Op-Ed: I'm Willie the Wildcat and I'm Gonna Kick Your Ass
Hi. I’m Willie the Wildcat. You may know me from all of Northwestern’s promotional materials, or from that one time you saw me walking around campus and I gave you a high-five. You remember. It was the most incredible moment of your pathetic goddamn life. Yeah. I’m that Willie the Wildcat. And I’m here to let you know that I’m gonna kick your ass.
It’s nothing personal. You didn’t do anything wrong; in fact, you’re a pretty good kid. I know. I’ve been watching you. I watch everyone at this school. Don’t worry about it. You’ll never see me. The point is, I don’t have anything against you. You go to class, you do your work, you jerk off in the bathrooms in the basement of Locy. All perfectly normal.
No, it’s not that I have a problem with you. This is just the way things are. You’re you, and I’m Willie the Wildcat, and I will, one day soon, kick your skinny little ass into next week. This is how Northwestern works. I know it wasn’t on any of the brochures, but trust me. I’ve been around this block more than enough times to know.
You may be wondering why I’m telling you ahead of time. After all, you’re probably figuring, if you know about my plans to give you the biggest beat-down of your fucking loser-tastic life, you might prepare yourself. You might take self-defense classes in SPAC. You might ask your one kinda muscular friend to hit you, just so you know what it’s like.
And that’s exactly the point. I’m telling you what I’m gonna do well in advance so that you’ll be as prepared as possible. It’s just bad form to kick the ass of a completely unsuspecting victim. Especially when they have no chance. On top of which, it’s just fun to jump ‘em when they think they have a shot at defending themselves. I don’t get a ton of laughs in this job.
So go ahead. Do some push-ups. Say you’re gonna go for a run and then decide not to because it’s cold outside. But it doesn’t matter what you tell yourself. It’s not going to help. When it comes down to it, I’m a two-hundred-pound wild animal filled with rage, and you’re a twenty-year-old twiggy suburbian chump nerd. Who do you really think is gonna come out on top here?
You can’t avoid it. Nothing either of us can do. When the day comes, I’m going to walk up to you, give you one of my patented jaunty waves, and curb-stomp you into Sheridan Road. These claws aren’t just for showing school spirit. Hope you’ve got a friend willing to drive you to the hospital on a Tuesday afternoon, ‘cause SafeRide sure as hell isn’t gonna take you. Go ‘Cats.