Finals are over, professors are panicking about submitting grades, and seniors have been in an alcoholic coma for weeks in a futile attempt to avoid the swiftly-approaching reality of graduation — yep, it must be the end of the spring semester.

These four months have really flown by here at the Spin; we’ve had all sorts of escapades with almost an entirely new group of bloggers and myriad interesting events on campus and in Philly. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading the insanity.

Good luck living without us for a full summer; you can always read through the archives if you’re really jonesin’.

And in the next few months of valuable internships (read: brewing coffee without pay) and barrista-ing (read: brewing coffee for hourly dough), think hard about next semester — and your irrepressible, inescapable urge to be a Spin blogger.

It’s a great way to get your voice out there and hone your writing skills, and you’ll quickly find yourself in a great a community of smart, funny people with something to say. And yes, we bake brownies and have sleepovers on weekends*.

The application’s hanging out here (dailpennsylvanian.com/opinion); it’s due on August 10, 2008. If you have any questions, just email blogapp@dailypennsylvanian.com and I’ll get back to you ASAP.

Have a great summer!

– Lindsey Stull, Spin editor

*Pillow fights not guaranteed.

This semester (not to mention the last few years) has flown by! I am adding to the legions of people reminiscing and unfortunately also having a public forum to express their leaving-the-nest issues.

I would like to start by thanking you, the readers of my posts for this semester. I value your comments deeply, even the intolerably rude ones, and I am grateful for your attention. Next, I’d like to thank Ashwin, the editorial page editor here at The DP for advice, being a sounding board for ideas and for generally letting me bug him. Finally, my undying thanks to Lindsey Stull, opinion blog editor, for suggesting this gig in the first place and for showing such remarkable patience with me over the semester (you’ll never really know quite how much).

Back to you guys. To the rising sophomores: man up already and start exploring this city. Philadelphia has a lot to offer (seriously) and you all (sophomores and others alike) would do well to start exploring and discovering. Whether it’s food (brunch=Rx or Ants Pants), or clubs (jazz around here, more conventional downtown), or art (First Fridays and antiques row are a lot of fun), Philadelphia has much to offer you. On top of studying like crazy, make sure you take the opportunity to fill up on such experiences. As great as New York is, don’t count Philly out — it has a lot New York does not.

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Because this is my last blog, I feel compelled to be somewhat reflective and introspective, with an eye towards my future years at Penn.

Luckily, an article in The DP today reminded me of the one thing about being a sophomore I am looking forward to the most: no frickin’ meal plan. I can cope with the neglect and meaninglessness that comes with being sophomoric as long as I don’t have to touch a Commons cheeseburger again.

Bland flavors, inordinate prices ($13 a meal), and lackluster service (besides Ms. Anita, of course). The ability to lambast Penn Dining at the drop of the hat is basically a rite of passage for freshmen, so I won’t bore you with a diatribe.

However, I did find the response from Laurie Cousart, director of Business Services, particularly amusing. In response to these trite criticisms, Ms. Cousart said,

“We believe meal plans connect students to their College Houses [and] other students.”

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Now, as a Penn sophomore on the last day of classes, I’m getting that same lukewarm feeling as when I turned 19. There’s just nothing that great about finishing sophomore year.

I remember my last day as a freshman, when I was overcome with a sense of relief at having completed the first of my four collegiate years. At the time, I was excited for summer, nervous to see my home friend(s) again and eternally convinced that life was just one giant episode of The Hills. (I’ve learned from Penn that it’s just one giant episode of The Hillels.) The end of freshman year left me in that comfortable, pressure-free interim period: I was too old to be considered a minor, but too young to have declared a major. The story’s just not the same after sophomore year.

Then there’s the end of junior year, celebrated on this campus by an animalistic tradition where seniors throw condiments and water balloons at those one year below them. This is the official reigning in of the new senior class, often marked by one too many juniors wondering what “condiment” is naturally brown in color. (And a note to this year’s juniors: if you happen to make eye contact with Nick Barr on Hey Day, run like hell.)

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So I get an email from Class Board this weekend urging me to sign the Hey Day pledge:

Because of collaborative work done between students and administrators last year, Hey Day 2007 was the cleanest and safest Hey Day in recent memory, one that was called a success even by the Associated Press (see press release below for details).

This year, we hope to build on the progress made in Hey Day 2007 to ensure that the tradition remains safe and sustainable for future years. The only way this can occur is if this year’s seniors — the members of the Class of 2008 — are equally as excited to preserve the tradition of Hey Day as last year’s seniors.

Fuck you, Class Board. Don’t tell me that a successful Hey Day means gushing praise from the administration and major news outlets. A successful Hey Day means someone getting sent to the hospital because a bag of urine explodes in her eye. A successful Hey Day means the President getting drenched in beer and thrown down the stairs.

And don’t talk to me about “tradition.” If there’s any kind of tradition behind these events it’s one of nihilistic student violence. The tradition of sucking the administration’s c*ck is both new and unwelcome.

So let me propose an alternative pledge:

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Apparently, our generation is lazy. Or at least too serious to expend precious brain cells making ha-has anymore.

A columnist at LSU, Caitlyn Scott, bemoans our growing laziness, but not because of decreased productivity or initiative. No, instead — in “Rickrolling shows laziness of generation” — she writes that the laziness problem is actually most easily illustrated by this no-longer-new internet meme:

The rickrolling phenomenon leaves me with one burning question: Is this the direction practical jokes are headed?… Will dipping a sleeping friend’s hand into lukewarm water no longer be the established way to prank?

Heaven forbid we put the old hand-in-warm-water prank to rest. Nothing funnier than a dampened bed sheet!

(For the uninitiated: rickrolling involves misleading people to the YouTube video of the 1987 Rick Astley hit, “Never Gonna Give You Up,” by disguising the link as something relevant. How’d I do?)

Granted, rickrolling takes much of the creativity and effort out of pranks, but good old-fashioned pranking is still alive and well — especially among students.

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First, President George Bush showed up on Deal or No Deal to joke about how he’s “thrilled to be anywhere with high ratings these days” — unaware at the time that his episode matched Deal’s lowest-rated Monday ever. I guess we should just be happy that Bush, appearing on the Iraq War Veterans edition, didn’t tell any contestants that they’d been stop-lossed.

Then Barack Obama stopped by The Daily Show to cater to common collegians, or the one faction of Pennsylvania that he already locked up. (Or at least thought he did.) It seems that Hillary Clinton’s approach — taking a whiskey shot and embarrassing her family — had more resonance with the campus crowd.

But by far, my favorite celebrity appearance of the night came from our very own Kal Penn, who guested on Conan to talk about two things: Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay and “Images of Asian Americans in the Media.” (I’ll let you guess which one is a Penn course.) During the interview, Kal mentioned that he doesn’t smoke weed and that he was formerly a vegetarian — two traits fundamentally antithetical to the best characteristics of Kumar. Dude sounds more like a professor than ever.

But seeing Kal on TV got me thinking: what other celebrities do I want to interim teach here at Penn? I’ve come up with a short wishlist — along with accompanying course titles — that I can only hope come true.

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Aliza Shvarts is the grossest human alive.

As the Yale Daily News, IvyGate, and now the DP’s very own Mara Gordon report, for her senior art project at Yale, Shvarts artificially inseminated herself multiple times and herbally induced nine abortions in nine months. Film of the possible miscarriages, as well as the blood Shvarts collected from them, will constitute the art project.

The universal reaction to this news was: BLEEEARRRGH!

After everyone wiped the puke off their chins, naturally, they started arguing. “Is it art?” “Is it pro-choice?” “Is it pro-life?” Mara asks, “Is it ethical?” Her take, as I understand it, is that Shvarts’s work is unethical because it trivializes abortion and provides fodder for the pro-life cause.

My take’s a little different.

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And then there’s the dreaded third group: those who will spend the majority of the night stuck in a line just to see if they can go inside. Sure, there’s no real reason for them to keep waiting; after all, they’ve never been to this club, so there’s no guarantee it’ll live up to the hype. But if they leave now to go somewhere else, they’ll give up all-night drink specials forever.

This third list is akin to the college waitlist — where more and more high school seniors are being placed each year. This admissions season, Penn leads the Ivy League in waitlisted students: 2,300 are still unsure of their Quaker fate, a number up 500 from a year ago. Eric Kaplan, Penn’s admissions director/metaphorical bouncer, has some words of wisdom for these students in limbo:

“I do feel for them,” he told the U.S. News & World Report last week. “[But] don’t send roses. No chocolate. It doesn’t work.” (Kind words, but thousands of adulterous husbands would disagree.)

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Please, dear readers, guide us in the right (topical) direction in these trying red, white and blue times.

If you have the urge, explain your reasoning more in the comments.