Every Republican President knows that in order to add a little spice to your term in office…you should go to war.

Although we are not currently registered with any political party, nor do we live in a white house, Tony and I decided that we would elect an enemy with which to do battle until we have vanquished him from existence (or simply lambast him in a post or two and then get bored and move on to something else). And so, without further ado, we would like to introduce you to our new enemy:

Now, some of you may want to know why we picked him? Well, um, we’ll tell you when we figure it out. But it has something to do with the fact that he attended our school, considered himself a poet, and we thought his writing stunk. “What did he think of your writing?” some of you might ask. We have no idea and we do not care. For now, this ain’t no two-sided coin. This is war. And as such, you must show your patriotism to Tony and simply read on with unquestioning indulgence.

Does the enemy have a name? Well, surely he does. However, we feel a tad (and only a tad) bit uncomfortable publishing both his picture and his name, so we thought we would offer this clue as to his true identity. Take the director and heroine from Aliens and lop off their last names. Now maneuver them into a sensible first and last name and there you have it. But once you have the name, we would like you to forget the above picture and see our enemy as looking more like this:

We recently caught up with our enemy by performing a simple Google-search for his name. We found him on our school’s web page in the Alumni section, where he had this to say:

“I came to SCHOOLNAME as a 19-year old who knew two things absolutely: I didn’t want to be in college and I was going to spend my life writing sports for newspapers. I’m 26 now, in my second year of graduate school and working as a website editor for a national honor society.

I would blame this all on teenage ignorance if the English department of SCHOOLNAME wasn’t at fault.

My time as an English major at SCHOOLNAME was spent wrestling with the question of writing. Was it simply a craft one learned as a sushi chef might learn to roll rice into very tiny, expensive dinners, or was it an art one starved for, bitterly spending grocery money on foreign cigarettes? I never found an answer, though still had to pay tuition.”

Now, we ask you, are these not the words of someone who should be destroyed?