As the school year draws to a close, many members of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie Class of 2015 are poised to graduate, including many of our very own staff. While they may graduate from Texas A&M University, they will never graduate from our hearts.
Nine of our dearly beloved writers pass from this mortal realm into another equally mortal realm, from the world of The Mugdown to the world of reality. And as we bid them farewell from this organization, it is with a heavy heart for we know a crueler world awaits them. Time shall not be kind to them. No, time will not be kind to them. Yet they march forward. Onward. Unrelenting. Bravely facing the doom they know is at hand.
Bravely and foolishly. I pity them really. They spend the last portion of their lives building this organization from scratch clawing and fighting to get where they are. Now, they are being unceremoniously dumped out into a world they cared little for and which cared even less about them.
And their child, their darling creation they’ve nourished from birth with their own blood, sweat, and tears, is being ripped from its mother’s breast to have its fate determined by the whims of its newly adopted parents. Will they raise it as if it were their own or shall they cast it to the wolves, neglected and forgotten?
If only they could divine the future, peer past the foggy veil of the present to catch a glimmer of their fate to come. But fate is not a mistress easily charmed.
Nay. But she waits for us all nevertheless. Ever we look to her dreaming of the captivating enchantress hidden just beyond our sight. Yet we chase her dreaming of the vision we held in our youth, and day by day she flits back ever beyond our reach.
The chase seems eternal; time stretches farther than we ever thought possible. Then we find her. Fate, the radiant virgin we once sought so vigorously in the prime of our lives, has aged not like a vintage wine grown in a land we once knew in a dream but like goat’s milk curdled and soured from the neglect of the harsh elements that barrage the surface of a harsher world.
Yes. This is what the future has in store for our wide-eyed graduates. We do not envy them. No, there is not a word found amongst the tomes of English literature or half a dozen languages that can accurately describe the overwhelming pain it is to see them forsake the safety of this nest.
The rocket of their lives has begun to launch. They aim for the moon for they know if they miss, they will land among the stars. But they clearly didn’t learn much in their time here at school, because any basic understanding of our own solar system will tell you that those that miss the moon do not land anywhere near a star, but instead come crashing down to Earth in a ball of fiery ruin.
The poor souls. Their outlook is so bleak, I’ve run out of metaphors to describe it. In fact, I don’t expect many to actually read this far into this article. I mostly expect people to skim the first paragraph or too for context and spend the rest of the time checking the pictures and the names to see if they know any of these graduating clowns.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe someone is actually still reading this. That would be impressive. I don’t even think there is a single sentence in this article that forms half a rational thought. However, there may be someone out there who just has to read every word of this thing. Like some compulsion compels them forward. If that’s the case, here’s some actually straightforward and useful information to reward you, you weirdo.
Nine seniors are graduating from Texas A&M University and The Mugdown. Their names are Andy Jett, Benjamin Gothman, Courtney Welch, Jamie Bennett, Linley McCord, Luke Williamson, Ryan Vinzant, Shelbi Polk, and William French. They helped raise The Mugdown to what it is and now leave it in the hands of writers they hand picked and trained themselves. So it’ll probably do just fine. Probably.