Fichigan Limbo

I would say that life in a college town has its drawbacks, but such an equivocal condemnation suggests that life in a college town has advantages as well, which, given the fact that used bookstores and independent record shops are things of the past, is no longer remotely true. Among the more obnoxious aspects of life in Studentia is the poor quality of most bathroom grafitti. Admittedly, the English Building on my local campus can usually be relied upon for more interesting - or at least amusing - scrawled offerings; one stall on the first floor was formerly home to an entire essay offering an impassioned defense of hip-hop artist MF Doom. Still, if I am forced to avail myself of a restroom on campus, I try to stick to the upper floors of the various halls and labs, as these tend to be the haunts of teachers, researchers, and graduate assistants, rather than drooling undergrads. Unfortunately, even here, the level of discourse can disappoint:

Yes, hurling crude insults at your school's sporting rivals is indeed a mentally trying task, so make it easy on yourself by just copying the slogan off the front of your shirt!
Inevitably, some wag complemented this anti-Michigan salvo by transcribing the reverse of the ubiquitous tee:

I'm sure the inhabitants of Ann Arbor, MI are stung to the quick by this dazzling invective.

And yet, even the most depressing of stall doors will sometimes offer up an unexpected treat; after I had read through all the bathroom boilerplate on this door, discovering the tiny note at the bottom brought a smile to my face:

Sadly, no eight-inch tall dancers have ever undulated their way into that stall (at least to my knowledge), but whoever is responsible for that little snippet of random silliness certainly managed to make my day.