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(11/06/07 1:12am)
Seems to me there’s something important happening today. Class? Nope. Work? Definitely not. French pedicure and bikini wax? No, that was Saturday.\nThat’s right, how could I forget? Today marks our yearly ritual of purposely forgetting to vote. Since it’s been an entire year since you last avoided the polls, it’s understandable that you, like me, would have trouble remembering to do your civic duty and refrain from voting for no good reason other than pure sloth. \nTake, for example, the following conversation with my roommate which took place last election day:\nMe: Hey, did you know we can vote for politicians who don’t care about us?\nRoommate: Really? Let’s go!\nMe: Hold on. Anderson Cooper’s show is on CNN. He’s a dreamboat.\nRoommate: You’re right. Now what were we talking about?\nMe: I don’t know.\nSad, truly and utterly sad, not because of our indifference toward voting, but rather because the cable went out a minute later and deprived us of Anderson. \nThis all brings up several good points. First, I have an unhealthy fascination with cable news personalities, which unfortunately includes Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity. Perhaps professional intervention is needed. \nThe second point, however, is a little more applicable to the current discussion. While the populous is often accused of political apathy, perhaps it’s time to start blaming the candidates for our refusal to show up at the polls.\nFor instance, today, Bloomington residents have the opportunity to cast votes for one boring white guy or another more boring white guy in a mayoral race, which elicits as much excitement as Bob Barker without Viagra. \nThat’s why if poll workers want to keep their jobs…er…volunteer hours, something needs to happen to spice up campaigns in this country, and it all starts here at home. After all, as former Speaker of the House Tip O’Neill so brilliantly pointed out: all politics is local and Anderson Cooper is a cool dude (see, it’s not just me). \nTherefore, to do my part as a concerned citizen, and to stroke my rapidly ballooning ego, I am announcing my candidacy for mayor of Bloomington. Unlike the two previously mentioned boring white guys, I am an exciting white guy. I’ll campaign based on facts, not trivial and kitschy issues. For example:\nFact 1: Bloomington has too many people. My conservative estimate puts the population somewhere between 50,000 and 2,000,000 residents. Let’s incorporate a new city and make all the people I don’t like go there. \nFact 2: Poverty and unemployment are big problems here. The gap between the rich and poor is substantial and harmful. That’s why I propose taking away all money and jobs, thus making everyone poor and unemployed, except the mayor, of course. \nMake haste to the polls, citizens. Now that new and invigorating life has been injected into the dullness of politics, you must do your duty and vote for me. Go now, or at least right after Anderson Cooper.
(10/29/07 10:59pm)
The students in the class for which I am a teaching assistant asked me a rather interesting question: Why is J.K. Rowling’s Dumbledore character gay? After an awkward explanation of the birds and the bees, we moved forward with more relevant inquiries to the world of public affairs, such as why Sen. Larry Craig is gay? Again, it was awkward mostly because the only thing my parents told me about sex was that I’m never going to get any.\nBut I digress.\nThe inquisitive nature of these students never ceases to amaze me. One minute it’s Dumbledore and Craig, the next it’s something totally off topic and irrelevant to class. For example, a rather outspoken faction within the class (okay, all of them) recently suggested an exam be moved because it was scheduled for the day after Halloween. They even voted on it: 50 in favor of moving, two brown-nosers against. \nSilly students. They must have thought college classrooms are some sort of democracy, rather than an opportunity to stroke the egos of instructors. Suffice it to say, the vote was vetoed. The test would go forward as planned, hungover from Halloween or not.\nI’d be lying if I said their request didn’t strike me as odd, even inappropriate. The idea of moving a test to placate the need to dress up and drink alcohol seemed out of line, in violation of some established social contract.\nBut then it occurred to me that these students, in their infinite wisdom, had actually pointed to a rather interesting aspect of our society: the need to be appropriate at all times, to somehow bring into consideration the unspoken rules of order and properness to which everyone is expected to adhere. In a sense, the simple request to move a test represented much more. By choosing to second-guess the instructor, thereby violating political correctness, the students revealed to me their valid argument: Restraining your thoughts in the name of not offending others is a piss-poor way to muddle through life.\nTake, for example, all the cool Halloween costumes I’ve scratched from the list this year, all in the name being appropriate:\n• Presidential candidate John Edwards: While this is seemingly a safe costume, negative reaction would ensue from animal activists upset with the amount of endangered lemurs I’d need to skin to fashion an appropriate wig.\n• Flamboyant Dumbledore: It would probably be taken as a joke by most, but the other nerd at the party dressed as flamboyant Gandalf would be offended that I stole his thunder and copied his lisp.\n• Straight Larry Craig: Although it would be pretty easy to pull this off, I’d likely get a scathing reprimand from my priest in the Catholic Church for lying so blatantly. \nIf you’re in my boat, questioning your Halloween outfit in the face of political correctness, take a cue from the students who advocated, so boldly, to disregard the frivolous rules of appropriateness which define our society.\nHappy over-analyzed Halloween!
(10/22/07 10:20pm)
Recent reports to The Leading Edge’s investigatory team (which includes my mother and CNN’s Nancy Grace) indicate increased activity over the weekend on campus.\nNot wanting to let such reports go unchecked, I combed the city for clues of the alleged activity. After painstakingly examining every possible piece of evidence in the style of a true crime scene investigator wannabe (gosh, Gil Grissom on “CSI” is so cool!), I can safely conclude that something of significance did, in fact, take place this past weekend.\nApparently much of what occurred centered around some sort of athletic contest. Such contests are known in certain circles as “sporting events.” This weekend’s “sporting event” involved two opposing teams, one associated with a local academic institution, the other similarly associated with a far-away institution, possibly in another geographic jurisdiction. \nThe teams, under the direction of highly-compensated, older figures of authority, performed well-crafted and meticulously practiced plays involving the handling of an oblong object. Upon further analysis, it appears that both teams, working within the confine of an established time limit, attempted to gain numeric recognition of their momentary ability to out-perform the opposing team. When the time limit had been reached, the team with the largest amount of numeric recognition was declared the victor. Afterward, the participants returned to their areas of equipment storage and washed themselves under torrents of heated water.\nFurther investigation of the scene, which included a large, open area of painted grass-like substance, indicates that the two teams were not alone during their meeting. Outside observers were allowed to witness the event by exchanging money for a piece of glossy rectangular paper. The paper allows the person in possession of it to walk past an area of gated protection and sit in relative close proximity to the teams. Once in their seats, the people observing the contest are normally allowed to yell and scream at high decibels in support of the team of their choosing. Judging by the alarmingly high amount of used prophylactics found in the area in which many young people gathered, cheering was not the only activity in which these people engaged.\nWhile watching “sporting events,” observers often find themselves in need of consumable sustenance, the kind passing through the oral cavity and into the stomach. Therefore, it has been determined that money can also be exchanged in this setting for food items of low nutritional quality. Generally speaking, the lower the healthiness of the food item, the higher amount one can expect to pay. This is known as “getting screwed at the stadium,” and could explain the presence of prophylactics.\nAlthough alcohol is not one of the items sold in this venue, the aforementioned prophylactics indicate further the ability of contest observers to sneak their own alcoholic beverages into the viewing area.\nThe Leading Edge staff is working diligently to determine whether such displays of athleticism and sporting prowess will occur in the future. If so, you’ll be informed well in advance so as to allow ample time to obtain condoms ... er ... prophylactics.
(10/15/07 11:39pm)
TIPPECANOE COUNTY, Ind. – There are plenty of activities to do on a sunny Saturday in Bloomington. Among these are a day at the golf course and streaking through the quad with Will Ferrell. That’s why sitting at a colonial-era battle reenactment in West Lafayette seems wholly unnecessary.\nHowever, it’s hard to watch the actors portraying French and British troops and not become completely engulfed in the history and allure of historic Fort Ouiatenon and other Indiana battle sites.\nOne such site, the Tippecanoe Battlefield, highlights a particularly joyous time in our nation’s history, when we necessarily ministered to savage Indians with much-needed Bibles and bullets to the head. The treatment of the native population by the U.S. Army seemed justified for the time period and its prominent mindset was to do what was best for the country’s defense and for the Indians’ prosperity, although they likely didn’t realize it at the time. Bibles and bullets are a great way of improving people’s lives, which is perhaps why the U.S. – the great Christian nation that it is – continues its “ministry” in the Middle East.\nAt the center of the Battle of Tippecanoe, which took place in 1811, was William Henry Harrison, U.S. Army general and shortest serving U.S. president. (He died after a month in office.) Harrison, much like our current commander-in-chief, eventually reaped what he had sown through his militaristic ambitions.\nAfter the battle, which saw Harrison defeat the forces gathered by Indian leader Tecumseh, it is said that Harrison and the American presidency became the object of a rather daunting curse. The curse, admittedly unsubstantiated folklore, posited that Harrison would be elected president and die in office. What’s more, the president elected every 20 years after Harrison would also meet a doomed fate, or so the story goes. \nHarrison, elected in 1840, died in office, as did Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Harding, Roosevelt and Kennedy, all elected in 20-year cycles. Ronald Reagan, elected 20 years after Kennedy, was shot and very nearly killed.\nSupposedly the president elected in 2000 would be the next in line to experience an unfortunate spell of luck. This would, in theory, mean George W. Bush should meet a not-so-pleasant fate (let’s assume he was actually elected in 2000 and discount that whole Al Gore thing – dang tree-hugger, anyway). With just 15 months left in office for Bush, odds are the curse will finally be broken with Bush’s survival, which is good considering the next in line for the presidency is a Dick.\nInstead of looking at the curse in a literal sense, however, maybe it’s best viewed through a figurative lens. Bush, much like Harrison, sealed his own fate with military zeal undertaken with reckless abandon. Although Bush won’t die in office (which, as I noted, is probably for the best), we can assume he killed his own presidency a long time ago: March 19, 2003 to be exact, the start of the Iraq War. \nWho’d have thought a day trip wrought with geeky history could end so insightfully? Sure beats streaking through the quad.
(10/11/07 4:00am)
If European house purists were up in arms about DJ duo Justice's hard-nosed debut †, Oi Oi Oi just might kill them. In his first full-scale release, Boys Noize, a.k.a., German DJ Alex Ridha and his laptop, borrows the French pair's same dance-rock approach but turns the dials to 11, offering boisterous dance-floor bangers that cut rugs like 20 chain saws through 21 amplifiers.\nLoud and filthy, Oi Oi Oi has about as much finesse as a sledgehammer. Before listeners even have time to respond to the innocuous "Hello" that introduces the album, Ridha pummels them with a wall of gritty guitar riffs as a voice from above commands, "Dance, dance, dance." So much for introductions.\n"& Down," the album's first track and single, sets the tone for the rest of Oi Oi Oi, with ugly, jagged synths ground into skin-tight grooves. The formula is perfected on other standouts such as "Shine, Shine," "Let's Buy Happiness" and the hard-drive-melting "Oh!" \nExcept for a remarkable remix of "My Moon, My Man" -- in which Feist's gossamer croons provide the perfect foil for Boys Noize's full-throated digital gargles -- the album offers little in the way of vocals. Of course, this may be Ridha's way of kindly telling listeners to shut the hell up and sing along with their feet.\nAt its best, Oi Oi Oi, with its robotic chants and inhuman aloofness, is a harder, better, faster, stronger version of Daft Punk's disappointing man vs. machine concept album Human After All. But while Ridha's youthful brashness makes forefathers Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter look like fogies, his immaturity shows in the album's monotone, balls-to-the-wall clip. \nFortunately, what Boys Noize lacks in grace or variety, he makes up in pure testosterone. Sure, it may be difficult to relax and listen to Oi Oi Oi all the way through. But this album wasn't meant to be heard sitting down.
(10/09/07 2:00am)
A recent article from the satirical news publication The Onion poked fun at one of the critical issues facing our country: housing troops in the homes of private citizens. Think it’s a moot point? Think the concept is absurd? It is.\nFor those of you who slept through undergraduate American politics (which I’ll assume is everyone but Wolf Blitzer and me), the article is a play on the Third Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.\nThe fact is, several of the issues contained in the Bill of Rights (the first 10 amendments, you uninformed slackers!) are practically null today. Take, for example, that poppycock from the First Amendment concerning freedom of religion, speech, peaceful assembly and press. Reason shows us that there is no usable application for such freedoms today. (SCREW THE PRESIDENT!) Honestly, does the Constitution need to protect the far-left press? (OUT OF IRAQ NOW!) I think not.\nMost citizens, casual political observers and even respected historians don’t know that the original Bill of Rights contained many more amendments, all of which would have little to no saliency today. Here’s a sampling:\n• John Adams, recognizing his inferiority in the craft of brewing, shall forfeit all ale-making equipment to his far more able relative, Samuel. Further, it shall be remembered that Sam is a way cooler drunk than John.\n• The federal government shall make no law regarding the establishment of a national beer, unless that beer be bottled with a frosty blue liner in the crisp mountain air of the Colorado Rockies.\nQuite the waste of time. Good thing that Colorado beer thing never happened. The product would likely be absolute trash.\nUsing this same line of reasoning, it’s hard not to speculate about constitutional amendments made in the modern era. Let’s assume, for argument’s sake, the movie “Independence Day” actually happens. As you’ll remember, the plot has aliens come to earth and destroy most major cities on the planet. It also portrays actor Jeff Goldblum as one of the world’s saviors. Wholly impossible? Probably, but humor me for a second. (Well, maybe not on the Goldblum thing.)\nAs a result of the attack, the Constitution is destroyed, our entire government and society in shambles. The few surviving policy makers must fashion a new way of governing, assuring the country can rebuild and unite once again. Safe in their bunker deep within the Rocky Mountains, the president, vice president and a handful of surviving Senators from the South, draft a new Constitution. Much like the original document, the first three articles outline the powers of the three branches of government. Then the idea arises to include a very necessary amendment, that which would forever ensure domestic tranquility. Therefore, the group decides on the following:\n• Marriage in the United States shall consist only of the union of a man and a woman.\nDon’t think such a matter would ever make its way into the Constitution? Remembering our forefathers’ precedent for absurd amendments, the new one doesn’t seem too implausible.\nThat’s scarier than Jeff Goldblum saving the world.
(10/01/07 11:00pm)
Psssst.\nHey, you – the one with the newspaper in your hand. Move in a little closer; I want to tell you a secret, and it’s a doozy. Ready? Here it goes: Black people have brains.\nThis news is probably shocking, so if you must, have a seat, take a deep breath and try to absorb the gravity of the information you’ve just heard.\nWait one second. It seems I’ve made an egregious error. Apparently this secret has already been divulged – last week, in fact. Pardon my oversight.\nThanks to the undercover reporting of self-proclaimed “culture warrior” Bill O’Reilly, the truth about blacks’ ability to “think more and more for themselves” has recently come to light. Thanks, Bill, for clarifying.\nAs many of you have heard, O’Reilly recently made comments about blacks having the capacity for independent thought during his syndicated radio program. His words were supposed to be (in theory) a compliment to the black community, which he’d observed the previous evening in Harlem while dining at Sylvia’s, a noted soul food restaurant, with notable African-American leader Rev. Al Sharpton, who is coincidentally the winner of The Leading Edge’s “Awesome Hair Contest.” He said he was shocked that no one was screaming “MF-er, I want more iced tea.”\nAs you might imagine, O’Reilly’s words have been taken, by and large, as anything but complimentary. What seemed to O’Reilly like an enlightened comment appeared to most of humanity as the ramblings of a man ignorant of race relations, or apparently, black thought in general. It seems that most news sources, bloggers, media critics, liberal think tanks, members of the black community and the entirety of civilization have reverted to humorist Al Franken’s view of O’Reilly: that he is a splotchy bully. \nBut is O’Reilly really that bad of a guy? After all, he kind of resembles a big, squeezable teddy. Heck, Stephen Colbert affectionately calls O’Reilly “Papa Bear.” No one nicknamed Papa Bear could possibly utter something so scathing, right?\nTo set the record straight, this humble columnist invited O’Reilly for an honest yet completely made-up heart-to-heart chat. Here’s what transpired:\nScott: You’ve fielded a lot of criticism over your recent comments about dining in Harlem. What was your intent?\nO’Reilly: My intent? My intent was to have some MF-ing dinner. I was hungry. Next question.\nScott: Some think your comments were condescending in the sense that you sounded surprised a black-run restaurant could be civil. Were you really surprised?\nO’Reilly: I was surprised ... at the prices! I mean, catfish and collard greens for $8? That’s a bargain! I guess I’m too used to overly expensive Manhattan establishments full of Republicans.\nScott: Fair enough. Some have taken offense to your comments, calling them an insult to the black community. Do you feel the need to apologize?\nO’Reilly: I’ll apologize to the owners of the restaurant. I fear I’ve exposed the best-kept secret in Harlem. Now they’ll be flooded with business thanks to me.\nYet another secret exposed by O’Reilly. This guy can’t keep anything to himself. Perhaps that’s his biggest problem.
(09/25/07 3:54am)
What makes us Americans?\nFreedom-hating liberals might say it’s our insatiable appetite for nation building and global hegemony, while crazed, gun-toting conservatives may believe it’s that sense of patriotism we all get while watching Dale Earnhardt Jr. circle the track. Lee Greenwood, on the other hand, likely thinks being an American means actually liking his song “God Bless the USA.” \nAlas, these theories are all off base. The United States is, after all, not the only country bent on global domination. On top of that, there are unfortunately Earnhardt fans all over the world, and no one takes Greenwood’s song seriously – not even Greenwood.\nSo, if none of the above makes us American, then what does?\nThe answer, of course, is our fascination with sexy and sweaty topless male models. I mean, football tailgating (Freaking Freud. I hate it when that happens). \nInternational students may be unfamiliar with the tailgate tradition that is deeply interwoven into the genetic codes of Americans, so here’s a brief description of the process: Wake up at 6:30 in the morning. Put on smelly team jersey. Look in mirror. Cry, remembering days of high school football glory. Touch self. Go back to bed. Wake up at 8:30. Have body painted with team colors by totally platonic and non-gay best friend. Drive to football stadium. Park. Touch self again. Hope no one sees. Bring out barbecue. Drink lots of beer. Pass out on top of friend. Miss game. Miss wedding anniversary. Get divorced. Touch self for rest of life.\nPretty sad, right? But it happens every week during football season, on every college campus. What a shame. It’s no wonder the divorce rate is so high in this country. Let this be a lesson to all you men: If you like football, don’t get married, unless it’s to your platonic non-gay best friend.\nNow that you realize just what the custom of tailgating entails, it’s important to understand the specific roots that make it distinctly American.\nAccording to a well-researched and completely fabricated article I’m considering posting on Wikipedia, tailgating arose from the actions of our country’s forefathers such as Thomas Adams and John Jefferson.\nWhile the country was in its infancy, Jefferson and Adams would gather outside of the Constitutional Convention in the wee hours of the morning to grill hot dogs and drink large amounts of ale. The two would then enter the chamber, noticeably intoxicated, and debate important issues facing our country, namely the rights reserved to wealthy landowners. It’s not exactly certain how this tradition came to be associated with American-style football, but it clearly does not matter. The point remains that because of the courageous efforts of these visionary founders, the grand yet pointless custom of tailgating has come to characterize us as a country.\nJust remember: Americans aren’t defined by our willingness to invade sovereign nations, nor by a sappy Lee Greenwood song. Rather, our worth lies in our acceptance of the tailgating practice so ingrained in our history.\nLet the touching of selves begin.
(09/18/07 2:07am)
"Americans are possibly the dumbest people on the planet …” – Michael Moore \n While it might appear that Moore is a freedom-hating, MoveOn.org-admiring, pinko communist bent on destroying this country’s fascination with global supremacy, he does raise a good point: we are a nation of idiots – a confederacy of dunces. (Quick quiz: What author did I just plagiarize? The first non-English major to e-mail the answer wins a prize: a Pulitzer-winning novel by John Kennedy Toole.) \n Now, the editors of this newspaper know the mere mention of Michael Moore has the power to send conservatives on campus (all four of them, all business majors) into rabid convulsions. It’s OK; that is to be expected. You can use one of the other parts of this newspaper, such as the legitimate sections containing real news, to wipe the foam from your mouth. After all, the editors also realize this column is the only reason you pick up the paper (well, that and Sudoku). \n Where were we? Oh yes – a dumb country.\n Such a claim as Moore’s is inevitably laden with copious amounts of fluff, which is ironic since Moore is laden with copious amounts of McDonald’s. But he does have an Oscar, so that qualifies him to pontificate about America’s countrywide exclusion from Mensa, the international society of geniuses.\n Nevertheless, whether you love him, hate him or want to squeeze him like a soft, huggable bear, you have to admit we Americans do some outrageously moronic things, most of which eventually get broadcast worldwide on cable news or written about in cheesy newspaper columns.\n Exhibit A: There is a growing trend in this country to potty train children from birth, i.e. not use diapers. Let me say that again for those of you distracted by wiping the foam from your mouths: parents are willingly letting their children run unprotected around the house, yard and yes, public places, without diapers. The only thing protecting the carpet or the pew in church from Junior’s pee is the ability of mom or dad to recognize an impending “potty time,” race the kid to a sink or toilet and dangle him over the water like a hobo baptism. Practitioners of the diaper-less craze say it increases communication between parent and child and deepens the bond between the two. Practicality, however, says it also increases the amount of baby poop found in restaurant booths.\n As if that wasn’t enough to convince you of our nation’s profound idiocy, try this one on for size:\n Exhibit B: Throughout the early 1990s and even into 2002, the Defense Department considered the developing a new weapon, one which was truly innovative and unabashedly brilliant. The plan? Create a bomb that would, upon explosion, release a powerful aphrodisiac capable of turning enemy soldiers ... wait for it ... gay toward each other.\n The mind reels, not because such diaper-less and gay bomb scenarios are farfetched, but because so many Americans could appreciate their utility. \nAs Michael Moore would likely note, that’s not only dumb – it’s downright frightening.
(09/11/07 4:28am)
"Home is where your heart is, ain’t that what they always say? My heart lies in broken pieces scattered on the way.” – Steve Earle \nThere’s nothing quite like home. It’s a place of family, liquor cabinets and so much more. For many of us in Bloomington, however, there are multiple homes – one that we return to in the summer or for holidays and one that we destroy between the end of August and early May. \nUnfortunately, most students are faced with an inherent conflict. No, it’s not whether to sport leather chaps or a pink thong, although I do consider that quandary with alarming frequency. Rather, students must constantly play a “love one more than the other” game between their hometowns and their college towns, unless, of course, they are one and the same (geeks!). \nTake my situation, for example. Bloomington is my second college town in as many years. My real home rests at the foot of the largest concrete structure in the United States: Anna Nicole Smith’s grave ... er ... the Grand \nCoulee Dam. \nIt’s a safe bet most of you have never heard of Grand Coulee Dam, much less realize its location (hint: it rhymes with Blashington). If this is the case, go back home and berate your high school \nhistory teacher. \nFortunately, when driving here from Washington this summer (dang, gave it away!), I had ample time to consider my conflict: Am I a Washingtonian or a Hoosier? Even more, what does it mean to hail from a certain state? Is there a noticeable identity attached with such happenstance? If so, perhaps I could finally come to call my home somewhere other than Washington.\nMaybe the road signs that welcome freeway drivers to new states could be of help. Below are some examples of such signs I encountered in my recent journey, along with my initial reactions.\n(Disclaimer: These may not be accurate depending on the level of drowsiness/intoxication with which they were initially read.)\n• Idaho: “Our rest stops are so dirty, even Larry Craig won’t use them.”\nSurprisingly, the road-side bathrooms weren’t that dirty. There was a lot of foot tapping, however.\n• Montana: “Men are men and sheep are nervous. You should be too.”\nOh, I was plenty nervous. Then the banjo music began ...\n• Iowa: “More corn than you could possibly care about.”\nProbably correct, but it was hard to get over the fact they’d ended a sentence with a preposition. What a bunch of uneducated goobers!\n• Illinois: “Land of Lincoln and, unfortunately, Bears and Cubs.”\nSee, even Illinois dislikes the Cubs.\n• Indiana: “Welcome! You sinned in a previous life.”\nPretty self-explanatory. I do have my fair share of sins. I am Catholic, after all.\nThe picture was bleak. The signs made me miss Washington even more. By the time I approached Bloomington, I was sure it would be a miserable year. Then another sign appeared: “Welcome to Bloomington: Making living in Indiana tolerable.”\nGosh, it’s good to be home.
(09/04/07 3:31am)
Remember Mark Foley? \nHe’s the ex-congressman from Florida who left the U.S. House of Representatives amid a sex scandal involving an underage male congressional page. Of course, we know what really happened. In fact a column last year by yours truly highlighted the plight of poor Mr. Foley: he was the victim of a conspiracy to make us believe he was just another hypocritical Republican who opposed gay rights in speech but loved wearing butt-less leather chaps in practice.\nIt appears the vast left-wing conspiracy has struck again, no doubt fueled by its chief instigators Michael Moore and Al Franken. (What the heck, as long as we’re libeling people, let’s throw Hillary Clinton into the mix.) \nAs you may know, Sen. Larry Craig, whose picture accompanies the definition of “conservative” in the dictionary, recently resigned over allegations that he engaged in lewd conduct in a Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport restroom. Craig was arrested for attempting to solicit an undercover male police officer while both “did their business” in adjacent stalls. Nevermind the “fact” that Craig pleaded guilty to the charge and hid it from his family and constituents for nearly two months. Any self-respecting viewer of Fox News can see right through the liberal smoke screen, which, thanks to the left’s affinity for nature, reeks of patchouli oil and medicinal marijuana. \nStill not convinced of Craig’s innocence? Consider the following made-up evidence gathered while watching reruns of Law and Order:\n1. Craig hails from Idaho, a state famous for, of all things, potatoes. It says so right on their license plates: “Famous Potatoes.” Clearly the senator has a more important agenda than cruising for fun in a Midwestern toilet. Engaging in lewd conduct, as the charge purports, would take away from Craig’s important mission of convincing the rest of Congress that his state isn’t a complete joke for touting its spud-growing capabilities. \n2. Idaho, like many Third World countries, is still awaiting the arrival of modern conveniences such as tape decks, VCRs and indoor plumbing. It’s a well-known fact that Idahoans have yet to master the concept of flushable toilets. Based on Craig’s upbringing in such a non-technological state, it’s reasonable to assume he’d never set foot in an airport restroom. The automatic sinks and laser-guided flushing systems would likely cause him to hemorrhage from the ear. \n3. The senator’s committee assignments in Congress included Energy and Natural Resources, Environment and Public Works, Appropriations, Veterans’ Affairs and the Special Committee on Aging. Nowhere on the preceding list is there a mention of the Committee on Sinful Behavior or the Select Committee on Homoerotic Double Standards and Blatant Lying. \n4. Craig is a Republican. Such people are born with a moral fiber strong enough to resist the temptations of muscle-laden enticers, such as airport police. \nThe evidence speaks for itself. Don’t fall into the liberals’ trap by believing Craig’s guilt. \nPerhaps I’ll become a lawyer with these argumentative skills. Good thing I watch Law and Order.
(08/31/07 12:29am)
In case you care, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales resigned.\nIt’s hard to believe that Democrats and Republicans could agree on anything other than their personal pay raises, especially with elections right around the corner. Nevertheless, donkeys and elephants in Congress have, in recent weeks, become increasingly united on the topic with which they seem most enthralled: disparaging Mexicans (or at least Gonzales). After all, isn’t that the utility of Congress? Creating frivolous laws that mandate the construction of massive fences to keep out the riff raff... Sounds pretty important, right? Given the recent Congressional tendency to dislike everything to the north or south, it’s a wonder Gonzales was ever confirmed in the first place. \nThe country now waits in eager anticipation – or rather, with a drunken amusement – for the naming of Gonzales’ successor. That unfortunate soul will be forced to endure a little more than a year of miserable torture in a job no one wants. The position will, most decidedly, become vacant once again in January 2009 when President Bush leaves office. Keep in mind the most masculine attorney general of the last 50 years was, by far, Janet Reno, at least as she was depicted on Saturday Night Live. Who would want that job?\nI’ll tell you who: me.\nPublic officials are all too mundane when offering their inevitable resignation letters. There’s always a predictable mention of “moving to another chapter in life” or, worse, “spending more time with family.” That’s more or less the tone The Emperor ... er ... Karl Rove took several weeks back when he announced his upcoming departure from the White House staff. \nRight now you’re thinking several things. First, you’re shocked that Karl Rove has a family, thus making him, in theory, capable of expressing love. But don’t be too taken aback. Even aliens can reproduce. Second, you’re wondering why I, Scott Leadingham, would make a worthy candidate for public office. \nUnlike Rove, or Gonzales or any other of the cadre of recently departed politicos, I would never let family or any other watered-down excuse be the reason I resign. In fact, it’s a safe bet that I’d wish to stay in office to spend less time at home. For practice, let’s try a resignation of my own, free of the typical poppycock seen in most letters:\nDear Readers,\nIt is with great joy that I announce to you my resignation from this newspaper. My time here has not been memorable. In fact, it has been rather deplorable. So long and good riddance, I say, to the worst office in the world. Furthermore, there is no sadness in leaving you, dear readers. You are, by far, the scum of the earth. The only people I dislike more than you are my family members, who I must now unfortunately take on vacation.\nSee, the truth hurts. However, I’m willing to bet Washington, D.C., will do well to have an honest go-getter like myself in the role of Attorney General. Too bad I’ll be leaving next January.
(06/28/07 4:00am)
It is only appropriate for the band that has enjoyed over 20 years of success by constantly evolving its music to drop something like The Mix-Up. The Beastie Boys' seventh studio release should come with a warning label that cautions, "Listening to this album might make you feel a bit confused," or as the three Jewish-born MC's from NYC might say, "meshuga."\nIn an all-instrumental album that serves as both a nod to the past and a window to the future, the Beastie Boys don't rap a single verse, a la 1992's Check Your Head. Mike D trades in his prowess on the mic for drumsticks on this CD, which dances along the industrial side of acid jazz.\nThe Mix-Up offers up an array of styles on a groove-heavy platter. There is "14th St. Break" and its psychedelic rock guitar that could have been on The Beatles' Revolver. Then there is "The Gala Event," a spacey, almost electronica tune for which the Boys have already made a video. Mike D is no Art Blakey, but with Adrock on guitar and MCA on bass -- and with the help of keyboardist Money Mark and percussionist Alfredo Ortiz -- the boys from the boroughs do a solid job of laying down jazzy tunes like "Freaky Hijiki" and the album's opening track, "B For My Name."\nOverall, the Beastie Boys' latest release shows the audience another fold of a band that after two decades can still show us something fresh -- even if it is at the expense of your roommate kvetching about how the new Beastie Boys album he just downloaded doesn't sound like them at all.
(04/24/07 4:00am)
"Huge brains, small necks, weak muscles and fat wallets – these are the dominant physical characteristics of the ‘80s, the generation of swine.” –Hunter S. Thompson \nI’d be overreaching the confines of my position as a know-it-all columnist if I claimed to be the next Hunter S. Thompson. Indeed, no one will ever graze Gonzo’s status as a revered, poignant and somewhat insane observer of society and politics.\nThat being said, it seems pertinent to pick up now in the current generation where Thompson left off in the Reagan years, when the author and columnist arguably produced his greatest work. \nWhat, then, defines us today? Or, more appropriately, how will history remember today’s college students? Are we destined to repeat the Thompson stereotype of being smart, rich, arrogant and otherwise puny? \nNo, we have something greater in store for the world. We won’t be defined by Wall Street and one-hit-wonder hair bands like our counterparts 20 years ago. \nTiny brains, bulging appetites, insecure futures and piss-poor politicians – these are the defining attributes of the 2000s, the generation of Bush.\nSince George W. Bush came to office, we’ve been indoctrinated with the politics of hate. Gays are not human, didn’t you know? Furthermore, those brazen enough to be born with this sick condition have propagated an assault on the American family. We must act now! We need to amend both the U.S. Constitution and state constitutions to prevent this deliciously decadent raping of traditional ideals.\nAt least that’s what the religious right would have us believe. Let’s be honest. Adam and Steve’s marriage has nothing to do with Tom and Susan’s divorce, or the value of any other matrimony. \nThis is just one example of Bush’s backward agenda: racial profiling, heightened suspicion of everything “un-American,” dismissal of the French and their tasty cuisine. The list goes on and on. It’s unfortunate that we’ve been defined as a country by the actions of the right and their consistent xenophobia.\nThere is hope, however. Before the world – and history – remembers us as rash, crass and brash, we, the students of this fine institution, must act to save our legacy. And it all starts with immediately ending the Little 500.\nBefore the rioting begins, hear me out. Yes, the bike race is great, as are the 1.5 million after-parties and cake and Kool-Aid greek house gatherings. But if the crowding, drunkenness and otherwise obscene behavior seen on Kirkwood Avenue are any indication, the Little 500 weekend degrades us and perpetuates within students the most animallike behavior imaginable. Take for example, the group of intoxicated and overly aggressive males I saw taunting and harassing a homeless man on Kirkwood for no good reason.\nThese boys learned well from their highest role model – our chief executive, commander-in-chief, president and primary instigator of negativity and apathy. The Bush ideology has infiltrated the supposedly educated minds of the college generation. If nothing is done, history will remember us for our illogical treatment of others, not the winners of an alcohol-injected bicycle race.\nHopefully, Thompson would agree: a true tragedy.
(04/17/07 4:00am)
LAS VEGAS – Everyone should experience a desert sunrise, especially when the view includes hookers fighting over bread, and soulless men enticing passers-by with offers of delivering loose women. It may only be 6 a.m., but it’s never too early to begin a day of despair and sleaze, especially in a city built on preposterous human ambitions. \nYes, looking out over the city from the fifth story of The Riviera, it’s hard not to sigh, light a cigarette, take a swig of whiskey and throw the bottle out the window at the unsuspecting hookers below. They did, after all, wake me up. As the bottle shatters on the deck of the pool, the ladies of the previous evening scatter like hyenas at the sound of an approaching predator. After breaking out in random song – namely “Circle of Life” from “The Lion King” – I retreat to the casino, drinking cheap gin for breakfast and pondering many intriguing thoughts.\nAround noon, $50 poorer, it hits me, the most profound thought imaginable: Somewhere between Mandalay Bay and Stratosphere (the two hotel-casinos that essentially bound the respective southern and northern ends of the strip) there can be found a frightening amount of similarity between Sin City and Bloomington. Why come to Vegas when the cozy confines of central Indiana will suffice? \nIf you haven’t been to Las Vegas, you’re probably trying to figure out my reasoning for relating the home of the Hoosiers to the home of the hookers. Those of you who have traveled to Vegas or watched several episodes of CBS’s “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation” might see the correlation, at least if you’ve first taken acid and read Hunter S. Thompson’s “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.”\nTake, for example, the following stunning similarities:\n• Indiana Daily Student columnist Andrew Shaffer recently made headlines by highlighting IU’s Ora L. Wildermuth Intramural Center as inappropriately named. It seems that Mr. Wildermuth was a teeming racist, as well as a twinkle-toes ballerina (I may or may not have made that up). Ironically, the University of Nevada at Las Vegas has a similarly named building, the Oral Wide-mouth Escort Training Center. \n• Guardian Angel Cathedral, of the Catholic Diocese of Las Vegas, sits just off the strip, within throwing distance of an overabundance of sin and vice. Bloomington has its own haven surrounded by a den of iniquity. St. Paul Catholic Center, located on East 17th Street, sits a quick hop from Jordan Avenue. We all know the evil and wickedness taking place on that street.\n• Buildings in Vegas are notoriously unoriginal, such as mocked-up versions of the Eiffel Tower and the New York skyline. So too does IU mock itself up. The Indiana Memorial Union is an obvious rip off of Bruce Wayne’s (Batman) mansion, and it’s just as creepy.\nSo, think twice before coming to Vegas. The lust, delusions and avarice we so seek in the Nevada desert can be found right at home. Few things, however, can beat a good ol’ Vegas sunrise, just so long as the hookers keep to themselves.
(04/09/07 4:00am)
Ahh, spring. A time for new beginnings, budding flowers and, of course, baseball. \nFor a newcomer to the Midwest, not having Major League Baseball available in this state seems tantamount to Seattle without smelly hippies and Frasier Crane. \nThey say that baseball is America’s pastime. Furthermore, Indiana purports itself to be the “Crossroads of America.” For such a good ol’ slice of Americana, the Hoosier State seems awkwardly misplaced without a healthy steroid-injecting sport like baseball. Hoosiers, it seems, are content riding the coattails of other states’ teams, such as the Chicago White Sox, the St. Louis Cardinals and the Cincinnati Reds. Apparently there’s another team in Chicago, but no one really cares since Bears and Cubs are immune from winning championships.\nUnfortunately, baseball will forever play last fiddle to the Hoosier obsession with another sport. You’re probably thinking basketball. Wrong. How about football? Wrong again. All sports will forever be a forgotten dream compared to Indiana’s most beloved athletic contest: cornhole.\nJust saying the name makes me shimmer with frightened amusement. It’s amazing to watch frat boys and computer geeks alike become so infatuated with a game that takes as much skill as joining the Alabama Air National Guard. Despite its modern collegiate popularity, however, few people know the origins of this kegger favorite and how it came to command the attention of so many Hoosiers. Fortunately, I took an entire sociology class on the subject, which qualified me for a master’s degree in the discipline. Here’s a brief synopsis:\nIn 1492, just as Columbus was discovering how to effectively exploit natives, a group of Viking sailors made their way through the Great Lakes to the southern shore of Lake Michigan, near present day South Bend After building the University of Notre Dame, the Vikings pressed southward, destructing the land by planting corn wherever possible. Once reaching the site of modern day Indianapolis, the Nordic hooligans camped to wait out the impending winter blizzard. Ironically it was May, but Al Gore had yet to make up global warming, so such extreme cold was normal in spring. Such events would never happen today.\nWhile waiting out the weather, the Vikings – having an affinity for cheap watered-down beer and topless women – built the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, site of the famed Indy 500. \nAlthough they were duly entertained for three laps of the initial chariot race held at the speedway, eventually the entire civilization grew bored with watching fast moving objects go in circles for hours on end. \nTo prevent the populace from committing suicide, the Vikings came up with cornhole, which proved more entertaining than the races. \nDespite their best efforts to forever dismantle the pointless races, the absurd tradition persisted, thanks in large part to a man named Dale Earnhardt, who eventually become the most beloved man in the South, ahead of Jefferson Davis and David Duke. Along with the ascendancy of the racing, however, also came the popularity of cornhole. \nAnd that’s how cornhole – and NASCAR – unfortunately came to pass. Damn Vikings.
(04/03/07 4:00am)
Warning: This column was written under the influence of cultural food – soul food, to be exact. A full belly of catfish and collard greens (and six beers) may be the source of any insight or libel to follow. Readers should interpret the author’s words accordingly.\nOh, Newt Gingrich, you crazy guy. You’re so full of love. What will you do next? First it was the Republican “Contract with America” in 1994, a revolution led by Gingrich himself, who, after the Republicans took the congressional majority, became speaker of the House. Then, our old friend Newt – whose cousin happens to be the Geico gecko – led the charge to impeach Bill Clinton for getting his presidential freak on in the Oval Office. Newt, under the normal duress of expected Republican hypocrisy, was himself involved in an extramarital affair while he spoke against Clinton’s own personal shortcomings.\nGosh, Newt, you’re such a kidder. What a nice Christian man you are! The conservatives of this nation are lucky to have you as a prominent spokesman and potential presidential candidate.\nDon’t worry, lovers of traditional ideals. Newt is back on the prowl, speaking full of fervor, ready to tackle the most important issue facing our nation. \nWhat’s that important issue, you ask? Gingrich, surrounded by the whitest of the white, the National Federation of Republican Women, recently denounced the usage of bilingual education in the United States. According to Gingrich, bilingual education should be replaced with “immersion in English so people learn the common language of the country and they learn the language of prosperity, not the language of living in the ghetto.”\nHmm. English is the language of prosperity? Makes sense. After all, the British use the language in such a prosperous manner that they’ve been reduced to being captured by Iranians on the high seas. Bilingualism is furthermore the language of “the ghetto,” according to Gingrich. Seems accurate. Most homeless and otherwise disadvantaged people usually seem to speak German or French. Dirty Eurotrash, anyway.\nNewt is such a crusader – a man to be modeled in all regards – I decided to sit down with him. Here’s an excerpt:\nMe: Hola! Buenos dias.\nNewt: Please speak American. \nMe: Sorry, I was just asking if you wanted some crack. I got it in the ghetto.\nNewt: No, I wouldn’t. Do you have any amphetamines?\nMe: No. I think Rush Limbaugh might.\nNewt: Good. All these cultures mixing together and having respect for each other is making me sick. I need a hit.\nMe: Let’s talk straight. You equated bilingual education with the language of the ghetto. What exactly did you mean?\nNewt: I said that? Wow, I must have been really high!\nAnd that’s how the interview ended. Is he admitting he’s nothing more than a drug fiend and no better than the people he so adamantly hates? OK, so maybe that’s a little far-fetched.\nBut it still sounds like he needs some good nurturing to set him on the right path, not to mention a hot, home-cooked meal. Might I recommend some soul food? That always gets you thinking clearly.
(04/03/07 4:00am)
Warning: This column was written under the influence of cultural food – soul food, to be exact. A full belly of catfish and collard greens (and six beers) may be the source of any insight or libel to follow. Readers should interpret the author’s words accordingly.\nOh, Newt Gingrich, you crazy guy. You’re so full of love. What will you do next? First it was the Republican “Contract with America” in 1994, a revolution led by Gingrich himself, who, after the Republicans took the congressional majority, became speaker of the House. Then, our old friend Newt – whose cousin happens to be the Geico gecko – led the charge to impeach Bill Clinton for getting his presidential freak on in the Oval Office. Newt, under the normal duress of expected Republican hypocrisy, was himself involved in an extramarital affair while he spoke against Clinton’s own personal shortcomings.\nGosh, Newt, you’re such a kidder. What a nice Christian man you are! The conservatives of this nation are lucky to have you as a prominent spokesman and potential presidential candidate.\nDon’t worry, lovers of traditional ideals. Newt is back on the prowl, speaking full of fervor, ready to tackle the most important issue facing our nation. \nWhat’s that important issue, you ask? Gingrich, surrounded by the whitest of the white, the National Federation of Republican Women, recently denounced the usage of bilingual education in the United States. According to Gingrich, bilingual education should be replaced with “immersion in English so people learn the common language of the country and they learn the language of prosperity, not the language of living in the ghetto.”\nHmm. English is the language of prosperity? Makes sense. After all, the British use the language in such a prosperous manner that they’ve been reduced to being captured by Iranians on the high seas. Bilingualism is furthermore the language of “the ghetto,” according to Gingrich. Seems accurate. Most homeless and otherwise disadvantaged people usually seem to speak German or French. Dirty Eurotrash, anyway.\nNewt is such a crusader – a man to be modeled in all regards – I decided to sit down with him. Here’s an excerpt:\nMe: Hola! Buenos dias.\nNewt: Please speak American. \nMe: Sorry, I was just asking if you wanted some crack. I got it in the ghetto.\nNewt: No, I wouldn’t. Do you have any amphetamines?\nMe: No. I think Rush Limbaugh might.\nNewt: Good. All these cultures mixing together and having respect for each other is making me sick. I need a hit.\nMe: Let’s talk straight. You equated bilingual education with the language of the ghetto. What exactly did you mean?\nNewt: I said that? Wow, I must have been really high!\nAnd that’s how the interview ended. Is he admitting he’s nothing more than a drug fiend and no better than the people he so adamantly hates? OK, so maybe that’s a little far-fetched.\nBut it still sounds like he needs some good nurturing to set him on the right path, not to mention a hot, home-cooked meal. Might I recommend some soul food? That always gets you thinking clearly.
(03/29/07 4:00am)
This suspenseful thriller will keep you on the edge of your seat the entire movie, but a forced message and sloppy editing left me full of questions.\nLinda Hanson (Sandra Bullock) is living the normal life: taking her kids to school, shopping for food, cleaning the house. Then a sheriff arrives with the devastating news that her husband, away on business, died in a car accident the day before. Could it be a bad dream? Linda thinks so -- she awakens the next day to find her husband alive, eating breakfast, watching TV. But tomorrow he's dead again; the next day he's alive.\nHer husband, Jim (Julian McMahon aka Dr. Christian Troy from "Nip/Tuck"), pulls off a stellar performance. Their relationship is well-developed in a scene where the couple are happy in their new home and we feel the devolution of the relationship to the point where they're acting more like roommates than spouses.\nLinda realizes she's caught in a time continuum spanning a week, wherein she is reversed and fast-forwarded through time each day. The first day she wakes up on a Thursday -- the next on Tuesday. If she can just figure out what day it is and use the information wisely, she can save her husband. (Man, a calendar would have been a wise investment.)\nAfter an unsuccessful visit to a shrink, she seeks guidance from Father Kennedy (Jude Ciccolella), who reads Linda passages about people who have had premonitions about their families and tells her to have faith. This is perhaps the most pivotal scene in the movie -- the one that broadcasts the movie's message to the world -- a better actor could have done Father Kennedy justice. Ciccolella is dull, causing many to leave for bathroom breaks and refills. Being a not-so-religious person, I feel a movie with religious undertones publicizing the message that being a better Christian will allow people to evade death is utterly ridiculous.\nFather Kennedy was telling Linda to have faith, not in God, but in her marriage and life in general. But the movie fails to fully execute the point that it doesn't matter what you have faith in as long as you have faith, which left me confused and unsatisfied.\nBullock maintains a strong dramatic performance throughout, but her choice to act in this problematic film may hamper her credibility as an actress.\nMennan Yapo's direction, for being not-so-well-known, was above average. Each actor, from child to adult, had a believable personality, but it fell flat in the editing room. Too much may have been taken out that could have left the viewer less confused. The ending could have been better if the message was clearer and the plot wasn't so confusing, but at least it wasn't predictable.
(03/27/07 4:00am)
The government of Indiana recently announced its plan to sell itself to the highest bidder. \nNow, before you set fire to this newspaper and start foaming at the mouth, take a moment to assess the potential benefits of selling Indiana to another state.\nIf Illinois buys us, for example, our neighbor to the west will become the unabashed champion of corniality (think bestiality, crop style). Others speculate that Gov. Mitch Daniels will finally be able to afford his much-anticipated Rogaine treatments. All told, selling the state of Indiana should net nearly $8 trillion, the majority of which will be used to play Texas Hold‘em in beautiful French Lick.\nOne has to wonder, however, how the land that produced David Letterman and Larry Bird came to this sad state of affairs. Truth be told, Gov. Daniels, since taking office, has slowly taken the state from being “The Crossroads of America” to the “Armpit of the World.” This is due, in part, to his unique fetish for Old Spice and a little service known as outsourcing.\nFor those of you who slept through Economics 230, outsourcing is a highly involved policy process by which government agencies place a giant rod up the hinds of their employees. After the rod is in place, the Republican Party moves in to feast on the souls of the innocent. Sounds like a recipe for fun, right? At least for Daniels it’s fun. That’s why he recently decided to sell the state, or at least seek to outsource its entire operation.\nOne would think the state legislature would have acted, but Daniels cleverly distracted them over the past three months with a nonissue gay-marriage bill. While your senators and representatives debated so importantly whether or not to let Adam and Steve kiss in city hall, Daniels was hard at work drafting a plan to outsource the entire operation of the state to someone with more potential (read: less of a comb-over). \nDuring spring break, while most of you were learning to appreciate coconut rum, Daniels was eagerly putting the finishing touches on a classified advertisement regarding Indiana’s sale. The ad ran last week, mostly in large city newspapers and gay chat rooms. Here’s what it said:\n“The state of Indiana (the one between Illinois and Ohio) seeks a qualified buyer to serve as primary administrator and operator. All assets, services and liabilities currently accredited to the state of Indiana will be transferred to the successful buyer. Unfortunately, liabilities include John Mellencamp and his songs. The buyer will retain full responsibly for everything relating to Mr. Mellencamp’s activities.\n“Furthermore, a full check of credit and qualifications will be undertaken before allowing the buyer to begin operation. The greatest qualification is not currently being employed by the state of Indiana. Preference will be given to those who abhor Adam and Steve kissing.”\nOK, Daniels’s plan is merely hypothetical. But ask yourself: Would selling us off to Illinois really be that bad?\nAt least they have a baseball team.