As you are all well aware, Eliot Monstrosity came tumbling down this morning. It must've been a slow day in St. Louis, because the entire city was here watching the Big Event, including a number of helicopters. WashU has been trying for years to get nationwide name recognition, and clearly the solution has just presented itself: blow up a building a year.

I figure now that Eliot is gone, my old home Ruby and the other freshman dumps are next. They could do one a year for the next 6 years, and they still wouldn't have even touched the old sophomore suites. And money-grabbing WashU could sell the wreckage at a profit to sappy former residents who want a piece of history. And because the buildings they've erected in the past few years are apparently patched together from sticks and paper mache, it'll soon be time to take those down also! It's a neverending media frenzy waiting to happen, and each one is a photo op for Chancellor Wrighton and WashU.

Lots of people were heard commenting things like "so sad" and such after Eliot fell, but I don't think I'll be too heartbroken in 20 years when I hear that Ruby is getting replaced by futuristic space-age dorms that hover above the Earth and relocate themselves to higher ground when Wohl floods. I didn't mind much when I lived there, but upon visiting the old girl and her sister dorms recently I can't imagine how I ever could have lived in such tiny, dirty, carpetless rooms with disgusting public bathrooms.

And then there was the smell, built up from years of rushees puking all over the floors following their hazing. Even a demolition will never remove that smell, it's the odor of disease, pestilence, and death and will remain in the land there until the end of time.