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The Setonian
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Jessie Borkan | College Is As College Does

This weekend I found myself celebrating the last Halloween of my college career and I don't know what was scarier: swine flu or the prospect of (not) finding a job. I receive e-mails nearly every day concerning both of them: from Tufts, from my mom, from my friends — all admonishing me to wash my hands, buy a suit, avoid sharing drinks and network. My everyday conversations are suddenly peppered with news of which fortunate souls have been recruited, and which unfortunate ones have come down with the infamous H1N1, as well as who took the LSATs out of sheer desperation and who has the vague and mysterious "ILI." It seems no one is safe. Why? Unemployment might not be as contagious as the dreaded swine, but sensationalism definitely is, and I see it infecting Tufts.


The Setonian
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Charles Laubacher | Ears Open

I remember an argument that I had with a somewhat thickheaded friend from high school: He tried to argue that women were inherently unable to rock as hard as their male counterparts. While it is true that notable female figures have been conspicuously absent from the history of rock n' roll, I don't think this is the result of women having an inherent predisposition not to rock, but rather the result of the culture that surrounds the music industry. In order to change my friend's mind, I directed him to check out one Miss Brody Dalle, then of the punk band The Distillers.


The Setonian
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Teddy Minch | Off Mic

Exactly a year ago, the U.S. presidential election cycle was in its final days. Emotions ran high in both the Barack Obama and John McCain camps. McCain unleashed a final, furious wave of allegations against Obama — chief among them was the notion that Obama, if elected, would act on his purportedly steadfast commitment to the redistribution of wealth in American society and cause a dramatic, socialist political shift.


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Derek Schlom | I Blame Pop Culture

The purpose of this column, ostensibly, is for me to vent through the lens of pop culture about my problems and neuroses. But my issues don't hold a candle to those of Larry Gopnik, the protagonist of "A Serious Man" (2009), the hilarious, moving, odd and deeply puzzling new film from Joel and Ethan Coen.


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Alex Prewitt | Live from Mudville

Everyone has his or her own specific way of attempting to predict the future. The Mayans have their calendar, Tom Hanks had the Zoltar Machine and Nostradamus had his patented Magic 8 Ball.


The Setonian
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Emily Maretsky | Nice Shoes, Let's Date

Admit it or not, most of us stress over and debate about relationship issues, whether it be through whispering during TDC rehearsals, getting advice from roommates or "doing work" in Tisch.



The Setonian
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Teddy Minch | Off Mic

The leader of Afghanistan since his appointment as chairman of the transitional administration in December 2001, Hamid Karzai is the face of the American democracy-building experiment in the middle eastern nation. Over the course of the past eight years, he has served as the constant presence American policymakers have needed to ensure some sort of stability for rebuilding and security efforts.



The Setonian
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Jessie Borkan | College Is As College Does

It had been almost two months, and I still had faith that I was going to get the hang of Pilates ... and then came the giant bouncy balls. Like Goldilocks, I went through three sizes of these inflatable spheres of humiliation, but never found that just-right ball. Instead, I spent most of class sunk into a partially deflated globe, knees to my chest and rolling off every five to seven minutes.


The Setonian
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Alex Prewitt | Live from Mudville

Every fall is a little different. We get older, Halloween costumes get a little more slutty, and the Washington Redskins find a way to suck a little bit more. But for me at least, one thing has always remained constant during the autumn months: fantasy football.


The Setonian
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Derek Schlom | I Blame Pop Culture

In the words of Jack Donaghy on last week's episode of "30 Rock," "I'm a big ol' liar." To my three or four loyal readers: Don't have a conniption. I've been completely honest with you in my previous columns. I did sob at a Grizzly Bear concert, I do think that Kanye West and Serena Williams were in the right, and I am, in fact, absolutely nothing like Jason Schwartzman.    When I say "lies," I'm not talking about outright, Balloon Boy-style fabrications.


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Ethan Frigon | The Beard Abides

College football polls: They're the scourge of diehard pigskin fans the nation over. (Well, except for the Northeast, where few seem to care about the beautiful game. Fools.) Fans love nothing more than to angrily rag on a pollster who ranked their team precisely seven spots too low, or who had the audacity to accidentally slot them below a team their team beat in Week 3. Normally, you would have to dismiss these as merely the rantings of supremely biased fans with way too much time on their hands to spend arguing anonymously in online fan forums and on sports talk radio.     In this case, though, it pains me to admit that these fans have got a pretty legitimate beef. College football polls are the only instance in sports in which what you actually did on the field takes a backseat to media perceptions — and this never fails to generate controversy on an annual basis.     Every professional league obviously has a coherent playoff system. College basketball has polls, too, but they hold much less sway than those in football, and the 64-team playoff gives every halfway decent team a shot at winning the championship. College football, on the other hand, has created a delightful little cartel known as the Bowl Championship Series (BCS), mainly to keep its lucrative partners happy. And, it seems, to piss off the viewing public. This system creates a two-team playoff every year, slotting a national championship game and nothing else.     The BCS standings, derived from a formula that at various points has included such variables as quality wins, strength of schedule and a Standardized Co-ed Attractiveness System, is now relatively simple: one-third Harris poll, one-third coaches' poll, one-third the average of six computer formulas. So basically, you have got three groups of people not playing football deciding which two teams play for the national championship.     Adding to the problem is the fact that the most respected and best poll, the Associated Press', is no longer part of the formula. The AP withdrew after controversy consumed the end of the 2004 season, when five teams finished undefeated (obviously, only two can play for the championship). This led the BCS to begin its own replacement poll, the Harris poll, made up mainly of obscure media figures and former college football players. The Harris poll is almost blandly similar to the coaches' poll on a week-to-week basis.     Especially in comparison with the AP poll, both of these polls are notoriously static, with little change on a weekly basis. Both polls also generally seem resistant to moving non-BCS conference teams up, even after wins or losses by teams above them.     Most embarrassing of all, however, is the basic idea of the coaches' poll. Who thought it was a good idea for coaches to vote on their own teams and the teams they're playing against?  Could they have come up with a group that would be more obviously biased than the men whose jobs literally depend on what these polls say about them and their competitors?     There's a direct incentive to not only over-rank their own teams, but also teams in their own conference, to make themselves look better by comparison. Also, is there another group that more obviously isn't watching college football on Saturday? That's kind of their biggest day of the week, so, yeah: they might have other things on their mind than that poll they have to fill out by Sunday morning.     It's one of the worst-kept secrets in sports that just about every coach has their sports information director or some other low-level flunky in the athletic department fill their poll out for them. So, come on, college football powers-that-be, take some of the power away from the polls. Give us a playoff, and let teams decide the national championship on the field instead of in a sportswriter's office. At the very least, get rid of the idiotic coaches' poll.


The Setonian
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Derek Schlom | I Blame Pop Culture

If you haven't figured it out from my first three columns, I'm kind of a mess. Allow me to list some corroborating evidence from the past week or two: I've been walking around like an electrocuted caveman because I can't find the motivation to schlep to Davis to get my hair cut or to trim a beard described as "pubic hair-esque" by a friend (who politely added that he was pointing this out "for my own good"). I spilled lemonade all over my phone. I overslept a few times and attended my morning classes shower-less (sorry, people who sit near me in French). According to my roommate, I've been talking to myself and punching the air with manic fervor in my sleep. At one point I may or may not have vented my accumulated frustration by eating an entire box of cereal.   


The Setonian
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Emily Maretsky | Nice Shoes, Let's Date

Call them what you want — cradle robbers, cougars, manthers, gold diggers, jailbait, boy toys (or toy boys) — society loves to rag on people in relationships with age differences.


The Setonian
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Alex Prewitt | Live from Mudville

This week I was supposed to write about ESPN The Magazine's recent release of its Body Issue. I had a great joke all lined up, too. I was going to change the name of the Entertainment and Sports Programming Network to the Entertainment, Sports and Penis Network.


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Rebecca Goldberg | AbroadAway

I hadn't been on the ground for an hour on my first day before I saw Tom Arnold in a restaurant. It wasn't the most glamorous celebrity sighting, but I suppose it was a fitting introduction to the vernacular of L.A. Now I have an anecdote: You guys, I saw Tom Arnold in a restaurant. I already have more of these kinds of stories than the average bear (did you know I saw Bill O'Reilly in a unisex bathroom backstage at Radio City Music Hall?), but on the east coast, they don't come up in conversation very often. Here, celebrity stories are a necessary part of speech, and people everywhere are dying to share theirs with you.     My roommate McKenzie, ever since she arrived, has picked up the habit of scanning every face she sees, trying to decide if she's seen it before. And, as I'm finding out at every turn, her chances are surprisingly good. As an enthusiast of pop culture of all stripes, I suppose that my mental font of celebrities is larger than many, but it still seems like there is an excess supply of people in this town who, to a given person, can be considered "celebrities."     Last week, I was in an all-night restaurant in Hollywood and saw two out of the three Hanson brothers, but I was the only person in my group who recognized them (yeah, I still listen to Hanson, what of it?). I was excited to see musicians I admire (stop judging me!), but McKenzie was just happy to see anybody.     The producer of "Attack of the Show!" who interviewed me for a potential internship asked, "How are you at dealing with talent?" It seems ridiculous that "talent" lives in a kind of rarefied air in L.A. — the air quality here is terrible anyway. But I can't stop these ridiculous anecdotes from coming out of my mouth, even though I learned years ago that celebrities are just human beings too. All this obsession just seems like a waste of time.     Last night, I went to dinner in the Valley with Janet, the family friend who got me my "HIMYM" gig, and her husband Michael, who's worked for years as a character actor in order to support his comedy writing. I catch him on TV all the time — an episode of "Seinfeld" here, a recurring role on "Hannah Montana" there. I suppose for many, he has one of those faces that is familiar but hard to place. He told me, "Since I did ‘Hannah Montana,' I can't walk into a Chuck E. Cheese without the place going apes--t." I wasn't sure if he was kidding.     He also relishes his celebrity stories more than anyone else I've talked to. He eagerly shared his experiences with Miley, Courteney Cox, the Brady Bunch and Michael Jackson. He refers to them by their first names.     Watching E! with Janet and Michael was exhausting. "So-and-so actress is such a nice girl." "What's-his-name is really a messed-up guy." Maybe I'm in the minority, but I don't particularly want to hear it. I guess I read my fair share of celebrity Twitters, but there are far more people whom I don't care about than those I do.     In a time when so many famous people have done nothing to earn their fame, there is an oversaturation of people in L.A. whom we're all supposed to slobber after. And maybe this means that I'll never fit in entirely in this town, but I don't really have the energy to play along.


The Setonian
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Ethan Frigon | The Beard Abides

I sincerely hope every one of you watched Monday Night Football this week. If not, you missed the pinnacle of the greatest event in sports, ESPN and probably sports journalism in its entirety: Brett Favre's first game against his former team, the Green Bay Packers — admittedly a particularly surreal sight that could've only been made weirder had it been played at Lambeau.     Still, the Worldwide Leader rose to near-insane levels of hyperbole, unabashedly calling the game the "biggest regular season game in years." Inevitably, the most gushing praise was reserved for the Ole Gunslinger himself. No fewer than three ESPN talking heads referred to him as "magical" on various editions of SportsCenter throughout the day.     The game played out exactly as the network hoped, with Number 4 (apparently) looking like the "vintage Favre of 1997." Granted, Favre did look pretty impressive, making a handful of throws that only three or four other current quarterbacks would've been capable of. However, anyone who wasn't blinded by the Metrodome glare off of Favre's halo could've seen that Green Bay's secondary played as weak a game as any unit in the NFL has this season. And their front seven didn't look much better. On one play, Favre had a full 8-Mississippi to find a receiver. Even JaMarcus Russell could've located an open wideout with that kind of time.     With any other quarterback, this shoddy coverage would've been made clear by midway through the first quarter, but with Favre it was barely noted at all. Apparently some of Brett's magic wore off on the announcers, with Mike Tirico declaring with a full quarter left to play that, "Number 4 has done it one more time," and Ron Jaworski going so far as to exclaim, "no 40-year old [quarterback] has ever won a playoff game; I think he'll get that one too." It's the first week in October!     Never before has a network lavished this level of love on a single player. What makes its warm and tingly feelings even weirder is the disconnect that exists between ESPN and its viewing public, the overwhelming majority of whom abjectly hate Favre. I don't know anyone besides my idiot brother who doesn't think that Brett Favre is an ass. Hell, I want to punch myself in the face just for writing a column about the self-centered turd.     On the other hand, ESPN's blatant over-promotion serves a distinct purpose. Love him or hate him, ESPN has pretty much forced the diehard sports fan to have a completely polarized opinion of the man. And polarized opinions mean a public that's compelled to watch a game that it otherwise would have little to no interest in.     To this end, every word every SportsCenter anchor and analyst uttered about him in the past week paid off. The game drew 21.84 million viewers, which was not only the largest audience in ESPN and Monday Night Football history, but also in the history of cable television. The Worldwide Leader got that way by knowing what it's doing, and the Favre saga is simply the latest example.     So expect more of Stuart Scott asking questions like (to Bernard Berrian), "What was the funniest thing Brett said on the sidelines?"     At least one man, Jon Gruden, understood how comical the situation was and responded by delving into over-the-top satire. Gruden openly declared that leading a second-quarter scoring drive, "cements [Favre] as a living legend." He then opined, over practice footage from 1994 — when Gruden was Favre's QB coach — of Favre hitting wide open receivers, that "I love being associated with this guy," and in a heartrending show of emotion said, "I miss him."     Wait. He was serious? Jesus.



The Setonian
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Sticks and Stones

If you go to Tufts, then you probably have a mental list of words that you sometimes hear in your hometown or even, on occasion, at a family gathering, but would never, ever dream of uttering within 10 miles of campus. You wouldn't go near the K-word or the D-word, let alone the C-word or the N-word. In fact, there are so many __-words to remember that you probably shudder with fear after articulating completely innocuous ones like "black" or "homosexual" or "Canada," waiting for someone to jump down your throat.(If you don't go to Tufts, then you're most likely confused. This is the Daily. Sudoku is on page 11.)For the most part, I get it. I was never a believer in the elementary school rhyme about sticks and stones and cried when people so much as mentioned my frizzy hair. Words aren't just words. Well, they are just words. But they pick up all kinds of meanings and connotations over the course of their various histories and often rehash bad memories that are more pleasant to just stow away.Hence, political correctness.But I don't want to talk about those words. I want to talk about why — for the very reasons that certain words are deemed un-PC in the first place — political correctness is basically futile.Un-PC terms make it onto the blacklist because we know them to be painfully racist, sexist or discriminatory in some way. But what about the rest of the words that we use on a daily basis? Can we ensure that we're not being accidentally offensive or constantly using racial slurs?Absolutely not. Commonplace words have histories of their own, most of them so forgotten that we overlook the prejudices they unsuspectingly harbor. Let me explain what I mean.There was a girl in my high school history class who refused to refer to the study as "history" and instead chose "herstory." My teacher, infuriated, assured the girl that "history" is not sexist and does not relate to the gender-specific pronoun "his" but rather to the Greek word "historia," meaning narrative. She wouldn't let up, so he scornfully told her to shut up.He probably shouldn't have done so, foremost because it was mean, but also because, in a way, she was right. No, the "his" in "history" does not imply that the narrative of history is the narrative of men. But the word "history" in "historia" does mean "wise man," implying that the writers of history's narrative are in fact men.Not sold? Here's another one: Killers, murderers, assassins — they're all words used to judge criminals solely on the basis of their actions, right? Colloquially, yes. But the word "assassin," according to a popular etymological theory, actually comes from the Arabic "hashishiyyin," meaning hashish-user and referring to a sect of Muslims during the Crusades rumored to have gotten high off of hashish and then gone on murderous raids of their opponents under the influence. So when you accuse someone of being an assassin, you can't do it without bringing up Muslims and drugs.Similarly, the phrase "running amok" (which is kind of like going berserk) comes from the Malay word "amuk" and was used by Westerners in reference to native South Asians, who, allegedly, were inclined to work up a frenzy, run into the streets and kill everyone in sight. No one calls that phrase the RA-word.But perhaps the greatest irony lies in the term "political correctness" itself, which is said to have been coined by Mao's "Little Red Book" to indicate that only opinions aligning with Maoism and Marxism were "politically correct." That sucks, I know, but PC is a delicate game to play. And oftentimes, without even realizing it, you get gypped.