Zach Ford’s attempt to take over the college
By Elliot Freedore
In 2006, this country faced one of the most important elections in its history; Zack Ford was sworn in as student body president of Ithaca College. His victory was a surprise to all for his origins were shrouded in mystery. Most of the campus body acquiesced to this shady figure; they trusted the so-called “E-vents guy” without hesitation. And all because, once again, the media had failed us. All of the major networks, including Intercom and the Ithacan – although, strangely enough, not E-vents – gave him their backing out of complacency, if not fear. This reporter, however, is not intimidated by the E-vents mogul, or even his fine-feathered henchman, Flopper. I’ve read Revelations and I knew something was amiss, and I bring it to you now – with all its gruesome details – uncensored. (If you have a heart condition or are under the age of eighteen, I recommend that you read no further and switch back to this month’s Better Homes and Gardens.)
Here’s the brutal truth: Zack Ford is using his presidency here as launching pad for his campaign to conquer the world.
“I’m frightened for my life,” says one Ithaca College administrator who asked not to be named. “I called him out when he proposed to create a standing army for the campus, and he just looked at me and said, ‘Valerie wouldn’t like it if you got in my way.’ Valerie’s my six-month-old daughter. I thought to myself, ‘Why would she care? She’s only six months old.’ But then I realized that it was a threat. It gave me the heebie-jeebies.”
Nobody that I spoke to felt secure around Zack. Brian, a senior who used to play intramural squash at the gym with our indefatigable commander-in-chief, had this to tell: “I was way better than Zack ever was. I went up to him once and said, ‘good game,’ although it wasn’t really ’cuz I kicked his ass. He just looked at me and snapped his fingers and these two guys came up and pantsed me. I hadn’t been pantsed since middle school.”
Whether through pantsing or infanticide, Zack’s methods are unrelentingly brutal. At the tender age of six, he had his mother executed for failing to deliver the particular flavor of Juicy Juice that he demanded. “I didn’t hear the ‘pine,’” she wept as I interviewed her via a medium. “He always liked apple; I never figured he’d ask for pineapple instead.”
According to Zack’s impeccably slick P.R. machine, his record is immaculate, but it is all cleverly-worded obfuscation. For instance, he claims that he has spent time “feeding the homeless”; he does not say, however, that he fed the homeless to other homeless people. He also flaunts having had a leadership position in his local chapter of the 4-H Club. But during his tenure there, he plundered the farmland from the locals and used the acreage as a mass burial ground for all the orphans that died after languishing in his munitions factory. (The weapons he manufactured were sold to panda poachers, whalers and Zack’s old pal, Kim Jong-Il.)
Nothing that we thought we knew about our benevolent dictator is true. His name isn’t even Zack. It’s “Zachary.”
“Your accusations are ludicrous,” the psychopathic megalomaniac said when I met him for coffee in his dungeon last week. “If I were really seeking world domination, I would’ve sought the presidency at Cornell.”
Although it is true that Zack could easily subdue that university’s overwhelmingly nerdy population if he so wished, there’s one little-known fact that makes Ithaca College an all-the-riper target: I.C. is built over an ancient Indian burial ground. (If you don’t believe me, check the basement of Boothroyd Hall). Under normal circumstances, that spooky detail would be little more than happenstance, but Zack’s well-known affinity for black magic makes the bewitched cemetery’s presence eerily disconcerting.
When I confronted him on this charge, Zack said, “I admit, I do like to perform card tricks and the occasional voodoo spell, but I’m nowhere near being a sorcerer… yet.” He then proceeded to transform me into a bunny rabbit.
However, Adrian Marcato, proprietor of a local shop specializing in magic and necrophile erotica, claims that the president’s menacing proclivity is more than a mere hobby. “Zack is a regular customer,” he says. “Last time he came in he bought the How to Conjure Up the Souls of the Dead to Create an Army of the Damned book on tape.”
If you still do not believe that the mercurial Zack Ford is nothing but a hell-spawned charlatan with his sights set on global conquest, then consider his response to my query as to who was his chief inspiration as a political figure.
“Rupert Murdoch, of course!”
Elliott Feedore is a sophomore cinema and photography major who would like to thank Zach Ford for his good humored participation in this article. Email him at efeedor1 at ithaca.edu