I have some advice to my fellow college students as we begin class this fall. In the first few weeks of school, there will inevitably be a club or activities fair. Each group will be fishing for new recruits, new blood and new money. We’re in a glass tank in a seafood restaurant, and the fat guy just ordered the lobster.

I’m nobody’s buttery meal. They’ll never hook me into joining their club and they’re never getting their paws on my clams. So don’t let the complimentary cookies or the free t-shirts delude you, my friends — these clubs don’t really want you. They want your name. They got your name and they got their lifeblood. More membership means more money from the university; these people are extracurricular vampires, feeding on the names and e-mail addresses of the student population. But they’re never satisfied, forever cursed to roam the land and harass humanity. They leave the student population overextended and women with plenty of excuses why they can’t see me on a Friday night.

I’ll take their offers of free cookies, candy, and key chains but they won’t get my name down on their club list. Word to the wack: Don’t give your real e-mail address to these groups. Give your roommate’s instead. Watch with amusement as he curses every time he opens his e-mail. Just don’t be surprised if after he moves out, he doesn’t leave a forwarding address and you think he’s somewhere in the middle of Utah. Plotting.

As you go around the activities fair, do as I do and feel free to pick up any free candies or shirts groups may be giving out while nimbly avoiding the mailing lists. As you walk around, you will inevitably run into the student government people. At every school, there will be some form of student government and they will always call attention to themselves like some sad Salvation Army collector with a stained Santa suit and a smell like your old uncle. Ignore these people or toss coins at them.

Next, you’ll likely run into the bane of every academically intensive university: the a capella group. These a capella groups seem to enjoy crooning clever and edgy butcherings of modern recording artists. If you listen carefully, you can actually hear the angry ghosts of Apollo, the god of music, vowing revenge. I recommend trying out for these groups and seeing how far you get doing an opera version of a Shins song. Alternatively, bring an instrument and insist that you need it to “set the mood.”

The din of this plaza is always alive with the sound of a hundred screaming Ipod mixes. What better way to attract attention then put on music to show how cool your club is? Avoid these tables like you would a cadre of Fall Out Boy fans. Instead, go over to one of the athletic organizations. The groups with the most skilled athletic members will inevitably be the hippie “non-sport” groups. Your football team sucks, but the hackey-sack club is amazing and the Frisbee team wins national championships. If growing a beard and having training camp at Burning Man is your thing, then maybe you’ll find your home here.

If not, then maybe heading over to one of the more swanky sports will be your thing. Now, if there is an equestrian team trying to recruit, I’m legally bound to not encourage students to try to scare the horse. It’s, uh, a long story involving a horse. And me. And a headline about four to six people being injured.

Unfortunately, clubs at most universities are nothing more than small businesses run by small future business leaders. These people are more concerned with efficiency and resumes than actually generating intellectual curiosity about important topics, like fried chicken and mustaches. It would be fantastic if we had some clubs that weren’t just stepping stones to future careers. I guess what I’m saying is, more slip and slide clubs, less future ____ of the world clubs. If you disagree, feel free to send me some hate mail. See? I wrote my e-mail address down on your mailing list.

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