Scribbled in a hurry on almost every advertisement in almost every New York City subway station are drawings of penises. Hovering, disembodied, they aim into the open, smiling mouths of oblivious supermodels, music legends and movie stars.
Facebook, the wind seems to whisper, isn’t cool anymore. Upstarts like Snapchat and Tumblr—websites that appeal more to today’s youth— are seizing coveted turf from the world’s biggest social network. In its annual company report, released this February, Facebook acknowledged having trouble luring teens into its net.
More people tune in for the NFL’s season-opening games than for the World Series. And it doesn’t take a bachelor’s degree to explain why that is. Compared to most things on TV, baseball is colorless and static.
Neutering Congress before the upcoming debt ceiling dispute by asking the U.S. Department of the Treasury to mint a platinum coin worth $1 trillion was an idea that emerged from somewhere in the blogosphere in 2010. A couple years ago, Congressional gridlock over whether one of the wealthiest nations in the world would pay its bills wasted time that should have been spent on anything else and, despite the nick-of-time agreement not to default, degraded the nation’s credit rating anyway.
Like a Magic 8 Ball with a single shred of advice floating around its inky interior, the National Rifle Association—one week after a gunman took the lives of 26 people in an elementary school in Connecticut—insisted that firearms are still the best medicine against gun violence.
Texas radio host Alex Jones began a White House petition in late December to have CNN’s Piers Morgan sent back to England for threatening your Constitutionally protected right to bear arms. Last year’s string of mass shootings led Morgan, a limey, to promote a federally mandated ban on “military-style semiautomatic assault weapons and high-capacity magazines.”
By the time any of you read this, it’ll all be over. Barring a situation like the one 12 years ago, the ballots have been counted. Half the country is dancing and spilling wine on the other half, who are probably curled up on the ground biting their knuckles and drawing blood, whispering, “Forgive them Lord, they know not what evil they voted for.”
You and I sit naked and defenseless while university administrators, cushioned in the lavish comfort of their private offices, casually weigh the merits of arming Portland State’s security detail with handguns.
I haven’t had a working television set since moving away from my parent’s place more than 10 years ago, so I tend to miss what’s happening on TV.
If the speed with which city commissioners pressed their plan to add fluoride to our drinking water seems fishy to you, you aren’t alone.
As a new student, you’ve doubtless been inundated with advice. Given that much of this advice was compiled and approved by Portland State’s administration, it’s neither complete nor entirely trustworthy. For good or ill, university administrators have concerns beyond your well-being. Therefore, the most helpful advice gets left out of college orientation packets and seminars.