Sit down South.

Your dialect is not welcome here.

Like climbing to the mountaintop that is Wallace room 402, ornavigating the rigid new rules of Pfeiffer Express, there arecertain things one encounters in his or her everyday life thatstrain the mind and tease the body.

But unlike the examples mentioned, this is no simple pestering.No, this is something far worse.

We’re not talking homework, teachers or even money for theweekend beer supply.

We’re talking something far more disturbing. We’re talking abouta linguistic invasion.

We’re talking about a war.

Believe it or not, we’re under attack by speakers of a dialectnot welcome on the Simpson campus.

It all happened last Tuesday. I was reading a book, being thestudious pupil that I am, when one of the several thousandpassers-by that live in the bus station that is my dorm commentedthat he not only wanted a soda, but he wanted to have one of mysodas. I quickly grew irritable at the notion, and politely askedwhat he just called one of my pops.

The boy just didn’t get it.

“Look here, buddy,” I said, eyes infused with rage. “It’s calledpop. I don’t know or care what you call it from whatever Alice inWonderland bunny hole you’re from, but in this room, and this land,it’s pop.”

Little did I know, I had sparked a conflict far greater thanjust a pair of synonyms. The boy continued to make hurtful commentsabout my word choice until we finally proceded to have one of theworse fights I’ve had in years.

Gladly, my friendly, neutral roommate stepped in to negotiate atruce.

We signed the book of compromise somewhere around 10:23 p.m. -seven minutes after the conflict began – on the resolution that hewould never say soda in my room, and I’d never use pop within hisvicinity.

After the incident, I took time to ponder the dispute in hopesof coming to some stance that can solve this ordeal.

Now, I will finally propose a compromise for the entire UnitedStates.

For now on, the use of the word pop or soda in the free worldwill follow these rigid guidelines.

A line will be drawn that bisects the United States. Runningstraight East and West from the southern borders of Iowa andNebraska, the line will separate the south, or soda side, from thenorth, or pop side.

The only exception will be Florida, with its ridiculous use of”Coke” as the word to express all forms of pop (soda). Florida willbe completely ostracized into its own pathetic border.

It’s settled. Call your friends and spread the word. It’s safeto come out now.

If Simpson College, a small school in a small town in ruralAmerica can have soda come across their border, just imagine whatour future could look like: a state where plurals are expressed bythe word “y’all” and the only drinks available are sodas.

Diction is a powerful thing.

Brief yet intense conflicts have been fought over it in dormsand skate parks throughout the country. Please, let’s try to makethis a “soda-free” campus.

Keep the Simpson experience a northern dialect.