For most college students, the phrase “money management” means buying just enough food for the week to stay alive and still have funds for beer.

For Paul Medica III, money management means keeping a watchful eye on the investment portfolio he’s grown since eighth grade. And unlike the average University student, who jumps for joy when his or her account balance has three digits, Medica is managing big-league money — a cool $2.25 million.

It’s his parents’ money, but the finance senior has been a guiding force in making investment decisions to keep the portfolio plump. And it seems Medica has made all the right moves, considering he began with $500,000 in 2004.

“That means that I’ve compounded a portfolio about four times, and that’s a big deal in finance,” he said.

MASTERING THE MARKET

It all started with Tasers.

Medica’s father had a good feeling about investing in the electroshock weapons company. The stocks were cheap at about $9 a share, so the family went forward.

Six months later, the price was climbing rapidly, and it eventually hit $100 a share. So the Medicas took the money they’d made and began diversifying their holdings with their son’s guidance.

It takes a lot of trust to let a teenager manage half a million dollars, but by 2004, Medica had been learning to master the market for years.

“Back in the summer of 2001, it was a typical summer day — I was just clicking around the TV. I ended up on CNBC and it just stuck with me from there,” he said. “I just wanted to know how all this worked. I would just start reading the ticker. If I didn’t know what a symbol meant, I’d be on the computer looking it up.”

Once his financial feet were wet, Medica got trading — in theory. He started out with $100,000 of imaginary money and kept track of his hypothetical investments in a notebook, choosing what stocks he’d buy if the cash was real. The practice paid off, and about three years later he was managing his parents’ portfolio.

But the family’s $2.25 million isn’t the only chunk of change for which Medica is responsible. He’s also one of 27 students handling more than $1 million for the LSU Foundation. That portfolio, called the Tiger Fund, is part of a University finance course called the Student Managed Investment Fund.

THE TIGER FUND

The LSU Foundation began the Tiger Fund in spring 2005, investing $1 million through two installments, according to George Moss, chief investment officer for the LSU Foundation.

And the students have grown that total each year. At the end of the 2010-2011 fiscal year, the portfolio was valued at $1,348,000, Moss said.

“It’s positive and in the right direction, particularly considering the market turmoil that we had at the end of 2008 and into 2009 and, in some degree, what we’re still going through,” Moss said.

Though managing big money isn’t new to Medica, he said his previous investment success doesn’t play into his choices with the Tiger Fund.

“It’s really irrelevant because your past performance isn’t indicative of what you’re going to do in the future,” he said. “It’s all relative. I could lose that whole $2 million back in the market. You just have to stick with what works at the time.”

Since many students don’t have experience managing money themselves, there is guidance every step of the way. The LSU Foundation has an agreement with the E.J. Ourso College of Business outlining how the money can and can’t be managed, which Moss said keeps the students on track and prevents excessive risk-taking.

The students can only invest in companies included in the Russell Top 200 Index, which lists 200 of the largest trading companies in the market.

“They’re only buying blue chip type companies — Apple, Coca Cola, GE, the list goes on,” he said. “Not necessarily does it mean they’re less risky, but they tend to be less volatile.”

The student’s choices are also monitored by course instructor Tish O’Connor, who strikes a careful balance between allowing them to make their own decisions and ensuring the portfolio is managed wisely. O’Connor said she’s careful not to draw conclusions for the students, but she’ll often ask questions to jump-start a discussion about something she feels they should consider.

For the most part, the class makes good investments, and students’ smart management experience pays off later, she said.

“More than once I’ve had students email or call and say, ‘I got my job because of the Tiger Fund,’” she said. “[Interviewers] want to know, ‘Tell me a time you did this.’ It’s very different to say, ‘When I was managing the fund, this is what we did,’ versus, ‘We did this assignment where we choose a company and monitor it.’”

The experience is as close to Wall Street as the students can get in Baton Rouge. The class takes place in the University’s SMART Lab, a simulated interactive trading floor.

On a campus filled with Tigers, the lab is home to a room of bulls and bears.

The 27 undergraduate and graduate students in the course are divided into groups to research and make decisions about nine different sectors of investments, including health care, energy and technology. The course involves learning about the different sectors and making predictions for what will happen within them.

“They’re researching their sectors, trying to understand what is happening in their sectors — what are the companies, what do they do, what drives growth?” O’Connor said. “We take advantage of what we think is going to be happening in the future.”

PLANNING IN THE NOW

Not every University student will get the chance to manage millions before graduation, but they can start improving their financial chops now to benefit themselves later in life.

Though planning for the future is important, the crucial first step is managing one’s cash flow in the present, according to Certified Financial Planner Tim Maurer.

“Even though this is not the sexiest part of financial planning — it doesn’t have as much appeal to it as investing, making a boatload of money and seeing the return — it’s the foundation of every single healthy financial situation,” he said.

And Maurer has seen tangible results from clients who are responsible with cash flow.

“I have clients who were, say, a teacher for their entire lifetime, not making a ton of money, but they managed cash flow well, and as a result of that they’re retiring as millionaires,” he said. “And I have clients who make $250,000 a year and are living paycheck to paycheck.”

But when students have mastered their cash flow and are ready to make investments, Maurer recommends getting educated about personal needs and desires before enlisting a financial adviser.

“Unfortunately, most financial planners are not putting brand new professionals and recent graduates on the top of the list they want to work with because they don’t have a lot of money,” he said.

The famous Wall Street mantra that it takes money to make money is a reality in the finance world, and Maurer doesn’t recommend investing in individual stocks with less than $50,000, “because otherwise you’re not going to get adequate diversification.” But students don’t need an extravagant sum like that to get started.

“What gets the job done is a monthly commitment in most cases,” he said.

Maurer suggested students begin by searching for a fee-only financial adviser — one that is paid for their time rather than through a commission or finder’s fee. That means the adviser has no stake in trying to sell products or policies and can give unbiased advice. The National Association of Personal Financial Advisors, or NAPFA, provides resources for locating fee-only advisers in one’s area.

If an investor starts early and adequately researches the best avenues for them, a monthly commitment of as little as $50 to $100 can be a sufficient investment, Maurer said.

The stakes — and the dollar signs — are much bigger for Medica and his high-value portfolio. But he plans carefully and sets lofty goals, which he recently discussed with his internship supervisor at Prescience Investment Group.

“I told him I want $50 million. He asked why.  I said, ‘It’s halfway to $100 million,’” Medica said. “I’m shooting for the stars.”

photo by Emily Slack

Cohen Hartman said he was sitting in a New York bookstore reading the biography of Tom Waits when inspiration hit. As soon as Hartman returned to Louisiana, he pulled together seven local jazz musicians from Baton Rouge and New Orleans to create The Bone Machine.The result was a horn-fueled carnival on the border between the baroque pop of Arcade Fire and the jazzy insanity of Tom Waits.

Hartman recently disbanded The Bone Machine, but not before the studio work for their debut album “The Incredible Destructor” was finished.

It isn’t clear if or when “The Incredible Destructor” will reach ready ears, but the Legacy Magazine and KLSU present a small taste of the album with “Beatrice.”

Cohen Hartman and The Bone Machine on Facebook

photo courtesy of Thou

Matthew Thudium — guitar
Andy Gibbs — guitar
Mitch Wells — bass
Josh Nee — drums
Bryan Funck — vocals

When you look at Thou’s release history, it’s easy to see how committed the Baton Rouge sludge metal outfit are to making things happen — all while sticking to its Punk DIY ethos.

Three full lengths and close to 15 EPs, splits, compilations, demos and a box set since the band started in 2005 — and vocalist Bryan Funck didn’t join until 2006 and drummer Josh Nee until 2007.

Dedication has paid off though, as Thou has risen nationally in the underground metal scene, even catching the eye of NPR, which streamed the band’s latest full-length, Summit, on its website.

Thou’s brand of doom or drone metal can best be described as a gigantic lumbering beast of heavy melodic guitars backed by pounding drums. The roars of the behemoth manifest itself in Funck’s vocals of dark, fantastic imagery laced with political and social thought.

Thou is currently gearing up for a three-week tour in Europe, expanding on a successful previous tour in the United Kingdom and Ireland from several years ago.

When they return, it’s back to writing and recording as usual, but hopefully for the band’s personal catalogue, Funck said.

“If there’s a band we wanted to do something with, or a label, we would always write or put out a song specifically for that,” Funck said. “Other then when we first started, we really haven’t had a backlog of material we’ve drawn from. It’s been ‘If we want to do this release, we better write for it.’ That’s about to change hopefully.”

Funck said though Thou hasn’t had many bad experiences with labels, the desire to do things themselves is pushing the band toward more self-releases in the future — a common theme in the self-reliant DIY punk scene.

According to Funck, if listeners hadn’t seen their shows, most people wouldn’t recognize them based on their music alone.

“We’re not the metal type of guys. We are more like punk dudes, grew up on grunge,” Funck said. “But we play the kind of music we want to play. We’re not really into the whole [metal] stereotype or anything.”

Thou online

Although the mega machine yogurt companies are creating a frozen frenzy, small business owners are also getting their feet wet. The popularity of these dessert parlors have given students five buzzworthy yogurt bars located conveniently near campus.

TCBY:

• Self-proclaimed “The Country’s Best Yogurt,” TCBY has been a staple in the LSU community for nearly 30 years.
• What you can expect: TCBY serves delectable flavors from Vanilla Fudge Brownie to Blueberries and Cream. A small cup of TCBY yogurt costs $3.19.
• Location: Positioned near the south gate of LSU on Highland Road, the quaint shop offers blended shakes, fresh toppings and assorted waffle cones.
• TCBY operates from noon to 10 p.m. everyday.

Splendido:

• This privately owned small business is adorned with cool colors to make the shop inviting and fun.
• What you can expect: Reminiscent of upscale sweet shops, Splendido offers a variety of self-serve flavors. Thier signature flavor, Grapefruit, is a light indulgence, compared to the decadent Peanut Butter and Jelly swirl.
• Splendido yogurt costs 39 cents per ounce.
• Location: Splendido is next to the Neighborhood Wal-Mart on Highland Road.
• Splendido is open from 11 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. Monday – Wednesday, 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Thursday – Saturday, noon – 10:30 p.m. on Sunday.

Menchie’s:

• Menchie’s original Baton Rouge location at the Mall of Louisiana was a frequented fro-yo joint for nearly a year before the yogurt bar craze took over. In August, Menchie’s set up shop near the north gate of campus — just in time for the Fall semester.
• What you can expect: Menchie’s boasts many, mixable flavors which change daily.  The shop attracts customers with their bright colors and outdoor patio.
• Yogurt costs 43 cents per ounce.
• Menchie’s store hours are 11 a.m. to midnight on Sunday – Thursday, and 11 a.m. to 1 a.m. Friday and Saturday.

Bosco’s:

• Bosco’s is a relatively new fro-yo shop with a fast-paced atmosphere and an elaborate toppings bar.
• What you can expect: Bosco’s is always buzzing with customers and is a hot spot in the evenings.  The flavors are especially rich, and the overload of topping choices makes any flavor selection exciting.  Bosco’s also has a frequently changing menu with a twist:  customers can vote on new flavors.
• Bosco’s yogurt costs 42 cents per ounce.
• Location: Bosco’s is located on Nicholson Drive next to Plucker’s Wing Bar.
• Bosco’s stays open from noon to midnight seven days a week.

Counter Culture:

• Counter Culture has been in business for nearly three decades and offers a variety of yogurt flavors, sandwiches, soups, salads and a new breakfast menu. Counter Culture is also the only yogurt bar with a drive-through window.
• What you can expect: Counter Culture offers a menu of simple yogurt flavors that are periodically changed. Their “Only 8” options are titled as such for boasting only 8 calories an ounce. Their popular Humphrey Yogart treat, containing honey, fruit and granola, is a town favorite.  A small Humphrey Yogart costs $3.95.
• Location: Counter Culture is located near the intersection of Essen Lane and Perkins Road, the nearly nine mile drive from campus is worth it.
• Counter Culture opens at 11 a.m. and its dining room closes at 9 p.m. Its drive-thru closes at 10 p.m.

Cheryl Sherman discusses a day in the life at Ambrosia Bakery. Photo by Robert Giglio.

Cheryl Sherman stands proudly next to a gleaming case filled with trophies, the results of 17 years of hard work. She holds court at Ambrosia Bakery, a veritable bakery palace that produces some of the most beautiful and elaborate cakes in the country.

Cheryl, a certified cake decorator, and her husband Felix Sherman opened Ambrosia as a tiny 1,200 square foot bakery in 1993. Now it has grown to an 8,200 square foot bakery on Siegan Lane. Cheryl began decorating cakes in the 1980s and now oversees the wedding cake portion of the bakery.

Wedding cakes are given special care at Ambrosia, where the cakes can take on almost any form the customer can imagine, with beautifully painted flowers, pearls, ribbons, sparkles and an almost limitless supply of icing and cake. Cheryl even attended a national cake convention, sitting on a panel that included representatives such as Carlos, the star of the TV show ‘Ace of Cakes.’

“We can do anything a bride wants – [but] people in the South are more traditional,” Cheryl said.

Beginning with a process that includes the baking, layering and frosting of the cakes, wedding cakes can take anywhere from a day to a week to produce. Each wedding cake is hand-decorated and can range in price from $800 to $3,000, depending on the amount of decorating and fondant, a type of sheeted icing, used on the cakes. “We’re working on a cake right now for a bride in New Orleans that will easily run her about $3,000,” Cheryl said.

Photo by Robert Giglio.

Each wedding cake is made from scratch, and all require an entire team of bakers, layer stackers and decorators to produce the sugary masterpieces. Stepping into the kitchen is like walking into a Wonka factory wonderland of cake, icing and sugar. The sweet smell of freshly baked cake wafts through the room, and everyone busily spreads icing, pipes fruit-flavored filling or precisely measures where the next cake layer should go.

“We just put so much detail and attention into the cakes,” Cheryl said. She and the other decorators at Ambrosia have created cakes decorated with almost anything a customer can imagine, including ribbons, pearls, polka dots, figurines and flowers. Ambrosia has also created wedding cakes made of multiple smaller cakes, cupcakes or king cakes, and offers a variety of flavors from plain vanilla to pineapple.

Ambrosia takes orders for cakes six months to a year and a half in advance because of the high demand.“We can do anything in a cake, but we’re not like ‘Ace of Cakes.’ Some of our cakes are hand-painted, and ‘Ace of Cakes’ doesn’t even do that,” Cheryl said assuredly.

Though they maintain a more traditional rep, it’s apparent the cake makers at Ambrosia are capable of making any kind of cake, including a large E.T. cake stored in the walk-in refrigerator and a recent groom’s cake that was an exact replica of a fishing camp.

“I mean, if someone wants a cake in the $3,000 bracket like on ‘Ace of Cakes,’ I can give it to them. We do whatever the customer wants,” Cheryl said proudly.

An E.T.-shaped cake awaits delivery at Ambrosia Bakery. Photo by Robert Giglio.

Cheryl has entire books full of pictures of truly amazing cakes, including Tiger Stadium, a crawfish pot and a statue of Lady Justice. Some of the most creatively constructed cakes are the groom’s cakes, many of which have to have PVC pipes and dowel rods for support.

“As with any bakery, there’s always the potential for mistakes,” Cheryl said. “Of course, we make mistakes and have accidents, but it’s all about how you recover from them and handle them that prevents a disaster.”

She said with utmost confidence that mistakes are very rare because they work so closely with their customers. “I draw out the designs well before we start making the cakes. We’re very hands on and always make sure we get it right.”

Click here to see a slideshow of photos from this story. >>

With a simple hand gesture from drum major Rob Dowie, members of the Tiger Band stand at attention. Trumpets, tubas, mellophones, piccolos and clarinets are held high in the air. Their owners march onto the field with stoic faces, held in time by the drum line’s cadence.

It’s hot today. Nothing out of the ordinary for this time of year, but that’s about to change. In a matter of seconds, the humidity in the air seems to condense as an afternoon shower starts to drench the band. This doesn’t deter them. In fact, they play louder and with more gusto as the rain intensifies. The music is soon replaced with cheers and excitement from the band.

“Don’t get distracted. It’s going to rain tomorrow, too,” Dowie shouts from his post above the field. “This is what makes us the best band in the country.

Many agree with him. The Tiger Band was unanimously voted the best band in the Southeastern Conference by SEC band directors in 1997. They won the Sudler Trophy just five years later, which proclaimed the Tiger Band to be the nation’s best collegiate marching band. After winning ESPN’s Battle of the Bands in 2009, the Louisiana Music Hall of Fame officially inducted the band at a Sept. 11 press conference at Lod Cook Alumni Center and again during halftime of the Sept. 12 football game against Vanderbilt.

Maintaining this standard of excellence is hard work. The band meets four to five times a week on the field where they practice for an hour and a half, gaining a one-hour class credit in return. Jordan Robelot, a tuba-playing freshman, says the exhilaration of Saturday night performances is worth every moment of practice.

“[It’s] like a rush,” she says. “Scary, exciting — like every emotion you can think of.”

The hard work is about to pay off and the band will feel the rush as game day arrives.

The musicians meet on the football team’s indoor practice field at 12:30 p.m., just hours before LSU is squared to take on Florida. They are a swelling mass of athletic shorts, gold Tiger Band t-shirts, black socks and plain white marching shoes.

Director of Bands Frank Wickes, who has been with the band for more than 30 years, watches them carefully during the two-and-a-half-hour practice. With two granddaughters holding small stuffed tigers by his side Wickes encourages the players.

“Today, when we are on display, representing everything this school is, I want you to show Florida what this thing is all about,” he says.

Then, as the music fills the metal walls of the practice facility, Wickes walks toward a line of trumpets. He beckons forth their music with calm, yet deliberate hand gestures.

Beyond the confines of this facility, University students and visitors are tailgating. The smell of grilled burgers fills the air as tailgaters laugh and forecast the evening’s game. Band members, however, don’t usually get to share this tradition.

The band gets a two-hour break after practice. They must cart their instruments and uniforms to the band hall across campus. It’s here where the 300-plus hungry musicians enter and scatter their cases on the ground. Instrument cases, their owners and an excess of chairs clutter the floor as a football game plays noiselessly on a large screen and uniforms are hung all over the room. A line of hungry band members ready to eat stretches out the door. It extends past tables supporting heavy trays of catered chicken pasta, veggies and purple and gold iced cake.

After a quick lunch, the band members dress in purple overalls, golden jackets and plumed hats. They lovingly polish away fingerprints and raindrops from their instruments before warming up with their respective sections. As they rush to line up for the march down “Victory Hill,” they still find time to Tiger Bait passing Florida fans.

“Sometimes it sucks, [people tailgating] look like they’re having a good time,” says trombone player and business management sophomore Philip Taylor. “[But] being a part of the entire pulse that makes the game alive is awesome.”

As the band marches from the band hall, on-lookers attempt to make them — as straight-faced as soldiers at Buckingham Palace — smile or laugh as they head to the Pete Maravich Assembly Center to put on a private performance for the Tiger Athletic Foundation.

Maddie Svoren, clarinet player and general studies freshman, says that it’s hard not to appear happy with all of the people around you.

“I don’t know what would happen [if we did smile], but I don’t want to know,” she says with a smirk.

The march is a brief glance at the talents of these musicians. Dowie, dressed in sequined white suit, leads the band, Color Guard and Golden Girls to the PMAC. They enter to shouting and clapping from their supporters. Smiling, excited, often intoxicated faces bear down on the group. The noise increases during the first four notes of the “Geaux Tigers” chant — perhaps the most recognizable in all of Baton Rouge.

Marching down the hill is one of the most electrifying parts of game day for Tajji Abney, clarinet player and psychology freshman.

“I love the hill,” Abney says. “I’ve never tailgated before … [so] before I went to LSU, I watched YouTube videos and was like, ‘Oh! I want to do that!’”

As the band marches onto the field for pre-game and half time shows, 93,129 people — the largest crowd in this history of Tiger Stadium — yell and cheer. The band emerges from the stadium’s ramps and through a dark tunnel leading onto the brightly lit field. What was once a sea of friends and foes is now a wall of purple, gold, blue and orange. The size is daunting, yet incomprehensible. The only intimidation is the noise that reverberates through the night demanding more.

And that’s just what the band does: playing throughout the night and leading cheers as the Tigers fall to the Gators, 13-3.

After singing the alma matter, the sweaty, exhausted and dedicated musicians make their way back to the band hall a little before 11 p.m. After their hurried march back, they undress and eat the last pieces of leftover cake. Linda Moorhouse, the Associate Director of Bands, plays a tape of the night’s performance. Moorhouse rewinds the tape to show mistakes several times over, silently highlighting her point. The tapes are punctuated by nervous laughter.

While the remaining members study the day’s film, Death Valley — which not long ago was filled with the sounds of Florida and LSU’s bands — is a desolate island of green grass, metal bleachers and eight spotlights shinning on the field. The melodic roar of the Golden Band from Tiger Land is lost, but they will be back.

See more photos from this story.

“On an average day for lunch, we’ll serve 8,000 meals,” said Don Koshis, University Director of Operations.

“Down-time?” Gennie Sims, Chick-fil-A employee and former high school sports star from Christian Life Academy, said as he laughed at the question. “We have a lot of stuff to do when the lunch crowd isn’t here. We’re in the back, wiping down coolers and walls. Sometimes, you have to find something to do. But if [the managers] see you standing around, you have got to leave.”

After taking a year off from school and work, the 24-year-old father of four was ready to get back into the daily grind. He comes to work around 10 a.m. ready to stock napkins, forks and straws. Busy work to some, but he prefers the constant movement, even during lunchtime.

“The time goes by faster,” Sims said. “Your adrenaline starts pumping, and we always get the people that tell you, ‘You’re doing a great job.’”

LaTonya Porter, 33-year-old Chick-fil-A supervisor, said the job isn’t stressful because of the fun atmosphere the employees have created.

“We play jokes on each other all the time,” Porter said with a slight chuckle.

These jokes are a huge aspect of working in the Tiger Lair. Union Retail Manager Ryan Lewis tries to instill that camaraderie in his staff.

“It’s about getting them amped up and ready to work,” he said.

Lewis does whatever he can to make his employees feel at home, whether it’s finding out what sports teams they like or giving them a pat on the back for a hard day’s work.

But during the first two weeks of the semester, Lewis might not have as much time for conversation. He and Koshis are busy examining reports that will allow them to predict how much food to prepare.

“Right now, we’re producing for the unknown,” Koshis said. “We’re overstaffing and overproducing for the lunch crowd because the students haven’t quite gotten into that routine.”

Koshis and Lewis use velocity reports to track the amount of students who come through the food court. After Lewis checks those reports from his third-floor office, he relays the information back down to the second floor.

Between changing out the registers for the next rush and compliments from bosses and passing students alike, you have to wonder: do they ever run out of food?

“Yes and no. We might be out of a certain dish for a period of time, but we batch cook all day long,” Koshis said. “Our ovens and cooking utensils are big enough for a certain amount of food. We can only make a batch at a time that would serve a certain number of people. Then, [the cooks] start another batch a little later so there’s fresh food available.”

Koshis needs more than 400 associates to serve a large percentage of University students, and said the process could be easily marred with mistakes when communication fails.

“We do run into some glitches and communication breakdowns,” he said. “We are not going to sit here and say we don’t make mistakes, but it’s not out of a lack of effort.”

It all comes back to preparation.

“Our customers don’t change,” Koshis said. “We have to be the ones that change. We have to analyze what’s best for the students. We look at all the trends on television and the Internet. We can’t just sit back and say, ‘We had a great year.’”

Koshis understands that not everyone will love the food selection in the Tiger Lair, but he said it’s difficult to pinpoint what each student wants for breakfast, lunch and dinner. However, thats not his main objective.

“I would love to serve all of the 35,000 people and make them happy,” Koshis said. “We do a lot of things to try, but I don’t know if that’s feasible. So, we look at what the mass wants. And if we can prepare for what 80 percent of those people want … That’s great.”

It’s almost an exact science, like cooking that perfect meal. A shake of salt, a tablespoon or two of olive oil, a bit of heat from the stove and some smiles here and there.

Together, it’s enough to make a young man like Sims be more than a face behind rows of bagged chicken sandwiches.

“Dream job?” Sims surmises, pondering. “I wouldn’t mind running the Lair.”

Photographs by Sahir Kahn

Matt gets pushed around.

Dear Almost Graduates,

Your time has come. May is just around the corner. Graduation: that special day where you don a $50 sheet for six hours and wait for some guy you’ve never met to call your name. That $7 piece of paper is all you need for your mom and dad to announce to the world you’re their favorite and take you out to Olive Garden — because when you’re there, you’re family.
You’ve spent your entire four years at the University doing what others tell you. You’ve followed your counselor’s advice for so long, you’ve missed out on the fun parts of life. Here are a few things you should have done to lighten up your last year as a kid.

Join a fraternity or sorority

The reason you grimaced at the group of drunks tripping every two steps on the way to The Varsity is simple: you were green with jealous rage. In the back of your mind, you would have loved to be 16 shots into a Saturday night on the way to a Molly Ringwalds concert.

General Patton once said, “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.” It’s your senior year! You should have gone out in a blaze of vodka-soaked glory, not in a blaze of sleepless nights in Middleton Library. Guys, you should have joined a frat. Girls, you should have joined a sorority. But if you still didn’t believe you had time to join the Greek family tree, you could have created a new branch.

Just like the rag-tag crew in Old School, you could have been the founding father of Delta Kappa Delta Tau Delta Ass and been crowned “The Godfather.” Weeks would have been filled with events such as Vaseline-sponsored wrestling matches. Days would have been blurs as you drank so much you slept with your professor’s mothers or fathers.

But insomnia in the library won out. You might graduate Magna Cum Laude, but you won’t have the patch of Delta Kappa Delta Tau Ass on your cape.

Travel to a nudist colony

If Delta Kappa so-and-so didn’t quite work out as you planned, there would still have been something missing in your daily life: nudity. Lots and lots of nudity.

Sure, you could have tried to win the attention of the opposite sex. You could have taken them out to dinner and tried lines such as, “Hey babe, we could talk about the Vietnam War all day, but I would just like to take you home and display the real Tet Offensive … in my bedroom.” But you were never good at charming banter in the first place.

Instead, you should have spared the opposite sex the trouble and headed for a nudist colony. I’ll admit — it wouldn’t have been all ham and eggs. Nudist colonies aren’t populated  with the siblings of Halle Berry and Clive Owen. It’s usually the place where Miles Davis-listening, acid-taking hippies retire. At least you wouldn’t have been alone.

Grab some books!

In school, teachers advised you to read such books as “The Holy Bible,” “The Purpose-Driven Life” or something written by William Shakespeare. You missed out, mon frère, on all the masterpieces of contemporary literature like “Of Mice and Men,” “Catch-22,” “Where the Sidewalk Ends” and the most important of all — “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”

This last semester, you could have figured out whatever the hell John Steinbeck was trying to describe. You could have spent hours wondering where the sidewalk ends. You could have acquired even more life insight by reading Eric Carle’s six-page epic.

On your final paper, the quoted passages from your latest library picks could have bumped that high D to a low B. For the question on the Political Science 4897 class on economics and political deterioration in the Middle East, you could have compared America’s greedy ways to the caterpillar’s desire for more apples.

Your professor might have given you a funny look when she handed your test back, but before she admitted her disapproval, you could have said confidently, “I got it from Eric Carle,” paused, then, “You’re welcome.”

Sign up for leisure courses

After your ill-advised essay in Poli-Sci 4897, the counselor reminded you that you did not fulfill all your electives. You could have taken ballroom dancing. You could have enrolled in the judo club.
Hell, you could have chosen Jogging 1000. But, you took History 4109, a.k.a. Millard Fillmore’s Presidency.

During ballroom dancing, you could have learned moves to spice up your dance-floor etiquette. Instead of the peppermill or the shopping cart, you could have done something from a Shakira video.

In the judo club, you could have learned how to finally win the annual Christmas dinner political discussion by pile-driving your entire family into the yard. If one of them came back for air, you could have done the signature “Atomic Elbow” and yelled, “What now, conservative?”

In Jogging 1000, you would have shed pounds, exercising two times a week with a new best friend. You wouldn’t have had to carry out a Hefty bag full of books from Chimes Text; you could have bought a new pair Nikes and gym shorts.

But you locked yourself up in your room, memorizing lines from Millard Fillmore’s inaugural speech for the one and only test of the semester.

Good idea. He was as relevant to the United States as Shakira is to pop music.

Admit Defeat

Almost-grad, you might think these would have been worthy options. Heck, you might think you should have taken my advice your entire life.

The truth is, you only have a few days left before you enter the real world — that place where the day begins at 5 a.m. to the Armageddon-like blast of your alarm clock.

All you need now is a platter of the finest, greasiest breakfast from Louie’s.

Paying $15 for a stomach-full of chicken-fried steak and eggs is exponentially less expensive than joining a fraternity, traveling to a nudist colony, catching up on literature and taking a full load of leisure classes.

Now, that’s a glorious start for the beginning of the end.

Yours truly,

Matthew Sigur
Student Adviser

Sometimes, I have this dream where you and I have our own reality show called “Barack & Me.” After your busy day of passing legislation and smoking Marlboro Reds, you and I sit down for a nice dinner of waffles. During dinner you say things like “Who the hell are you?” “Pass the salt,” or —my personal favorite — “I don’t know you, but wearing my boxers is not cool.”

Then I wake up in a drool pool at 5:30 a.m. on another Monday morning. It’s 2009 and we have a new president. And even though Bruce Springsteen might be happy about it, last time I checked the Dow Jones, the numbers were still below 9,000. Uh-oh.

Barack, you’ve just been elected President. Now what are you going to do? No, not build a ranch in Chicago. You’ve got to get the soldiers out, get us free healthcare — and oh, while you’re at it — fix the economy. It’s a delicate time trying to figure out where or when, if ever, we can increase spending. I’ll advise you on exactly where you can give more money to help LSU out in this time of financial hardship. Not only will the economy be better, but you’ll have 30,000 more voters when 2012 rolls around.

Establish a Steroid Fund for Athletes

Nowadays, we might as well replace the phrase “blah, blah, blah” with “steroids, steroids, steroids.” Every morning I wake up to numerous reports of how Biceps Armstrong injected steroids during his magical season with the Michigan Moccasins. (Was it not obvious?)

There are two routes in sports. Route 1: Play honestly with the support of God. Or Route 2: Take pills that will make you feel like Rocky and the Terminator combined, as well as cannon-sized arms perfect for knocking a few out of the park. In other words, pray or pay $15 a month for an $85 million career.

Then, there are the kids who hang those sports stars’ posters on their bedroom walls. If I had a kid coming up to me after a game all depressed because I didn’t hit a homer, I might take X-Treme Body Mass Horse Pills too.

It’s called pressure. Some succumb, some suck. Either way, don’t give in to all this government intervention, Barack. Instead, let college powerhouses like the LSU Tigers use these medicinal cure-alls to their advantage.

No more fourth-quarter ballyhoo! We’ll have Hail Mary passes in the first 15 seconds. Can you imagine the highlight reels? Jarrett Lee might actually complete a pass! We might garner a National Championship in racquetball! The possibilities are endless if we just subsidize steroids for our college athletes.

Your constituents will tell you that “cheating is un-American.” But you can retort coolly: “You think the heroes of America’s pastime didn’t have steroids? You’re right. They had whiskey and cocaine.”

So leave Biceps Armstrong alone, Barack, and let us have him.

Give us an Adderall Grant

Instead of making students resort to scavenging in alleys for a couple milligrams, give LSU $10 million for some of that premium study-drug-goodness. The money will be used to snag some old vending machines and build an Adderall-manufacturing garage, providing students with their speed needs whenever, wherever. No more paying a visit to Dr. Dad at the Health Center; just break out a Benjamin and pick up your own bottle from Coates Hall.

Some of the money will also go towards spiking sugar packets at all the campus coffeehouses with more of ADD’s best remedy. Students will come to class with flattened cheek bones, chattering teeth and 64-ounce water bottles excitedly discussing the impending exam and the length of God’s beard.

Future classes will be full of conversation. English professors won’t have to momentarily gaze around the classroom for a response, because there’s Adderall Andy all pepped up and ready to burst. Sociology professors won’t have to write notes on a transparency because students can now type 150 words per minute. History professors … well, history will still be boring.

Regulate Free Speech Alley

Barack, having just read your environmental plan online, I’m worried about the fact that there’s no change in plans for the hawks in Free Speech Alley and what they’re doing to Mother Earth.

One Monday morning as I walked to the Union after class, I entered LSU’s shrine to the First Amendment, otherwise known as Free Speech Alley. As I walked down the lane, I was bombarded by various student organizations; it was a tug-of-war for my values. The Baptist kids wanted me to eat pizza and watch a Joel Osteen sermon.

They gave me a blue flyer. The dancing fraternity wanted me do my best “stanky leg” for a house party later that night. They gave me a purple flyer. The computer fraternity wanted me to come discuss the addition of a new microprocessor in the west wing of Frey Hall. They gave me a silver flyer and a No. 2 pencil. All this was just after walking three steps.

After the long trek, I was left in front of The Union with roughly 50 flyers, but all I could think about were the dying trees. Barack, without the strictest of sanctions placed on these paper rapers, we won’t ever live in a truly clean society. You must tell them to stop this nonsense; it will save us billions of trees and dollars. And I will never be asked to do the “stanky leg” again.

Elect a Celebrity Chancellor

LSU is a land ravaged by economic and environmental problems that no one except for you, Barack, can handle. But our campus could be a utopia filled with gold and honey with this final step.

Chancellor Mike Martin isn’t doing a bad job at all. In fact, he’s quite handsome and has grown a mustache matching the bravado of Sean O’Keefe’s. But with great power comes great authority and endless media coverage. We should have an imposing man at the head of the University, someone at least seven feet tall — Shaquille O’Neal, for example.

A native of LSU and basketball legend, he could come back home and start new leisure classes like “Shaq Fu” or Rapping 2001. And that’s only the beginning. We wouldn’t have any monetary problems ever again! O’Neal’s made at least three trillion dollars in his career playing basketball for the likes of the Miami Heat and releasing five albums, including 1993’s masterpiece “Shaq Diesel.” So instead of making students pay fees, everything would be free. If in need, students could roll up to Shaq’s domain and ask to use his bank account for extra cash. We’d be good for at least 10 years.

You can always count on Shaq. Do you realize how much more legitimate he would make everything on campus? Nobody would ask any questions about administration because the answer would be, “What Shaq wants, Shaq gets.” We could establish a basketball dream team once again. And every Friday, all the students could meet him at the Parade Grounds for pictures and popsicles! It could be the best chancellorship in LSU history. That’s change we can believe in, Barack.

Sincerely,

Matthew Sigur

Adviser to the President on LSU Bathrooms, Athletics, Drugs, Religion, Chancellor and Education