With sunny skies and highs in the mid-70s today and similar weather forecasted for the week ahead, it’s finally starting to look like springtime in Chapel Hill. What’s your take?
“Bullshit.”
Tyler Sandals, Computer Science, ’14
“But soft, the temperate breezes whisper to me, drawing me from my winter’s hiding.”
Pale, hairy thighs, Undecided, ’16
“Can you think of anything you would rather do on a glorious day like this than to stage a demonstration on a college campus showing photoshopped pictures of late-term abortions? I can’t. Somebody help me.”
Fletcher Armstrong, Director of Center for Bio-Ethical Reform Southeast
CHAPEL HILL, NC–Calling together a suite meeting this evening, Freshman biology major Michael Chandler informed his suitemates that he has been masturbating using Garnier Fructis hair-conditioner for the past week, unable to afford his usual bottle of Vaseline Aloe Fresh hand-moisturizer.
“It doesn’t feel as good, but it’s more affordable,” Chandler told them over dinner at Lenoir. “College is a time when you grow up and learn fiscal responsibility. I think this is one lesson among many.”
Chandler, who used hair-conditioner for the first time while his roommate was at BUSI-101 class on Tuesday morning, said it was a crisis decision that has since paid off.
“I gathered all of the essentials: laptop, tissues, and my Aloe Fresh,” he said, “but when the time came, I realized that the moisturizer my mom had bought me at the beginning of the year had run out.”
Chandler, after searching his room for other alternatives, ultimately settled on his Garnier Fructis hair-conditioner, which his mother had also purchased.
“Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t stumbled on the conditioner,” he said. “I’ve tried Nutella and toothpaste before, but it’s never felt right.”
Stopping by the Walgreens on Franklin in search of a new bottle of Aloe Fresh, Chandler said he realized that masturbatory luxury comes at a price.
“All through high school, my mom kept the house stocked with Aloe Fresh,” he said. “When I looked for it in the store though, it was too expensive. I knew I’d have to settle for the conditioner.”
Sutiemates indicated that they were supportive, albeit a little disappointed.
“Wait, dude, are you fucking masturbating in the shower? Are you serious? It’s a suite shower. It’s for all of us, you dick. I mean do what you need to do, but not in the shower. You’re better than that,” said suitemate Trevor Trozan. “We are all going to miss the Aloe Fresh, I mean we all loved that stuff, but we can do better than the shower.”
CHAPEL HILL, NC – Wandering through the woods behind Craige residence hall several hours after getting out of his Tuesday afternoon industrial organization lecture, junior economics major Hugh Lofton was confronted with diminishing marginal psychedelic returns from his third tab of the hallucinogen Lysergic Acid Diethylamide (LSD).
The principle of diminishing marginal productivity, to which Lofton was introduced by Economics 101 lecturer Rita Balaban in the fall of his freshman year, aptly described the reduced synesthetic, ego-dissociative yields that the finance industry-hopeful experienced from subsequent doses of the drug, to which he was introduced by his suitemate, Skeeter, in the fall of his sophomore year.
“It’s all supply and demand in the end,” Lofton was heard muttering as he sat with his legs outstretched at the base of an oak tree.
Lofton’s first tab of LSD, which he took soon after completing homework for his game theory class, reportedly gave the economics major robust psychoactive gains–making the bulletin board outside his room into “telescoping candy colored rectangles,” and producing “patterns of dancing music on the inside of [his] eyelids.” After Lofton’s second dose, taken in Skeeter’s room, where he had gone to watch Archer on Netflix, a smoky visage of microeconomics lecturer Jeremy Petranka appeared before him, encouraging Lofton to “taste [his] own senescence” and to stop by office hours, if he felt like it.
“I’m just Dr. J. I’m cool man,” said the hallucination.
After Lofton dropped a third tab, however, the Econ 410 instructor melted into the physiognomy of Professor Balaban, who lectured Lofton on public goods and insisted that alcohol is superior to other drugs. It was at that point that Lofton realized he was gaining less and less the more LSD he took. He adjourned back to his dorm and reportedly watched his ceiling breathe for the next three hours.
According to Pavithra Appadurai, a UNC economics professor whose recent book, Third Eye and Demand explores the microeconomics of recreational hallucinogenic use, Lofton’s experience was not uncommon.
“Research has shown us that, for most individuals, marginal returns diminish after the second or third tab, and trip utility virtually plateaus after five doses, making the best course of action to just chill out and enjoy the ride,” she said. “Theoretical economists have hypothesized that a marked spike in psychedelic intensity may exist at approximately 300 tabs, but, for now, evidence of the so-called Jerry Garcia Peak remains anecdotal.”
Despite his economic reality, Lofton gave no indication that he planed to modify his acid-taking behavior.
“I want to be able to forgo the microeconomic boundaries of my own body and meld with the world,” he said. “Do you know what it feels like to be a macroeconomic entity?”
A new compilation by the now-famous Anderson twins, who are most known for their work with the scat scene revival among gay men in Minneapolis, “Songs Your Dad Played on the Way to Middle School” is exactly what it sounds like: a comprehensive collection of remastered songs your father played when driving you to middle school every morning. The Anderson twins have said that they hope the compilation “shows the struggle of listening to your father’s music each morning, hoping desperately that he would play something involving ambient noise.”
Track #1) “Rich Girl” by Hall & Oates
One of the many top-40 trash songs that your father loved, “Rich Girl,” by Hall and Oates, leads off this compilation. Your dad would sing along to it, laughing, and looking at you lovingly as he asked you to sing along too. Sometimes, if the day was warm enough, he’d roll down the windows and you could almost see the young man he used to be–the young man you would be in a few years. Disgusting. This track is a perfect salvo to a group of songs that are nothing but the dreck your father enjoyed.
Track #2) “Call Me” by Blondie
Repetitive drivel, “Call Me,” by Blondie, may be one of the worst songs and best examples of selling out that the ’80s saw. Seemingly harmless, the song is an anti-feminist rant, and it reeks of poorly chosen subject matter and trying too hard. Your dad would play it and tell you stories about going to a Blondie show, desperately trying to relate to you, knowing how much you had started to enjoy music. He’d talk about how he used to go to a lot of shows, how he saw James Taylor in a small room around Chapel Hill. How he remembered taking your mom to a concert. Your dad was a poor man, completely unaware of his horrible taste in music. He would go on to tell you that no matter what mistakes you made in life, he’d always support you and love you, and that he knew middle school can be hard on young boys who are too mature. Dad was an idiot.
Track #3) “Brothers in Arms” by Dire Straits
The title track of Dire Straits’ Grammy award-winning album, “Brothers in Arms” was written by lead man Mark Knopfler, a facile excuse for a musician. “Brothers in Arms” saw Knopfler lauded for his unique work with the guitar, an instrument that has been phased out of most current relevant music. This song stands as a testament to unoriginal garbage in an age of unoriginal garbage. Your dad said that he bought it at 25, just as he was becoming an actual adult, or maybe just realizing he was an adult. He said that he didn’t really know how to talk to you anymore, and that he felt like you were moving farther and farther away from him. He said that he just wanted to understand you. Then he said that, if you would rather, he could just turn the music up and not talk about it. He had no idea how much you didn’t want him to turn the music up, not music with such a painful lack of experimentalism. He just kind of went silent and looked off in the distance. He muttered that he was trying his best. A classic driving to middle school song.
Track #4) “Summer Teeth” by Wilco
The most current release of the compilation, “Summer Teeth” has an infectious pop beat your dad called, “one of the best songs he [had] heard in years.” Maybe he just wasn’t listening hard enough to hear what shit this is. Led by dad legend Jeff Tweedy, Wilco is a band your father said was something that he felt like both kids and adults could enjoy, completely unaware of how stupid he sounded. This song is a perfect fit for the compilation: a forced attempt at relation to youth passing a withering generation. Your dad said he hoped that you could be happy, and that songs like this could mean something powerful while still being joyful. He said that you didn’t have to be upset constantly, that not all art comes from contempt, cynicism and hatred. Your dad was a poor lost soul. As you stepped out of the car toward your middle school, he waved hopefully and smiled. You turned away and looked down at the ground.
Track #5) “These Days” by Jackson Browne
Your dad put on this song and said that he just wanted to talk. He told you about how Jackson Browne wrote it when he was young, just a little bit older than you were then. How the song talks about love and loneliness and everything that you were feeling. He asked you to please listen. You just turned away; you wouldn’t look him in the eyes. He began to cry, and he said that he just wanted to make things easier for you. That he would love you forever–that he would do anything to understand what you were experiencing. You stayed silent. The song continued playing. You watched your father cry for the first time. You made your father cry. What a bad song.
Road Zimmerman hosts the “Is This Music? Hour: Wider Sounds” on WXYC from 6:00 pm to 7:00 pm on Thursdays and is an avid reader of Cellar Door.
During March Madness, North Korean college basketball analyst Jin Mee Kim is following the UNC men’s team in the NCAA tournament. Working on special assignment for The Minor, Jin Mee is a veteran Pyongyang journalist and recipient of the 2007 Kim Jong-Il Award for Transcendent Writing in the Glorification of the Workers’ Party of Korea. He will offer his insights and perspectives on the Tar Heels as the team looks to advance through the bracket.
Jin Mee Kim | The Minor
By the peerless vision of Perfect Leader Roy Williams, the Exalted UNC Men’s Basketball Team was victorious in its round-of-32 game against the Cyclones of squalid and inbred Iowa State. The final score was UNC 514, Iowa State 54. Any rumors to contrary are untruthful and treasonous to the Fatherland of Chapel Hill.
The splendid and noble triumph was not without challenges.
Of Iowa State’s roster of debauched and slothful players, one of the least unskillful, Georges Niang, was not suited for competition, having deservedly broken his foot by kicking an old woman into traffic in celebration following his team’s first round win. To offset the disadvantage, fork-tongued Iowa State coach Fred Hoiberg ordered a naughty and unrighteous deed: 14 minutes in the game, degenerate low-post oaf Daniel Edoize deliberately caused Brice Johnson, UNC’s hale and spirited 8′ 2″ power forward, to sprain his ankle, tragically removing him from the contest.
Though the essence of the Great Leader’s ambrosial breath, administered to Johnson by team doctors, healed him to a heroic return late in the second half, in time to amass 47 points and 39 rebounds, UNC was left without one of its finest players for much of the game.
This was not enough, however, to slow the Odyssey of the Dear Leader and the Team, as Marcus Paige offset the loss by shooting 97-104 from three for the rest of the game, a heavenly blue glow visible around his resplendent figure. Additionally, at the urging of the Superior Leader, hearty and unyielding freshman Kennedy Meeks swelled to five times his natural size to control the interior, so inspired was he by the suffering of his comrade.
Seeing their chances dwindle late in the game, Iowa State’s avaricious coaches attempted to unfairly influence the contest by offering kinky and monstrous temptations to the referees. Despite the nefarious gambit, the Tar Heels were nonetheless assured victory by the Blessing of the Divine Spirit of the Eternal Coach Dean Smith, whose heavenly wisdom was whispered into the mind of Roy Williams, the Ever-Victorious, Iron-Willed Commander.
Having seen their inevitable defeat come to pass as the buzzer sounded, the Iowa State team returned to its locker room to engage in opulent and grotesque rituals of shame.
After the Oath of Allegiance to the University was recited by all following the victory, Respected Leader Roy Williams said: “May UNC forever rain discomfort on the head of its devilish enemies. We await another illustrious triumph in our Sweet-Sixteen matchup with Connecticut.”
Again, the final score of the contest was was UNC 514, Iowa State 54. Those who make aberrant statements to the contrary will be detained and corrected by the Highest Authority of the Dear Leader’s Alumni Council.
Durham, NC — Saying that he was almost glad that he didn’t get in off the wait list at Dartmouth or Cornell, Braden McEwing, Duke University junior, told reporters yesterday that the fun provided by his school’s basketball team made him feel okay that he did not go to an Ivy League school.
“Maybe the connections aren’t quite what they would be at Princeton or somewhere, but you can’t beat the excitement of March Madness at Duke,” he said. “Having a basketball program that you can count on to go deep in the NCAA tournament every year makes it all even out.”
Having structured his entire high school experience around his parents’ expectation that he would follow in the footsteps of his older sister, Meghan, who graduated from Harvard last spring, McEwing said that he was initially disappointed when he realized that he would end up at Duke, but soon came around to the idea that the school’s balance of athletics with academics would be “more enjoyable, anyway.”
He reiterated that sentiment last night, on the eve of Duke’s first-round matchup against fourteen-seeded Mercer University, right after his sister texted him excited that Harvard had won its own first-round game.
“Sure, there was that freak loss to Lehigh a couple of years ago, but Duke basketball is a consistent contender,” thought the man who is working a consulting internship at Deloitte and not McKinsey this summer. “This year, who knows–we have a team that could make the Final Four or maybe even go all the way.”
The same evening, Duke basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski told reporters that he felt okay for never pursing a coaching career in the NBA because, “When you have a post-season tradition like we do, it’s hard not to feel like you’re in the place where you belong.”
CHAPEL HILL, NC — Commenting on his odd behavior in the last few weeks, friends and classmates described UNC sophomore Skyler Currybottom, who is in fact addled by crippling psychotic disorders, as “just another fan swept up in March Madness.”
“He’s just like any other real basketball fan,” said Currybottom’s suitemate Tripp Mitchell, “I think we all go a little nuts this time of a year.”
Mitchell said he first noticed that Currybottom “was a real fan,” on Tuesday night, when he came upon a large branching emblem smeared in a dark, viscous substance on the wall of their Morrison common room.
“I remember saying, ‘Dope bracket bro, who ya got going all the way?’ He said something about the devils caught in the sun of life, so I guess he meant Arizona State. What a weird pick,” Mitchell recalled.
Trisha Verlader, who sat next to Currybottom in their Econ 101 lecture on Monday, said she noticed the haggard, unshaven student furiously scribbling what appeared to be complex statistical calculations and repeated mantras during class, with dozens of ESPN tabs open on his laptop in front of him.
“He filled up two binders in one class, writing line after line of numbers and symbols,” said Verlader. “I guess he’s a real stats fanatic. I sure wouldn’t want to be in his bracket pool.”
Coming back to their dorm Wednesday night, Chris Tezler, Currybottom’s roommate, found the sophomore curled in the corner with a pair of scissors and hundreds of copies of a Daily Tar Heel issue featuring Marcus Paige on the cover.
“He was cutting out all the mouths, taping them to the floor to spell out ‘FIRST,'” said Tezler. “I guess we all have our superstitious rituals before game time. I couldn’t agree more: Paige needs to step it up in the first half.”
According to Campus Health, dismissing madness as March Madness is not uncommon .
“The best way of discerning between March Madness and actual madness is showing the friend, family member, or loved one clips of Dick Vitale and seeing how they react,” said Sara Stahlman, Campus Health official. “People afflicted by March Madness and no other ailment usually yell at the screen and storm out of the room while those with serious mental diseases nod along in agreement to what Vitale says.”
The Minor 