When Missouri’s presidential primary was held on Feb. 5, excitement throughout the Show-Me State reached palpable levels. However, the enthusiasm citizens felt as they went to exercise their most fundamental of democratic rights was no doubt tempered by the sad reality of electoral politics in Missouri: not everyone’s vote is counted.
Three hardbacks, five paperbacks, three coursepacks, two supplemental (but still required) readings and an online subscription to a British newspaper that I’ve never heard of before in my life. Grand total: $467.98.
This exceptional change–painted, walled and furnished all by student laborers–makes the co-op a perfect example of how committed individuals working together can really make a change for the better in the world around them. The sad thing is that so many students at Washington University are either completely unaware of the co-op or have vast misconceptions about its purpose.
Dear Editor:
Over the course of my faculty career at Washington University, I have been generally encouraged by the decline in the number of students who are smokers. However, in the last few years, I have noticed that smoking seems to be becoming fashionable again on campus, a trend that I find deeply disturbing.
Having a car in college seems like a great gift during your freshman year. It brings social possibility, an adventurous spirit and, most importantly, the ability to get off campus for an hour or two after you’ve spent seven hours in a dungeon memorizing the bonding properties of nitrogen. And for these reasons, automobiles are a privilege that I wholeheartedly appreciate.
College, despite all of its joys, can be a place of considerable duress. Depression is common, self-destructive behavior is more rule than exception, and the collective weight of being away from home, adapting to a new way of life and planning the rest of one’s existence is enough to make anyone feel like you just can’t pull off everything that someone out there (or someone inside) is expecting you to do. Even the best four years of your life have their low points.
When people ask you what your best memories of college are, most people respond with tales of drunken bliss, social bonding or Frisbee-throwing merriment. This summer, half of my extended family will ask me what I did over the last year. They might be expecting tales of how I studied so much my brain hurt, or how I drank so much that everything except my brain hurt; but when I tell them about the time I stood in the pouring rain at 3 a.m. holding a wrench and yelling through plywood, I hope they’re more than a little surprised.
Sex is no game Dear Editor: How many AIDS infections have been contracted through casual sex (including safe sex where the condom broke) because society says sex is just a game? How many sexual assaults have happened because the perpetrator thought, “sex is no big deal, so surely she doesn’t mean ‘no’ to a little fun?” Trivializing sex has long-term consequences, so I hope Student Life will consider that before its Sex Week issue next year.
Awards season is a strange time. Not a strange time like puberty is a strange time, but more like a why-is-Bjork-wearing-a-swan strange time. ‘Tis the only time of year when people remember the Hollywood Foreign Press exists, when Billy Crystal gets a paycheck and when people (for whatever reason) listen to fashion advice from a mother/daughter team that holds the current world record for cumulative facelifts.
This Sunday, America will celebrate its one true national holiday. It’s a day when beer stands tall as the national beverage, when ads connecting strippers to Reeboks finally make sense and when Terry Bradshaw’s head shines like a beacon in the night for all to see.
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