It’s been a long road since graduating from Brooke Point High School in Virginia in 1997, to arriving here in the spring of 1999, to ending it all in May 2002 (yes, the five- year plan) at Plymouth State College, New Hampshire. The experiences are too numerous to even attempt to begin describing. I was dropped off in the middle of nowhere after growing up with people and things all around me all the time. I then lived for two weeks in Grafton before moving out to begin the adventures that will surely cover the pages of a book one-day. You all really have some crazy winters up here. Best of luck to ya. I will never forget Tuckerman’s and the 60-mph downhill tube run I tried not once, but four times. Beard. Dustin. I know you remember. I will never forget the leaps from the rock high above Livermore and the liquor commissioner’s frequent visits to those sandy beaches. I also remember taking IAC three times because I honestly thought it was a joke when I entered the school. The crazy parties that all truly began with Cinco de Mayo in the halls of Hall. We really should start writing that book. Aaron, you get the paper, I’ll get the pen. Now, to close this chapter of minority conservative arguments, I wish to thank all that have delivered me to where I am today. Thank you… To the editors of this paper and the awesome job they achieve every week; Editor-In-Chief Rob Masse, who works harder than anyone at PSC to put out The Clock, and for my column, Heather Schulze, and her willingness to allow me to express an unpopular and “right” voice. To Christ Jesus; to my mom, dad, and sister whom I love so much; to my roommates over the years; Andy the Albanian and Aaron the Hippie for the crazy times. I haven’t forgotten about you either Bill, best of luck to you. To Sarah, who continues to put up with more than she thinks I know; to all those that didn’t quite make it yet; Lanky B, Newbegin, and good ‘ol BGP (a.k.a. PF); for those that know the foggy chaos of 89 in the summer of 2000. Face plant anyone?; for the unforgettable year in ML, particularly Lanky B’s birthday river bash. To Alpers and his willingness to serve the students of PSC; to Monninger and his attempts to turn me red; to Elliot, off living the life in Chicago; Jon, former hippie turned ladies man, (oh you know ladies…); K’Naso and your need to oven bake Styrofoam. “What? Your not supposed to do that?” To Tim who made me some killer subs. To Jay “No-cee?” and his strength to continue after such a hard loss; E-Court, 19 Russell, 132, 129, and my former place Da Spoof; apartment circle; last year’s Spring Fling. (there were at least twenty video cameras…); Interlakes Properties for their phat apartments. To the readers of the column, like it or hate it; to those of you who found the need to, after seeing your fellow students waiting, stare at a Yahoo search engine screen because you just couldn’t give up that computer in the cluster; to all those “moderates” who can’t seem to make up their mind without a poll; to fellow conservatives, although highly limited at PSC; to those who cared enough about this country to enter the debate. To the people who e-mailed me with support, and to those who wrote with displeasure; to liberals, who never leave me tired of laughing at your willingness to attack the messenger and not the message; to our President G.W. Bush for being a better president in two years than Clinton ever was in eight. Ahead of time, to the voters of America for giving the GOP control of the now illegitimate and worthless Senate; to Bernhard Goldberg for writing a book his fellow liberals in the media can’t swallow. And in closing… My roommates and I would call “not it” for any apartment activity that required any effort. Turn on the TV, “Not It!”, the PS2, “Not It!”, Coffee, “Not It!”, Clean the table for cards, “Not It!”, Dr. Feelgood beer run?, “Not It, Not It, Not It!”. Good times, good times. I do have to say that I will miss this place. In about three weeks I will be an official Alumni of Plymouth State College (soon to be University). Through the time spent here, I realized how much I missed home and the everyday excitement of Washington, D.C. It was quite a change from multi-ethnic people and thousands of cars to moose and a winter that never seems to end. It’s weird where life puts you sometimes. Now, I am here and ready to move on to the next square in the game called life. To all those I came into contact with, I will make sure that the memories will never expire. Peace Out.