go to a school where the beer in the kegs is of half-way decent quality. Unfortunately they didn’t realize that you’d blow that same money on random snortable substances (including powered sugar- you probably couldn’t tell real coke if it bit you in the ass). They also didn’t figure on you trying to bed every blonde with a double digit IQ and a C-cup (and believe me in your crowd, there are plenty around), but it’s okay, go ahead. It’s just a question of which STD gets to you first.
An Academic Obie actually came here to learn. As in books and class. Silly you. While you slave away at your multivariable calculus and neuroanatomy the rest of us are learning something about life. So it’s Oberlin’s version of life, but it’s better than the walls of your dorm room. While you’re recovering from that hernia you got while trying to lift your Con law text book, think about this: you’re young, you’re smart, you may win a Nobel prize someday, but are you having fun? Do you have any stories worth telling your grandchildren (supposing you ever get laid)? We’re not counting tales of the A+ you got in Quantum Kinetics. But don’t listen to us. Turn in early tonight. Big test tomorrow.
A Misanthropic Obie is bitter, cynical, and well, just sort of hates the world and life in general. Days are spent playing pool in Noah’s basement. Nights are spent bitching with other misanthropes in the Feve. Whatever… it’s your call (not to mention your catch phrase). Just remember this: all that time that you sit around bitching about how your friends have changed, and how everyone’s trying to dick you over can actually be spent doing something worthwhile or maybe even enjoying yourself. Now that’s a concept. So drink your coffee, read your poetry (which, by the way is terrible), listen to your depressing music, and wear black. Whatever…
A Slacker Obie lives the life of luxury. Well, that is to say they don’t do a damn thing. Except maybe role-play occasionally. Days are spent sleeping in the comfort of sheets that haven’t been washed in five months. Nights are spent in the comfort of friends that haven’t washed in five months. Slackers, here’s a hint: if they put your name on a table at Campus, you need serious help. At that point monks that have been dead for five hundred years have more of a life than you do. Get yourself cleaned up (shave, brush the cigarette ash from your clothing). Put in an appearance at Stevenson and suffer with the rest of us. Maybe after dinner, you might want to think about doing some work- after all 4:30 the last day of reading period comes up awfully fast (we’d say something about not holding our breath, but let’s face it- when was the last time you showered?). Your parents did send you here w/ the thought that maybe someday you’d leave.
An Artsy Obie believes in ‘experiencing life to the fullest.’ Hours upon hours are poured into practicing, editing, rehearsing, in the hope that in work of art greatness will be realized. Well guess what? No one gives a flying fuck (or suitable expletive of your choice). Your nineteen hour long Japanese Kabuke translation of Romeo and Juliet arouses absolutely no interest and probably isn’t art. Let’s face it the only reason you do most of this shit anyway is so that you actually will have something to talk about at your high school reunion. Look, we’re not saying that art is bad… we’re just hoping that you realize your art is bad. If you want to spend your life working on this, fine. But don’t expect us to be impressed by something that we both know is crap. Call us if you can ever really tell yourself that what you’re doing is art. And even then you don’t have to spend every minute talking about it.
| hvanaels@cs.oberlin.edu | Updated: 8/30/2000 |