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Early this summer, Durham opened its doors to electric scooters. These public nuisances have become a hot mode of transportation on campus, rivaling even the alluring C3 bus. Unfortunately, some people have suffered injuries from electric scooters. (And they don’t even get free tuition from getting injured!)
Welcome to Duke! As you settle in and get used to this new environment, you may feel overwhelmed. Luckily, your good buddy Monday Monday is here to assuage your fears by providing some fool-proof tips to surviving orientation week.
I believe in the inherent goodness of all people. We’re all born good—I mean, we have to be. It’s not like anyone has a genetic predisposition to be nasty or rude. Somewhere around my fifteenth birthday, I vowed that, no matter what, I wanted to be a good, kind person. Coming to Duke, I tried to keep this vow. I quickly learned I would never be the smartest, prettiest, funniest or most accomplished person in the room, but I could do my best to be genuinely kind.
With just one more day until our Young Trustee is selected and just one more week until the student body promptly stops caring, I feel obligated to weigh in on the undergraduate Young Trustee candidates. Like everything else at Duke, this process is performative and ultimately pointless, but still requires an ungodly amount of time and attention. The Young Trustee does not even truly get to act as an advocate for their so-called platform—the job description calls for someone to serve as a holistic representative of the university. Nonetheless, as every white liberal will say, if there’s anything to be learned from the 2016 election, it’s to get out and vote!
This week, I decided to give up my column to provide a voice for an anonymous student. Though this student would like to protect his identity, he wants to be sure you all know that he’s “just saying what everyone else is thinking!”
While tapping through the 300th “Best of 2018” Instagram story on my feed, I stopped to reflect on the year as a whole. As anyone with two brain cells knows, 2018 was not a golden year for the United States, let alone the rest of the world. As any good Duke student knows, 2018 for Duke, quite frankly, sucked.
It seems almost fitting that I applied for this column as a joke. After all, isn’t that what satire is? The joke that’s just a little too real, the one that makes people laugh uneasily and start looking for the exits. On the application, I wrote a short piece about Larry Moneta and Avengers: Infinity War, except this time it wasn’t the superheroes who dissolved into dust, but our beloved coffee shop Joe van Gogh. You know the meme. It wasn’t very serious work, but underneath the bad puns and stupid jokes it rang true.
Before I came to college, I had midterms in high school. They happened during the middle of each semester and everyone spent about a week prepping for them. When the time came, we took the exams and wrote the papers, and then we were done until finals. It was simple and predictable. Back then, my life had rules. I thought that would last forever. Oh, how naive I was.
The leaves are changing and the first melancholy note of autumn plays in the crisp air. Jack-o-Lanterns line the quad as campus squirrels fight amongst themselves to devour this tasty orange treat. Halloween draws ever closer, bringing with it the ghoulish costume contests and spooky themed parties that define October’s character.
It’s a cool autumn day in K-ville. The cloudless sky is a rich Duke blue and a slight breeze tosses a few browning leaves down the sidewalk. A large crowd of students has gathered here today for an important announcement from their tenting overlords. Framed against the noonday sun stand two co-head line monitors. (Why are there two? No one knows for sure, but maybe it’s because their mascot is redundancy).
Cooperpalooza. MireGras. Moonstone. Maxwell’s Atlantis. Round Table’s That 70s Party.
If you give a Duke student a hurricane day, he’s going to ask for the whole week off.
Think you know us? You have no idea.
"Comedy is just tragedy plus time."
Everybody remembers where they were when it started. Some were stood on the steps of the Chapel. Some were strolling through the Gardens. DSig sat in their section attempting to score more than three points with a single word in Scrabble. A dozen Kappa girls stood around a Central Campus apartment, desperately trying to wrap their heads around the concept that mason jars could contain something other than mediocre white wine. And then it happened. The silence began. The hush descended.
When you reach the level of comedic genius that I have, it can be challenging to organize all of your thoughts. To remedy that problem I began compiling a list where I sorted through everything at Duke. Today I share that list with the world; you’re welcome.
“Honestly we have no idea how he even got the Prius down there,” began an utterly baffled DUPD sheriff as he opened the most bizarre press conference in Duke’s history.
Monday Monday is usually a column dedicated to mercilessly mocking Duke life but, in the wake of such a heartbreaking loss to the Kansas tall boys (I totally know and care about basketball), I would like to dedicate this column to telling a deeply personal and profoundly moving story. While it is not my own, it is a story that embodies the best of Duke; it not about academia, or a tall boy like Graggy Trant Jr. or Bruegger Bagles V, or even about Nugget—our campus’ very own 100-pound Persian cat.
1). I am white, I stand on four legs, but that which I stand for, I shall never attain. What am I?
“Buckle up because this column is about to get uncomfortable,” warned Dr. E. Kolinsky, a professor at Duke's Nobel Prize-winning Department of Physics, as she strapped passengers into a 200,000 pound titanium cylinder that comprised the body of Duke’s newest construction project: a space shuttle.