History
HISTORY OF THE
GRADUATE COLLEGE "SUPERFLY" BREAKFAST CLUB
OF PRINCETON UNIVERSITY
Volume I
by Eric Adelizzi, President
Introduction
The Breakfast Club having existed for a while, it was deemed a propitious
moment to publish a history of the organization, which, it was intended,
would commence with the beginning of the organization, proceed through the
portion of its duration that has passed as of the present moment, and
culminate (if you will excuse my language) at a description of events
contemporaneous to the present day, i.e. the time of the writing of said
history.
Why, you may ask, was this deemed a propitious moment? You may, indeed,
ask.
Go ahead -- ask!
Thank you. Well, since you asked, it is a propitious moment because the
Breakfast Club's Secretary, one Anita Adhitya, has taken over the
administration of the web pages and suggested that we might add a history.
As a consequence, I have written this history and you are now reading it.
I mention Anita only so that you will know where to assign blame.
I believe I am uniquely placed to write such a history, since I'm sitting
at a computer keyboard.
Anyway, this history will analyze the root causes of the Breakfast Club
and tell you how it all went wrong. Maybe you can draw some lessons from
it. If so, please remit $4.95 per lesson, plus shipping and handling.
And send along those drawings.
Part One, Being the Second Part
What is, or isn't, the Breakfast Club, or may be? To answer this question
and others, we must first ask ourselves, what is "Breakfast" and what is
"a Club"? Let us take the second question first, because maybe you will
have forgotten all about the first question by the time we answer the
second one. Briefly, a club is a bid showing between 13 and 21 points,
with an unbalanced distribution and better clubs than diamonds. Some also
play that it denies a five-card major. Others play that it denies a
four-card colonel or even a three-star general. This and other important
points will serve you well as you learn to play croquet.
Inevitably, then, this statement leads us to the next question, but not
before leading us around the city a bit and overcharging us for cab-fare.
The next question, simply put, or put simply, is: what is "Breakfast"?
Again, we simply divide (or, divide simply, or even multiply by the
inverse) it into its constituent parts, finding that it consists of
"break" and "fast". "Break" means to destroy or ruin, and "fast" means to
do something quickly. We believe that this, alone, explains the state of
the Breakfast Club. Having explained the state of the Breakfast Club, and
stated the explanation, and even broken the statement fast, by clubbing
it, we can move on to Part Two of the History and see if we find anything
useful there, or even not.
Part Two, Following Closely on Part One
We begin our quest to examine the History of the Breakfast Club by
studying its early records. This proves difficult, since those records
which are not moth-eaten were eaten by the breakfasters. The breakfasters
were rare birds, rising and coming to Procter Hall by 7:30. They
subsisted on nothing but food and drink, breathing nothing but air and
speaking nothing but words. These birds were originally sea-gulls, but,
preferring the fresh water of isolated sounds, flew inland to become
bay-gulls, which are now served three times a week, and weakly at that.
The remaining records, marked down from 45 1/2 to 33 1/3, generally
revolve around one point, namely, the center. They are therefore useless,
except for playing frisbee.
Part Three, In Which Austria Invades Lombardy
Everyone knows that Dean Andrew Fleming West founded the Graduate College.
What is less well known is that he founded the Breakfast Club. The reason
this is less well known is that it is not true.
The Breakfast Club was founded by Andrew Fleming Miller,
great-great-grandfather of Steven "Even Steven" Miller, and no relation
whatsoever to former Breakfast Club President "Odd Steven" Miller.
Miller than what?, you may well ask. Well, according to the records (Will
they ever stop spinning?!), Miller, awakened during the night by a
vicious, snarling integral, came downstairs, disguised as a juicer and
wearing academic robes, demanding a free lunch. "It's too early for
lunch," said the Porter. "It's too early for Port!" said the luncher,
casting off his juicer and reeling in a fish. "Have you considered
Breakfast?" asked the ghost of Procter. And, lo, the doors to Procter
Hall opened, and Miller entered at 7:32, though he was later to claim that
they had opened at 7:29 and he had traveled all the way from Philadelphia
to behold the sight and the New Jersey Transit Train ran behind schedule
in Trenton and failed to meet up with the rail link into Princeton -- Who
designs these schedules? -- and he had to walk through the rain all the
way to Fine Hall to get his bike, and then bike through the rain all the
way to the Graduate College, and if you still complain about him
being late, well, you can't prove it and in his day they did things
differently, thank you.
Miller stood transfixed at the sight of the dining hall, but that's all
right because there were three Millers in the last paragraph, and we still
have two left. We'll do a quick transition to Part Four and hope the
reader doesn't notice the substitution of Millers.
Part Four, In Which Mrs. Marjoribanks Reveals Her Horrible Secret
Steve was joined at breakfast by Mike Buchanan, who alternately talked in
Jive and took minutes in Classical Latin. "Is this not a most wondrous
sight to behold?" asked Steve. Mike could but shrug and grin. He
shrugged in Latin.
The two disguised themselves as houseplants and founded the Breakfast Club
in commemoration of the meal.
Steve was master of all he surveyed, provided that he squinted and kept
his eyes fixed on his shoes. "What," he asked, "is the one thing we
need?" No one could answer. Mike shrugged and grinned and mumbled
something in French. "Funding!" cried Steve, eliciting a mild exclamation
from Mike in Dutch. And so, Steve traveled to Nassau Hall and there
requested money to serve more bagels, even during breaks! Steve pursued
funding wherever it might be found, and procured funding from the Graduate
School, the House Committee, and the Graduate Student Union, and he even
found spare change under the cushions of one of the couches in the Common
Room. Mike made an appropriate remark in Danish. And the money carried
with it fame and success, and Dave Goldberg and Stephen Phelps and Surita
Bhatia came and partook of the bagels, although Dave claimed he was
really eating dinner. And Mike Buchanan made some vague comments in
Spanish and shook his fist at the world, which was still there.
Part Five, The Age of Napoleon
Napoleon died aged 51. Much later, there descended a plague of flies on
the Breakfast Club. The flies remained for months, and Mike tortured
them, imprisoning them in orange juice glasses and making them look at ice
cream floats. The Club emerged as the victor in the struggle, and Victor
took the flies with him. The flies flew, fleeing the fray. The chief
fly, the Superfly, was captured and forced to give his title to the Club
itself. And Steve declared, "So mote it be," and everyone was afraid that
motes would follow the flies, but it was a false alarm, caused by burnt
toast, as always.
The records were now spinning so fast that we rely on oral history.
Orally, they ate breakfast.
Steve and Mike, disguised as the Blues Brothers (and this, we
swear to you, we are not making up), traveled to New Haven,
Connecticut, land of rounded hills and sharper muggings, and founded the
IFCBC with the good folks at the Breakfast Club of Yale College, which had
been previously founded by Steve on an earlier visit. And Steve made a
vow, translated by Mike into Italian, that paperwork would never invade
the Princeton Club and overwhelm it like it had done for Yale's. But the
tradition of the Daily Nay would continue, nay, flourish!
Steve, seeing that the Breakfast Club would need reinforcements, and
perhaps a little butter on its toast, sprang into action, recoiled,
apologized to action, and merely walked forward on the path of no return,
so called because there was no 5-cent refund on it in those days. It is
now known as the New Jersey Turnpike, there is still no refund on it, but
the amount is now $1.05, and worse things have been done in the past by
Col. Mustard in the Study with the Pipe Organ.
Steve applied for funding (gasp!) and brought the present author to dinner
as a prospective breakfaster.
Part Six, The Age of Enlightenment
The Age of Enlightenment is about 43 years, seven months. However, the
following year and several weeks and months during it, the Club grew
by leaps and bounds. The leaps brought people closer to the Club and the
bounds were high enough to prevent them from escaping. Jason Brownlee,
Karen Larsen, Plazi Ricklin, Kai Chan, and even Jeff Roth, all of whom
have since wised up, used to dine with the Breakfast Club, and the
Breakfast Club would dine with them. One might say that they were almost
members, were it not for the fact that they actually were.
W. Garrett "W." Mitchener W. came to join W. us, and he, as well as Bill
"Fred" Jordan and the aforementioned Anita "no W." Adhitya became officers,
the latter increasing our quota of Australians. Åsa Rennermalm arrived from
Sweden, bringing with her only one bag, largely filled with bananas, but
declined to be an officer. Steve moved to Philadelphia, but he kept coming
back, although not via the Turnpike. Mike grinned and made some remarks in
Serbo-Croatian. Eric was elected as President in a highly democratic coup.
Part Seven, The End of an Error
This brings us to the present day, and any day that brings us presents is
better than a day that doesn't.
The Breakfast Club has not yet ended, despite nonexistent and heavily
denied rumors not to the contrary, or even to the contrary. It was
boldly, baldly, and badly, asserted that the Breakfast Club would not meet
in a month of Sundays, but this was only because it meets from Monday
through Friday.
The Breakfast Club, if not widely admired, is at least more than narrowly
despised, speaking broadly. It remains the envy of those unfamiliar with
it and enjoys a prominent place in Garrett's nightmares.
Conclusion
Procter Hall breakfasts will always have a place in our hearts, known as
heartburn, but only because our stomachs refuse to accept the bagels.
The Breakfast Club will last until the very stone of the Graduate College
crumbles to dust, and, judging by the state of my ceiling, this may be the
better part of a week. And what, you may ask, brings us to breakfast each
morning? What driving force could so motivate such a group of people to
gather each day? We will know the answer once we examine the friendship,
camaraderie, support, and good humor, shared amongst members of the
Breakfast Club. Deep down inside, they all share the same, common feeling.
That feeling is hunger, and the bagels will do until we get something
better.
To Volume II
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