Do you think winning is ridiculous?

How insane would it be if before every home football game we could "Operation Dumbo Drop" a giant elephant onto our own football field? He'd rise up on his hind legs and trumpet ferociously, striking fear into the very hearts of our competitors, shaking them at their cores.

My friends and I were talking about the repercussions an elephant could carry with it onto our school, and after a brief debate, we determined there weren't any.

In fact, an elephant would be the cheapest, most exotic and most effective tool we could utilize to ensure victory at every home game; furthermore, all complaints recognized by the editors in favor of abandoning this elephant project are weak and fallible.

The elephant is a massive, intimidating mammal fully equipped with tusks, a trunk and a license to kill.

Our school, like many others, has recognized that when one goes about choosing a mascot to represent itself, an intimidating or noble creature is preferable. Whoever chose the mascot of our school recognized the fine qualities in an elephant and the pride students and affiliates would take in the self-assigned trademark.

Unlike some of our top competitors' mascots, the elephant is every bit as intimidating as it looks, and a live elephant on the sidelines that could roar louder than its very fan base would live up to every aspect of our mascot.

How about shock factor?

Imagine being LSU's quarterback, surveying the carnage across the line of scrimmage, desperately looking for an open receiver when something catches your eye, something like an elephant.

Naturally, our players would be accustomed to playing in the presence of a gigantic creature, but the competition would surely be awe-struck and taken aback to say the least.

The author of a certain article felt that these advantages were simply too costly to be worth the effort of keeping and maintaining an elephant. That author went on to make several outrageous statements that may have convinced some that having an elephant is a ridiculous idea; however, every point made is silly and impractical.

After all, is winning ridiculous? I think not.

What angered me the most about the anti-elephant article, to the extent of writing my own antagonistic rant even, was the article's opening statement. Let it be known, first and foremost, Javier Arenas does not slip... on anything... ever.

Elephant feces on the field of play, that's ridiculous, but Javier actually slipping on it, come on we're not trying to make up fairy tales.

Or, how about this, "Just because our mascot is an elephant doesn't mean that we need to actually have an elephant on campus," yes we do; I already explained why, but if all our top competitors have their respective mascots embodied shouldn't we?

What does that say about us as a school if all our competitors can fulfill what we can't - that we bit off more than we could chew or that we're all talk?

What about this committee that the author spoke of? The one that wasn't aware of all the repercussions an elephant could bring with it. I would think that if our school took the time to assemble a specialized committee created with the one intent purpose to discuss the possibility of maintaining an elephant that they would be, contrary to possible belief, quite aware of the fact that elephants are harder to take care of than a dog.

Granted, an elephant can't sleep in the same bed as you (an apparent concern of the author's) but who the f--- would want to sleep with an elephant?

Why would it be incredibly strange for the University to buy such an expensive creature? I mean, it's not like the money could be put to better use. I live in Paty. Not only do residents of this fine facility enjoy the luxuries of semi-air conditioned units and shared, defective showers, we also have, well ... well we want to have an elephant, but pessimists are shooting down our aspirations simply because they can't handle the thought of an elephant on campus.

Why is this idea so hard for some to comprehend? I think up in arms animal activists could rest assured that if an expensive creature was purchased, such as an elephant, that the school would do everything possible to take the utmost care of the beast, but that doesn't mean that we have to exaggerate the costs or equipment needed to house an elephant.

For instance, why do we need an invisible fence to contain our mascot? What do you think this place is - Jurassic Park? A regular, visible fence would probably work pretty well.

Also, I think you're seriously over estimating the size of an elephant. We could probably squeeze one in the coliseum, or at least deliver it to the coliseum while it's still a baby or something.

But come on, I know what the author was really afraid of, the terrifying elephant stampede - complete with one elephant. Many people make this next mistake so I won't be harsh but the fact of the matter is we're mankind. We developed tools to deal with these types of outbreaks like tranquilizer darts and elephant guns. Why do you assume we simply can't handle an elephant? Have you not seen The Protector? Thai people can control elephants. We're Americans. You don't think we can accomplish the same feat? Blasphemy.

You compare stadium life with an elephant inside it to a giant cage match. Not only do I find no correlation between the two circumstances, but also who wouldn't want a giant cage match? Cage fighting is only the fastest growing sport in the world, it would only give the school more attention and create even higher sales, but I guess we really don't want that.

Listen, bringing an elephant on campus would not only be awesome, it'd be really, really awesome. A letter to the editor, get over yourself.

John Goldsmith is a freshman in pre-major studies.