After the infamous Toppling Incident of 2018, the Board of Governors told me they would bring me back soon. In fact, I was promised my very own $5.3 million mausoleum. But it’s been over a year, and I’m still here.
Wait, have I been ghosted? I don’t know what to do. Should I text them? Or would that seem too clingy?
I miss McCorkle Place. It was my very own gated community, if you will. I miss the constant companionship of UNC Police, who were always there, day or night, to protect me. I even miss the unfortunate sight of Time Out’s heinous neon sign in the wee hours of the morning.
I know my presence on campus has been missed. Maybe not by the students, faculty, staff or community, but what are those people who drive in from Alamance County supposed to do now that I’m gone? Move on from a 150-year-old war?
Sometimes, I hear the police nearby — but they’ve never come to rescue me. I thought we were supposed to be friends? I mean, they did ward off those silly protesters for me (thanks, Jeff!).
And now, I hear my old friend Harry Smith might not want me to come back to campus. Really, Harry? After all we’ve been through? You were at my erection, Harry!
Speaking of erections, y’all know the South will rise again. But if you don’t mind, I could use a little help getting up. Anybody got some Viagra? Heard the BOG has plenty to spare.
P.S. Do they have LifeAlert for statues? Asking for a friend. Seriously.
Editor's note: This is a satirical piece intended to be written from the perspective of Silent Sam and does not represent the opinions of the Daily Tar Heel or its staff.