By Max C. Bookman
“No Male Laps.” That’s rule number one of being a counselor at Camp Eisner sleep away camp. Not “always remember to have fun” or “be a great role model for your campers.” No, those appear way further down the list. Rule number one is “No Male Laps.”
No Male Laps means that when my adorably innocent 9 year-old campers, many of whom have been separated from their mothers and fathers for the first time in their lives, want to sit on my lap, I must gingerly stand up, eliminating the male lap for them to sit on. Insurance reasons.
By Peter Casasa-Blouin
Spring Fest this year was fortunately on the nicest possible day we could ask for. But this also gave people incentive to stay off the top of the hill. I however wanted to see Talib Kweli for a second time on university grounds. The ten dollar cover charge made me bitter, especially after hearing that some “editor” botched Talib’s name on the ticket.
Having paid for someone else’s mistake I passed from one side of a nearly invisible orange fence to the inside of that very perimeter. I was in spring fest. The first sound that introduced the new season to me was the bassist of P. Funk. The crowd was smaller than years passed but somehow the vibe was adequately dispersed so as to feel like a festival.
By Mac Smith
1. ABC News
A war in Iraq, rising gas prices, home foreclosures, tax reform, immigration, gun laws, health care, our eroding school system, and an undecided democratic candidate all hung in the balance last Wednesday during ABC’s moderated debate, and we got the inside scoop on Obama’s flag pin. We found out who each candidate thinks is more electable. Obama found himself on the defense for his association with Reverend Wright, and Clinton regaled us with her famous Bosnia Landing Story. Charlie Gibson and George Stephanopoulos, you guys are either fucking stupid or think the American people are. You’re both fired.
2. Vitamins
A new study suggests that vitamin supplements may increase the risk of premature death. Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot.
By Max C. Bookman
“It’s no old man’s job.”
-Democratic Representative John Murtha, addressing John McCain’s age while campaigning for Hillary Clinton. If he is victorious in November, Senator McCain, at 72, will be the oldest president ever elected. McCain wanted to respond, but his dentures fell out.
1. Slap and scuffle of everyone rediscovering flip-flops
2. Crackle of bong rips on grass
3. Various ‘wet mouth noises’ from couples canoodling on green
4. Collective sighs as everyone in class looks outside and sees how nice it is
5. Sizzle of skin burning because people are too carefree for SPF
By Alex D. Pinto
Zimbabwe has reached a fork in the road. In one direction there is the success of a functional democracy; in the other there is continued political squabbling and economic disaster. It all depends on current president Robert Mugabe.
Robert Mugabe has what one could construe to be a heroic past. In the 1960’s and 1970’s he fought against white minority rule in Zimbabwe and, once president, employed measures to eliminate majority farmland ownership by a white class. He took power through the democratic system, though allegedly by questionable means, and made sweeping reforms. In the 1980’s, while Prime Minister, his land and health reforms helped lower mortality rates for children, raise the overall life expectancy, strengthen the economy, and make Zimbabwe’s education system a competitive one, with a high adult literacy rate. However, in 1987 he assumed the presidency, and in the 1990’s things took a turn.
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You LOVE eating at Harris Millis, almost too much, but you’re cuteness makes up for your odd obsession. Keep singing that country music and being SPORTY. Maybe we can drink Baileys out of a shoe sometime??
When: Everyday
Where: Harris Millis
I saw: A Man
I am: A Man
Meet me here: Harris Millis 6pm sharp (any day of the week)
By Alex Townsend
Last week a major infiltration was made from one world power into a gathering of another. The gathering I refer to is (what else could I possibly mean?) UVM’s fifth annual Tolkien Conference. I, a hardcore Harry Potter fan, braved the countless levels of security to see the inner workings of fantasy literature’s other major superpower.
The fools never suspected a thing! For some reason everyone thought that since I had read all the books and seen all the movies, and was enrolled in a Tolkien’s Middle Earth class, and was writing a twelve page term paper for said class, and was, you know, at a Tolkien conference that I must know a thing or two about The Lord of the Rings. I don’t. If there’s one thing this conference has made clear, it’s that I know nothing about those books.
By Ryan Headley
Library. My workshop. My don’t stop. My be-bop.
Tell all, read most, but absorb the message scotch hop.
My note books, libraries of scratch, the microforms patch,
candy match, Eggnog hatch, made you read it as watch,
undone batch, heads up catch. Novella latch.
My Edgar Allen Prose. My Edgar Allen Prozac.
I need to read, I need to scratch. Go home belt sing swamp dance.
Fancy horn, hold the note in my pants.
Stealing everything from Memphis Minnie’s broken levee,
I’m cropping Robert Plants.
By Sam Theodosopoulos
I must say after living my freshmen year in the posh University Heights complex, I have come to one conclusion. Fuck U-Heights. Yes, I have my own bathroom and the rooms are bigger than average. However, the cons easily outweigh the pros. First of all, my roommate and I are on double-secret probation.
Any gathering of some sort will most likely end in a noise violation in this stupid place because it is always so damn quiet here. After trips to Wills, Redstone, or Harris-Millis, I can’t help but envy the residents there. Clearly, Redstone is the place to be, but I think we all know that.
By Alexander Hemmer
With the beats pounding, guitar riffs slicing through the air and the audience swaying in a mass of drunken revelry, I would have thought myself anywhere else but on campus. After all, it was a Friday night and the music coming from the stage was so tight it could have passed in any of the clubs here in Burlington or anywhere else where the electric guitar is god.
Yet there I was, in Billings North Lounge. Welcome to Last Band Standing – the ultimate jam-off to determine the opening spot at Springfest and bragging rights as UVM’s best music.
By Ryan Headley
I hate to bum one, because when they’re in your pocket it’s more fun. But if I must I do it vicariously, through a friend, one who I know I’ll smoke down again. If I had to bum a cigarette from anyone in any time: Rod Sterling. Because when I’m watching the Twilight Zone, I know there is something better than this college, I know I’m not alone. Because his voice is chrome and pearling, yet blackened, harkening hollow metallic.
A day in the life of Leamund Zheng
By Anya Brodrick, Illustration by Alexander Whitehead
This section deconstructs the styles of today. The tripartite nature of the section demonstrates the intersection of image-word-mathematics.
9:00 am: Roll out of bed after spending all night people watching / studying at Muddy’s. Walk up to class on Pearl Street, take mental notes of what people are wearing, talking about, etc.
10:28 am: Cup of coffee at the library. Check out posters and fliers to see if anything was missed/anything new put up. Casually strike up conversation with reference librarian to see what the most asked question was last week. Consider assigning someone to write article on how many people actually don’t know where the bathroom is on the first floor.
11:58 am: Stroll through the Davis Center (in side entrance to casually walk by Cynic office. Bastards, they have an entire office, we just get a cubicle!)
By Sally Wiebe
When I first heard The Editors’ music, I thought their sounds shared a striking resemblance with the voice of Michael Stipe (R.E.M.) and the music of The Killers. Sure enough, when I began doing some research into the band, I found that these musicians were some of their key influences.
However, listening on for a few more tracks off of their debut album, The Back Room (2005) and then their sophomore album, An End Has a Start (2007), I realized their music was much more dim and depressing than the upbeat sounds of The Killers. Sure, R.E.M. has definitely played gloomy music, but none of the self-interested miserable shit that Tom Smith sings about for his Editors.
By Bridget Treco
“Love thy neighbor”— arguably the most important Commandment. No, I’m not trying to preach about Christianity here, I’m just saying it’s certainly something to think about: loving your neighbor like you love yourself.
I’ve had to take my fair share of Greyhound buses. Let me get something straight first: Greyhound sucks. Its terrible service is overpriced, slow, and its routes are completely illogical. But I’ve had no other choice, and I’ve still taken the bus. I am not proud of the long hours I’ve spent on them, nor would I ever look back on those times fondly. However, there is one element to Greyhounding that is strangely appealing — talking to the person you sit next to.
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