Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Volume 25, Issue 3

Dartmouth Man V. Harvard Man

The loyalty of Dartmouth men is far-famed. The good things here are better than the best things elsewhere. 'Why go to Harvard when you have Dartmouth?' is the common alumni feeling.

The Patriot Act: "Be Afraid"

There was, not surprisingly, a healthy dose of postmodernist verbal regurgitation mixed in; indeed, as Paley noted, "it's the responsibility of the male poet to be a woman." Though, what else could one expect from a wild-haired, wild-eyed elderly woman who once described herself as a "somewhat combative pacifist and cooperative anarchist?" The audience took a moment to silently mourn the decay of her post since Robert Frost was named the state's first official poet in 1961.

Albright: Leftist Cirque du Soleil

Oh, College students. How do you talk politics with these inscrutable savages? One way is pop culture analogies. Neoconservative thinker Irving Kristol might be compared to, for example, 'hip-hop' thinker Fifty Cents.

"Butch Ricky Martin" Lives La Vida Loca

Touching as it was, she didn't let the atmosphere become overly weighty; spying an audience member's name-badge, she shouted, "Your name's Monique Box? That's the best name ever!"

Andrew Sullivan Visits the College

Blaming McAuliffe for the widespread, near-institutionalized support Michael Moore was receiving, including a lavish skybox at the Democratic National Convention, he evoked images of a gargantuan Michael Moore, fifty-foot sub in hand, trampling over an American city when he referred to Moore as a "corrupter of youth and a destroyer of civilization."

Thank You, Sir, May I Have Another?

When asked their opinion on the situation in Vietnam, too many unprepared rushes must make the embarrassing admission that they haven't had time to keep up on their newspaper reading. There are few things more contemptible in the Greek system than a man who is not up on current events.

The Last Word

Cynics regarded everybody as equally corrupt... Idealists regarded everybody as equally corrupt, except themselves.

—Robert Wilson Anson

Barrett's Mixology

With now fewer than thirteen minutes until the beginning of my exam, I figured anything was worth a shot. I fetched my bottle of Tanqueray, poured out several ounces, added grapefruit juice and salt, and shook vigorously. Though I cannot attest for the exam results, I was certainly feeling much refreshed by the end of it.