Collapsing the box
(06/18/09 7:00am)
Allow me to preface this column by saying that this will not be the first time a story concerning vandalism has
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Allow me to preface this column by saying that this will not be the first time a story concerning vandalism has
The rich, sour odor rose up from the asphalt. Oh, it was beer, all right, four acres of sloshed beer. And those big white scraps littering even the sycamore islands? Mashed beer cups. And that bubbling panorama of bobbing heads, shoulders, elbows-four acres of America's college elite, Dupont students, pumping thousands, thousands of gallons of beer and hosing it down their gullets, and it comes out... where? And the result was-what?-piss, piss, great fluffy fumes of piss, four acres of it.
Just a few short weeks ago, the back pages of this newspaper were stocked with senior columns. They came in all shapes and sizes; some of them were deep, others were funny. Some of them you didn't know what to make of. For the most part, though, they all had something in common. Almost every columnist spoke to what Duke had given them while they were here. And now, in spite of the fact that I'm a sophomore and this is my first column, I would like to do the same.