Campus in uproar

Three weeks ago Notre Dame’s Diversity Council approved an initiative entitled “Fairness And Religious Tolerance.” This initiative, according to the council, “cultivates a supportive environment for religious freedom; students will be allowed and encouraged to worship whomever and whatever they want with the aid of the university.”

Understandably, the practicing Catholics of Notre Dame were critical of such a policy. “I went to social media and wrote a condemnation of this legislation with a lot of exclamation points … I mean a lot,” said Erin Knacky. But some went even further. 

Rafa Leulle attempted to shove the council’s legislation right back in their faces. Consequently, he created a religious reformation at Notre Dame. It all started when he stood on a table in South Dining Hall, and said, as an act of protest, “If they say we can worship anything and be respected for it, then why don’t we worship our food?”

And that’s what happened.

Much to Leulle’s surprise, his exigent statement was met with wild applause. “And so I thought to myself as I was looking down at my watered down pasta,” said Mike Candy, “Could I really make a religion out of my spaghetti?” Canady’s observation was not desolate. It seems as though many people had pasta that night, leading to the greatest religious reformation that has ever occurred on campus grounds. Two weeks after Leulle’s protest, Pastafarianism has become the second most practiced religion on campus. 

Though some claim it’s satirical, Pastafarianism consists of hundreds of thousands of devoted followers who firmly believe that a supernatural being, with unlimited power and undying tenderness, created the universe: the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Guided by a gospel and Eight Commandments, titled the “I’d really rather you didn’ts,” The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster is “legit and backed by hard science,” according to their mission statement.

Much of the Catholic student body has publicly expressed opposition to the outlandish group. Both sides, however, were happy that, despite their cultural differences, the conflict they shared had not turned physical. Two days ago, that changed.  

“We went to the Campus Dining administration with a petition to ban pasta in the dining halls because of the outrageous religious practices that were going on in there,” said Jason Capulong, a Catholic freshman. “I told Dr. Nurfingham, ‘Hey, you don’t see me or the other Catholics sneaking laxatives in non-spaghetti-oriented foods, do you?’ That seemed to resonate with him.” 

Subsequently, Ned Nurfingham, the Director of Campus Dining, made a public announcement in South Dining Hall two days ago. The dining hall was packed, and tensions were high. Dr. Ned began his address with a bombshell: “We will no longer be serving pasta in the dining halls.” A food fight ensued. And thus, the ninth Crusade began.

The Catholics were prepared to fight that day. “The initial tomato attack by the Pastafarians was definitely detrimental to parts of our ranks, but our response was much more impactful,” said Madeline Jennings. “One of my friends brought a spud gun just in case, and after the tomato volley, he got off the ground and fired a potato that hit this Pastafarian square in the face and knocked her unconscious. That definitely raised morale.”  

Things only got worse. “Soon the Pastafarians started bringing soup into the fight,” said Kevin Gates, a mild-mannered Catholic. “That was one of the most graphic and awful experiences I have ever witnessed in my entire life.” 

As the fight progressed, it turned into war. Crimes were being committed, enemies were taken prisoner, and food was being used as a nearly fatal weapon. “There were no casualties, thankfully, but of the 1,580 members or so that participated, 1,145 were hospitalized,” said one of the campus nurses. “I left Philadelphia to get away from scenes like this.”   

“I should’ve gone to Gary Community College,” complained one exasperated student. 

“I tried to climb a streetlamp to avoid the terror,” said a hospitalized student. “But it was greased with Crisco. I felt like a tender piece of meat sliding down a bone into the jaws of a pack of hungry dogs.”   

A consensus regarding the battle’s victor has not been achieved yet. “If you want my expert opinion, this just goes to show that there are no winners in war,” said Jonah Fairbank, a freshman on campus. “I literally saw a guy get buried in squash. You call that victory?” 

Moving forward, many students are left in a state of terror. “What other foods are they going to ban?” asked Sheila McCourtney, a senior on the softball team. “If they take away my fruit loops, I’m gonna bust someone’s teeth.”  

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Photo Credit: Matthew Rice

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