Bloodlust and bonuses
(03/23/09 7:00am)
How about we throw them into a tank of boiling oil? And then we could put piranhas in there," the outraged Congressman, Mr. A, proposed.
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How about we throw them into a tank of boiling oil? And then we could put piranhas in there," the outraged Congressman, Mr. A, proposed.
In the middle of the Blue Zone parking lot, far away from the civilization of the Main Quad, amid hundreds of neatly ordered cars, are the-not-so-neatly ordered headstones of one of the most overlooked and unknown places at Duke: the Rigsbee family graveyard.
Ladies and gentlemen, your three finalists for the Undergraduate Young Trustee: all will graduate with a major in economics, all are seniors, two are the highest-ranking members of Duke Student Government and two are members of the Inter-Community Council. In individual profiles of the candidates in The Chronicle, one headline says that a candidate seeks to "embody [the] diverse Duke experience" and another says the candidate wishes to "represent [a] varied Duke experience."
Imagine being held expressly responsible for everything you say-every claim, every joke, every individual word scrutinized. The amount of soap in your mouth, the sum of money in the swear jar and the number of next-day Facebook messages admonishing you for all the regrettable things you said would be astonishing.
What's in a name? In the case of a building on Duke's campus: one of those giant novelty checks with a large number to the right of the dollar sign.
If I gave up dessert for Lent, can I eat a muffin?"
How can the Duke cheerleaders perpetually maintain a smile when there is so much pain and sadness in the world? Children starve, wars wage, haters hate, Dashboard Confessional whines and Wake Forest wins, but those pearly whites continue to shine at you from the court.
Although the Super Bowl blessed men across the United States this year with the satisfaction of watching perfect Tom Brady-with his perfect season, perfect girlfriend, perfect bone-structure and generally perfect life-lose after Eli Manning's slightly more perfect final drive, the annual national holiday/game is not all sunshine, lollipops and rainbows everywhere.
Down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass and across a foreboding forest come the guests of Duke students for the long weekend, grossly underprepared for the wonders and the horrors that await them within our world.
Gone is the baby-smooth face that smiles at you from my column space. My youthful locks that once flew freely in the wind are no more; their fate was the trash, swept up unceremoniously from the floor. Gone is the sand box, gone is "The Sandlot," gone is childhood.
Each time I see the C-1 pull up to the West Campus bus stop, I lose myself in nostalgic remembrance.
After playing in the shadow of "Touchdown Jesus" in Notre Dame Stadium in South Bend, Ind., the Fighting Irish may very well find themselves in need of a Christ-like miracle to resurrect their fallen football program. In an ironic turn of events, the Devils could defeat God's representatives on earth: the Notre Dame football team.
Quick, hide the booze! Mommy and Daddy are here for the weekend. Marketplace employees, keep the grade-D meat-product in the freezer; we're bringing out the filet mignon tonight. Everyone, remember to say your pleases and your thank yous, your sirs and your ma'ams. And while you're at it, pretend that Duke is the bastion of intellectuality that the benefactors of your education believe it to be.
Since August, I have been eagerly anticipating what can only-in the words of boxing promoter Don King-be described as the most "fantabulously splendiferous" three-day period on the Duke calendar-Homecoming Weekend. I waited for Homecoming with the same anxiety that I waited for Patrick Patterson and Greg Monroe to commit to Duke, except this time, I was not scorned. Homecoming would never deny me just because I, in my meaningless majorless existence, am in a downward spiral toward mediocrity.
The history of Duke University is the history of class struggle. I don't mean struggle in class, like my experience in Math 121 (by the way, I actually betrayed my own advice from my last column and dropped that class along with my dignity), but the struggle of class, like administration vs. tailgaters or Marketplace pizza server vs. unfortunate freshman consumer. In short, Duke is characterized by the eternal battle of the oppressor vs. the oppressed, the exploiter vs. the exploited.
Two weeks into sophomore year and I may have arrived at my Waterloo.
Representatives from the 12 Atlantic Coast Conference universities are concluding their two-day conference on academic internationalization today at the Washington Duke Inn and Golf Club.
Psychic Laurie McQuary was called in from Oregon to assist the Durham Police Department with their investigation of a 17-month-old murder case.
One month into his tenure as the president of Circle K International, senior Alec Macaulay juggles the responsibilities of a full schedule, meetings around the country and the demands of leading the largest collegiate service organization in the world.
The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation gave a $21.3-million grant to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill last week to develop drugs for two diseases that plague parts of the developing world.