Novak (novak) wrote,

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Memory Lane

I just got an group email from the funniest Editor-in-Chief of the funniest school newspaper staff that I ever had. He was remembering another April Fool's Day....

He writes:

Hey former St.Joe kids/people I thought would find this amusing: Remember when I elected a fictional principal for April Fool's day? Well, I do, I remember it as a moment of my greatest glory. If you have the time this April Fool's Day, please take a moment to reflect on one of the silliest things ever written, or at least join me in a bit of April Fool's day nostalgia.

John Andrew Welsh
"We need to live in a state of suspended animation like a work of art, in a state of enchantment. We have to succeed in loving so greatly that we live outside of time, detached....detached."
-Federico Fellini

If you're interesting in something that I thought a wonderful headliner for a high school newspaper (clearly, I ran a tight ship...) on April 1st, 2001, then read on.

Hermann Krieg Named Principal


Faulknerian Idiot Man-Child

The end of this school year will find St. Joseph’s beloved principal disappearing across the Atlantic to his Irish castle. But just as Europe gains this great man, it sends us back one of its own: Hermann Krieg.

Krieg, who was the unanimous choice of the Principal’s Search comittee, will take over for Mr. Cassidy in the fall of the year 2001. “I am very excited to be installing myself into the St. Joseph’s community next year. I am especially looking forward to working with all of the young people,” Hermann said as he pulled a handkerchief from his left breast pocket. “I am confident that my administration will be triumphant.” Krieg, however, will have big shoes to fill. “It’s okay,” he says, “I have very large feet,” as he looks down to examine the rather large feet which filled his steel-toed boots. As a matter of fact, there is nothing small about Mr. Kreig who weighs in at an imposing 6’3” 235 pounds.

Teachers, students, and administrators alike were are all immediately impressed by Mr. Krieg. “I have only had the pleasure to chat with Mr. Krieg for a few brief moments as we were waiting for Mr. Cassidy to return from one of the Girl’s Track meets. I was immediately impressed by his ability to make puns and solve zen koans,” commented Mr. Dillon while Mrs. Sullivan nodded enthusiastically beside him. Krieg’s incredible talent for punning will make him right at home among some of St. Joe’s resident funny-men. Junior Steve Rzepka has also had the opportunity to make Mr. Krieg’s acquaintance. In fact, Steve helped Mr. Krieg to install the VCR in his new apartment. “Steve was very helpful,” Krieg told me, “I probably could have installed the VCR by myself, but he just insisted on helping.”

Mr. Cassidy could not be happier about his successor saying,“We’re all very proud of the accomplishments which Krieg has achieved in the past and we’re sure that he will do many more great things in the future.” “I was born for greatness,” Krieg said. At first I thought this was just an expression of confidence, but it turned out to be all too true. Krieg was actually a product of humanity’s first systematic attempt at eugenics by German SS officers.

Kreig spent his early childhood living with a small time mattress salesman. “He always told me, ‘Hermann, you must make the beds solid enough to support and soft enough to cushion. Eventually, this became my motto as an administrator, ‘to be solid enough to support and soft enough to cushion.’”

During his college days, Krieg was an avid ice skater, a far cry from his earlier adolescent life. “To me, life and ice were made of the same. I was good. Not too good, but good. Let’s just say ‘good.’” At which point, Krieg seemed to mutter something under his breath in German that was later translated to mean “fortune cookie.” I asked Krieg whether this past athletic experience would help him to support the St. Joe Athletic teams. “Yes,” he said, “I plan to support all the teams... like a soft and downy mattress.”

After receiving an honorary degree in ice sculpture from Oxford, Krieg took a job sculpting dentures for the elderly. “Theoretically” he said, “there is nothing wrong with ice-teeth... except that they tend to numb the gums and melt after a few days.” I asked him why one would ever think to use ice for dentures and he said, “You know that chill you get when you bite into a popsicle?”

Eventually, after realizing that his career as an ice sculptor / dentist was merely a figment of his own imagination, Krieg spent several years blowing bubbles. “Nothing is as perfectly round as a bubble, except for you, my son,” Krieg said while staring absent-mindedly at his pocketwatch.

I started to ask him more about his past, but then he bit me. It didn’t particularly hurt very much, but my hand went numb from the biting clench of his ice-teeth and I dropped my pen. Krieg immediately fell to his knees and began to shout “Cartesian Dualism” over and over again until he blacked out. When he came to, he then picked up the pen, gave it back
to me, and continued as though nothing had happened.

For a while, we had a sensible conversation about the ergonomics of couch design until Mr. Krieg’s estranged wife, a penguin, phoned him from the Cook County Jail. What followed was a series of squawks and crashing noises that Krieg assured me contained information crucial to the salvation of the cosmos. Unfortunately, while interpreting, Krieg’s teeth melted.

On a piece of wide-ruled notebook paper, the kind that has the dotted line three- quarters of the way down, he wrote “I haven’t eaten anything since 1987, please find me some food.” Fortunately, ever since the operation I have always remembered to carry a jar of Gerber’s baby food in my purse, so I took the baby food out into the street and traded it to a rather large infant for a pair of binoculars and a ham and cheese croissant.

When I got back to the room I found a naked Krieg backed into a corner wielding a chair to fend off an imaginary stuffed bear. Quickly I rushed over to him, took him my arms and said to him, “You know what, sailor? I think we’re going to be all right.”

At this point, John fell out of his chair and started to weep violently and shout “Oh my goodness gracious the panthers! The panthers are after me again!” I had to take him to the hospital.
--Mr. Novak

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