A clear and present danger exists among sports media, an inevitable vortex of sorts that consumes the young and veterans alike, gathering them up like houses and cows in a tornado. This is the danger of the "false narrative," derived from a minute sample size and extrapolated into a national sensation. We talk about bandwagon fans. There are bandwagon media members, too.
So tech has been in the news a lot recently. Congress flip−floppedSOPA and PIPA into nonexistence. MegaVideo.com was shut down. But what does it mean? And why should you still care now that it's already happened?
On Feb. 5, Target added yet another luxury label designer to its ever−increasing list of collaborations. Jason Wu, the fashion designer who dreamt up Michelle Obama's ethereal inauguration gown, channeled his ladylike silhouettes for a 16−look collection. The bargain−hunting masses, whom I enthusiastically endorse, will flock to Target for his frocks. But I am going to be sitting this one out. Read on, and I'll explain the pros and cons of these collabs.
Sports have always provided a lifeline for the underprivileged and downright destitute, and for the rest of us more fortunate but less gifted, a trove of heartwarming, Alger−esque stories. This brand of story has appeared and reappeared over time in some form or another, but the theme remains the same: how athletics helped a young man or woman out of poverty.
Same circus, different tents." This slogan, emblazoned on shirts during Fashion Week in Bryant Park in 2009, was intended to capture a moment of fashion history, marking the end of the Bryant Park shows before the migration uptown to Lincoln Center. Yet, the slogan pokes devilish fun at the serious frenzy that is New York Fashion Week. The Mercedes−Benz Fashion Week (MBFW) calendar marks Feb. 9 as the official start date for the 2012 fall shows, but everyone knows that's only half the story. There are enough parties, after−parties, store openings and launch parties to leave anyone gasping for breath.
At 9:55 p.m. on Monday, I finally stopped hopping nervously around the room and collapsed onto a vacant chair. Lightning had indeed struck twice as my New York Giants accomplished the improbable: they stymied Brady and co. in the Super Bowl for the second time in five seasons.
Sports are fickle and ever−changing. Herein lies both their ultimate tragedy and most enticing draw. New, exciting players enter their respective leagues each season, reinvigorating poor teams. Yet just as quickly as players rise to stardom, they may retire, become injured or — even worse — sign with a rival team.
Stereotype: A fixed, commonly held notion or image of a person or group, based on an oversimplification of some observed or imagined trait of behavior or appearance.
Sadly, after a year of writing this column, I will be hanging up the gloves for at least a semester. I know all five of my readers will be crushed (Hi Mom!). But before I go, I'd like to touch on a subject that was one of the first I ever covered for The Tufts Daily: Tiger Woods.
And, with one of the strangest titles you will ever read, I begin my last column of the semester. This week, we have a film critic controversy. The New Yorker disobeyed an embargo imposed by Sony Pictures that prevented all film reviews for "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" from being published until Dec. 13. The New Yorker film critic David Denby's review of the movie ran in the magazine's Dec. 5 issue, and the topic has since generated some Internet buzz after emails were leaked between Denby and Scott Rudin, one of the film's producers. In the emails, Rudin characterizes The New Yorker's decision to defy the embargo as "lousy and immoral." Rudin also prohibits Denby from attending future screenings of his films.
Flashback to April 2010: April Open House. For most of the day, overly exuberant students raved about the Bridge Program and the Leonard Carmichael Society in order to hoodwink prospective students like myself into believing that we could feel at home at Tufts by puttering around for an afternoon at an event that is really a total sham.
The season of good will is upon us. And, rather delightfully, you U.S. folk have decided to slot in another holiday just before Christmas. Although my love of the TV series "Friends" (1994−2004) means I was aware of Thanksgiving, my knowledge of the holiday was somewhat limited. Unsurprising, really, since the very same TV show once led me to believe that "Chrismukkah" was a genuine holiday. Anyway, I did know that this holiday positively encourages the sin of gluttony, and I was enthusiastic about this new addition to my culinary calendar.
Since the smoldering hues of October's leaves grayed into the monotony of November, I've been craving Thanksgiving break. It's not so much about the very brief pause in classes (but really, why can't we just have a week?).
My Thanksgiving consisted of the typical American plate of food, family and football. But this year, I may have gone overboard on the football part. Thursday was NFL games from when I stumbled out of bed to when I stumbled back in, much more tired and much fuller. Friday was built around LSU vs. Arkansas and the weirdness of the Big East race, Saturday was college football all day, and soon I was watching the NFL again back in Boston.
So you're about to get raunchy. Doing your sexy dance and strippin' off your sexy pants, and then it hits you: My junk isn't pretty enough. I must make my junk pretty.
It's not often that you are completely pulled into a piece of literature and left wishing there were more pages to lose yourself in. This novel I'm writing about today does just that with its terse sentences and poignant voice. In fact, TIME included it on its list, "100 Best English-language Novels from 1923-2005."
