The Next Event.....
Deep below the basement of Thayer is a dungeon; inside this dungeon a light with a single bulb swings slowly over a long cluttered oak table. The table has shadows hunched over files filled with promising Army Officer applicants. The hunched over select members of West Point admissions board scheme and fight over the paper waded up before them. The scene is chaotic, unorganized and dysfunctional; some who have laid witness to this event lament its similarity to the North Pole when the first bags of mail have been received.
It’s a very select group who work hours and days on end, hoping to find the right puzzle piece to complete the big picture, the future of West Point and all its glory, in hopes of continuing its virtues and secrets. Every four to five hours the tall wooden doors will part and a pillar of light will stretch from wall to wall across the stone floor. At this time several pieces of raw meat will be thrown in to the dungeon to feed the shadows and ensure the work will continue.
At the end of January the application process will close for the Class of 2018. No more information will be accepted. All nomination will be due at this time, however most had be given before the end of December as a poor government gift to the minion like a heavy yellow brick of cheese.
By the first or second week of February the bulk of the class has been chosen. The BFE have been prepared. On the first week of March the BFE should be arriving, in the same manner as picking a white seed ball from a dandelion and blown in to the wind scattering the news.
As time comes closer to R-Day, the unfortunate ones will systematically receive their TWE. For some heartbreak followed by breaking things, others will feel a release to pursue their Plan B. The ones, who feel it in their guts West Point is where they are still are destined, will reformulate another attack plan.
Those who receive the golden BFE will soon notice their portals will include a “Second Step”. This will begin the pursuit of turning the red dots into green. Its diabolical I know.
The Postman is well aware of this event and fears it more than Christmas time package delivery. Everyday they will be accosted by a young person who demands, “Where is my BFE!” and he’ll reply, “I’m only the messenger”. The Post knows all to well to never use a mallet to push the BFE through the small opening of a mailbox or door.
Good luck to all!!
Push Hard, Press Forward
