This is the Opinion section of the newspaper. You may or may not have known that. I don’t take chances with that kind of thing ever since George Bush I mistook the funny page for international news and the Gulf War erupted.

Within the exponentially expanding folds of this venerable department, the plebeian collective is imbued with the power and honor of the written word. Most of the time we just whine a lot.

This week, I thought it prudent to take a break, an opinion off-ramp, if you will humor me, from the culturally cataclysmic issues which constantly plague this student body. Besides, I’m sure we’ll get someone else to talk about how they hate everyone, probably four times in this issue alone. I, however, will share with you the harrowing, somewhat complete and true-enough tale of my last Thursday. What? What’s that you say? You don’t care? Shut up and read Chach.

3:50 a.m. — I wake up. This is an accident. I slap my alarm clock like it’s a moderately priced Thai hooker.

7:32 a.m. — I awake once more. This time not an accident. I return to slap my alarm clock, thus realizing I had previously slapped an actual hooker.

11:03 a.m. — Just in time for “The Price is Right,” I wake up again (judge not lest ye be judged). I am pleased, not because I actually enjoy “The Price Is Right,” but rather because my immortal hatred of Bob Barker fuels the day.

11:26 a.m. — I prepare breakfast for myself and Jiuh-Yeh (see 7:32 a.m.). I neglected to take my bi-yearly shopping trip, and am therefore short on rations. I am forced to fashion a crude meal of quail egg and truffle omelet with mango chutney. Boorish, I know.

4:47 p.m. — The quail eggs were foul … perhaps laced … most likely with the cocaine I purchased but a fortnight ago. Following the gourmet-induced coma, I find myself naked in a back alley in Newark, reminiscent of a bad Kubrick film. I attempt to walk back to campus, make it as far as the turnpike and remember the Pipe Dream-issued 2-in-1 matter transporter/handsome timepiece in my pocket. Yeah, they give us those. And yes, the timepiece is expertly crafted.

4:01:39 p.m. — I purchase a smoothie. It is delicious.

5:10 p.m. — I waltz into the only class I manage to attend all week. I am given the scores of 9, 9.5 and 7 for the aforementioned waltz.

6:31 p.m. — I commence a rumination on the Venezuelan economic construct in relation to Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov,” paying special attention to the role of the letter “j” and its concomitant implications surrounding neo-classical interpretations of cognizance and the defunct ideological precepts of “God.”

I then eat a bowl of Franken Berry. (Not to be confused with Fred “Rerun Stubbs” Berry of the popular and groundbreaking 1976 situational comedy, Franken Berry is the deliciously whimsical yet tragically discontinued breakfast cereal, of which I have been able to procure an undisclosed cache through a clandestine network of Vietnamese tunnel-dwellers, a Peruvian venture capitalist firm and an offshore account located in the Grand Cayman Islands.)

8 p.m. — I begin to watch an episode of “Deal or No Deal.” I immediately regret this decision. The feeling of melting brain cells combined with the sensation of an evaporating soul proves less desirable than one would imagine.

8:01 p.m. — My television is inducted into the eminent brotherhood of “Things I Throw against the Wall in a Fit of Anger and Disgust.” It joins a telephone, two alarm clocks, the complete works of Amy Tan, Dakota Fanning, one copy each of “The Sandlot 2,” “Back to the Future 3,” “Die Hard 2: Die Harder” and 38 states of the Union.

10:23 p.m. — While exploring the Internet for quiche recipes, I come across a stirring article in “El Segundo Hoy,” concerning the value of self-deprecating humor among young writers. I proceed to wipe my ass with last week’s Opinion section.

Max Lakin is a junior English rhetoric major. He is currently completing work on his treatise on Frosted Alpha-bits. He is also lucky, though he may not know it, that the editor is too enamored with his rhetorical wit to care that he just insulted her section.