YOOOO WHY WON'T YOU LET US BE GREAT!!!

The global economy is in freefall. The oldest, most venerable financial institutions in the world are hemorrhaging money by the billions. Unfortunately, we're not in great shape either. At this point, our balance sheet is looking almost as bad as Citigroup. (We asked Geithner for a loan, but he said Hank already gave it to AIG. Looks like we won't be seeing any of that money.) We tried repackaging our debt and selling it to some investors, but apparently these things are now considered 'toxic'—and you didn't realize that two years ago? Anyway, in order to keep our esteemed publication afloat, we are having—no, not a fire sale, we don't call it that—an estate sale.

Over the years we've accumulated some very cool stuff, and we'd like you to have some of it. All you have to do is stop studying for midterms for half an hour, come to Terrace on Saturday between 1:30 and sundown, and give us approximately all your money. Okay, not that much. Just some of it. There will be music, dancing (maybe), back massages (possibly), refreshments (limited time only), hair-wraps (yes, hair-wraps, you know you want one), original artwork (limited edition, signed by me), and all the sweet odds 'n' ends you could possibly ask for. Fun times guaranteed, legitimacy of goods subject to change. So stop by, get a hair-wrap, buy some of Sydney's luxurious deadstock knitting yarn, and support The Review. Seriously. It's going to be out of this universe.