Far more important than newly tenured faculty, a rapidly growing student body, a presidential election, or an ever-heightening conflict in the Middle East is this pressing question: what food will we get to shove in our mouths today? There’s no doubt about it; no single topic dominates conversation at Centre College more than Cowan.

Life is rough out there. Sometimes all of the showers are taken. Sometimes you have to wait almost fifteen seconds for the walk sign to come on. Sometimes your friend walks past your library couch to sit with other people. It is enough to test anyone’s emotional fortitude. After a long day of trials and tribulations like these, the glorious smells of simmering Cowan food beckon to all. We drop what we are doing, infected with ravenous hunger that makes us more dog than human. Instinct overcomes rationality, and all earthly worries melt away in light of the promise of an all-inclusive buffet-style cruise to Flavortown.

When asked to describe Cowan, students and faculty sing praise after praise. President Roush says, “Cowan is a miraculous vestige of Eden, a sprawling foodscape of culinary possibility. It is truly a shining dining hall upon a hill.” First-year Stephanie Keller shares president Roush’s opinion: “When I walked into Cowan on the first day of orientation, my jaw dropped. I’d never seen anything like it. I cried for at least ten minutes.”

But there’s trouble in paradise. Something changed during our brief summer respite. Where there was previously a bountiful garden of variety now reside only burgers. Back in the day, the right side of Cowan offered quesadillas, burritos, and…well that’s really about it. Now there are only burgers. Piles and piles of imperfectly formed patties and buckets of condiments line the right side of Cowan.

It’s not like the right intentions weren’t there—the effort to provide healthier, local burgers did not go unnoticed by students, especially after being served twice a day every day.

Yet still, all now lament the end of Cowan’s glory days. Wails of despair bathe the campus in a meaty malaise. The collective campus blood pressure and cholesterol levels rise with each bite. Some estimate that this will be the first year that Centre alumni will not rank among the happiest in the nation, due solely to Cowan. At least 20 students have transferred since classes resumed, each citing only one word as their reason: “Burger.”

Suddenly, what was once a pleasant experience of ritual overstuffing and procrastination is made dull. What ever happened to the excitement of wondering what the Cowan Gods will choose to bless us with each day? The new Burger Constant ruins the fun of gambling our swipes away. It threatens monotony in a once wondrous place. “I hate that there is always bacon out in Cowan,” says sophomore Walker Morrell. “I’m pretty sure no one here likes bacon at all. It’s an absurd violation of any sensible palate.”

The Burger Question goes beyond mere preference – it is a matter of life and death. As senior Mason McClay puts it, “Every day I’m faced with this same choice: burger or salad? It never changes. I just can’t take that kind of repetition. I prefer to live dangerously. As a BNS major, I can say with certainty that if this continues all semester I will literally die.” It seems that the human brain (or at least a Centre student’s brain) just cannot handle seeing burgers every day. A quick consultation of all relevant BNS literature confirms McClay’s supposition; death is guaranteed.

Let this be a warning – no, a call to arms. Now is the time to break out every complaint that drifts into your mind. Do not let a minute go by without scolding Cowan Dining Commons. Make sure each and every person you know understands just how frustrated you are with our food options. They, the administration, and Cowan employees will absolutely love hearing relentless criticism without any formal constructive suggestions. As many of us already know: the best way to solve a problem is to whine about it.

Editor’s Note: The previous article is from the CentOnion series, a satirical publication focused on parodying various subjects unique to Centre College’s campus.

As such, all content within this article is purely fictional and does not necessarily reflect the views of the Cento or Centre College.

In addition all quotations used in this article are purely fictional and do not necessarily reflect the views of the individuals quoted.

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