The conservative writers over at The GW Patriot aren’t so bad–more David Brooks than Michael Savage, they know waterboarding’s torture. Plus, when one of them eats a vegan cinnamon bun and discovers to his horror that he likes it, the resulting cascade of self-doubt and overcompensation is far more exciting than any Brooks column.
Writer WHP, the offending bun-lover, opens by explaining which herbivores are in trouble with him, and which are not:
The first and most common, Vegetarianism, is just a simple refusal to consume animal flesh; I find this to be most acceptable considering that people do it for a whole variety of reasons, not just because they are against consuming animal flesh on “ethical” ground. The second, and oddest, is Veganism.
I’ve heard the same thing–”Vegetarians are cool with me, but vegans, get out of here!”–from at least three different people at Georgetown, and the implication that anyone is waiting for their approval about someone else’s diet is baffling.
You eat peanut butter because it’s cheap. You drink at home before going out to bars because drinks at home are cheaper. You’ll take any free furniture that’s offered, even if you know five people who had sex on it.
Did you think that penny-pinching would end after college? Putz.
In the most depressing read since I got my tuition bill, Joel Achenbach writes about, among other maudlin things, how he is going to have to borrow money from his young daughter to afford her older sister’s college tuition. It’s hyperbole, but geez, still. He also discusses his cripplingly depressive fear of appetizers:
One of the worst moments is when the waitress asks if you want to start out with an appetizer, and you say no, because over time you’ve become the kind of person who can’t afford appetizers. It’s a clear line in the sand, or, more precisely, a socioeconomic stratum, clearly delineated right there on the menu.
Later, Achenbach proves there’s a thin line between humor writing and a cry for help: “My own plan is to acknowledge that fate has chosen for me a path of decline and shabbiness.”
And this guy works at the Post! Maybe I should just face the inevitable and be a hobo.
It’s the middle of July already and your DC routine–9-5 internship, drinking games, and rotgut TV–is getting old. Your body and mind are revolting, and the National Gallery has the perfect thing: an exhibit of Martin Puryear’s minimalist sculptures.
The sculptures are elegant and simple but have enough complexity to hold viewers’ attention through the 48-piece exhibit, and the NGA’s classy, hands-off curation–one or two pieces per gallery, few guilt-trippy art history lessons stencilled on the walls–is a treat.
Martin Puryear runs from June 22 to September 28, 2008 at the West Building of the National Gallery of Art. Archives/Navy Memorial Metro on the Yellow/Green Lines, or take a crosstown 30s bus.
Writer Henrietta Rose-Innes got a month-long scholarship at Georgetown for winning the Caine Prize for African Writing, but she’ll probably spend more time in her room watching The Office than teaching us how they party in Pretoria. I can tell she’s depressed because of the description of her short story’s main character, who she describes as “a version of herself”:
Unlike the other characters, Lynn is unable to accustom herself to the changing world and is left eating crisps at the garage as the others leave.
“She can’t stay in her old ways, symbolised by Cape Town which is now under threat, but she’s also not quite ready to take that step into the broader reality of the country with its dangers and opportunities,”
Parkour is a ridiculous urban sport involving climbing and flipping around buildings–essentially, a sport for people whose poor team skills preclude actual sports. The stairs by Village A provided some parkouring kids the opportunity to climb upside-down and freak the straights:
Some of their cronies also jump off rocks in Rosslyn. It’s cool, but I think this video would’ve been 100 times cooler if a recognizable landmark or congressman were vigorously parkoured. This is Washington, after all. You can climb under staircases in Waco.
This week Date Lab pulled another gimmick by having an astrologer set up two daters based solely on their birthdates. Just like with the monkey, though, she was probably given a pretty limited selection, since these two have plenty in common without matching their houses of Jupiter.
They’re both eco-friendly outdoorsy do-gooders, and they’re only a year apart in age. He seems to be taking the whole thing a little too seriously (name-dropping Camus), but it’s a promising match.
The date starts well when she holds her own chatting about the World Cup and the NBA, but goes downhill fast when he takes the tomboy theme way too far by commenting on her eating habits. (”She has a hearty appetite. It was a total compliment”). Even if he’s into feeder porn, the attraction’s just not there for either of them: she’s weirded out that they look so much alike (”It’s definitely the ethnic thing, being too much alike as far as external features”); he thinks they don’t look quite alike enough (”I kind of go for lighter-skinned Asian girls.”)
He offers coffee after the dinner date, but she blows him off: “I was like, ‘No, I need to catch up on my sleep. I’ve had some late nights.’ And, honestly, I have. I recently bowed out with someone I was attracted to because of being tired.” Right. I’m definitely not buying that excuse, especially combined with her 3 out of 5 rating. He gives it a 5, but agrees that they’re better as friends.
Rating: 3. These two clearly aren’t going anywhere, but cattiness is always fun to read, so his quips about her eating made for some amusing moments, and the astrology gimmick didn’t interfere with the article. Neither one of the daters seems too crestfallen that they didn’t meet the love of their lives, so you don’t even have to feel bad about enjoying it.
Chances of Success: 1. It would take a serious star shift for these two to end up together.
Flickr photo from user swanksalot used under a Creative Commons license
“Less is more” is an ethos too often overlooked by producers and musicians alike. Not every single has to sound like Phil Spector, Dave Fridmann, and Timbaland were fighting over the mixing board.
Case in point: Spoon’s “I Turn My Camera On” uses its bass line like a fulcrum, employing repetition and simplicity to a point of sweet confection (sans the heavy lifting).
“Black Rice” - the first single from Canadian newcomers Women - lives by the same minimalist creed. The main riff employs a grand total of three notes; a glockenspiel and piano incessantly pound the same D during the chorus; your little sister could play the drum part. Yet all of these elements are absurdly well-chosen, melding together into a catchy-as-hell rock/pop song.
The minimalism ends up accentuating the song’s real gem: the vocal melody. The lead singer (whose name remains elusive despite insistent Googling) channels a Colin Blunstone/Brian Wilson ‘60s aesthetic with a more modern, nasal bent and an impeccable falsetto. In true pop fashion, the chorus demands to be sung, though you’ll probably be singing the wrong words, since the lyrics are tough to catch. Still, “Black Rice” is effortless, infectious, tuneful, and drunk – the epitome of a great summer song.
Nanking, a film about Japanese attack on China’s capital, was screened last semester at Georgetown. It was followed by a Q&A session with the film’s producer, Washington Capitals owner and Georgetown alum Ted Leonsis.
Leonsis’s new film, Kicking It, tracks the lives of six homeless people playing soccer in the Homeless World Cup. You can hold your own special screening, either by checking the documentary out at your local movie theater or by ordering it from Netflix after the DVD release.
Today’s Post has an article about Bit O’ Lit, a magazine of book excerpts being given away at Metro stops. It’s a solid idea, and a rack will be set up next to a Georgetown bus stop.
Available in Georgetown favorite Dupont Circle.
Via City Desk. In-field report from Dupont Circle by Matt Appenfeller.
Vox Populi is the staff blog of the Georgetown Voice, Georgetown University's preeminent newsmagazine since 1969. The opinions expressed in Vox Populi are those of their authors unless specifically stated.
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