Hooray for the Purdue Pudus!

Thanks to reader Jeremy, a visionary beyond his years, who recently proposed in a Purdue student newspaper that the school’s unofficial* mascot should be changed from Pete the Macronogginous Large-Hammered Tiny-Hatted Slightly-Psychotic-Looking Boilermaker to, well, a pudu.

I think it’s about damn time.

As a matter of fact, if you listen closely, many pudus speak English
with a slight accent, often making their own name sound a bit more like
"Purdue."

And frankly, since pudus believe the university was named after these timid animalitos in the first place (contrary to this official creation story the college seems intent on sticking to), it only seems fair.

As Jeremy himself has put it so brilliantly:

[H]ow does Pete relate to chemical,
nuclear, biomedical and biological engineering?  He announces to the
world that we are on the cutting edge of the Industrial Revolution…

Further, the pudu would be a unique mascot. Too many college mascots
are disfigured men. But how many are pudus?  I challenge the reader to
present even one! 

If you think it’s time for Purdue to adopt the pudu
as a mascot, there’s even an online petition, open to students,
faculty, and concerned pudus (acting as friends of the university):

Click here to view the petition.

As one student put it, "I believe one should be able to explain to others what your school mascot is."

There’s also a Facebook group, "Purdue People for the Purdue Pudu."  I
do hope the effort succeeds.  Especially if they decide to use the
genus and species name, which would lead to the Purdue Pudu Pudus.  (I
assume this will only be used as a formal greeting, as on black-tie
invitations sent to the mascot.)

So far, it’s still just a very small movement.  But then, pudus are very small.  This is as it should be.

There is power in numbers, however.  (In the case of pudus, very large numbers.)  All hail the Purdue Pudus!

*The "official" mascot, incidentally, seems to be a railway locomotive. 
This is bulky to transport to the sidelines of Big Ten football games. 
Thus the need for the large disturbing-looking man with a hammer, or a small endangered deer to take his place.