All celebrities have their pet causes. Bono’s got that Africa stuff, Hayden Panettiere has her dolphins, Betty White has PetMeds. So when I finally got recognized by the cashier at CityCo, I knew it was time to find one for myself. After discovering on Wikipedia a disorder whose only celebrity spokesman was “Monty Don, a British gardner [sic],” I realized I had found my cause — and the world’s least impressive celebrity.

The affliction is Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), a disease that ranks up there with the Boston University Shuttle (BUS) on the list of the world’s most obnoxiously apt acronyms. Sometimes what seems perfect is actually not — like that ultra-high-resolution projector in Japan that makes people nauseous, or that CD I released with my band Jimmy and the Hoffas that critics said was “almost unlistenable because it’s so horribl[y] [good].” But in the case of SAD, the acronym can be misleading because it implies depression is the only symptom, when in fact it’s just one of many.

The disease often starts affecting people around the age of 18, and symptoms can include a tendency to oversleep and a craving for carbohydrates, often resulting in weight gain. They should call it Freshman Affective Disorder, am I right? But before you decide to jump on the FAD bandwagon as an excuse for your abuse of the dining hall soft-serve machine, realize that SAD also has less fun symptoms, like anxiety and loss of libido. And after having lived in Warren Towers, I can tell you that loss of libido isn’t exactly a rampant problem on this campus. Maybe if it were, I could get a lot more work done. Ladies, I need my me time. Same goes for you, fellas.

Part of the reason SAD hasn’t gotten more attention from celebrities is that there is, as of yet, no cure, aside from moving closer to the equator. They might as well become spokesmen for people who sleep on the top bunk but are afraid of heights. Both afflictions have solutions that seem so easy they’re stupid, but for people stuck in temperate zones for work or school, or those stuck on the top bunk because their older brother is a colossal buttface, the answer isn’t so simple. Antidepressants have a tendency to exacerbate the condition in some sufferers. The most effective known solution is to spend an hour every day sitting about 12 inches from a special SAD light box, which emits light at strengths up to 10,000 lux — 10 times the brightness of a typical TV studio. Either that, or stare at the sun until your corneas melt.

For many people, not being able to live in a temperate region means not being able to live near their families. It forces some to quit their jobs or prevents them from taking the jobs they want. For fat people, it means the dreaded “pool season” has no end. For psychopaths, it makes committing the perfect murder impossible. (“There’s no murder weapon, only a stab wound and this pool of cool water! We’ll never solve this mystery.”) And we all know there is no Christmas in warm regions. Their Christmas is like our Christmas in July: just one bad shoe sale after another.

Unlike the other fad diseases of recent years that have their obvious sources (ADD — television; autism — vaccinations; insomnia — Girls Gone Wild commercials), the origin of SAD has until now been unknown. But folks, let it be a mystery no more. SAD has the unique characteristic of only affecting people part of the year — from around October to May. What significance does that time period have? It’s also the time when bears hibernate. But before they begin their transformation from grizzly bears to teddy bears, they first put on weight and become increasingly lethargic. Sound familiar? I don’t mean to suggest that those humans who suffer from SAD are descendants of a family of freak man-bears, but I think buried somewhere in our DNA is the instinct to hibernate. It could be that in fighting against nature’s will for humans to sleep out the winter months, we are causing our own depression and obesity. So the next time you think you’re smarter than the average bear, think again. But then ultimately conclude that you are, in fact, smarter than a bear, since bears can’t speak or play the piano.

Unfortunately, until SAD gets the attention it deserves, it will continue to be mocked and assigned willy-nilly to every fat and lazy college student. When a SAD sufferer needs an extension on a paper due to his depression, or a large sundae instead of a small one due to his gluttony, he shouldn’t have to be ridiculed. There’s a word for people who mock the victims of SAD. They’re called sadists.

Mr. Hook is available for limited SAD-related speaking events. He charges by the hour and expects meals to be provided, also by the hour. He can also play the piano.

Justin Hook, a junior in the College of Communication and College of Arts and Sciences, is a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. He can be reached at [email protected].