I suppose I should just take the paper instrument of horror and toss it into the trash can -- no responsible recycling for you -- and live my life. But, I don't. I sit down with a bottle of whiskey and a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, draw the blinds, put on The Cure and read that damn thing cover to cover. Then I go to therapy.
Let's dissect the horribleness that is an alumni magazine: