With apologies to Molly Ivins, Cal Thomas and Jen Winberry, my favorite opinion columnist of all time is none other than Mr. Larry King. Half a decade has passed since Mr. King laid down his pen to focus his energies on finding new breakfast places to discuss with celebrity guests on his eponymous television program and finding new and exciting women to marry, but Larry's freewheeling, bite-sized style always lit up the already fluorescent pages of USA Today.

A King column was the sort of thing we attention-deficient types go ape over; he'd string together a few one- or two-sentence paragraphs plugging whatever children's movie or handsoap had pleased him most in the previous week, toss in a couple passably-informed generalizations about world events, and out came a column. There was no continuity, no thematic arch: it was Larry straight from the hip, a peek inside the mind of a genial Jewish sexagenarian moviegoer.

And so, both in loving tribute to a journalistic maverick and as a way to get as much out as I can in my parting words in this Collegian, I offer you my Larry King column. Enjoy.

It's a wonder more people on this campus aren't hit by cars every night. Pedestrians: unless you're walking around with a lightsaber, stick to the sidewalks. Drunk people: grab a few Z's in the woods behind North Halls if you must, but for the love of Santa Claus, stop driving places. CATA: it might slice profits a bit, but if all your buses ran 24-hour routes, no one would ever drive drunk.

Naturally, I'm a bit steamed that the State Theatre is opening its doors just as I'm heading out. But it does my heart good to know future generations of Penn Staters won't have to power through that isolated feeling one gets upon realizing the eighth-largest university in the country only serves up decent live music once a week. Twice, if you're lucky.

On that note, big ups to Bernie Punt, and Roustabout!

Don't skip class. Seriously. Even if you're six benny-strips and a handful of Tylenol PM into your Tuesday morning and don't feel your presence will be appreciated, go anyway. If you avoid lecture, you will end up in college longer, and if you're the type to skip a lot, that's probably the last thing you want.

If I never again heard the phrase "where you at?" uttered into a cell phone, it still wouldn't be too soon. I am especially amused by the use of that phrase when 10,000 of us tumble out of class around noon and walk up Pollock Road, utilizing a satellite to talk to people 50 feet away. Where, you ask, are we at? We're at the point in the bad sci-fi movie where the robots are primed to take over.

Don't pee on things unless there's a closed door behind you. You will get a bemused tap on the shoulder from an officer of the law, and you just know you won't be able to go while he's looking. Living in the public urination capital of the world is gross; considering how many toilets there are within a two-block radius of any spot in this town makes it even grosser.

Before I applied, I knew I wanted to take over the music page at the Collegian, and despite a few diversions, I did.

If there's something you want from your time here, get on it. Sure, it might shoot holes through your transcript, your bank account and your eardrums. It might also be the one thing keeping you centered.

Take care of yourself, Penn State. I'll see you when I see you.