To whom it may concern,
My name is Sean Rose, and I’m an alumnus of the University of Connecticut (CLAS ‘09). Once again, I would like to register my disappointment with the Daily Campus for publishing the most recent letter by Stephen Winchell (CLAS ‘08). I was hoping my last letter would put and end to this nonsense once and for all. It did not. Instead the fine young students of UConn were all treated to one of Mr. Winchell’s notorious anti-grab ‘n go screeds. I could debunk his last letter point by point, but instead, I’d like to address the man directly.
Mr. Winchell, is this what you want? Ok. Sure. I’ll play your game.
Here’s something Mr. Winchell won’t tell you: for every year he lived on the Storrs campus, Towers was his first choice. Quite frankly, he LOVED Towers. Often I’d spot him stalking near Vinton Hall in the evenings, staring up at the lights coming out of the windows with awe and envy. And every year, when it came time to request dorms for the next semester, he’d request Towers first. And when he inevitably was rejected, year in and year out, he’d go to his second choice: South. And then down the list: Alumni, North, McMahon, East, Hilltop… down and down he’d go, until he finally hit the bottom of the barrel, the absolute last on his (and everyone’s) list. West Campus.
Why would this happen? Why would Mr. Winchell get rejected from Towers – and every other dorm on campus – year after year? Simply put: he wasn’t good enough. He was a notorious boor, a layabout, a poor student. His beliefs were strange and – I’m being as charitable as I can be here – his personal hygiene was questionable. He was not liked by anybody on campus, and he only lived in West because they were the only dorm foolish enough to accept him. I guess when you’re already a disgusting stink pit, accepting one more piece of trash doesn’t make much of a difference!
Mr. Winchell, if you want to continue this correspondence, be warned: this isn’t the last story I’ve got on you. I’ve got enough dirt to last me for weeks and weeks to come. You want a war? You’ve got one.
Thank you for your time,