Four years. Four years, I have tried. Four years—four years! four years! I have tried. Four years, I have failed! I have tried everything
By Andy Chesterfield ’16, member of a Bicker club I’m the first to admit that Bicker isn’t perfect, but recent discussion about bicker being
People say that satire has the power to educate and change and even assert its author’s own opinions. They are wrong.
Dear Squirrel, you probably don’t remember me, considering that you were too busy being a dick. I tried to get by you on the street, but no. You were too busy turning an acorn around in your weird little skeletal paws. Not even eating it or intending to bury it. Just spinning it.
Mondays are band-aids that take 24 hours to rip off; weekly plagues sent from above to ensure people never have fun for more than six days in a row, unless you’re on vacation, in which case, karma will get you eventually. But if the human race collectively hates Mondays with such passion, why keep them around?
Dirty-looking white guy standing over a grill? We’re talking to you. Your mix of flannel and apron is neither aesthetically pleasing nor oozing sex appeal. And let’s face it, you’re probably going to burn the shit out of those steaks and end up ordering Domino’s anyway.
I will start off by admitting that I have not read this book. I bought it on a whim during my cat phase. I
Bill Murray riding Bruce Willis down a sand dune on Mars bro carrying a handful of police badges drenched in Ovaltine in his right
Sometimes, when I like a Facebook photo fifteen seconds after it’s been posted, I’ll get a comment like, “Of course it doesn’t take you