Greetings from campus, good students. This is Dean Fillmore of the Social Sciences department. I'd like to wish all of you a happy holiday, and a restful winter break, and look forward to seeing you all again next semester.
Now, I've received several e-mails from students expressing concern over last week's invasion and conquest of the college by Lord Cyclopticus of star system Abraxas-5 and his vicious Cylclopticon armies. Many of you would like to know if this will effect your classes when you return in January. Well, I would like to assure you all school will begin on schedule. As far as I'm concerned, the pursuit of education continues, regardless of whichever intergalactic warlord currently holds supreme reign over our campus.
That said, the school's board of academic standards, now headed by Lord Cyclopticus and a panel of BV-12 binary robots, has demanded a few minor changes to our Spring schedule. But rest assured, these changes are pure formalities that will have little impact on the day-to-day operations of our class.
First off, there have been some amendments to our reading list: instead of the originally assigned history text Understanding America, we will be reading All Hail Cyclopticus the Omnipotent; Gender Conflicts in West Africa has been replaced with The Glorious Battles of Lord Cyclopticus, Volume II; and Columbus: A Biography has been replaced with Submit or DIE (by Lord Cyclopticus). Curiously, though, Mitch Albom's Tuesdays With Morrie has remained.
History 102, which was to be held on the second floor of the Humanities building, has been moved to the Abraxas-5 Lobotomization Annex, right next to the 700-foot Spire of Cyclopticus, currently under construction—which reminds me: all students registered for a Wednesday or Thursday study group will report instead to the slave garrison to receive construction duty for the day. Lord Cyclopticus demands that I inform you no medical excuses for this will be accepted, since, as his Omnipotence put it, "The festering mass that calls itself the human race is itself a disease—a disease that my Cyclopticon armies will soon cure." After telling me this, Lord Cyclopticus howled a sinister laugh, stuck out his forked tongue, and screeched some sort of Abraxian battle cry I won't even try to replicate in this note.
Another unfortunate alteration I'm sorry to report is the detour of our annual Les Miserables field trip in New York to Tibereus: a primitive, swamp-like planet approximately 25 light years away, where all able-bodied male students between 13 and 65 years of age will have the honor of fighting the dreaded Tiberian slug-beasts as soldiers in the Great Cyclopticon Legion of Death.
And finally, all new students wishing to park their cars in lots A, B or C must obtain up a permit from Rebecca at the transportation office.
I look forward to seeing you all in the New Year. Here's to a great semester! And all hail Cylclopticus. May his empire rule for a thousand years.