The sight of hundreds of wide-eyed, name tag-wearing prospective freshmen gathered on campus in ubiquitous herds has inspired some reminiscing. Once upon a time, I was just like them, wondering innocently if this school could live up to my expectations. I still remember my first visit to Washington University.
Tune in this season as two remaining contestants fight for the ultimate prize. They will vie for the affection of super-delegates and compete for the votes of Americans. There will be controversial pastors and live sniper fire…okay, forget the sniper fire.
Dear Editor:
Too often I find that music has the power to be at least as alienating as it is uniting. As we all know, the type of music you enjoy labels you, whether you like it or not. It divides people into aesthetic preference groups, one could say. You are a punk, teeny-bopper, hipster or metalhead.
Two weeks ago, I did not know much about the Gulf Coast. Now I’ll never forget it.
I was lucky enough to spend my spring break in Louisiana and Mississippi, helping to rebuild in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. What struck me most about my trip was not the amount of alcohol found on Bourbon Street at 6 p.m. on a Wednesday evening, but rather the unfathomable scope of the tragedy.
Dear Editor:
Alberto Gonzales’s visit to campus on Feb. 19 promises to be an exciting event, and as the President of the College Republicans I am proud to be involved. It is abundantly clear, however, that the College Democrats and many others on campus are vehemently opposed to his visit.
On Feb. 4, two Palestinian suicide bombers entered the town of Dimona, in southern Israel, and detonated a bomb that killed one Israeli woman and injured 11 others. Rather than condemn the horrific attack, Hamas claimed responsibility. A spokesman for Hamas even called the attack “heroic.”
Consider this my white flag. That’s right, I surrender. Despite my best efforts, I have not prevailed in my brave and noble struggle. The problem is not so much that my cause is hopeless, but rather that it is nonexistent. I have failed to rebel against my parents.
This week’s first snowfall (or minor hailstorm for us jaded Chicagoans missing out on a blizzard) heralded the upcoming return of an important campus event, the hibernation of the Wash. U. bear. While most bears chose to spend the winter months in a remote cave, the Wash. U. bear.
I’ve recently learned that I can join Facebook groups to ensure that a stranger will shave his head, a girl will make herself a sandwich, a man will kill his first-born child or a man will change his name to Homer Simpson. One group even guarantees that the Cubs will win the World Series if enough people join.
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