Prank the pranksters

In light of the debunking of the first myth, I assumed the second story was false as well. Then one day last winter I was walking toward East Pyne, when a blotch of red caught my eye. Sure enough, the freshly fallen snow around our cannon was stained with the scarlet blood of a long-held rivalry. I felt a strange sense of excitement as I walked over to find that strewn around the cannon and covered in red paint were bumper stickers that said “Rutgers: Global Reach, Jersey Roots.” So now I think its high time Princeton lives up its end of this rivalry.

The cannon was used at Princeton during the Revolutionary War and in New Brunswick during the War of 1812. Thus, both schools laid claim to the cannon, and it was stolen back and forth several times before being literally cemented in its current location, face down in the middle of Cannon Green, in 1840. In 2006, ‘The Daily Princetonian’ reported that a secret society at Rutgers claimed responsibility for painting the cannon to remind us that the ownership of the cannon is still in question. Though many doubt the legitimacy of the organization, they at least appear to engage in the perennial vandalism of Princeton’s campus. This vandalism is allegedly an attempt to coax us into a rematch of the Princeton-Rutgers 1869 game, the first game in inter-collegiate football history.

This vandalism has not been without controversy. In 2006, the front of Clio Hall was tagged with a message that included homophobic slurs, also demanding a football game. An interviewed member of the society said that those particular vandals were vulgar and out-of-line, and I am by no means condoning such bigotry and hatred. But I do think that there are many pranks that are not, like this one, unacceptable, and we may have a lot to learn from them.

For inspiration, I look to the so-called “hacks” of the undergraduates at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. For example, in celebration of the release of “Halo 3,” MIT students adorned Harvard’s iconic John Harvard statue with a helmet and an assault rifle from the game. This prank is an excellent example of its genre — funny, shocking and true to the nerdy spirit of MIT. I don’t want to make public suggestions as to what exactly our retaliation should be, but if you’re interested, I know an editor at the ‘Prince’ who seems very serious about erecting a broccoli cannon on Rutger’s campus.

For me, pranks are a sort of quirky way of “bursting the bubble.” Right now, our interaction with other local schools is typified by our intentional ignorance of them. I recently had the occasion for the first time to go to Westminster Choir College, literally three blocks north of the Engineering Quadrangle, and was amazed by its stunning colonial architecture. One argument I have heard for not engaging with Rutgers is that if we ignore them, it is more of an affront to them. They then seem like a little brother screaming for attention. But if we’re serious about preventing Princeton students from appearing elitist and insular, why not start by engaging with the rest of central New Jersey? “Bursting the bubble” doesn’t always mean volunteering at shelters in Trenton or New York City, though these actions are undoubtedly crucial. Outreach can be as simple as telling ourselves and Rutgers that we are both part of this community and that we share some of the same aspirations and problems.

So I challenge the students of this university to retaliate to this affront to our ballistic sovereignty, if you will, in the most seriously innocent and innocently serious manner. If you disagree, you’d better have a better excuse than “I’m too busy”— life’s far too short to be busy all the time. But if anyone in New Brunswick is reading this column, and you wake up one day to see orange P’s where you didn’t expect them, don’t hold me responsible — call it spontaneous consciousness of a rivalry that has been one-sided for far too long.

Luke Massa is a sophomore from Ridley Park, Pa. He can be reached at lmassa@princeton.edu.