Got your blood pressure under control? Good. Because, here's another one of our our brand new, hemorrhoidally-induced collection of rants and raves, now available as a genuine hardcover book from our Shameless Commerce Division.

When my brother was in his second or third senior year at MIT, he was elected president of the NRSA, the Non-Resident Student Association. Members were students who were what? Right. Non-residents. I mean, even if you lived at home, you ought to have a place to hang your hat—so to speak. That place was the NRSA. Somehow the NRSA had become a motley collection of reprobates and goof-offs. Pinball (Pac Man had not yet made its appearance) was the major pastime, and the association awarded a prize each year to the student who had been at the Institute the longest—without having been awarded a degree (of course).

As president of the NRSA, my brother was an ex officio member of the campuswide Committee on Student Apathy.

He mentioned this odd-sounding committee to me one day, and I said, "What does the committee do?"

He says, "I don't know. I've never gone to any of the meetings."