1.Suzanne Westbrook 2.Jesus of Nazareth 3.Julian the Apostate 4.Robbie George 5.Stefan McDaniel 6.Martin Heidegger 7.Mammon, God of Wealth 8.Paul of Tarsus 9.Sara Viola 10.John Maynard Keynes 11.Hannah Arendt 12.Will ‘The Scharf’s Scharf’ Scharf 13.Karl Marx 14.Harold Graham Parker III / … Read More
Last weekend I was visiting my good friend, T— and arrived at his domicile in the wee hours of the afternoon shortly before he usually awakes. I had not yet broken my fast, and I searched through his cabinets for … Read More
George Nathaniel Curzon, 1st Marquess Curzon of Kedleston, KG, GCSI, GCIE, PC was a man few of us can afford to forget. Besides keeping the bloody Russians out of India, he wore a metal corset to combat a spinal injury … Read More
I hope you had a great Spring Break and a joyous Easter. When I was a kid, I used to go to my neighbor’s house for Easter, and all I can remember is that “doilies” seemed to play a big role in things, these little white lace doilies. I haven’t seen a doily since they moved away in 1997, and I don’t know where these people were from or if that was normal, and I mean, there’s certainly never been a doily on the Princeton campus, so if someone could tell me what that’s all about, that’d be great.
“Those vodka shots wore off real quick– / A few more would have done the trick. / You’re freezing, and a little sad… / How many years left until grad?”
Without Greek brothers and sisters to guide us, the class of 2016 is the first to navigate the treacherous seas of passes and lists alone. After a year of stumbling drunkenly around the Street, we feel that the classes of 2015, 2014, and 2013 (and maybe some pre-frosh out there) would appreciate and find humor in our (very biased) insight into the distinct cultures of infamous Princeton Eating Clubs.
It was my first night drinking since February. I’d decided to take a break from alcohol for all of March—now that I have the freedom to buy my own alcohol legally, I don’t feel as compelled to jump at it when offered. But mostly, I just wanted to see if I could make it for a whole month.
Late one night last weekend, waiting in the checkout line at Frist, an individual approached me to say that he was of the notion that I was the author of the anonymous “Ask A Girl” column that had recently debuted in the pages of the Nassau Weekly. It’s a strange feeling, being framed. Because no matter how utterly NOT the author of this article I am, the mere speculation draws from the ether an imaginary ghost-me, with ghost intentions, leaving splotches of invented ectoplasm on laptop keys I never pressed when never sitting smirkily in my dorm room, midnight hour, writing a column that the real me- flesh, bone and conviction- simply does not believe in.
