A failed attempt by Project Veritas to expose the Washington Post for media bias has the U.S. once again cooing about fake news and the dishonest and corrupt media.
For the next two weeks the majority of us will be bogged down by endless assignments, finals and lengthy papers. While it’s easy to lose your motivation and throw up your hands, I hope you have the strength to finish strong.
A guy friend of mine recently crashed a girls’ night out. It was a Thursday like any other: unnecessary wedges, ‘90s song requests and all we could drink. It even ended where all GNO’s should — at the Flaco’s Cuban Bakery window. Just one thing kept me from calling the night a success, however. That night, I learned one important thing. Nothing spoils an arepa more than these words from our token dude: “I didn’t know girls talk about guys so much.”
Throughout life we are encouraged to have a “Plan B.” Didn’t get into UF? Clown school it is. Leonardo’s By the Slice is closed? Italian Gator it is. We miss the pill, or the condom breaks? Then we seek out the Morning After Pill (MAP) as soon as possible.
The turmoil is no more. The agony of waiting is a thing of the past. It’s finished.
You fool.
A couple of days ago, a video of Malia Obama blowing smoke rings went viral. The internet flipped out. Everyone either sang her praises or was deeply offended. “Go, Malia! I’m glad you’re having fun in college and doing your own thing! Get it, girl!” Or, “How dare she! What a delinquent. As a daughter of a former president, she should not be behaving in this manner.” There was a third response, which was something along the lines of, “Who cares?” This whole incident brought to mind something I find very important. It is also something frequently underemphasized, particularly in this day and age. This, dear reader, is the art of minding your own business.
Roy Moore. Al Franken. John Conyers. Bill Clinton. Harvey Weinstein. Bill O’Reilly. The list goes on. The past year has brought an onslaught of sexual harassment and assault allegations from Hollywood and Washington, D.C. It’s sad and telling that this is at least the second time this semester I’ve written about this topic, but it’s not going away anytime soon.
In this political climate, it can be tempting to surround yourself with like-minded folks and call it a day — online and offline. On our social media, it would be easy (and, let’s face it, understandable) to unfollow every user who posted a status update or wrote a tweet decrying a politician you admire or denouncing a policy you believe would help people. You could even replace the lost profiles with more accounts of people who agree with and amplify your views. But is this the right thing to do?
The other day, a friend of the Alligator opinions editor asked her why she wants to fight injustice. Being honest, Abby said herself she didn’t know how to answer the question with anything other than the elementary and unimpressive response: “because it’s wrong.” Now to use one of those activist buzzwords, we at the Alligator are going to “unpack” this question.
There needs to be a reckoning.
Ladies and gentleman, we have a mystery on our hands.
Please, save me your sighs.
As I’m sure you're aware, Thursday is Thanksgiving. As I’ve wished friends and classmates a happy holiday, I’ve gotten mixed reactions. Some wish me the same. Some gush about family traditions and Thanksgiving foods. Some talk about seeing their families for the first time in four months. Some talk about partying with high school friends. Some, however, scoff at the well wishes. They say they hate Thanksgiving because it celebrates colonialism and the abuse of Native Americans. They hate it because they can’t stand their families (or their families’ political beliefs). They hate it because they don’t like the food or are the only vegan or vegetarian at the table. Or, they hate it because they find it hard to give thanks in that environment.
“I’m low-key scared he’s going to sexually assault me.”
Are you tired of retorting, “Oh yeah? Well our academics are better,” when a Florida State fan asserts their football team’s superiority? I would be.
Chip Kelly? Scott Frost? Dan Mullen?
In 2004, after serving as a college dean for two years, I asked my director of human resources for input on my performance.
You are woken up by the sound of your parents and grandparents chatting loudly and energetically over coffee at the kitchen table and the smell of pies being prepped for baking. You’re still tired, but you get out of bed anyway so you don’t miss any of the family fun.
When I first read Tom Stoppard’s play, “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead,” I was in what I like to dub the first great existential crisis of my life. It was my senior year of high school and the only thing that gave me any sense of purpose in my life was focusing on college applications. Getting into college — my top choice, specifically — was the only goal I had. After that, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study or what I wanted to do. I was beginning to realize the be-all and end-all of my high school life was not the be-all and end-all of life.
Solutions by The State News
