In breaking news, an average LMU party on a Saturday night became the stage of a student, self-named DJ Impossible, who played songs that everyone loved all night long. No awkward mid-pace songs, no undanceable electronic beats, no cut-off songs or awkward silences while the aux cord exchanges hands.
“It was incredible. Every song he played was such a freaking tune,” senior business major Freddy Feyere said. “Everyone was having such a great time.”
Other students who attended the event reported that they never felt the urge to complain about the song choice or got bored and wandered away to play beer pong after “Mo Bamba” played for the fifth time.
“He just kept his head down and playing song after song, and each one was a hit,” sophomore recording arts major Stephanie Swan said. “I think he threw a country song in there but I didn’t even mind.”
The responsibility of the aux cord is a historic privilege only bestowed on the bravest of music connoisseurs. Countless others have fallen to the pressures of the mob mentality, forced to play “Come on Eileen” and Cardi B to the point of exhaustion. This newcomer, a stranger, a white knight, took on the mantle with a skillful ear. Eager fans asked for autographs, but he merely shook his head and selflessly indicated for them to continue having a good time.
“Honestly, it was the best music I had ever heard,” Anthony Auxil, a junior dance major said. “I wanted to ask him for his mixtape but every time I walked over, he’d play another fire song and I just had to dance.”
People from all over the neighborhood crowded to the house to watch this man work. Even the usual neighbor complaints were mitigated by the awesomeness of the music choice. After the party was over, around 5 a.m., people searched for the man behind the cord. But, he had vanished in the crowd, leaving behind only an aux adapter.
“We may never see his kind again,” Feyere said, shaking his head. “We were blessed this night by the party gods. May the spirit of this party live on forever.”
Eager party-goers can still come out next week for a mediocre music experience. Expect to hear “Thank u, next” and probably “Sicko Mode” a couple times before you leave and wish you had stayed at home in the first place.
The Bluff is a humorous and satirical section published in the Loyolan. All quotes attributed to real figures are completely fabricated; persons otherwise mentioned are completely fictional.