Leaving my legacy on a trash can

by Ahmad Dixon, Contributor

am just about midway through my first year at San Diego State and I am already concerned about my legacy.

I want generations of students to see my name and think, “Ahmad Dixon, what a great man!”

Or at the very least, “Ahmad Dixon, he was a man.”

I would even settle for, “Ahmad Dixon, he was.”

There are plenty of ways I could go about this.

I could discover a new element to add to the already way too long periodic table.

Maybe I could write a classic American novel, or even paint a masterpiece.

But then again, seeing the amount of funding this university gives to physics, literature and art I doubt any of these things are going to happen.

Maybe I should just start playing men’s basketball for the university under the direction of Steve Fisher.

At least my efforts would be properly funded.

Plus, there is the fact that I have no career ambitions whatsoever and am most likely the laziest person who has ever written for this paper.

But hey, don’t take my word for it. Go ahead and contact my current editor by reading the information at the top of this page and ask her if I am actually the laziest person who has ever written for this paper.

As if she could tell you. It’s not like she has actually been alive for the 103 years this paper has been published for. Unless she is a vampire.

So instead, I have devised another way to immortalize myself and have my name among the most revered alumni, including but not limited to: Gregory Peck, former Mayor of San Diego, Jerry Sanders, and that one guy who founded Jack in the Box.

The way most people are venerated at universities is by having a building named after them, e.g. Hepner Hall, Love Library, Kardashian Auditorium, etc. I may have made up that last one, but you understand my point.

I am not so egotistical to ask for an entire building to be named after me, but I am egotistical enough to ask for a trashcan.

That is why I am extending this offer to President Elliot Hirshman.

“Editor’s Note: The following may or may not be a serious letter to President Hirshman.”

Dear President Hirshman… that is how a letter is supposed to start right?

Mr. President, I am prepared to offer the University a hefty donation of one dollar on the condition that you rename a trash can outside Storm Hall, “The Ahmad Dixon Trash Can for Sanitation Excellence.”

Mr. President, think of all the ways that one dollar could benefit the student body.

You could buy one fifth of a little Caesars Pizza.

You could power the Arts and Letters building for another .00000078 seconds.

You could go to the bank, exchange that dollar for 100 pennies and make a hundred wishes by throwing the pennies into one of our university’s gorgeous fountains.

The only limit to what you can do with amazing wealth is your own beautiful imagination and all I ask is for some recognition of my greatness via a trashcan.

If you are not interested in liquid capital, I am also willing to make a donation to Love Library, which currently houses a vast collection of books that have aided scholars in their studies for generations.

I am willing to part with my valuable collection of magazines that I have stolen from doctors’ offices if it means getting these trash cans.

Whenever I go to the doctors’ office, which is often considering I fall off the roof of my house ever couple of weeks, I steal a magazine or two.

Not because I am interested in magazines, but because I enjoy feeling like I have some slight power over those who work in the hospital and I get that feeling from stealing trash.

At this point, the carpet on my bedroom floor is no longer visible because it is covered with piles and piles of stolen magazines.

Really, you’re doing me a favor in accepting my donation because I have been told that dozens of magazines of my bedroom floor could be a fire hazard.

With this generous donation, students will have access to secret knowledge previously unknown to them.

Knowledge such as a 2006 Time Magazine critique of the Bush Administration, Cosmopolitan’s “Top 10 Ways to Get Washboard Abs in Time for Swimsuit Season” and an ad telling you that the Surgeons General advises against the use of tobacco products.

For too long I have seen students with less than stellar abs in the midst of swimsuit season and I have to be honest, it is a complete disgrace.

These magazines would be a fantastic addition to the university’s library and all I ask in return is a silly concrete trash can to be named after me.

I have heard that immortality is something all men have craved since the dawn of civilization.

It does not have to be a trash can. I know that is a lot to ask, as it’s a large piece of prime real estate.

I will settle for a bathroom on the third floor of Storm Hall, a power outlet in Nasatir Hall and I would even settle for an auditorium.

Please consider my offer seriously and allow me to share my immense wealth with the entire university.