The Eighth Page

Features — Phillipian Satire: A Letter From Emma and John

Hello faithful readers. It has been quite a run, and we are grateful to have entertained you, offended you, confused you, and even bored you throughout the last 29 issues. If this is your first time reading, or if this “you” we are speaking to is in fact not reading The Phillipian (perhaps lounging on a moldy couch in the Den, doing something in the bushes with your lover, or galloping into your math class on a Great Steed instead), hello as well. Hello to everyone, from heaven to hell and everything in between.

We remember our first week last year, with our names glittering on the masthead, when we truly believed we had inherited the Earth, truly believed we were the new, spicy and saucy Adam and Eve, and truly believed we were funny. We remember skipping to the newsroom every night at 8 p.m., sometimes even before, because our Kingdom was calling us: “Features Editors, you need to start your section. It’s Tuesday night.” – Julia M. Lane via Slack.

We were horribly naive at first. We thought you, our readers, could hear our accents when reading Features, understand our inside jokes. Iem Afteru, Jobejt, Hiss Hiss Dootley Dootley. Remember those strange words plaguing/enlightening the pages of Features? What a time it was to be alive. We have had some run-ins with the law. We have crossed the line of what is acceptable on this mighty hill. Our files have been deleted entirely on Wednesday nights. Yet, we survived, thrived, died and somehow, came out as better (far more cynical, critical, and prophetic) individuals.

Now, a year later, in the same room in the basement of Morse Hall, with the same diseases scurrying on the floor and the same strange superfluities coming from Peter Rossano’s mouth, we realize that we are done with our Kingdom. The Phillipian is most definitely a cult. Its bustling elves often think they are saving the world with each week’s issue, saving the world with each mention of newsroom lingo such as “rabbit ear,” “lead,” “nut graf,” and “kerning”. Yet, we too, the almighty Features Editors of CXXXIX, are subject to this paper’s mysterious wonder. We are grateful for our new friends, new enemies, and millions of ingested gushers. You really don’t understand how amazing something is until it’s gone. And we are done. Tata. Tootleloo. Thank u bai. After this week, we are done in our corner.

But you don’t have to be. Whether it’s reading Features every Friday morning or dancing in a bush with your lover, you don’t have to be done in your Kingdom, your place where you can feel powerful, beautiful, funny. Just like we found our corner, you can find a place to be yourself. And that’s what it’s all about – being you. Unless you’re the worst, then don’t be you.