BYU's Honor Code reduces their language standard to the following:
"BYU faculty, staff, and students should avoid swearing in speech and writing; coarse expressions derived from profanity; displaying of pictures, posters, and other forms of expressions which are crude or suggestive; and expressions that depend upon allusions to crudity for effect."
I've decided to set down a code of my own making to supplement the Honor Code here at BYU. I just don't think the Honor Code is strict enough. I mean, where else on earth does an organization actually ask you to verify that you will "voluntarily" agree to a set of standards to live by, and then make you sign a binding contract to that effect? I say get rid of the "voluntary" pretext, and just set down the law. If you want to go to school here, you'll live this stuff; otherwise, you're out of the Garden and into the cold, harsh world.
So, to kick off my tighter, leaner code, I'll address the Dress and Grooming Standard.
This man is significant, though. Upon first look, he's a lot of smaller and larger circles which come together to form a man. This man is me, after several months at the law school. Notice the belly. I am not making it up when I say that this Eric-man is drawn to scale. I can't quite figure out why he's pointing with such a wide-eyed look of...something. Is he horrified by what he sees in front of him? Or is he intrigued? Is he warning people about something? Is it another final? Is it another year of law school beyond this one? Is it a Provo couple getting too cozy on a grassy area (why isn't that against the Honor Code?!)? Is it a career looming on the horizon? Is it responsibility looming on the horizon? Is it the football season looming on the horizon?
Or is it just a mirror?
Hmmm...maybe it's time to pick up another sport to supplement racquetball and soccer. I won't be able to blame my physique on law school for much longer.
Now, don't get me wrong. Individually, these things are fine, if somewhat superficial and/or status oriented. However, when combined, they create the Parking Jerk. Someone more important, more pressed, and more MORE than you. She carried herself with that haughty air that just reeked of Wekan Sueem & Howe, LLP, or some other Death Star law firm, on campus to lead away our idealist law students to the Dark Side of the force.
With my jaw still hanging in disbelief, I considered honking, I briefly toyed with raising that ever-so-sweet middle digit to the sky, and I even momentarily imagined myself keying her car. But in the end, reason, and the ever-circling buzzard cars, swept me back up into the race, and eventually over to neighborhood parking. I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure that most of my thoughts from the parking lot to the neighborhood were against the Honor Code. But thought-crime, thankfully, hasn't been authorized yet.
Not yet, anyway.