Divestment leads to high spirits

Posted by Andrew Shi

With unprecedented speed, Skidmore College's Board of Trustees has announced their decision for the immediate and absolute divestment from fossil fuel corporations. This decision follows student pressure on the College's head honchos to adhere to Skidmore's vocal commitment to sustainability.

To the even greater surprise of the Skidmore community, The Board of Trustees has seen the students' call and raised them one. In an email sent out Thursday, the Administration announced, on behalf of the Board of Trustees, that to further conform with the image Skidmore has cultivated, funds returned from divestment in fossil fuel corporations would be reinvested into cannabis.

The announcement was met with a lukewarm response by the community at large, who thought that such a decision with a still unsavory industry would tarnish Skidmore's reputation.

The administration responded with a second email on Friday, saying, "Skidmore College is proud to be a trailblazer when it comes to social issues. Our decision today to invest in cannabis not only celebrates Skidmore's liberal tradition, but is fiscally prudent with the rapid legalization of the market."

In the 80's, when South Africans were under the oppression of the apartheid government, Skidmore was the very first college among many to divest from South African steel companies in protest.

Although the process to divest and then reinvest funds in the range of 5-10% of Skidmore's endowment will be a long and likely arduous process, it looks like Skidmore is on its way to become just a little bit greener.

Correction: I erroneously claimed above that Skidmore was one of the very first colleges to divest from South African steel companies in opposition to the apartheid. In fact, Skidmore never divested from said companies. Apologies.

Army Man

Posted by Allison Smith

Robert, my first best friend ever, boards Bus 22 today holding a large book.  I know he got it from Dusty, the oldest of his three brothers. The four of them all look the same.  Their mom cuts their white, blonde hair so short that they almost look bald.  They have clear blue eyes and dirty faces from running around in the woods.  My mom always washes the dirt off of my face. The book he holds in his hand has an army man on the cover with the same hair cut Robert has.

            "Cat, I wont be in school tomorrow." Robert announces. I think that will be alright because he has Mrs. Raven as a teacher and I have Mrs. Hilperts so we don't see each other during the day anyway. I then remember and start to worry about who I will have to sit with on Bus 22.  Patty Williamson better not sit down next to me because she is the worst and for her birthday got a purple backpack even though I had a purple backpack first. I decide that Robert needs to come to school tomorrow because I cannot and will not be stuck sitting next to Patty Williamson.

            Robert takes a deep breath in and then declares, "Cat, I'm joining the army." He drops the big book in my lap and I open it up.  We have looked through the book before. I knew he is joining the army but I did not know so soon. We are only in kindergarten. We had a plan. I look at the black and white pictures of the nurses helping wounded soldiers laying in rows of cots.

            "But, Robert, who will take care of you?" I ask.  We had a plan for after we graduate. I will go to nursing school and he will train with his brothers for the army.  Then we would meet in a distant enemy land and whenever he was wounded I would heal him.

            "I'm sorry Cat I have to go," He says in his deepest voice. "Dusty is going tomorrow and it might be my only chance to go with him."

            For the rest of our ride on Buss 22 we flip through the book and he points to the pictures of all the things he will learn to do in the army.  

Later that day on the playground I hide in the tunnel slide.

The next day I board Bus 22 and put my purple backpack on the open space next to me so that Patty Williamson cannot sit there.  Bus 22 stops at Roberts house and I start to yell up to Bus Driver Nick that we won't need to stop here anymore.  Then, to my complete surprise, Robert walks onto Bus 22. I quickly shove my purple backpack on to the floor so he can sit down.

"Robert what happened to the army?" I eagerly ask him with wide eyes.

Robert sits still for a moment.  Robert pulls back his shoulders and takes a deep breath to fill his chest. Robert dramatically exhales and explains, "They would not take me. I was too good."

Farm Pond

Posted by Allison Smith

There is another world down there and we are the Kings of it.  If we walk to the edge of the beach, and jump, then we would fall into the world we rule. We hope.

            A portal has been created by a universal agreement not to disturb the still water.  No wind, no birds, and no falling leaves dare cause a ripple on the surface. We sit on top of a disintegrating lifeguard stand on the ring that surrounds the opening. Tall black trees enclose the opening and us.

            The purple sky and budding stars are perfectly mirrored through the hole in the ground.  We are floating though space to some sort of heaven on this disintegrating lifeguard stand.

            The cold bites our toes but we still sit up high, peering down at the world we used to be Kings of.

            With our big sunglasses, red lips, we are queens of the beach. There is no way we are jumping into that cold water. The sand is warm and we like to run our manicured nails in it.

            Children drag their parents screaming with excitement into the mucky water.  The town's swim team, The Snappers, lazily lap back and forth in the deep end of the roped in area.

            We push our blonde hair behind our ears and stick buds in to listen to music.

            We walk in circles around the boys playing pickle admiring their firm abdomens.  We suck our stomachs in. We lie on our matching white towels waiting for them to bow down to their queens.

Skidmore Outing Club to Announce Minority Opportunity Initiative

Posted by Alex Hodor-Lee

A collective Anglo complexion and sense of privilege have long oppressed members of the Skidmore Outing Club. This has fostered a very elitist environment, leading minority students to feel uncomfortable at the prospect of joining.

To remedy the social injustice (and assuage their Caucasian guilt), the Outing Club will launch a new program to attract Skidmore students from all shades of the rainbow.

Known as "The Outside Club", the pilot program will help teach underprivileged minority students how to "get in touch with their inner-outsideness." The Outing Club is hoping to shed their image as a white's only an intolerant and exclusive club.

The Outing Club is one of the largest clubs on campus and its members often measure the size of their walking stick by boasting the number of email recipients on their listserv. However, some have admonished them for their lack of diversity as related to their relative clout on campus.

Others have come to the club's defense, noting that hiking and bird-watching are predominantly Anglo "sports," that Others (employed in the anthropological sense) are not privy to. Moreover, proponents of the club contend that a lack of integration is not a problem specific to the Outing Club, but representative of a systemic issue at Skidmore.

The situation also raises interesting questions about the role of forced integration on campus. Should college clubs, or even the College, be responsible for legislating or regulating interracial interactions on campus? Is it even a big deal?

While some contend that diversity substantively enriches our perspective, ability to collaborate and capacity to learn, others recognize that diversity is simply a descriptive element: a corporate instrument employed in an effort to raise Skidmore's perceived prestige.

In any case, this white man's burden initiative will begin "whenever we get our shit together", wrote one member, who, unauthorized to discuss the program, spoke on condition of anonymity.

A College spokesman remarked, "We're very proud of the College's commitment to diversity and support new initiatives, such as the Outing Club's." The spokesman also astutely pointed out, "diversity and integration are two of Skidmore's most difficult challenges and require hard work and dedication," continuing, "[diversity and integration] certainly can't simply be achieved by writing sententious, satirical pieces in one's pajamas."

It remains to be seen whether this post-colonial endeavor will teach minority students to fish. Most importantly: will these minority students assimilate to the Outing Club culture, becoming as integrated and accessorized as nalgenes on backpacks?

The Outing Club is currently seeking Asian, hapa and mulatto students, in hopes of abating culture shock in this transition period. Students seeking financial aid to cover the cost of equipment can apply for grants through the Cynthia Carroll Opportunity Fund.

Next week: If Pony Club told you to jump off a bridge...

Author's Notes: The Skidmore New's "Pulp" section often features essays, poetry and,in this case, satire. It should be understood that satire stories are parody and employ humor to highlight social and cultural norms.

Good: By Andrew Gettings

Good

By Andrew Gettings

Mel was good.  She had brown hair.  She did girl's track.  She had no piercings except for one in each earlobe, which were only ever adorned with conservative studs.  Mel didn't listen to rap music, she liked country.  She was always home by eleven and she always had her schoolwork in on time.  Mel never had any stories to tell at camp or fingers to put up when playing "never have I ever".

It was a few days after Mel's birthday when she told her little brother Ian that he'd have to walk home from school.  She told him she had stay after school and work on the yearbook.  Mel didn't like to lie to her brother, it made her feel like a mean older sister, which she wasn't.

That day after school Mel hurried to her car and drove out of the student parking lot.  She was careful to not be seen by her brother or anyone who might stop her and ask for a ride.  She needed to be alone.

Mel drove for fifteen minutes before pulling into a gas station in the next town.  She got out of the car, her palms were damp and her breath was short.  A cold winter breeze pushed Mel forward as she walked into the store and swallowed her nerves.  She was going to be fine.

She walked up to the counter and surveyed the array of cartons behind the cashier.

She cleared her throat.

"Can I have," she played with her car keys, "can I have a pack of Newports please?"

Mel was afraid to look up as the man turned around to get the little box she had requested.

"Can I see your ID young lady?", the cashier softly placed the carton on the counter.

"Here." Mel slid her license out of her paisley wallet.  She could hear her heartbeat.

"Alright is that all?" The man's finger levitated above the cash register.

"Yes." Mel handed him a ten and said, "You can keep the change."  He thanked her as she walked briskly to her car, not looking back.

Mel turned the key and pulled out of the small lot.  She drove for what felt like hours, just going in circles, stalling.  She was excited but terrified at the same time.

Finally when she was ready and she took a left into the North Point Beach parking lot.  She could hear her tires grind against the sand and the asphalt.

In the summer this lot would be full of beachgoer's cars but now it was empty.  No Ice-cream truck jingle.  No seagulls squawking overhead.  The lot was silent.

Mel rolled down her windows.  She took a deep breath.

Mel opened her cigarettes as quietly as possible, and took one out.  She turned it over a few times in her clammy hands, checking for imperfections.

She reached to her right and opened the glove compartment.  The day before she had hidden her family's long fireplace matches in there.

She put the cigarette in her mouth.  It felt dry.  She lit a match, held the flame to the end of her cigarette and inhaled.  Flames licked up the sides and her mouth felt warm.  She took the cigarette out of her mouth and coughed, then she inhaled again.  It tasted like cigarettes smell.  Mel didn't like it but she continued.

Smoke swirled out the windows.  The smell was strong and unpleasant.

She started to feel a little weird, but not bad.  Why not bad?  This is bad, she thought, but she didn't feel that way.  She was frustrated.  Angry.  Her plan had failed, she was still Melissa Greene.  A good girl.  She wanted to cry, to scream.

She looked into the faint glow at the end of the cigarette and, without thinking; she quickly put it out on the underside of her forearm.

 

Good: By Andrew Gettings

Posted by Erika Marcinek

Good

By Andrew Gettings

Mel was good.  She had brown hair.  She did girl's track.  She had no piercings except for one in each earlobe, which were only ever adorned with conservative studs.  Mel didn't listen to rap music, she liked country.  She was always home by eleven and she always had her schoolwork in on time.  Mel never had any stories to tell at camp or fingers to put up when playing "never have I ever". 

It was a few days after Mel's birthday when she told her little brother Ian that he'd have to walk home from school.  She told him she had stay after school and work on the yearbook.  Mel didn't like to lie to her brother, it made her feel like a mean older sister, which she wasn't. 

That day after school Mel hurried to her car and drove out of the student parking lot.  She was careful to not be seen by her brother or anyone who might stop her and ask for a ride.  She needed to be alone.

Mel drove for fifteen minutes before pulling into a gas station in the next town.  She got out of the car, her palms were damp and her breath was short.  A cold winter breeze pushed Mel forward as she walked into the store and swallowed her nerves.  She was going to be fine.

She walked up to the counter and surveyed the array of cartons behind the cashier.

She cleared her throat. 

"Can I have," she played with her car keys, "can I have a pack of Newports please?"

Mel was afraid to look up as the man turned around to get the little box she had requested. 

"Can I see your ID young lady?", the cashier softly placed the carton on the counter.

"Here." Mel slid her license out of her paisley wallet.  She could hear her heartbeat. 

"Alright is that all?" The man's finger levitated above the cash register.

"Yes." Mel handed him a ten and said, "You can keep the change."  He thanked her as she walked briskly to her car, not looking back.

Mel turned the key and pulled out of the small lot.  She drove for what felt like hours, just going in circles, stalling.  She was excited but terrified at the same time. 

Finally when she was ready and she took a left into the North Point Beach parking lot.  She could hear her tires grind against the sand and the asphalt. 

In the summer this lot would be full of beachgoer's cars but now it was empty.  No Ice-cream truck jingle.  No seagulls squawking overhead.  The lot was silent.

Mel rolled down her windows.  She took a deep breath. 

Mel opened her cigarettes as quietly as possible, and took one out.  She turned it over a few times in her clammy hands, checking for imperfections. 

She reached to her right and opened the glove compartment.  The day before she had hidden her family's long fireplace matches in there.

She put the cigarette in her mouth.  It felt dry.  She lit a match, held the flame to the end of her cigarette and inhaled.  Flames licked up the sides and her mouth felt warm.  She took the cigarette out of her mouth and coughed, then she inhaled again.  It tasted like cigarettes smell.  Mel didn't like it but she continued. 

Smoke swirled out the windows.  The smell was strong and unpleasant.

She started to feel a little weird, but not bad.  Why not bad?  This is bad, she thought, but she didn't feel that way.  She was frustrated.  Angry.  Her plan had failed, she was still Melissa Greene.  A good girl.  She wanted to cry, to scream. 

She looked into the faint glow at the end of the cigarette and, without thinking; she quickly put it out on the underside of her forearm.

What $3 can buy you at The Mine night club

Posted by Julia Martin

Cover charge at The Mine night club in downtown Saratoga is three hefty dollars. Does the price sound a little steep to you? Then you're wrong. Here's a list of all the bang (poor word choice?) you can get for your (3) buck(s) at The Mine:

-A drink spilled on your person/shoes

-A stranger's sweat rubbed onto your arm as they squeeze by you

-A free hot dog that nobody knows where it came from

-Your bathroom stall door opened abruptly by a townie

-A handful of Chex Mix from a communal bowl

BONUS ADD-ONS:

-Pay $1 to have your coat thrown on the ground

Blurbs Overheard

Posted by As heard Eleanor Rochman

"They force him to wear shoes in here. It's really constricting his creative thought."

"I forgot to sleep last night"

"Honestly, when I die I want to be reincarnated as a tele-tubby."

"I'm in the mood for Chinese food. Let's go to Japan!"

"I kind of want this piece of pizza to never end."

The 5 kids you'll meet in class

Posted by Katie Peverada The Hand-Raiser: This is the girl or boy who raises their hand to answer every question asked - or not asked. Look, I understand that some people retain more of the reading than I do, and therefore they know more answers or can offer more input. However, there is no way that someone can know the answer to every single question every single class - unless they're Ken Jennings. Put your hand down and stop making the rest of us look stupid.

The Pretentious One: These kids are mostly found in the Humanities and use big words. As a result I don't expect science majors to have that many run-ins with them, as science majors use words the average student doesn't understand anyways. But I digress. Dear Pretentious Student, stop speaking with terms that you clearly used Theseauraus.com to look up before class and talk like a normal college student. Also, stop correcting or saying "Ahh...well actually." Oh really? You disagree? I don't care if you disagree. In fact, I welcome it. I do, however, care that you clearly think you're better than everyone else in the class. Frankly, nobody cares what you have to say.

The One Who Dresses Obnoxiously: This is probably the wrong venue for this, but I think it applies to kids in class that I hate because you're distracting us. You're distracting with your god-damn clothes. You honestly have to TRY that hard to dress that badly. Okay, I know I'm not the next Eleanor Waldorff (if I had a nickel for every time someone has made fun of my sailboat oxford, I could buy another sailboat oxford), but I know enough about fashion to know that you shouldn't look like that. Instead of learning, I'm spending half of the class trying to figure out why you're wearing two pairs of tights, rain boots, a turtle neck, and a nineties wind-breaker that isn't even weird enough to be weird-cool. Dress normally.

The Texter: I'll be honest. I've texted in class before, but I think everyone has at some point (I actually don't even use my phone as of late, but that's part of my mid-life crisis you don't care about). I'm talking about the girl/boy that has their phone on their desk "hidden" underneath their "notebook." You're clearly not taking notes. You're texting. I want to know, though, what it is that could be so important that you have to text for fifty-five minutes straight. It's rather rude.

The Jerk(s): Usually, there are two or three kids that have signed up to take the class together. They sit in the back row. They dump on the professor for what they're wearing. They make fun of a kid who doesn't know the answer when called upon. They make themselves look like huge donkeys. They claim they "didn't see the homework assignment" or that they "thought it was due tomorrow." Really? You thought it was due on a day we didn't have class?

4 musings of a Skidmore senior

Posted by Katie Peverada

I've been a student at Skidmore College for 1,146 days. That's 99,014,400 seconds; 1,650,240 minutes; 27,504 hours; 163 weeks. Or, in layman's terms, I've been immersed in the world of chain-smoking hipsters for a little over three years. I think that this qualifies me, then, to give you the following four thoughts that could come in handy some time down the road.

1) You can tell an English major from a mile away.

            I'm serious. Or at least you can smell them from a mile away. Those chain-smoking hipsters up above? 75% chance they're English majors, 10% chance they're Studio Art majors, 10% chance they're both, and 5% chance they're just random people who heard about our stellar Tang Teaching Museum. These are some hints as to what you should look for/how to spot them:

a. Smoke, smell tobacco, and hear hacking.

b. A skinny person, male or female, wearing dark jeans with black wanna-be-army boots.

c. Coke bottle glasses coupled with their fat cousin's turtleneck that they say they got at Anthropologie (or a turtleneck from Anthropologie that they say they got from their fat cousin? Who knows!).

d. A person sitting outside Case Center sipping either a coffee cup from Starbucks OR drinking water out of an old Smucker's jelly jar.

2) You can pick out a theater major in a real classroom setting

            If a student is literally acting like a fish out of water, chances are they're a theater major using method acting to prepare for their role as "Dory" in the Finding Nemo musical. But other than that, unless they participate in a class discussion or give a presentation, it'll be tough to tell. If they participate in class, they're most likely going to be using their hands a lot and saying things like "To build off of that" a.k.a "To just reiterate what you said so I sound like I know what I'm talking about." The big hint comes with presentations. You'd expect them to be amazing, right? Like they monologue to themselves in the mirror for fun before they go to bed at night. However, make them talk about Calvin Coolidge's Revenue Act of 1924 and they're up a tree. If they have managed to create a handout, they read exactly what is on it (which they copy and pasted from Wikipedia in the first place). And, when they finish, they take a bow.

3) People are so rude that they're too rude to be inconspicuously rude.

            I'm not just talking about those kids who don't even try to hide the fact that they're using their phone in class or those kids that brazenly drive through the stop sign/crosswalk without a care in the world. I'm including in this group those that talk animatedly for extended periods of time in the library in really loud voices - they don't even attempt to whisper! Or, those assholes who you clearly know from a class, club, party circle, etc. that don't even give a head nod when walking past each other. Full disclaimer, I'm one of these obnoxious kids.

4) People under 21 are more likely to get into a bar than people who are actually 21.

            At first, I thought I was the only one who was denied access to multiple bars and liquor stores in Saratoga Springs despite the fact that I am 21. But last week I overheard a kid say he was denied from a bar as well. Who is to blame? Those of you who use fake IDs from Maine that look more real than my real license. Word of advice: Pointing out to bouncers that they are doing a horrible job at their job of letting in legal aged kids does not go over well. One time I told a bouncer I was going to call the cops on all the underage girls he had just let into the bar and he, in turn, said he was going to call the cops on me. I went and sat in Pizza 7 by myself.

(75% of you will be offended by this).

Skidmore News survey confirms lack of available men

Posted by Andrew Shi

In light of Cosmopolitan's recent ranking of Skidmore College as the tenth worst place for women to find single men, The Skidmore News conducted its own survey asking women if there is indeed a lack of available men at Skidmore. Using commonly accepted statistical methods, we found our results corroborated Cosmopolitan's own findings, but that the situation is actually worse than originally thought.

 Our sample size included three girls, two of whom confirmed the lack of men. The other girl disagreed but her evaluation was disregarded since it did not conform with expectations.

Using multivariate regression, we found that the female to male student body ratio is actually regressing toward levels found in the '70s when Skidmore became coed. Troubled by this, we had our statisticians employ Hiesenberg's Uncertainty Principle but found that our results were pretty certain with a margin of error not worth mention. Still, attempting to disprove the theory that it is becoming harder to find a single man, we created a test that, if produced negative results, would invalidate our results. Yet, we flipped a coin and called heads correctly. Initially this was two out of three but was revised upward to five out of nine.

The final results of our research actually showed a negative probability of finding a single man. Tough luck, ladies. 

The six worst places to meet single college women: The data may shock you

Posted by Julia Martin

Skidmore College was recently ranked in Cosmopolitan Magazine as the 10th worst US college to meet single guys, just behind the University of South Dakota and Connecticut College.
But Cosmo left out any advice for college guys! Wanting to contribute to this hard-hitting and meaningful reporting, the Skidmore News has carefully compiled a list of the (surprisingly) worst places on the Skidmore campus to meet single women:

- Any men's bathroom

- Any men's locker room

- Deep within Northwoods, especially if you're off any sort of marked trail

- While getting a deep-rooted plantar wart removed at health services

- Inside your single room in Kimball Hall

- At the bottom of Haupt Pond

Best of luck.

Skidmore braces itself after another poor national ranking

Posted by Andrew Shi

Following a spate of poor national rankings that presages poorly for Skidmore College, The Wall Street Journal just released their annual survey "Schools with Transforming Infections" (STIs), a list of colleges with the worst zombie outbreaks, and ranked Skidmore at No.2 behind BYU. This score follows Skidmore's recent rankings as No.1 on the Princeton Review's "Reefer Madness" list and No. 10 on Cosmopolitan's "Working the Ratio" part of which ranks colleges based on how difficult it is to find a single lad.

But Professor Linda Grimes of the Gender Studies Department says that Cosmopolitan's recent ranking doesn't say much else that couldn't be extrapolated from the other two surveys. "Based on my research, a woman simply does not desire the undead as a partner, but with the living male population at Skidmore rapidly decreasing, the pickings are even slimmer than usual. The problem is exacerbated by the fact that it's already difficult at times to distinguish between zombies and pot-heads, and with about 100 percent of the remaining male student body using marijuana, give or take nothing, girls are becoming extra wary about who they flirt with lest that male lethargic lump that smells like skunk is an undead lethargic lump that still smells like skunk. And compounding the problem at hand is that the zombies are now smoking pot too, making it even harder to differentiate the two groups as they basically share behavioral patterns."

Dr. Edward Jenner, a virologist at the CDC, says that Skidmore's case is especially acute due to the exposure of marijuana to zombies. "It's a vicious cycle. The zombies smoke the marijuana which releases the active ingredient, tetrahydrocannabinol, a stimulator of the canniboid receptor, CB1,a part of the hippocampus that regulates appetite. Basically the zombies get the munchies, start chomping away at the living and in the process infecting them, which just creates more zombies who then get high and, well, you can see where I'm going with this."

Women are not the only demographic upset with the zombie epidemic that is cutting down the number of available men. The outbreak of zombies on the Skidmore campus has induced several students to take it upon themselves to form a small brigade that call themselves "The Resistance." But these armed students have in turn raised eyebrows and come under the scrutiny of several different campus groups.

"A bunch of students running around with guns and grenades...yeah, it's distracting," Samuel Miller '16 said. "It's hard to concentrate on class which the kid next to me is constantly tapping the trigger."

The Resistance came under further criticism when it was revealed that their munitions had little effect on the zombies.

"We were told that they were effective against zombies, but when we fired at them the Nerf bullets just bounced off. I tossed a sock grenade at an oncoming horde, but it was a dud," Marissa Holdman' 17 said. "I know many other members are having the same issue."

Meanwhile, another group of students, upset with The Resistance's actions and the negative perception of the zombies, have formed a coalition designed to ensure the fair treatment and rights of the minority group. Their de facto leader, Kelly Michaels '14, has demanded that the administration recognize and sign a bill that compensates the zombies for their discriminatory mistreatment at the hands of The Resistance and promises equity in the future.

"This isn't the twentieth century, and this isn't Alabama, we respect all people regardless of the beat of their heart," Michaels said in a recent speech to her supporters.

In an interview last week with President Philip Glotzbach, the question was raised asking how he would address not only zombie rights, but the lack of available men for the female student body and the endemic abuse of weed. Glotzbach did not directly answer the question, but could be heard muttering under his breath "WTF." A moment later he assured all three issues were a top priority of the administration.

But clearly action did not arrive soon enough as the recent faculty meeting was interrupted by approximately forty students with sundry demands. Among the cries from the students were demands for respect for the zombies, for "The Resistance" to be banned and for boyfriends to be included in the student bill of rights. One student asked for a gram.

In an email sent out last night, Dean of Student Affairs Rochelle Calhoun set up a time for a dialogue in which any and all issues would be addressed.

"The College takes very seriously the abuse that the zombies have experienced at the hands of our very own students and the lack of available men, partially caused by the burgeoning zombie populace. It's a difficult balance to strike but we have complete faith in the agency of our community," the email read.

When asked if she thought the dialogue would achieve anything, Junior Leslie Simpson said, "I really don't care about marijuana or zombie rights or Nerf guns. I just want a boyfriend. It's just all so ridiculous."

Blurbs Overheard 10/10/13

Posted by As heard Eleanor Rochman

"When I was your age, I was 18"

"romantical relationships are difficult when there's two people involved."

"When I'm having girl troubles, I just let my beard grow out."

"There's some guy dressed in tweed smoking a pipe outside of case. So Skidmore."

"What kind of nationality do you think Glotzbach is?
"It sounds like some kind of amish condiment, or, like ghetto mayonnaise."

person #1: "so, how are your fur-lined leggings?"

person #2: "Great! I..I.. feel like my legs are in a cloud."

"One time, when I was drunk, I told all my friends I was an illegal immigrant."

person #1: "no but seriously, you guys, I used to have slight arachnophobia."

person #2: "What? You used to have slutty rat phobia?"

-- realm: 3th floor of library

     "someone should scream really really loudly"

      "sound does not exist on the fourth floor"

Sound and Green Advice

Posted by Julia Martin

Skidmore recently got ranked as the #1 reefer madness school in the Princeton Review. Here are some tips from a Skidmore Student-so you know it's the good stuff.

1) A lot of people prefer to smoke in the woods-can you say FLAMMABLE??? You could start a damned forest fire. Your best bet is to use marijuana in wide, open spaces, preferably near authorities in case any of your friends burn their tongue.

2) DO put yourself in new, intimidating social situations after smoking weeds. The drug will help you stay calm, and give you the extra energetic boost and mental clarity to form new, lasting relationships.

3) DON'T forget to hydrate while you're blazing on that sticky green goo-there's no excuse when the bong water is right there!

4) DO attend class with blood-shot eyes. The professor will automatically assume you stayed up all night doing your essay, and your classmates will think you're cool and respect you.

5) DON'T inhale cannibus. You'll cough!

6) DO choose your supplier carefully. Definitely ask for recommendations and look up yelp reviews before a purchase. Be an informed consumer-and always ask for a receipt!

7) DON'T keep buying in small amounts. Think of it like CostCo! Buy in bulk!

8) Finally, my favorite all-time foods when I've got the munchies: leafy greens and light soups.

Enjoy! One love (POT).

Blurbs Overheard

Posted by As heard Eleanor Rochman

"I can't wait to go to the fire safely meeting so I can feel safe around fire."

person #1: "Do you want to smoke this stolen cigar with me?"
person #2: "Yes!"

"Bagels are just unfriendly donuts"

"The new Skidmore mascot should be like a unicorn narwal."

Dining hall war
person #1: "Are they barking?"
person #2: "Now I really feel like we're on the blue side"
person #1: "Nooo! They're crossing the border! Make them go back!"

"Sundae Wednesday sucks compared to Sundae Sunday pretty much because it doesn't rhyme"

First-Year Dictionary: How to communicate effectively with your peers

Posted by Julia Martin

The first couple of weeks of college can be hard. Here's an easy-to-use guide for first-year students that will help you overcome any communication problems you may be having with your peers, professors or family.

Your new roommate: Hey, no problem! I'm happy to take the top bunk!

Translation: Starting today I will begin to develop a fiery resentment towards you that will stay tightly bottled up inside of me until the day I pee in your Gatorade.

Your mother/father: Are you settled in ok?

Translation: I believe you are entirely incapable of eating, sleeping or functioning as a successful, independent human being. Also we turned your room into a gym and gave away a lot of your things.

The guy/girl down your hall: Are you guys trying to get drunk tonight?

Translation: Do you have any alcohol with which I can get drunk tonight?

Campus Safety Officer: Having knowledge of the fire safety practices is absolutely crucial.

Translation: It is virtually incomprehensible how or why it is so difficult for a group of people to successfully microwave a bag of popcorn.

Your suitemate: Gross, I think someone peed in the shower.

Translation: I peed in the shower and will continue to do so.