What to do? It's nearly impossible to turn on the news or pick up a magazine without constant bombardment with terrifying economic data and grim predictions for the future. Confusing? Yes. Depressing? For sure. But as everything around us goes to hell in a handbasket, there's no reason we students can't stay chiller than a slice of Frist pizza. After combing the very best financial blogs, I've compiled a few constructive tips for how Princetonians can cope with the present circumstances.
Though it may be an obvious suggestion, seriously consider going into hibernation. You remember Rip Van Winkle, the colonial-era farmer who fell asleep for 20 years after drinking somebody else's booze and woke up to find the United States had become an independent country. Well, you too can wake up later to find everything turned out just fine. I know what you're thinking: Twenty years is a very long time to hibernate. And it's true. Though many of my friends are prodigious nappers, I would never be so bold as to suggest we could match Rip's achievement, even physiologically. Instead, why not try for a five-year sleep? By then, the economy should be humming along nicely. But if sleep is not your forte, my friend Jackie suggests emphasizing the booze part of Rip's tale, aiming for a five-year stupor along the lines of a Newman's Half-Decade.
Of course, if you aren't concerned by a dwindling bank account, you can always host blowout social events. Throw a viewing party for Billy-Bob Thornton's new Christmas special, "Poor Santa," or sponsor transient-themed "HoBros and HoHoes" parties for your friends and loved ones. Any worries you might have over dire financial straits will be nothing compared to your tremendous newfound popularity. For the toolishly inclined, think of this small sacrifice as a networking opportunity. Your well-earned goodwill should come in handy when the job market improves. Congratulations!
As for you hippies out there, hey dude! Princeton recently announced a new, elite, two-year fellowship for you to retreat completely into nature. Otto the Squirrel King has generously offered to introduce you to the upper echelons of squirrel society and teach you their ways. Your help also may be required in quelling what some fear is impending squirrel-on-squirrel violence. When you're done with that, you will be passed on to the squirrels' avian friends living in the eaves of Whitman's dining hall. There, you will have unlimited food access and a wide choice of people to poop on. Just hope you don't get the bird flu!
Our most important task, though, is to bring the community together. Engineers, you can lead us in constructing a Hooverville on Cannon Green. Alumni, townies, auditors and homeless grad students will all take refuge in the matronly shadow of Nassau Hall, soon to be joined by graduating seniors. For about five dollars, anyone will be able to purchase enough cardboard, old newspaper and tin to create a lasting home. It might someday even be the seventh residential college, uber-green-chic with its 100 percent post-consumer recycled materials.
Then again, some people won't accept the ascetic life even for a little while and will want a way to earn the dolla dolla bills. Well, I heard tell that Princeton keeps a significant portion of its endowment as a secret mountain of gold ingots, hidden in the steam tunnels under heavy goblin guard as per consultant J.K. Rowling's recommendation. Let's steal it and divvy it up equitably, after my 50 percent cut. Far-fetched? Well then why does Princeton pretend the tunnels magically don't exist, hmm? That's what I thought.
My friends, please do not despair. I know that some of these strategies might seem a bit maverick-y, but with classic American pluck and luck, and by the grace of Barack Obama, we've got all the hope we need to change the situation. And if not, well ... there's always grad school.
Matt Kandel is an economics major from Boca Raton, Fla. He can be reached at mkandel@princeton.edu.