This men-stuffed-into-boxes phenomenon, however strange, could prove to be a useful concept.

Right now, that magician and quasi-mystical prophet guy David Blaine is hanging in a clear plastic cube high over the River Thames in London, where he is trapped for 44 days with nothing but a catheter to entertain himself.

Blaine’s “tricks” are becoming increasingly tedious and insufferably self-important. Previously he’s buried himself alive, encased himself in ice and balanced himself atop a pole. These stunts are notable only for his supernatural, Sting-like stamina, which could also explain his uncanny ability to attract extremely hot women.

It’s been reported that Blaine’s forthcoming feats of endurance may include leaping untethered from a building and landing unharmed on the sidewalk, taking a bullet and walking away, being mauled by a crash of shrieking rhinos, eating just one Lays potato chip, listening to an entire Good Charlotte album or reading “The Awakening.”

Meanwhile, some idiot this week squeezed himself into a shipping crate and was shipped in the cargo hold of an airplane from New York to Dallas, where he was promptly arrested for writing bad checks and traffic charges. It was an endeavor of extreme ignorance, yes, but it was infinitely more daring and creative than anything we’ve been force-fed by Blaine.

All this box-dwelling got me thinking about the people, places and things I’d like to cram into a crate and hoist into the Indian Ocean.

The list represents the full range of my hate, but I’m willing to make adjustments and additions if convinced to do so by the readership.

Such recommendations should be directed to the e-mail address at the end of this column and might be incorporated into a future column.

• The Greek Village situation. I will allow the administration to plead insanity for floating a mush-brained payment idea. But Western’s students – both Greek and non-Greek – are making a mountain out of a dusty tract of off-campus land, and the steady stream of letters to the editor has grown tiresome. Shut it, all of you.

• Nickelback/3 Doors Down/Puddle of Mudd. Because there’s no way to tell these horrid bands apart without DNA testing, except for Nickelback frontman Chad Kroeger, who looks like he borrowed his hair styling from a bounty hunter.

• File-sharing lawsuits. The recording industry settled a copyright suit this week for $2,000. The defendant was a 12-year-old girl.

• College Street. Western will never, never steal a penny from me for one of those useless parking tags. And although I feel a kinship with my fellow frugal College Streeters, it’s high time I sounded a warning. If it’s too challenging to parallel park with less than three-fourths of a car length wasted at both ends of your sled, don’t be surprised when your battery is missing upon your return.

• Nalgene water bottles. The fact that a brand of water bottle has become trendy is disgusting. The next time you tip back your colorful, $7 hydration product, you will feel my glare burning through your skull. It will be painful, so drink responsibly.

That’s enough. It’s your turn now. Let me know what and who you wish would be stuffed into a box and cast into the Indian Ocean.

Nothing is off-limits, and don’t submit a suggestion unless you are willing for it to appear in a future column. Be sure to fully explain your reasoning.

Happy hating.

Daniel Pike is the Herald features editor and a senior print journalism major from Glasgow. His column appears on Thursdays. Reach him at [email protected].