It was a sunny and cloudless day in White Plaza when I achieved the unprecedented feat. Did I join 30 mailing lists? Yes. Will I take up any of the hundreds of offers to pop by the Haas Center to check them out? No comment.

The archetypal encounter took place as I tried to discreetly slink past the table covered in stress balls and Dum-Dums lollipops. The representative had almost faded beyond the 180° line in my peripheral vision: the surefire sign of being in the clear. Just then, I heard those fateful words:

“Would you like to join Stanford Ancient Uruguayan Pottery Club?”

The words set a jolt of energy through both of my eardrums which reverberated to every extremity of my body. They might as well have asked my if I wanted to drink swamp water; but I was trapped. Who knew that Carlos Páez Vilaró was such a zealous steward of the tradition?

Before I knew it, I was a diligent subscriber to [email protected]. And the rest is history.

Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine, and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.