Turtle power still influencing college campuses

By: Tim Goessling

Posted: 10/2/07

It's time that we salute the four brothers that have influenced our lives.

They were like pizza chefs who crafted a pie that would teach us about fine art. They were the critics whose impeccable palettes shaped a generation's diet.

They valued their elders but also maintained an almost-poetic spirit of youth. Whether we were hotheads, leaders, party dudes or nerds, they taught us to be ourselves. And most importantly, they were turtles.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to be exact.

At one point in time, the ultimate pranksters known as Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo were the reigning kings of kid culture in a way that made wannabes like Pokemon and Power Rangers cry for their creators.

The turtles had three hit movies, a sweet cartoon, the best video games, the coolest lunchboxes and so many toys that even rich kids couldn't collect all of them.

But while other series from the time period have faded, the turtles' lasting impact is incredible. Most students I asked on campus this past weekend seemed to have a favorite turtle and can also recall their prospective reptile's bandana color and weapon of choice.

It's fitting that on a college campus, the most popular turtle is the orange Michelangelo, the fun-loving "party dude."

Assuming they aren't teenagers anymore, Michelangelo would probably be a campus icon who could be found doing drunken nunchuck tricks outside of Chuck's on a given weekend night. He represents the free spirit of late-night dorm pranks, impromptu dance parties and the wild side in all of us.

Looking past the nunchucks, there's the leader of group: Leonardo (I know Splinter is technically the leader, but calm down, geek boy.)

He is popular mainly because lots of people like the color blue and his swords are the deadliest. Leonardo is probably Nancy Cantor's and other campus leaders' favorite turtle for the fact that they can relate to what it's like leading a gang of mischievous animals.

Following Leo comes Raphael, the mystery man. The cartoon describes him as "cool but rude," and in the movies, he has a bigger ego than Mark Cuban and Donald Trump combined. It's fitting that his color is red because he is a little devil-like. He's the voice that says, "Where is this freaking Bird Library cafe? It was supposed to be here this semester!"

Finally, the patron turtle of learning, Donatello. He is your professor's favorite ninja. He "does machines," which is nice way of saying he's a dweeb. Granted this dweeb designed the turtle van, the turtle blimp and the pizza thrower, which is very commendable.

If he were on campus, he would be on the first floor of Bird researching teleport technology so that pizza from Augie's could materialize on the fourth floor.

Ah yes, the pizza. All pizza makers must say a prayer of thanks to the turtles because they single-handedly convinced a generation that pizza is the greatest food (and at the same time, anchovy merchants must despise those turtles).

You see, the pizza is the glue that holds all these different personalities together. It's the same here, because everyone on Marshall Street at 2 a.m. is going somewhere to get a slice, regardless if you were getting wild at Harry's or philosophizing at Faegans.

In the end, it doesn't matter what turtle you relate to because there's a little bit of each of them in everyone.

Just as Master Splinter says, "Help each other, draw upon one another and always remember the power that binds you."

Tim Goessling is a senior television, radio and film major and will be eating pizza without anchovies tonight. Cowabunga!