At newspapers across America - including this one - the editorial page is a sort of sacred icon, standing for the principles of freedom that the founders of the United States fought for. On this one page, freedom of speech and freedom of the press are at their finest.
This past Sunday, I regained my faith in the taste of music enthusiasts. It was in the Union Ballroom, during the phenomenal sold-out performance of The White Stripes, when I realized people really do appreciate honest art. Meg and Jack White, of The White Stripes, played a type of rock ‘n’ roll that isn’t anything like too many of the current mainstream rock acts, if you can call Creed a modern rock act.
As occasionally happens at this university, the campus is up in arms over the actions of members of a fraternity. For those of you under a rock, members of the Pi Kappa Phi chapter at MSU decided to enter Mason and Abbot Halls’ cafeterias two weeks ago wearing pink, sleeveless T-shirts with the slogans “Capt.
I hate to fly. Unlike many Americans of late, it has nothing to do with this past September. Sure, I’ve had my share of flights to different destinations, but nothing says comfort like the feel of a steering wheel that you alone control.
Road rage is no stranger to me. I have learned to embrace this overwhelming sense of aggravation that usually hits me around Abbott Road and E.
I consider myself to be the epitome of a female hip-hop chick. Some days you’ll find me dressed in my knee-high boots, fishnet stockings and bluejean minis.
Jay-Z calls R. Kelly’s latest alleged sex scandal with underage girls, this time caught on video, “The gift and the curse.” It sounds more like he’s sugarcoating a serious issue while conveniently promoting his upcoming album, “The Gift And The Curse.” I’m not surprised, considering how Jay-Z degrades women consistently in his music.
Due to the unfortunate circumstances of my education, it is necessary that I wake up at 4 a.m., six days a week.
Love him or hate him, President Bush has been admirably measured in his response to terror. He waited until he had evidence of Osama bin Laden’s culpability to invade Afghanistan.
It’s been a long road. I’ve stumbled to early morning classes for five years, pretended to take notes, kept from nodding off and ultimately somehow earned adequate grades. Now, nearly half a decade after beginning a collegiate career I sincerely enjoyed, the time is swiftly approaching when I’m being forced to realize that perhaps, at age 23, it’s time to grow up. Graduation is in May.
When I was young, I always needed intellectual stimulation. Staring mindlessly at the television just didn’t do it for me.
This inquisition must be stopped. Police and Ingham County prosecutors hope dragging five MSU students through criminal court will help teach other students about the dangers of excessive drinking.
Members of local church clergies may not like what I am about to tell you. But I don’t care. So, here it goes. You don’t have to go to church to have God in your life. Don’t act shocked.
I consider myself to be something of an expert on death. In my short time on Earth, I have been to about 13 funerals. So most of my life, I have been faced with all the questions that come with death. Well, at least I thought I had. I scratched my cornea during spring break.
Today, I surrender. One of the more annoying things about traveling abroad is foreigners, upon learning that you’re American, assume you are fit to bear responsibility for national policy and action across the globe.
It seems music biz stars these days just can’t keep their pants on. Or their video cameras off. The latest scandal revolves around R&B extraordinaire R.
My mother makes a mean matzah lasagna. Even with the limited selection of delectable (yes, that’s sarcasm) kosher-for-Passover foods available in grocery stores, I take comfort in knowing there will be homemade matzah-ball soup and matzah lasagna at home waiting for me.
Somewhere on campus an ugly rumor has been circulated: Being a mentor is torture. It is a job attempted only by three groups of students: those who have a death wish, those who want a guaranteed single with free room and board or those who (cringe) actually care about their fellow students and want to make college the best years of their lives. Yes, I am part of the third group.
On the wall of my dad’s office there hangs a folded up piece of paper with the words “Your an great princebul Mr. Ronko” scrawled on it in black crayon. My dad, an elementary school principal since 1993, always has been great. He was the coolest guy ever when I was a kid.
With the recent charges against MSU students allegedly involved in Eric Blair’s death, I can’t help but think about drinking and its consequences. I’m a college student and, yes, I drink.