In our business, there are stories we really like to get behind and then there are other stories where we really get behind. This is the latter.

Or the caboose, if you’d prefer. We would.

With a comical rash of name changes already in the rear-view mirror (School of Educational Innovation and Teacher Preparation, anyone?), the University has now renamed the staffer formerly known as the Academic Adviser to the Academic Success Specialist, or as we quite immaturely would call it, the ASS.

Maybe they just didn’t realize what they were doing. Maybe they just hoped we wouldn’t notice. But you bet your ASS we did.

So thank you, ASU — you have us grinning cheek-to-cheek.

Not only does this exceed the threshold for semi-hilarious, half-ASS pun possibilities, it also sets up an ASS-load of high comedy situations that could put a real jump in your rump:

• If your advising session leaves you even more buried in concern, you’re in an ASS hole.

• People will switch advisers like crazy before Halloween in search of the greatest candy ASS.

• If you’re ever driving with your adviser and he or she tries to get fresh, you could smack that ASS. This could be avoided by sitting in the backseat, or by sitting in the trunk — just make sure to remove the junk from said trunk first.

• Students in the School of Sustainability might just find that their ASS is grass.

• You could have your schedule done by a man named Jack — a real Jack ASS. Just hope he’s not too much of a smart ASS.

• If Crow’s push for accessible education for all keeps going further, we could have animals attending class here. If so, someone will eventually have to give a rat’s ASS. It’s also possible that person could be a horse’s ASS.

• If you think you could do a better job than your adviser, you could make an ASS of yourself. But if you’re that cocky, sorry, but you’d probably just be a punk ASS.

• People will bring their dogs to advising sessions, hoping that decision won’t bite them in the ASS.

• If you’re getting assistance in the Memorial Union, it’s very possible someone could blow smoke up your ASS.

• After a sweaty cross-campus jog to make your advising meeting, you might not be able to wipe your ASS, but your ASS could wipe you.

• If your adviser breaks a limb, you should put your ASS in a sling.

• If you decide to sign up for a dance class, you could learn how to shake your ASS.

• If you get in a disagreement with your ASS, you might be able to yell “up yours!” Alternatively, you could open a can of whoop ASS. If you do that right, you’ll be responsible for a real pain in the ASS.

• If your adviser is insufferable and boring, you’ll just have to “bare” ASS. But if yours is cool and rebellious … well, congrats, you’ve got a bad ASS.

• If your adviser is overweight, you’ll have a fat ASS. If they need assistance out of their chair, you’ll have to haul ASS.

• If your adviser is attractive, maybe you can kiss your ASS. Though, to be honest, nobody likes a kiss ASS.

• You no longer have to get drunk to get a piece of ASS.

• If you’re having a difficult time getting your adviser’s attention, you could totally tap that ASS.

Yeah, so maybe we giggled the entire time we wrote this. One might even go so far as saying we laughed our ASS off. But so what? Ever since geometry, with its elusive Angle-Side-Side theorem, we’ve been waiting for a shot like this — plus, it’s rare we get to share how much we love us some derriere.

Besides, we work our ASSes off, which, in our experiences so far on this campus, is more than we can say for our Academic Success Specialists — for they have not done a very kick ASS job.

Sure, it’s probably one hard ASS job, especially with a limited number of staff set to face 66,000 or more students. We feel some compassion for these poor ASS people. Really, we do. We know they’re no bums; they put their ASSes on the line every day.

And this compassion rings doubly true now; this name change makes these professionals — c'mon, you had to see this coming — the butt of all jokes.

But name change or not, overburdened or not, we cannot relent. We cannot back our ASSes up. All we really care about is getting better service out of each and every ASS — we depend on them, we look to them, we expect them to help us fit everything in.

With their new title and job responsibilities, we hope they'll work even harder — bust their ASSes, even — and get off their collective gluteus so they can help us to the maximus.

Because honestly, the help we’ve gotten so far — well, it has really sucked ASS.