A Nass 100 Introduction
Over a lunch of pizza bagels, a fan of this very paper was asked to explain the Nass 100. “The Nass 100 is this thing that the Nass does every year where they like list one hundred things they never want to see again and like 33.3% of them are super funny.” Well, we are pleased to announce a full 67 (round up!) percent of this year’s list is top-form humour! Incremental progress, folks.
In Memoriam
The most vexing thing, for me, as an admirer, is that he chose to hang himself, a gesture he had to have known was deeply dramatic, in the tradition of Brilliant Suicidal Writers like Woolf and Hemingway.
Laurie Anderson
Silvery and warm, Anderson’s voice is comfortable, like that of a children’s book narrator. It sounds terrifically, radically human through a vocoder, a fact that she indulges frequently on record and in live performance.
The Nass 100
1. Your idea for a new campus publication
100. That night I held you and we just laughed and cried till morning
Sex and the Magic Kingdom
But maybe this is all just my issue, maybe the condom is the new ninja turtle and racism is the new family moral. Sometimes you must just move with the trends, and so as the youth say these days, fuck a ho – Disney sure will.
It’s Too Good
Once Hannah has dipped her toes into the world of popularity, her life begins to spiral out of control. She becomes friends with the popular girls, among them a girl played by Miriam McDonald, who proudly shows that she can play a blonde in something else besides Degrassi.
Serrano Gets Scatalogical
The medium is the message,” Marshall McLuhan said, and Andres Serrano’s is shit: holy shit, mom shit, sheep shit, dog shit, rabbit shit, Freud shit, bull shit. Shit photographed and enlarged, shit set against campy backdrops of psychedelic swirls, shit printed, mounted and framed by somber black wood.
Play My Music
I had never heard a Jonas Brothers song before the first week of this school year. I was throwing a pre-game for Lawnparties, offering Tequila Sunrises and mojitos in the a.m.—the youngest oldest thing Princeton students do. The eclectic and up-to-the-minute iTunes playlist I had made for the occasion had run out, and some roommate of a friend had taken over the computer to keep the mood going. “‘Burnin’ Up’!” someone requested. Probably the new Usher single, I thought, and then a nineteen- or twenty-year-old played me my first Jonas Brothers song. “Don’t they wear chastity rings?” I asked no one.