Disclaimer: The Daily Tar Hell is purely satirical. Don’t take it too seriously.
This past week, I made what I thought was going to be an enjoyable, totally rad venture to the newest business in the area. Some of you may already be familiar with the establishment, having just moved in last month and operating under the mysterious name of “Real Classy Ice Cream.” Both parts of the name intrigued me immediately: “What is this ‘real class’? I don’t think I’ve ever been to one. And more importantly, what could this supposed ‘iced cream’ be? Is it a sex shop?” As it turns out, only one of those questions would be answered, albeit with an above-average level of condescension, upon my arrival at the store with my squad of bros.
Ice cream, a form of dairy treat, comes in a variety of flavors as it seems. “Aha!” I thought, “So they’re a restaurant-type thing! Let’s have a look at the menu then!” It was here that the trip turned deadly sour. As many of you know, it is our duty as Hillians to promote our sports presence above all else. I, as president of the Sigma Beta Omega* frat house (“SOB SOB SOB, dudebro dudebro hey!”), know better than anyone that sports and our school’s logo are all that matters here and absolutely nothing else. It doesn’t matter if we’re winning, losing or really badly losing, you’ve gotta rep that Carolina Blue!
So imagine my surprise and disgust when, upon walking down alongside the glass case of bright and diabetes inducing frozen concoctions, I finally find our glorious, alluring sports teams’ color’s ice cream flavor counterpart; only it’s not called Carolina blue.
It. Wasn’t. Called. Carolina. Blue.
I know that I personally am outraged. Every restaurant in the area knows the rule! You absolutely MUST have at least one menu item named after our dude-rific sports color! Breaking it is a major party foul, and I’ve gotta throw a flag on that play. Every restaurant in the area has at least something, be it Sugarland’s Carolina Blue Raspberry, the Brewery’s Carolina Blue Moon or that one breakfast place’s admittedly less-than-stellar Carolina Blue Waffle. It’s just the way things are done here! To ignore it is to back down from our title as “The Leading College in Mostly OK Sports Team.” And let me tell you my bros, that is not a title that I take lightly.
It is, as a result, with great anger and solemnity that I therefore address you, “Real Classy Ice Cream” today: You may have seen my whip, but now I say to you, nay-nay. Nay-nay, to your so-called “Cotton Candy” flavored ice cream, colored with what I can only assume is FDA-approved food dye and lies. Nay-nay to the disgusting candor with which you present your disinterest to our sports teams, and indeed our way of life. Until there are proper accommodations made here, I urge every self-respecting student of UNC to steer clear of “Real Classy Ice Cream” and their likely NCSU subservient, chilled cream of treachery. We will stand united, one college, under sports, with ubiquity and guaranteed passing grades for all. When this establishment is prepared to apologize, you can find me studying for my final project in “Introduction to the Basic Use of Staplers” class. I’ll be at it for quite some time, as this last one’s a 12-pager.
*Editor’s Note: This article originally used the name of a real Greek organization. Technician editors decided that the satirical aims were better met using a fictional organization to avoid confusion with the real organization.
