Author: Malik Jackson
Malik, Not Samuel L.
On Monday, February 10, the Daily Princetonian published an article about senior football captain Caraun Reid’s accomplishments and his opportunity to play in the NFL. The article relayed that Caraun is a special talent, but the photograph accompanying the article was not of Caraun from this fall’s victory over Yale, but of me jumping in the air.
by Malik Jackson on
Daffy Ducks
Phil Robertson thinks that homosexuality is a slippery slope towards chicken- and toaster-fucking, and in his mind, every black person he met before Civil Rights was just hunky-dory, with no need for more voting rights or nonsense like that. The debate surrounding his interview is so intense, or at least so loud, that Internet activists have tricked themselves into thinking that this is a good and necessary fight.
by A.K. Williams on
Carbon Copy
Breaking your face is not like breaking your arm or your leg. Granted, I have never broken my arm or my leg so maybe I am just falsely assuming things here, but I can only imagine that when you break those parts of your body, it’s more of a functional issue than anything else.
by Caresse Yan on
I’ve a Feeling You’re Not in Kansas Anymore
t’s 4 am and your mind is in Kansas City in 2004 when you made this Geocities webpage in the living room of that house on 91st Street, and you are not crying. Your page is called modernart.html, because not much has changed in the last decade, but you used to put two spaces in between sentences, so things are looking up.
by Andrew Sondern on
All Grown Up
Earl Sweatshirt looks so young. His baby face bears a sparse mustache I associate with high school boys trying to prove they’ve hit puberty, and he’s swallowed by an oversize Yankees jersey. Maybe it’s just because I’m so close to the stage, and to other people he seems older than his nineteen years.
by Isabel Henderson on
Mary, Full of Space
The car booms up some road that ends exactly in sky and I think this is the most beautiful thing in America I am not used to feeling golden But I think you are Can you tell I’m terrified … Read More
by Susannah Sharpless on
Cock Blocking
A justification for the unglamorous, unpopular, but all too necessary role of the cock blocker.
by Emily Lever on
Facebook’s New Gender Options
When Facebook expanded its gender options early this February, many users were finally able to represent themselves authentically to the online community. The popular social network, which had previously required users to list themselves as either male or female, added a new “custom” gender option to accommodate individuals who do not identify with the traditional gender binary.
by Kat Kulke on
101 Questions to Ask Eisgruber at Office Hours
What is Cap Love? How can I improve my relationship with my mother? what’s ur dick like? You’re Jewish but your name is Christopher… is that weird for you? Have you ever hooked up with a student? Be honest. Which … Read More
by staff on
Eyes on the Skies
To telescope is to slide concentric components within themselves, to shrink sequentially, to densen. It is also a means of interstellar discovery, of flooding, of applying pressure. In the succeeding entries, we telescope the weather by precipitating and saturating our memories. Each succeeding memory of a series is composed in exactly half the number of words of the previous. Condense with us.
by Angela Cafferty, Catalina Trigo, Dayton Martindale, Margaret Spencer, Rachel Stone, Sophie Parker-Rees, Zahava Presser on
Revelry as Rage
What does it mean to rage? The word’s attractiveness results from the contingencies it contains. “Rage” is an expression of promise and uncertainty. The potentialities inherent in raging create the possibility for spontaneity in a place where it rarely exists. Life at Princeton is highly routinized. We live according to the logic of the Google Calendar. We schedule leisure time. We diastinguish between productive and unproductive activity. To rage in the moment is to temporarily shatter the predictability of existence in our human capital factory.
by Joshua Leifer on
Forget Me Not
It was my freshman year of high school, and I was at my first Model UN conference, walking out of the dining room of the Hilton hotel where the conference was being held. I had just finished lunch with my friends and was heading back to my committee room, when I saw a face I hadn’t seen in several years. My best friend from grade school was getting onto the escalator in front of me. I started slapping my high school friend, Margaret, in excitement. I pointed to my old friend and whispered loudly, “I went to elementary school with that guy!”
by Rachel Bergman on