Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Vol. 3, issue 9
fect as smoldering. The freshman then spent the rest of the afternoon in contemplation of life and his own sparkling brown eyes. I really think its amazing the way that a single person can inspire this much enthusiasm in the student body, Lithos said. That sexy, sexy body.
By Charlie Adams
hibit symptoms of a panic attack after two. According to some sociology majors, most of the people Mills met would have had to have remained what researchers would call acquaintances. An acquaintance is someone you dont know-know, but, like, you still know, English and sociology double major Max Azram 11 explained. Used in a sentence: Naw, dude, I havent put it there yet, were still just acquaintances.
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GAMBIER Last Monday, in a private disclosure to his close friends, Greg Swanson 13 announced plans to just stay in and take it easy this weekend. Citing fatigue, a heavy workload, and just a really weird week in general, the sophomore English major admitted he felt the need to sort of lie low and get some work done. I just keep thinking, we shouldve seen this coming, reported Charlie Timmons 13, a high-ranking friend with close ties to Swanson. Gregs been in kind of a weird mood all week. Like, Ivan [Palmer 13] and I both noticed him spacing out at our NightCAPS meeting and Gregs roommate Jerry [Lovins 13] told me that he caught Greg wearing the same jeans for three days in a row. For many, though, the decision has come as a shock. Sophomore studio art major Callie Meyers 13, a classmate of Swansons who has a crush on him, expressed minor confusion
and disappointment in the wake of the announcement. Additionally, two appearances Swanson had scheduled for the weekend a Village Inn Trivia Night slot and a freshman hall reunion dinner at Fiesta will both presumably be canceled.
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Trapper Keeper. After pausing a moment for questions, the doe-eyed freshman began to read the poem. The poem was met with such silence that Associate Professor of English Nancy Derbish could be heard clipping her fingernails in her office upstairs. Its not my place to make a student feel bad about himself, commented Chung, so I asked if there was anything in particular that he thought needed improvement. Professor Chung asked me if anything needed improvement, noted Pinkowski. I didnt see any weak spots, really. Im pretty proud of it I think this is some of my best work
to date. I mean, this isnt even really my opinion at all, Professor Chung explained after Pinkowski finished reading his monstrosity. This poem is metaphysically appalling. The guy walks around with this heavenly glow around his head, commented Eleanor Bates 13. After class I called my pastor and wept for an hour. He offended me. He offended my people, offered Anne Lin 13. He should suffer quietly in hell for what hes done. Im excited for next week, Pinkowski added. Im writing a sonnet!
endangering their children, and have asked what Kenyon is doing to keep this situation from ever happening again. The way I see it, says organizer Tim Buriss 11, there are two things that we could consider in going about this. One, we hire a large team of professional floaters and coat checkers, which would be a considerable financial burden, or two, we send even more Allstus, even more urgent in tone, with our humble plea: Volunteer for Phling with 34 of your closest friends, or the newly rebuilt Peirce Hall will be torn into a thousand million pieces.
2 p l ease
recycle issue b e f o r e o r a f t e r r e a d i n g
Opinion
What up, malakas! That is the Greek word for wankers! Thats right, I called you a masturbator! From the ancient term , which is a masculine term, a colloquial vulgar term among friends. Eat it! If you want to respond accordingly, call me a moun, or for my classics students. It means vagina! To which I respond, go suck a ptsa ()! Im in Greece! For the whole year! With my husband! And its winter back at Kenyon and youre all working hard and fighting colds and being miserable! And I dont give a shit! Skat! The Collegiate asked me to write about my experiences here in the beautiful seaside village of Aeropoli, where Im writing my book about Petros Pierrakos, who started the Greek War of Independence in 1821. At first I responded with i gam-
sou! Thats fuck off! But then my husband and I got tired of sunbathing under Helios and the piercingly blue Aeropolian sky. So I decided to humor you pale dickfaces. By the way, hows the Midwest? Yeah? Cool. Well, culture started here. And right now I can reach out and touch a white sand beach with my big toe. The fact is I havent given a rats ass about Kenyon for the entire year. And its fucking awesome. Im having the time of my life, eating great food, and my body has never looked this good. Holy shit, you have to try galaktoboureko. Thats a custard desert inside crisp phyllo. Its impossible to say and impossible to put down. Fucking delicious. And last weekend Jim and I took a trip along the coastline, where we caught a beautiful moonlit concert by Mikis Theodorakis at a villa in Piraeus. The gods really do live here, motherfucker! How is it back at Kenyon? I remember this time of year there. Its either miserably cold or thawing just enough to make the entire campus a pool of muddy, slushy shit. I dont miss it for a second. And you know what else I dont miss? Grading papers. And you know what student with an annoying laugh I dont miss? Ted Hamels. And you know what student I dont miss coming to office
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Hannah Santa Anna 14 Prissy Doodle 14
Hey there, roomie. Just wanted to catch up, you know, for old times sake. Hows political anth going? Great? Thats fantastic. I see youve added a new sweater to your collection in the closet here love the color. Oh, and one more thing: tonight youre going to die. You see, I too love Cosmo. Sometimes, when you are in class, I rappel down from my web up by your denim rompers and catch up on all the latest sex tips. Theres actually some really useful stuff in there. Only, I kill and devour my mates after sex, but hey, apples and oranges. Sometimes, though, I hate Cosmo. Like when its rolled up and used to murder my brother Franois. Have you ever seen a still twitching corpse plastered on the wall by its own en-
STUDENTS
Trevor Hartington 14
FACULTY
Totals so far: Students: 45 Faculty: 41
Vs.
Whos your daddy? Where does a cow eat? Who is your valentine this year?
Is a benign existence possible?
That reminds me, I should call Mother. I know this one. Earnst? Still working on it. Datamatch, anyone?
The real question is: what does daddy even mean? Maybe you should be asking, Why does a cow eat?
You. No, not really. But what did that make you think about?
Raymond Chandler. Graham Gund. Not as Casablanca teaches us. Two No.
Total Correct
Three
One
c ollegiate@kenyon.e d u
Once they were thoroughly inebriated, LaGrange and Bratton became hungry, and Bratton left the room to find food. I mean, I was gone, said Bratton. Like, freshman-year-highlighter-party wasted. According to witnesses, Bratton was missing one shoe and singing Bad Romance in a British accent. He abruptly stopped singing when he saw the tour group. When I saw them I realized, Oh shit, I probably look like a drunk asshole, he said, so I kind of stood up straighter and tried to look awake until they
passed by. Bratton then nodded to the group, looked at his watch, and began to walk faster as if hurrying to an appointment. I guess I hoped theyd think I was just stressed out and sleep-deprived, like, from all my homework, he said. That guy? He totally looked drunk, said Marissa Earney, a highschool junior visiting from Denver, Colorado. I was like, dude, seriously? Its, like, 11. Earney did not know whether she would be applying to Kenyon.
hes always making these really annoying comments. Its like he doesnt even care about the plight of the Yanomam. Christine Laye 13 was the last person to see Clark that night. He stopped by her suite with flowers and some weed it was super romantic, according to Layes suitemate Jenna Iser 13. We just smoked and talked, Laye told The Collegiate. About stuff, you know? Their conversation allegedly ranged from Kafkas views on social construction to what Clark was planning on playing on his radio show in the upcoming week. Its gonna be really lo-fi. I cant wait to hear it, she said. I was sad when Elliot told me he had to leave, but I understand that as a studio art major hes pretty busy all the time. When asked about the uncanny resemblance Clark bore to Jeff Davis, Laye scoffed and said, Dont be stupid. Theyre totally different. I mean, Elliot wears glasses.
t he kenyon collegiat e
Point/Counterpoint
By Peter Altman 11
minutes later I had the audacity to think, Wow, not only did these students survive comps without putting a goddamn bullet straight through their fucking skulls, but some of them even have jobs, jobs they got because they passed a standardized test of their knowledge and thus deservedly received a degree. Yeah. I know. Im a freakin psychopath, huh?
You know, I came to a really bizarre realization the other day while walking on Middle Path to my senior English seminar. I almost dont even want to tell you thats how batshit crazy it is but here it goes anyways: I think maybe, just maybe, comprehensive examinations are a completely valid and necessary assessment of the knowledge Ive acquired in college. I guess thats why this semester Ive decided to simply dig in, create a manageable work schedule and then complete my comps without bitching about it to every single person I encounter throughout my day. Totally fucking weird, right? I know, I know. Im freaking myself out. Here I am, having spent the past three and half years listening to each and every senior class do nothing but piss and moan about their comps only to realize, like some lunatic, that every student thats ever graduated from Kenyon has had to go through the very same thing. I mean, how self-righteous can I get, right? And on top of that, only a few
Ive decided to complete my comps without bitching about it. Weird, right?
Sure, Im going to try to finish my comps without spewing forth a constant stream of bullshit protest, but I know it wont be easy. I mean, I love to binge drink on a Friday night so hard that the entire weekend becomes a black hole of mindless gluttony and wasted time as much as the next guy, so you can imagine my surprise when this Saturday I actually went out, had a few social drinks and then went to bed at a reasonable hour. Its like, where the hell do I get off? Am I actually trying to function like a normal human being who hopes to acquire a degree from a prestigious college? Jesus Christ. The humanity. You know what? I better just stop before I really start talking crazy. Sure, now its only comps, but whats next? Am I going to just start ranting and raving about how swipe card access in the dorms is actually a completely reasonable solution to increasing campus safety? God, somebody just shut me the fuck up already.
Lets start from the beginning. I applied to Kenyon because of the creative writing here. I heard that I could learn something here. Get an education. Maybe even amount to something. I walked around here the past four years, happy as a clam. I took the required English classes, wrote the papers, and worked my ass off to get some decent grades. I entered my senior year with a sigh of relief. I had made it. Id done the work. Id finished what Id signed up for. To reiterate: when I signed up for college, I didnt know that I was enrolling in an institution that actually aims to SUCK ANY SEMBLANCE OF JOY OUT OF MY LIFE BY FORCING ME TO DO A LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE AMOUNT OF WORK UPON WHICH I WOULD INEVITABLY CHOKE AND DIE. I find out tonight that tomorrow, I have to turn in the written part of my comps. Oh, no big deal. Just the capstone of my Kenyon career. And if I fail, I will actually never ever be able to find success or happiness in any arena of my life. I wonder: did anyone care to remind me about
this? We had three meetings last semester and three or four emails reminding us when the deadline was. HELLOOOOOOOOO I DIDNT REMEMBER UNTIL YESTERDAY BECAUSE THE LAST EMAIL WAS LIKE TWO WEEKS AGO AND I HAD A FUCKLOAD OF SHIT GOING ON THEN. What did you have going on, you might ask. Oh, I dont know . . . my classes? Going to Peirce in the few moments that it is open? Recommitting to my health by getting some sleep and eating well and hanging out with my friends for the first time since Ive been at this place?! And now I have less than ten hours to write twenty poems that are supposed to function as the capstone of my education????????? Here are some fucking poems: Comps is a blowtorch fiercely licking its sharp tongue against my anus. Care for a prose poem? DOING MY COMPS FEELS LIKE SLOWLY PRESSING A RUSTY WINE OPENER INTO MY EYE SOCKET AND TURNING IT, TURNING IT, TURNING IT UNTIL IT HAS GRADUALLY FORCED A DIVOT INTO MY SKULL THAT BEGINS AS A BLEEDING HAIRLINE FRACTURE AND, WITH MORE AND MORE FORCE AGAINST THE HANDLE, CRACKS THE BONE, THE SHARDS OF WHICH EMBED THEMSELVES INTO MY BRAIN. How bout this haiku? After this, its not done. WE HAVE THE FUCKING EXAM. Hey, English comps! GET BENT.
Hello . . . ? Can anybody hear me? Oh, man . . . I need help. Its me, Ben, Ben Gold. That chem major from Fblock. See, Ive really gotten myself into a bind, here. I left my New Apt for my 10:10 in Palme House and got most of the way to Professor Hardys
class on Paleolithic drinking culture when my backpack started to feel just a little too heavy. Listen, so, I turned around to go back home and shed some pack weight and thats when I hit a patch of ice. Oh, God. Oh, God, and now I cant go anywhere! Ive been walking for hours but I havent moved an inch. Ohhh . . . Ahhhhh! I almost went down again, just then. Its too slippery, too goddamn slippery. Needless to say, I watched my anth class take full, big strides to Palme and then walk out an hour later while I stood, on this patch, fearing the moment I would fall. OH! OH! OH! Here it
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Creative Ideas For Your Valentines Day Swarm Of Bees Reclaims Wax Art Installation
Shuttle Cuddle
Are you a freshman? Dont have a car? The shuttle can be your gateway to romance! Decorate you seat with colorful crepe paper and don some festive earmuffs to stifle the rattling sound of the handicap ramp. Youll be at Fiesta before you can say, Te amo! your loved one in sweet, pungent velvety roses!
By Clams Casino and Sheridan Whiteside
Sex Ap-Peal
Hire the Pealers to serenade your sweetie from across campus. (Hot tip: make sure that you dont accept any food or drink the Pealers offer you, or youll be stuck in their bell tower forever!)
Deli Delight
If you decide to stay local, why not take your date to the deli? Possible romantic gestures include ordering her a specialty sandwich (only $15.75!) and bussing her dishes. And dont forget the good ol Gambier Grill. The smell of stale beer and cigarette butts will remind you of your first drunken hookup!
Burnin Love
Buy incense and candles and invite that CA youve been eyeing to a romantically lit dinner in Mather.
For something really creative, why not take him/her up into the woods behind the science quad for a sexy surprise? The tingling feeling youll get in your extremities in sub-zero temperatures is a little something we like to call passion.
Hit the fire alarm in Caples and enjoy the romantic solitude. To keep security from interrupting your good time, barricade the door with your desk. Watch as your classmates scatter out into the beautiful, snowy landscape. Single? Dont be afraid to treat yourself! Look up your exes on Facebook for some solo amusement. Post threatening comments, haze their new girlfriend, and drain a fifth of Popov. Dont have an ex? Go to NightCAPSs antiValentines Day poetry reading. Capture the bitterness in a bottle and unleash it upon your enemies later.
OLIN ART GALLERY According to gallery staff members, a massive swarm of bees descended upon the wax figurines in Kate Budds Talisman exhibit, reclaiming the product of years of labor. The wax is rightfully ours. It belongs to us. First the humans took our honey, then our homes, but they will never experience the satisfaction of taking our dignity, said Queen Beeatrice of the Hive. Have you ever seen bees flying with wax figurines out of vents? asked gallery manager Steve Brickman 12. The exhibit features small uncovered wax figures placed on a table. I tried to stop them, added Brickman, I tried. But there were too many of them. They were all over me. All at once. In every orifice, in my eyes, in my throat. They got away. They got away. Bees are insects, closely related to ants and wasps, and are the favorite
meal of Merops apiaster, or the beeeating bird. Bees can kill a full-grown man, said amateur bee expert Gene Townsend 13. Im not actually sure if thats true. Auribus tenere lupum, explained Queen Beeatrice. That wax wasnt even beeswax, explained wax expert Jeremiah Lowlin. It was a petroleum byproduct. I have no idea what those bees were thinking.
Roses, Bitch!
CollegIaTe sTaff
Randy Marsh . . . . . . . Sheridan Whiteside Homer Simpson . . . . . . Diesel Jackson Raymundo Rocket . . . . . Gordelo 3000 Phil Funnie . . . . . . . . . Charlie Adams Dr. Benton Quest . . . . . . . Ed Strictly Ned Flanders . . . . . . . . Granny Hayes Dr. Thomas Wayne . . . Esteban Sinclaire Stu Pickles . . . . . . . Dingo Rockefeller Hank Hill . . . . . . . . . . . Jean Shortz Papa Smurf . . . Beauregard Beauregard Nigel Thornberry . . . . . . Clams Casino George Jetson . . . . . . Roy McKluskin Barney Rubble . . . . . Helga G. Pataki Fred Flintstone . . Ruth Thundercat Bubis David L. Read . . . Gunderson Threeply Dr. James Possible . . . . . Boat Thorpe Oscar Proud . . . . . . . . Elgin Marbles Jor-El . . . . . . . . Barker D. Fluglehorn Jonas Foutley . . . . . Ming Shei Huarez Interns . . . . Porkchop, Dino, Snoopy, Darwin, Mr. Peabody, Brian, Ren, Santas Little Helper, Rufus, Astro Consultants . . . . . Skeeter Valentine, Milhouse, Hoodsie, Chuckie Finster, Maurice Twister Rodriguez Founder/Editor Emeritus . . . . Louis Francis Albert Victor Nicholas Collegiate, 1st Earl Collegiate of Ohio, KG, GCB, GCSI, GCIE, GCVO
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