It is quite possible that, by the time this article is in print, Duke Memes will have already followed the path of Lana Del Rey—the awkward upstart turned blogosphere sensation who met visceral backlash when noticed anywhere but the internet. But risking obscurity in order to comment on Duke’s commodity fetishes is the prime role of the Sandbox—which, like its schoolyard cousin, attempts to make playing in dirt appear civilized.
Perhaps Duke Memes will end up like Shooters II: the thing you regret or maybe love to regret or maybe love; the thing you almost certainly remember (unless, of course, you don’t); and the thing you consider among the central bonds between Duke students, until you realize how very sad a statement that would be, and so retract out of not-yet-age-thirty idealism.
Perhaps our tour guides will present Duke Memes to attract the wittiest applicants. That seems more likely than the tour guides spending time talking about the arts, in which case we’d end up with a class filled with witless computer-haters.
Perhaps Duke Memes will perform like the last few LDOC headliners: brash and crowd-pleasing until the few hits are done, and an utter snooze from there on out.
Perhaps the best Duke Memes will be assimilated into the English department haiku contest, used as advertisements on the C-1 or made into banners on the BC plaza.
But I’d bet money that Duke Memes will be mostly forgotten, left forever online as a relic of youthful exuberance turned stale by the passage of time. Maybe that’s cynical. Hell that I know. Make a meme of it.
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