Campus Voices: I could have been Darren Wilson.

By Officer Anonymous, UNT Police Department

I could have been him. Darren Wilson, I mean.

It’s not so difficult to imagine. All it takes is one bad night. One dorm room drug bust gone belly-up. One bad apple refusing to use designated crosswalks. That’s all it takes to bathe this campus in the blood of an unarmed adolescent.

There would be so, so much blood. All over the Library Mall. Droplets cooling on the wings of the eagle statue. Great big crimson pools, coagulating at Scrappy’s feet.

What I’m saying is, the odds of me gunning down a UNT student — either in the line of duty or simply because they frightened me — are not statistically insignificant. Apply the same thinking to every other armed officer on this force, and a future shooting becomes almost inevitable.

That stuff that’s been going down for months in Ferguson? Tragedy. So many good cops, getting their name dragged through the muck by a savage mob. That kind of thing could happen here, if we murdered someone. Don’t think I haven’t thought about it, sometimes for hours at a time. Mouth sagging open, eyes rolled back, my body quivering in obscene bliss.

That doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic to the protestors in Ferguson — there’s just no way they could understand what it’s like to be a cop on the beat without wearing a badge themselves. Until you’ve stood up to an angry mob on the streets or a particularly unruly dinner crowd at the Kerr dining hall, you can’t know what it means to walk the thin blue line.

Sometimes I think that literally the only thing preventing me from gunning down a teenager is that I wouldn’t want my fellow cops to get a bad rap from the public. It would definitely be a hassle. I’d still get away with it, though.

Besides, we can’t risk losing our vast collection of assault rifles, armored military-style vehicles, night vision sniper scopes and other heavy equipment more suited to fighting drug cartels or terrorist factions in an urban warfare scenario than any college student, even an extremely dark-skinned one with a wallet that looks oddly similar to a gun.

Or a toy gun that looks like a real gun. Or a toy gun that looks nothing like a real gun. A wooden stick with a silhouette oddly reminiscent of a rifle. Maybe a plastic sword or other costume prop weapon. They all paralyze me with fear, and as a cop, the prescription for fear is a heavy dose of violence, applied indiscriminately without fear of consequence.

Bottom line: If you’re a student, and you feel like engaging in minor criminal mischief on my campus, I want you to know that there is always a chance, however slim, that I will shoot you in cold blood for no reason except that I wanted to end your life. I will get away with it, and you will die.

Even if you’re lucky enough to catch me on my good side when you break the law, I’m probably thinking about killing you the whole time I’m booking you. I could shoot you while you’re wearing handcuffs and get a paid vacation. Remember that.

But don’t take it personally. You wouldn’t understand. It’s a cop thing. Just keep your head down and you’ll probably be fine.

A special message from President Smatresk

Listen up, you little turd punchers.

We’re barely a few months away from a shiny new semester, and before one of you robust idiots fucks the whole thing up by falling off a frat house roof drunk or kidnapping a TAMS student, I figured we’d have a little powwow and plot this whole thing out.

As you all probably know, this whole “new union” business is eating large out of my sugar daddy trust fund. But despite the cost, I want to assure you unquestionably that my balls will, in fact, fit comfortably inside the building.

The Gruesome Twosome has been tearing up streets and cracking foundations for decades. That bump in the road on Hickory and Avenue C? All thanks to these testicular titans. But now, we’re gonna have a building on campus that’s big enough for me and my enormous balls, which I’m pretty fucking jazzed about.

That brings me to my overall point, kinda: We’re not all that different, you and me. During the day, I might be shaking hands and greeting incoming freshmen, but during the night I’m tossing back cups of lean and backhanding like there’s no fucking tomorrow.

Nasty Neal’s in the trap, and everyone’s getting toasted.

But when I put my pants on in the morning, I put them on just like everyone else. Except I have to cut out that special hole for my monstrous balls, or risk a chafe worse than the one on your mom’s back from pounding her since before you were born and also during your birth.

I am your god, essentially, and it’s time to pay fucking tribute.

Sorry, I got a little off track there. What were we talking about again? Oh, yeah, don’t fuck up this semester, okay? I know we all like to get twisted, but all it takes is one drunk idiot at a football game with some brass knuckles and bang, we all look like dicks on national TV.

Get stupid on the low and stay out of the public eye, or I’m never gonna move these stacks.

Later, nerds.

– “Nasty Neal” Smatresk, UNT Party President

Student Voices: I’m starting to get a little worried about this whole ‘diversity’ thing

By Wyatt Ludlow, marketing junior

I’m beginning to feel like I don’t belong here, at least not anymore.

Everywhere I go, I see posters and brochures and giddy tour guides crowing about how diverse the student body is at UNT. All I see is an ocean of faces, and they’re slowly looking less and less like me. Honestly, I’m a little nervous about it. And in my shoes, who wouldn’t be?

I mean, just the other day I saw a poster for the new student Union all those Mexicans are building (and taking their sweet time, might I add!), and noticed that out of the five smiling students they threw on there walking through the hypothetical Union those shiftless construction workers haven’t finished yet, only one of them was white, and she was a female.

I think that’s a load of shit, personally. I mean, is it still okay to be a white male on this campus? Do I need to start getting tan and calling myself something vaguely “ethnic” just to fit in? Because I’ll do that, but I won’t be happy about it.

Hell, it doesn’t stop there. I’ll go to parties every now and then, trying to get my drink on with my fellow students in a comfortable, familiar setting, and then I walk through the door and realize only 60 to 70 percent of the group looks like me, and the cooler is full of some weird ethnic beer I’ve never seen before.

I’m not saying I don’t like to get freaky with chicks from other countries here and there, but is it a crime to want to smash some white beaver every once in a while? Because it sure looks that way.

Are they going to start hiding the white people? I’ll live a quiet life somewhere secluded if that’s the plan. Like, camp out in the woods or whatever. I just want somebody to tell me. If you’re going to make all the white men on this campus live in a separate dorm or take their own special classes or something away from everybody else, just send me a letter or maybe an Eagle Alert or whatever and let me know, because I’m going crazy over here. Peace.

Alumni Voices: What did you do at UNT?

WE ASKED FORMER STUDENTS WHAT THEY DID DURING THEIR TIME AT UNT. HERE’S WHAT THEY CAME UP WITH.

“Paid for my tuition with a summer job.”

“Butt chugged, mostly.”

“Introduced the campus to crack cocaine in the late ’80s.”

“Convinced my liberal communist atheist professor that God was real by making a rousing speech in class, after which the entire room broke out in spontaneous applause.”

“Pretty much stayed in my dorm and watched anime.”

“9/11.”