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Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
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Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
For more than 100 years, we here at Doctors’ Orders have been bringing nose exhalations, chuckles and maybe — if we’re lucky — even laughter to the Elon University community. But you may have noticed a certain column quite like the one you’re reading missing from the last issue of The Pendulum.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctors' Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely-fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients.
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients. Elon University got dragged through the mud by traditional media this past week when education news and analysis website The Hechinger Report revealed that, apparently, Elon isn’t economically diverse, and The Times News — our hometown newspaper — picked up the story. Burned on our own turf? Stabbed in the back? Et tu, Times-News? Elon’s got a case of what professionals in the field call “Bad PR,” but never fear — it looks to us like a pretty mild case that’s easily treatable. We have had way worse scandals than this one in the past year alone. Like the hazing scandal, or the other hazing scandal, or the Brian Williams scandal, or that teacher who was hooking up with students, or that other hazing scandal. There are lots of ways to combat this particular blight, luckily enough. First: Use distraction tactics. Quick, grab the nearest award Elon has won and wave it around. Points if it’s shiny — like an actual trophy. Print out a certificate if that can’t be managed — like the ones you got back in kindergarten for participating — and get Leo to sign it. Release another article pimping out those solar panels. See? We’re giving back, gosh darnit. We need all those tuition dollars from the economically-fortunate to finance our philanthropy efforts. If worst comes to worst, we can just circulate the “Most Beautiful Campus” article again, and again, and again. That thing always manages to crop up in the most opportune moments. It’s the herpes of Clickbait articles. Or the herpes of Elon. Which is another column itself, though I’m sure there’s some sort of cream to treat that. Second: Spin this scandal around like you’re the top cycler in a Soulcycle spin class (91 percent of students will get that reference because they can afford that $34-per-class rate. The other 9 percent need a Pell Grant to buy into the joke. Sorry). So we’re not economically diverse across different classes. That doesn’t mean that we’re not economically diverse among the one percenters, right? Some students only have one yacht, not a whole armada. For every student with a lake house, a beach house and a mountain house, there’s a less fortunate student with only one of those things. Some students have parents who give them $12 for lunch. Others have parents who donate $12 million for a brand new building. It’s a range. It’s unfair of The Times-News and The Hechinger Report to accuse Elon of being not economically diverse when it’s frankly the opposite. Actually, it’s unfair for any media to accuse us of lacking economic diversity when there are plenty of other ways we lack diversity. Race, ethnicity, culture, religion — even our fashion choices lack diversity. If you’re going to pick on us, do it right. We don’t abide by laziness. There’s a chance Elon might want to address the problem head-on and provide a solution. In that case, we turn to solution three: Socialism. Just redistribute the tuition dollars among the 9 percent of students who receive Pell Grants. This way, Elon gets points for philanthropy, and that 9 percent will have their tuition covered, so they can’t complain anymore. Bam. No more bad press. No more controversy. We don’t know why Elon didn’t think of this obvious solution sooner.
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their phoenix patients. When The Pendulum decided to do an issue on health and wellness, naturally we medical un-professionals got excited. Finally, a call for our expertise. We fully prepared ourselves to receive calls from the staff, asking for our opinions and seeking our advice. And yet — nothing. So no surprise when we saw how outdated most of these articles were. With all due respect to this beautiful issue the staff compiled, you can ignore what you read in these pages, except for our column. We’re bringing you everything you need to know about the health concerns of today’s youth. And we’re doing it in a nifty top 10 list. 1. Netflix binging: Here’s how to tell if you’ve binged: Are there potato chip crumbs in your belly button? Is that a Zebra Cake you’re sitting on? Do you remember the name for the powerhouse of the cell? (Mitochondria.) If you answered yes, yes and no — then close your laptop and go outside. It still exists. (And yes, you can read that as an “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” reference.) 2. When you haven’t seen a dog in person in more than 24 hours: We deem this “puppy withdrawal,” and the best thing you can do is find a dog immediately. Pet it. Pet it and compliment it on its life choices. 3. Waking up for an 8 a.m.: This is so real. Why, after all the scientific studies conducted, do we still have class this early? Rise up, Elon. Let’s peacefully protest this atrocity, with punny posters and kumbaya sit-ins, while we all wear pajamas. 4. All your parents’ favorite celebrities are dying: You do not know who most of these people are, but you keep seeing articles about their untimely passing on your parents’ Facebook feeds. Be prepared — sadness, after all, is very contagious. 5. Your boo won’t text you back: (Probably because you’re still using “boo” when the rest of the world has moved to “bae”) Text them incessantly. Text them entire sonnets in iambic pentameter. It’s what Shakespeare would do if he were a millennial. 6. Your ears reject garbage music quality: This is only on the list because we needed it to add up to 10 items. You know when you want to watch a YouTube video in glorious 1080p HD, and it can only load 240p, and you want to just gouge out your eyes? This is the same thing but for sound. Once you go FLAC, you never go back. iTunes doesn’t accept FLAC audio files, as you audiophiles already know. You can survive off 320kbps mp3 files, but if you’re listening to Apple’s 256kbps files from the iTunes store or even a 128kbps mp3 ripped from YouTube, do your ears a favor and upgrade. It will change your life and, more importantly, the way you listen to music. 7. When your homies don’t get your pop culture references: This can lead to a sense of alienation from your peers. The best thing to do when you’re left hang- ing is laugh at your own references. Give yourself a knee slap. 8. Microaggression — Racism edition: We could call this a case of foot in mouth syndrome, but that would be microaggressive of us, and we want to be very aggressive with the treatment of this particular affliction because it’s a doozy. We suggest Googling what microaggression is and going from there. We’ll only judge you if you don’t. 9. Existential crises over Buzzfeed quiz results: In a quiz titled “What 90s sitcom are you?” Buzzfeed said you were “Full House” when you know you’re more “Fresh Prince of Bell Air”, and now you’re spiraling out of control. You’re staring into the abyss. You’re reading Albert Camus’ “The Stranger.” What are you going to do? Philosophers have been asking that for centuries, so how the heck are we supposed to provide you with any advice? Take the Buzzfeed quiz again. 10. You’re still reading newspapers: Don’t you know that you can have your news digitally transmitted to the computer you carry around in your pocket? Unless you’re reading this online, in which case you’re still kind of 90s’, but that’s cool with us.
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients. It’s that time of year again. No, that other time of year — the time when the job recruiters venture out of the real world and into the bubble to size students up like the top pig at an anachronistic county fair, not unlike the one featured in Charlotte’s Web. But you’re not just some pig, you’re Some Pig. A pig of significance. Pignificance. Well, Wilbur, we’ve got some bad news for you. Life isn’t always like E.B. White’s classic novel about communism. In fact, life is a lot more like the movie adaptation. And not the classic one — the 2006 remake starring Dakota Fanning. Sure, everyone says nice things about it if it comes up in conversation, but secretly we’re all just settling for what we’re given. Is a Charlotte’s Web film entitled to more than 78 percent on Rotten Tomatoes? Maybe not. But what hope is there if not for something greater? To be honest, 78 percent is better than we expected though it’s kind of hard to throw shade at a movie with a score that high. But as an Elon student, you’re probably aiming for higher than 78 percent. And your potential employers definitely are, which is the whole reason we started this column, before we got sidetracked with the whole pig thing. Reread Charlotte’s Web though — seriously, what a book. The point is, you need a Charlotte to help you stand out among the rest of the pigs. We’re gonna be your Charlotte today and spell out some helpful advice so you don’t get struck by the interview blues, or get burned out by the application process. All you have to do is remember three easy steps: P.I.G. P: Put your best foot forward. Smile and get ready to open the door to a world of opportunity and happy emoticons. I: Impersonate reasonable human behavior. Potential employers want to know that you’re a competent and mostly functioning person. Rest assured they’ll run the usual checklist to make sure you’re not a serial killer, a robot and-or alien and-or robot-alien hybrid, or pretty much anything that sounds like the creepy part of a Goosebumps book. G: GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS. You’re probably not going to be very successful. You probably won’t get your dream job. Forget it, Jake — it’s Chinatown. For those of you who might not be familiar with the classic film Chinatown, first of all shame on you. Second of all, for the sake of the joke, you, the reader, are Jake. The ‘it’ is your dreams, and Chinatown is the...world? Society? Something abstract. That’s the part that’s supposed to make you think. Maybe there’s a little Chinatown inside us all. This column could end on an uplifting note, and we could tell you to go out there and be the very best you can be, regardless of what it is you end up actually doing with your life. We could include a nod to the fact that there wasn’t really any adherence to the column’s motif. Or the column could end with the reminder that in a few hundred thousand years the Earth will be inhospitable, and in a relatively short time afterward, when life starts anew, there will be some new life form analogous to you, waiting for a barely literate spider to text him back.
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients. The world-famous Neil deGrasse Tyson is coming to Elon University as the 2015 Spring Convocation speaker. You’re probably not going to see him in person, though. Maybe you were lucky enough to get a ticket during the 15 minutes they were available. After that, signs were posted that may as well have said, “If You’re Reading This, It’s Too Late.” Oh, you were in class when the tickets were released? Better luck next year, when we might be fortunate enough to book some guy from a podcast you’ve never listened to, or perhaps a journalist whose work you’re not familiar with. Maybe Elon University will save money by asking Brian Williams back for Convocation 2016. He will probably still need the work, and we’ve already sworn him our allegiance. No matter who we pick next year, it’s not going to be as great as Neil. Trust us. This year’s Convocation is go big or go home, and most of us didn’t get a choice. We’re diagnosing everyone who didn’t get a ticket but wanted one with FOMOCOSMOS — the fear of missing out on experiences as stellar as a stellar speech from the host of COSMOS. Should have skipped class, suckers. You can still enjoy the livestream, though, if you’re interested in missing out on the most relevant part of Convocation — the fact that Neil deGrasse Tyson will be on campus, in the flesh. If you’ll be “attending” convocation through the livestream, why stop there? You can “attend” many other great events, like any of the millions of Neil deGrasse Tyson clips available online, or classics like Woodstock or even George W. Bush’s “Mission Accomplished” speech (OK, you caught us — we’re just looking for any possible way to remind you that Dick Cheney made money off the Iraq War). Maybe start “attending” class via livestream, too. We don’t really know why we haven’t started doing that anyway. We go to class in pajamas already, so there’s no point in leaving the bedroom. It’s all the same, right, Elon? That’s why you released the tickets during class, because you knew it wouldn’t matter if someone ditched their education to snatch a seat at Convocation... for their education. Tricky mind game you’re playing, Elon, but we’re onto you. Some of you suffering from FOMOCOSMOS probably won’t settle for the livestream because you recognize that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Or you don’t know how to work a livestream yet because you have a TV on campus and haven’t had to stream episodes of “Empire” to avoid spoilers. Or you’re one of Neil’s groupies. Whatever your reason, you’re feeling pretty hopeless right now. In that case, you have two options: 1. Break into Convocation. 2. Kidnap Neil deGrasse Tyson. Neither of these options are what we would call legal. But you couldn’t get tickets. Desperate times call for desperate measures. If you’re fond of option one, we suggest watching the Spy Kids series for tips and tricks. Or maybe Totally Spies reruns. If you’re a fan of option two, leave Elon. You have bigger issues we don’t have time to attend to. Seek professional help. Stop watching all of those “Taken” movies (Thankfully, Liam Neeson says he’s gonna stop making them, so he won’t contribute anymore to the unhealthy glamorization of kidnapping).
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their Phoenix patients. It’s a disease you survived once before, probably around four years ago. In polite company it’s referred to as Adult Onset Senioritis. We’re dangerously close to the halfway point in this spring semester, and you elderly and wisest seniors are getting hit with increasingly severe cases. We can’t really blame you. You did put up with Elon for three and a half years, which is a lot of Smith Jackson and Eric Townsend emails to ignore. You probably spend most of your days in class clenching your jaw, wondering what more Elon could possibly want from you. The answer is (even more of) your money, but we think the staff editorial explains that better than we could, so take a look at that to better prepare yourself for the Elon Days of the future. #ElonDay. But what could Elon want from you now, when you’re no longer a potential customer and not yet a potential return investment? Absolutely nothing. You’re washed up. Remember Fellows Weekend last week? And those Phoenix Fridays? And all those campus tours? You’re old news, at least until graduation, when we can all cry over how proud we are of you. Seniors, you’re getting replaced with newer, shinier versions of you. Just like when you upgrade your phone or delete those middle school Facebook friends, you’ve become out-of-date overnight, even more so if you forgot to reset your clocks this past weekend. Some day soon, you might find that the only way to recapture some of that collegiate nostalgia will be to throw even more money at the school until the pain goes away. But just like those bright young students replacing you, you in turn will be replacing the last vestiges of the Baby Boomers in the workforce. Lucky you. Those of you who suffer from apathy, one of the side effects of Adult Onset Senioritis, may look forward to making the transition. Other symptoms of this particular strain include Facebook stalking your friends, ignoring internship and job deadlines, bouts of existential panic followed by binge-eating Dorito chips and forgetting how to spell your own name. Others of you suffer from the more nostalgic strain, and you’re probably crying as you read this column — or at least feeling insulted that there’s nothing more you can give to your beloved school. Look, you’re a lame duck. Or a lame phoenix. Lame squirrel? Whatever you are, it’s time to seek greener pastures, though it’s highly unlikely the next pasture you settle in will be as green as this actual botanical garden. Underclassmen and juniors can, for now, avoid their impending futures by taking a stroll around this beautiful campus. You don’t have that opportunity because you still need to get a job. Why are you even reading this column? Haven’t you read about the economy these days? Shoo. You should be working on your resume or, more likely, catching up on Netflix while pretending to diversify your portfolio. Here’s our prescription for all of you, whether you’re hopeless or you don’t care: do it for the Vine. And then, more importantly, do it for yourself. Ace your remaining classes, work hard to find a job you enjoy and do your best to live a fulfilling life. Put yourself first. And drop a great mixtape if you’ve got the chops.
Doctor's Orders is a weekly satirical column in which two unprofessional, definitely fake doctors offer up prescriptions for their phoenix patients. Be proud, Elon. One of our own has officially made it and was seen on hundreds of thousands of screens across the United States on one of the biggest nights of the year. No, we’re not talking about Lowell Oakley. Or Grant Gustin. Or that freshman who fell out of the tree (Does anyone know if he’s okay?). It’s 2015. No one cares if you’re on national television. The people want memes. (If you’re unfamiliar with the concept of memes, there’s nothing we can do — seek professional help.) We’re talking about Little Red Riding Hood, forever immortalized during the Oscars. At this point, she’s more culturally relevant than the original fairy tale. Little Red Riding Hood, this column is for you. We called you into this appointment because we want to make sure that moving forward, you take care of yourself. Fame can be stressful, and your fans are going to ask a lot of you because you really set the bar high with that Oscar trick, you stinker. Luckily for you, we have some high-brow connections at the Meme Actors Guild of America, and we can provide you, Miss Fame Seeker, with some advice from your fellow memes. You’re going to need to get an agent because memes like Ridiculously Photogenic guy and Grumpy Cat actually have real live agents. We’re not even making this up for the sake of humor — that’s a real thing. There are agents for people like you. Or are you even people anymore? You’ve transcended mortality after all, and reached the higher plane of existence as Little Red Riding Meme. You are going to make so much money, probably more than Elon’s endowment — which, granted, isn’t hard, since Elon’s construction bill is bigger than its endowment any day. But still, it’s impressive to us lowly plebeians. To snag the best agent, you’re going to need a new trick to garner some buzz. Only the strongest memes survive, so you must follow in the footsteps of the great memes of our time and evolve. Oh, and this time, you have to hit multiple social media platforms. See, your caper was big on the Twittersphere, but it needs to crossover to other platforms, like Tumblr. White-Gold-Black-Blue Dress started on Tumblr, and that’s changed the face of science as we know it. It spread to Facebook, to major news publications, started a few wars and destroyed friendships. It also was dead in the dirt less than 12 hours later, so you need to aim for having the punch of White-Gold-Black-Blue Dress and the staying power of a more traditional meme, like Grumpy Cat, who got her very own Christmas Special. She’s also voiced by Aubrey Plaza, which might just be too much power for one cat to have over the world. After they’ve Tumbled you, you’ll need to leech your way to Facebook. Here you can capitalize on the older, less hip websurfers and maybe book some daytime television appearances. Then you might want to set your sights on traveling the world, meme-ing all over the planet. People want to hear about how you strategically placed yourself in the background of photos with the Great Pyramids, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty or the Alamance Fountain. You might want to buy as many of those red jackets as you can. It’s kind of your thing now.