AN OBSERVANT SOCIALITE
The annual club fair hosts groups of every academic and social stripe imaginable, yet it always seems as though the same clubs receive immense attention every year while others go largely unnoticed. Who are these forgotten few?
Students entered the club fair with a single goal filling their minds. Not too many had done anything of much importance with their lives thus far, and, as with any God-fearing Franny, they wished to find something notable enough to include in a resume. While major organizations may cater to more common interests in the student body, students were driven to find some lesser-known clubs to increase the chance of gaining an officer position.
Among these organizations was Conspirators for Christ, which just last semester combined with the Phi Upsilon Sigma chapter of the Flat Earth Society. The only member present was the treasurer, who wished to remain anonymous in case the government — or worse yet, Student Government — was watching. He wore a shirt with “I Believe” emblazoned under a picture of Big Foot wearing a crucifix necklace and explained how, despite the fact that the club has not yet been able to acquire any funding, they have grand plans for the year.
“We are hoping to start a mission trip to the planet Mars,” he said. “We have sent several emails to Elon Musk requesting to borrow a spacecraft, but he hasn’t responded yet, so the date is TBA. The aliens there may have never truly heard the Word of God before, so it will be a unique opportunity.”
Alfred Hampden, a four-year member of the Flat Earth Society, spoke on how the club tries to raise awareness of the “true nature” of our planet. Beyond noting that the creation of a flat Earth is scientifically impossible and, as such, acts as a definite proof of a divine creator, Hampden went on to speak on societal issues.
“The secularist, godless culture of death and science would lead you to believe the world is round. But who needs science when we have both God and physical proof on our side?” said Hampden. Despite this statement, Hampden was unable to procure physical proof of anything related to the shape of the Earth.
The warm scent of fresh baking attracted several students to the newly formed Cookie Club. Lorraine Smith, founder and president, explained how her devotion to cooking and her devotion to Jesus are able to come together through the club.
“When I look at baking, I honestly see so much of Jesus,” said Smith. “I mean, when you bake you use yeast, and in the process of it dying, it rises. That just really speaks to me.”
Smith said a problem for the club has been the fairly small on-campus kitchens, which lack state-of-the-art equipment. Despite setbacks, however, Smith was able to conquer her fears of failure through prayer and discernment: “When I first thought about starting the club, I prayed a novena to St. Honore, the patron saint of bakers. Then, on the ninth day when I made a cake, I spilt a bit of batter on the ground, and it formed the shape of a cross. After that, I just knew that Jesus was calling me to this!”
Another club, The Woodworker’s Guild, made an appearance at the fair. Dressed in a bright flannel and sporting a large, red beard, Jack Wright welcomed visitors to a handmade mahogany table. He let out several deep and jolly laughs as he reminisced on the creation of his club and his previous experiences in working with wood. When asked if woodworking brought him closer to God, Wright paused. “I mean, I don’t know if it brings me closer to God. Honestly, I just love making things out of wood.”
This statement seemed to attract attention from the aforementioned clubs. Hampden spoke up from behind a plaque of the flat earth, saying, “You mean you don’t find God in woodworking? St. Joseph was a carpenter, and Jesus himself probably grew up working with wood!”
Smith seemed to agree. “If you don’t grow closer to God while you’re doing something, then why are you doing it?”
After the ensuing inquiries, Wright shouted, “Can’t I like something simply because it is good?” The other clubs began to shout at his blasphemous statement, arguing that his club should be banned and he should be kicked out of school.
An anonymous bystander recalled the event: “Honestly, the club fair was getting pretty boring, but then suddenly, I saw cookies raining down from the heavens on some poor lumberjack, and I heard a few guys wearing tinfoil hats shouting ‘Deus Vult’ as they charged at him. I didn’t realize that club life could be so exciting!”