Her page, arrested in those golden years before anybody cared how many likes your profile picture had, was the picture of adolescence: I smiled when I saw the wall posts about biology homework, the album titled “January!!” In 2008, she had attended Homecoming and a Quidditch Club Meeting.
“The Stars— they’re just like us!” Or are they? An analysis of the fabrication behind Adele’s relatable success, the Jennifer Lawrence effect, and the uncanny valley.
The Pentagon challenging the Bush Administration’s stance on global warming – sounds like something out of the Twilight Zone, doesn\\\\\\\’t it? But it’s true; last week, a report on global warming commissioned by a high-level Pentagon official was leaked to … Read More
I recently ran a half marathon, which is 13.1 miles. This is the longest distance that I have ever run. I ran cross country and track all throughout high school, and workouts would foray into the ten mile range once in a while, but, as would soon be reinforced, that extra 3.1 is far from negligible. More to the point, the most I had run at once as a collegiate was only a tad over six, and this was nine days before the half marathon. What I am getting at is the following: this half marathon was a significant undertaking for which I was resoundingly underprepared.
The album titles I want to highlight here earn my praise not as a result of vitality in any traditional musical- or thematic-unification, but because, they’re just pleasing somehow—they make me raise a bemused eyebrow, and then giggle like a schoolgirl. Is this not reason enough to crown a king?
I got 99 problems, and all of ’em’s being happy,” bursts out Tyler Okonma—better known by his stage name Tyler, the Creator—on “Pigs,” one of the many disturbing looks inside the mind of this 22 year-old rapper on his new album Wolf. The pop-culture riff with a demented personal twist is Tyler’s signature move, and one that somehow keeps the listeners coming back for more.
Are people afraid that their deepest darkest secrets will make their way into the hands of their mortal enemies? Why do we see one person’s post on Facebook and instantly delve into a tumultuous back and forth between the meager efforts to protect our photos and the nonchalant I-don’t-give-a-fuck shoulder shrug?
Political campaigns are at once noble and naïve. On one level they are not akin to anything so much as a revolution, albeit one that requires only a temporary commitment.