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The Herald 100 The Yale Herald Vol. LII No.12 New Haven, Conn. Friday, Dec. 2, 2011 THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 The d l a r e H 100 2 LETTER FROM THE EDITOR We talk a lot here at the Herald about things we don’t like. Peanutty tofu, thumbs down. Snowstorm in the middle of October, double thumbs down. You get the point. Some may call that attitude—we bring the hammer down, it’s all in a day’s work, just doing our job as the arbiters of truth. Others, however, use less flattering terminology. Whatever, they don’t matter anyway. But this week is all about a different kind of honesty—the good, happy, positive (mostly) kind of honesty. It’s our annual Herald 100 issue, where we shower praise on a variety of cool stuff at Yale and in New Haven. Don’t worry, we cover it all. From the best library to sleep in to the best library to sleep with someone in, the Herald 100 is telling you where to go, what to do, what to see, and other things that don’t fit into those three categories. To guide you on this journey, we present the Herald 100 patron saints, Yale alumni who know a lot about a little. Former President of the United States and notorious ladies’ man William Jefferson Clinton is the patron saint of all things romance and politics. The other other white meat, former President George W. Bush, represents sports and partying. Duh. Ever heard of Rory Gilmore? She’s fictional but she really likes books! William Howard Taft was supremely fat—he is the patron saint of gluttony and excess. Finally, our fair Dean Mary Miller is tackling everything the rest of the saints left out. Sit back, enjoy, and rest assured knowing your quest for the best sex shop is—finally— complete. —Ariel Doctoroff Editor-in-Chief Bro to y ught ou b y The Yale Herald Volume LII, Number 12 New Haven, Conn. Friday, December 2, 201 1 Editorial Staff: Editor-in-chief: Ariel Docto roff Managing Editors: Carlos Gomez, Marcus Moretti Herald 100 Designer: Sam Lee Senior Editors: Henry Gra bar Sage, Christina Huffington, Sam Lee, Ted Lee, Brannack McLain, Benjamin Schenkel, Tatiana Schlos sberg, Michael Singleton Culture Editors: Marcus Schwarz, Sam Sullivan Features Editors: Lucas Iberico Lozada, Emma Schindler, Clare Sestanovich Reviews Editor: Sam Be ndinelli Voices Editor: Emily Rapp aport Design Editors: Hannah Flato, Alexander Shaheen Business Staff: Executive Directors: William Coggins, Evan Walker-Wells Senior Business Advisers : Naz elKhatib, Alexander Krey Director of Finance: Steph anie Chiang Director of Development : Karmen Cheung Online Staff Bullblog Editor-in-chief: Justine Bunis Bullblog Staff: Jordan Asc her, Ryan Arnold, Amanda Gould, Cindy Ok, Jesse Schreck, John Stil lman Online Editor: Alex Dancu The Yale Herald is a not -for-profit, non-partisan, incorporated student publication registered wit h the Yale College Dean’s Office. If you wish to subscribe to the Herald, please send a che ck payable to The Yale Herald to the address below. Receive the Herald for one semester for 40 dollars, or for the 2011-2012 academic yea r for 65 dollars. Please address correspon dence to The Yale Herald P.O. Box 201653 Yale Sta tion New Haven, CT 06520-1 653 Email: Ariel.Doctoroff@yal e.edu Web: www.yaleherald.co m The Yale Herald is publis hed by Yale College students, and Yal e University is not responsible for its contents. All opinions expressed are those of the authors and do not refl ect the views of The Yale Herald , Inc. or Yale University. Copyright 20 11, The Yale Herald, Inc. Have a nice day. 5 6 Best assignment Best atmosphere Best bathroom Best barber shop Best breakfast Best boyfriend Best chair 7 Best cheap meal Best cheap class Best class perk Best college basement 8 Best comedy troupe Best complaint Best dining Hall table Best dressed professor Best drinking game 10 Best double major Best email sign off Best facial hair Best fellowship 12 Best happy hour Best Handsome Dan Best IM sport Best jog 13 Best Mary Miller poster Best Metro North activity Best myth Best new business Best New Haven personality 19 Best Old Campus activity 20 Best old Yale Best one-on-one dining hall Best party Best place to DFMO 21 Best place to get mugged Best place to go with your parents Best place to run into your freshman year hookup 22 Best place worth the drive Best place for trashy magazines Best prepared food at Gourmet Heaven Best professor couple Best psych experiment Best punch Best QR/L/WR Best reading list 24 Best resource Best resume padder Best retail therapy Best roof 25 Best sandwich Best SC/SO/HU Best sex shop Best sign Best sleeping library 26 Best southerner Best spectator sport Best splurge Best Sterling professor 27 Best student job Best sushi Best trend Best twins 28 Best unlikely urinal Best view Best vintage 29 Best watering hole Best window Best weenie bin Best Yale meme Best YDN op-ed about women Best Yale tradition Best administrator Best accent Best brain freeze Best bullshit Best campus tree Best conservative Best date restaurant 9 Best dessert Best worst first date story 11 Best food cart Best frat party Best gay party Best lecture voice Best library to sleep with someone in Best lunch special Best master portrait Best night out with your TA story Best obscure major Best off campus housing Best place to let one rip Best place to meet grad students Best Yale radio show Best walk Best group dining hall 14 23 30 Best “why I chose Yale” story Best lawn Best night out story 3 THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 4 Best amorous text message Best 24-hour food THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST 24-HOUR FOOD BEST AMOROUS TEXT MESSAGE Marissa Caan Herald Staff Now I could get all romantic here, but let’s get real. Amorous texting requires a strategy tailored to each specific situation. No one text message is “the best.” Luckily, I’ve got most of them covered (note: These have all been sent): Cereal. Buy that shit in bulk. A good, standard introduction: “Wat is up 2nite” BEST ADMINISTRATOR To the guy you kind of know and chatted with on the street: “I forgot how cute you are” Nicolás Medina Mora In response to the question “Wanna kick it?”: “Kick what?” 4 Can you picture a cooler job than being the university librarian at Yale? The position is the stuff of myth, to the point that Jorge Luis Borges—who was probably the biggest library rat of all time—wrote a short story in which an American ethnographer gains access to the secret of life and then decides to come to New Haven to work at Sterling Memorial Library. But being librarian at Yale is more than a bed of roses with literary prestige: It is also an unbelievable amount of work. For one, it implies organizing, preserving, and making accessible a collection comprised of literarily millions of materials, some of them hundreds of years old and worth more than your lifetime earnings at J.P. Morgan. Beyond that, technological progress has made the position of university librarian a titanic struggle against the encroaching threat of the extinction of the book. In the age of Wikipedia and the Kindle, keeping the reading rooms thriving is an incredible challenge, one that requires an impressive combination of diplomatic skills, charisma, and understanding of the needs of students and scholars. Because of all of these reasons, we at the Herald have decided to declare Susan Gibbons this year’s best administrator. This fine lady took control of the University’s libraries on June 1, with the goal of fine-tuning policies so that the Starr Reading Room remains the ideal place for writing your doctoral dissertation on the mating habits of 15th century Franciscan monks. So yeah: Next time you type “Babylonian divination techniques” into Orbis and receive 300 hits, remember to thank Susan Gibbons, queen of the stacks. When tonight is not the night: “I’m in my bed…. with my sister loll” To Camp Yale guy: “Hows it goin/wanna help me build Ikea furniture?” To the guy who is taking “An Issues Approach to Biology”: “I’m glad u like biology. Can u understand mine?” To the guy who doesn’t wear socks, but really should: “I sprayed my bed with perfume after you left ha.” To the guy who is “tired”: “Let’s go to bed…is what I suggest” And if shit hits the fan, go for a classic: “Sex hater” No guy wants that. BEST ACCENT Herald Staff BEST ASSIGNMENT Amanda Gould Nicknamed “Eat, Pray, Love,”—you’ll see why in a second—“Women, Food, and Culture” has the assignment to end all assignments: Interview your mom and write a short paper about the relationship she has had with food throughout her life. I’m pretty sure I wrote this same paper in third-grade English. Regardless, completing this “assignment” is awesome for several reasons. First, it’s always nice to catch up with Mom. She’ll be especially happy to hear that this phone call isn’t because a) you need more money, b) you took an impromptu drunken trip to Yale-New Haven, or c) you can’t figure out how to get the mysterious stain out of your new jeans. As busy college students, we forget how heartbroken our mothers are now that we’ve left their cozy nests. Asking your mom’s advice on a college assignment will surely get you brownie points, and maybe even some brownies in a care package at that. The second reason that this paper is so great is because it’s just that easy. How often to you get to jot down a five-page narrative? Trust me, it’s a rare treat. ˜ THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST ATMOSPHERE Peter Beck No contest: The other coffee shops all have the ambience of a library. Every time I walk by Blue State on York Street and watch pasty-faced sophomores turn towards me, blinking sadly into the daylight, I get so stressed out that I duck straight into Ashley’s for ice cream. When I try to have a conversation at Blue State on Wall Street, I get glared at by perpetually solitary mid-termers who cover four-person tables with their books (#OccupyWallStreet?). Everyone at Willoughby’s is taking a break from their “art” project, and everyone at Book Trader is quietly critiquing them. There is some buzz of conversation at Bass Café, but listen for a moment and you realize: Everyone in there is in the middle of an interview. Koffee, on the other hand, is full of students, teachers, parents, families, kids, punks, and hipsters; there’s art, mobiles, princess mugs, fresh food, good coffee, wine after dark, and this one runty middle school kid who hits on every pretty girl who walks in. People come here to chat, and relax, and enjoy each other’s company—when it’s time to study, they have eight other coffee shops to choose from. BEST BARBER SHOP Marcus Moretti I waited until Thanksgiving break to get my haircut. The upside? During the week off, I got to spend time with my old barber Jay. We consoled one another: Both of our families forgot to prepare mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving. The downside? In the days leading up to break, I was often mistaken for an Occupy New Havenite who had wandered off the Green in search of hygiene. The good news is that Phil’s on Wall Street is as good as your hometown barber, if not better. When the husky, native Italian guy doesn’t see you (he is permanently busy), one of the picante stylists in the rear will. In either one of their seats, you’ll be given the hair you always wished you had. The conversation will never end, because it will never begin. Enjoy feeling the experienced hands of these ladies massage your scalp as you overhear the Italian catch up with one of his many old pals. (He has ingeniously managed his social life in such a way that at least one of his friends is always seated at a waiting chair.) After your hairdressing heroine finishes up and removes your blanket-sized bib, take a look in the mirror: It’s the best you’ve ever looked, even without the typical two-week adjustment period. BEST BATHROOM Sam Sullivan A lot of people think that the best part about the Beinecke is its Gutenberg Bible. Some people like the priceless American literature manuscript collection. Others say it is the building itself, replete with translucent marble and a Noguchi sculpture courtyard. What is really the best part about the Beinecke, though (and I say this after two semesters worth of Beinecke work shifts), is the restroom. Step inside. Take a look at your pretty self in the Skidmore, Owings and Merrill mirror. Touch yourself. You are about to take a pee surrounded by thousands of years of literature. Moments ago, you were touching Czeslaw Milosz’s diaries, and now you are touching your wiener. Soon, you will be touching more priceless items again. Take a deep breath. Yeah, it smells like cinnamon. The wood-grain on the stall doors is maybe relaxing your anus. Run the piping hot water. Take a handful of the cloth-like paper towels—take a little extra for later to blow your nose with, like a little present for yourself. Though the toilets are a just little too high for the short people among us, of nothing else comes this close to perfection. BEST BREAKFAST David Noble “This [Yale Dining] oatmeal was made with oats, milk, blueberries, and hope. Damn.” So tweeted my suitemate Torry Threadcraft, DC ’12, on an early August morning. Hope, or something that, unlike a crushing fear of failure, isn’t exactly in abundance ’round these parts. Let’s be frank—challah French toast is easily the tastiest breakfast on campus. But silly, sugary treats won’t help you redeem the kind of sleepless nights that take 20 minutes of naptime out of day’s lectures. The best (read: most sustaining) breakfast greets you on a grey Thursday morning in November, just before the Thanksgiving break. See those semi-circular cantaloupe and honeydew slices smiling up at you from that inviting ice cube-chilled tray? One’s pale orange like a mountain sunrise; the other a light green hue evoking untouched island waters. They’re your friends—at least until your next bowel movement. So reach out and take one miraculous melon’s hand and watch his counterpart follow suit. Do you know where melons come from? Does anyone? What I do know is that with a bellyful of these congenial pastel-colored fruits you’ll soar high, higher, highest, until you can see above that grouchy cloud layer and make out a shining sliver of hope just beyond the horizon. Damn. 5 THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST CAMPUS TREE Sofia John BEST BOYFRIEND Ariel Doctoroff 6 You know how people say that tweed is stodgy? That it reminds them of Grandpa’s chronic case of the silent-but-deadlies? Us too. So why does it look so good on a certain redheaded editor-in-chief? Normally, we don’t like male gingers (they’re freaky!). But in this case, we’ll make an exception. We don’t care that he’s probably too busy to read this—we know that he’ll only do that for a Wenzel. His power just makes us want him more. But you know what? He may be the biggest celeb our fine Bullblog has to offer, but he’s reliable. He lets us see his name—with a capital L, because French is a weird language—in print EVERY DAY. Except during finals. And most of reading week. And school breaks. And weekends. If we’re good, he takes us to the Lizzie. We, too, are impressed when he shows us the folios. But if we’re bad (and we mean really bad), he’ll sit us down on his futon, turn on The Wire and spank us. It doesn’t end there, though. He signs his emails “All best.” Oooh. He has chairs from Design Within Reach in his office. Aah. When he makes mistakes, he owns up to it (sort of). Aww. He may not be Paul Needham, but he’ll do. Autumn has replaced flowers with trees full of color. Campus has a bounty of these beauties, but one tree in particular deserves recognition above the rest: the Red Oak. The Red Oak, also known as Quercus Rubra, takes root in the South Court of Berkeley College. There is simply something special about the way its arms create a safe haven around the base. It’s the perfect spot for curling up with a good (text) book, unwinding, and stealing kisses from someone you care about. If sitting directly in the flora isn’t for you, there are three benches alongside the tree. Some of the branches even stretch out over the benches, and auburn leaves pepper the ground. Although many of the leaves are now falling off, the tree maintains its quiet dignity. So if you’re in need of a study break (and you will be) and are hoping to make a deciduous friend (and you’ll want to) head over to Berkeley and pay a visit to the Red Oak. BEST BULLSHIT Michael Singleton At some point in our Yale careers, we have all heard someone bullshit his or her way through a section. In terms of practicality, this life-skill is on par with thinking critically, working on a team, and dare I say, typing. How many times have you heard a classmate begin a sentence, “I found it interesting when…”? Never say this. “Interesting” is reserved for fifth- and sixth-graders and should be stricken from your collegiate vocabulary. The key to successfully bullshitting your way through a class period is to follow the start-summarize-and-go method. In my experience, it has a 98 percent success rate in getting a TA’s attention, and when used appropriately, an 83 percent rate of return on a dinner invitation (in addition to an A in the course). First, you start class discussion. The TA will be so relieved that someone has volunteered to speak, that s/he will not really pay attention to what you are saying. Later in the class, when the other inexperienced section bullshitters start “piggy-backing” off of other people’s points (don’t ever say “piggy-back”), raise your hand high in the air and say, “I think the best way to summarize what everyone has been saying is…” Your TA will be grateful; your peers, nonplussed. And then, for the 11 o’clock number in the start-summarize-and-go method, ask a totally outlandish question one minute before section ends (e.g. “Is Hamlet gay?”). There will be no opportunity for the TA or your peers to realize that you have absolutely no evidence to support your query. You have contributed three times in one section (twice more and you would be eligible for section asshole), and now it’s time to sip your latte and pretend to do work at Starbucks. BEST BRAIN FREEZE Olivia Rosenthal It’s your first day back and that freshman boy in your section just responded to your English professor’s prompt in Ancient Greek. Or maybe that dining hall “Dinosaur shepherd’s pie” just wasn’t doing it for you. Where can you go to unleash your frustration? Flavors. For the skeptics, who preach the “all fro-yo places are literally the same” spiel, I sympathize—I used to be you. But relying on my Hebrew school education (thanks, Temple Emanuel), what makes this store different from all other fro-yo establishments? Let’s be honest: It’s all about the pumpkin flavor. And the incredible fresh fruit selection, and the gummies galore, and the extensive repertoire of Miley Cyrus that plays at all hours of the day. But, really, back to the pumpkin. Thanksgiving Break may be over, but you can still hold onto the joys of the holiday season (drunken family feuds not included) through this cinnamon-y deliciousness. I leave you with three fro-yo pearls of wisdom: 1. It’s kind of frowned upon, but socially acceptable to refill your sample cup. Smile and say: “You guys just have so many flavors.” 2. It’s frowned upon and not socially acceptable to refill your purchased Flavors cup with a smidge more of the tart delight. It’s time we learn how to function outside of a dining hall: There are places that don’t operate under an “All You Can Eat” buffet motto. 3. Stop pretending you only go to Flavors for the yogurt. I know you’re digging the Miley, Pink, and Katy Perry music videos that are blasting on the TV. Leave your shame at the door, put down the Aristotle, and let yourself enjoy the cinematic complexities of Miley prancing around barely clothed. It’s worth it. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST CHEAP MEAL Andrew Wagner It’s late, you’re strapped for cash and starving. Head on over to Mamoun’s Falafel Restaurant (and hookah bar, because why not). Its dim lamps, hanging Turkish carpets, and vaguely Middle Eastern music give it that shady, dive-y quality you’ve come to both love and expect from combination restauranthookah bars. At the front door you’re greeted by a sign featuring a poorly painted figure that appears to be a grimacing man (Mamoun?). Signs in Arabic litter the walls. What do they say? I like to imagine they say utter nonsense, but only Mamoun knows. For only three bucks you’re treated to Mamoun’s falafel sandwhich—fried chickpea goodness (falafel) and veggies stuffed into a pita that’s overflowing with tahini sauce. Mamoun’s steaming falafel balls mix with the sesame flavor of the tahini sauce to produce a delicious sensory overload. It will leave you at once stuffed and wanting more. If you’re a falafel virgin, nothing can quite describe the magic experience of a falafel sandwich. Is Mamoun’s New Haven’s finest dining? No. God no. But when food is this good and this cheap, what more could you want from a restaurant? Besides, hookah and falafel are a surprisingly good match. BEST CHAIR Clare Sestanovich If your family is like mine (don’t worry, it’s not!), you staked a claim to Your Chair at the dining room table sometime around age four: the one where if Libby from gymnastics came over and tried to use your zebra-pattern napkin ring and U.S. presidents placemat... well, a whole lot of graham crackers and white-grape-raspberry juice boxes were bound to hit the fan. If the Goldilocks plot line rings true (whether you’ve been stealing seats, or you’ve been stolen from), chances are it was a big blow to discover that—no matter what your way-too-chipper tour guide said about “that homey feeling of Your Very Own Residential College”—you weren’t allowed to claim a permanent seat in the dining hall. But there’s a one in 11 chance that you’re reading this and, with all due pride in your exceptionalism, just turned to some starcrossed Morsel and bragged: not me, not me! Because if you’re a Trumball(er?), there’s nothing stopping you from good old fashioned possessiveness: Just step right up and pick your chair at one of the Awkward Tables. You’ve all seen ‘em (11 out of 11 probability on this one): those skinny tables arranged perpendicular to every other table in the dining hall. You can try your best not to stare at (or into) the vegan tofu ravioli in front of the girl you kinda recognize from section who’s sitting literally right in front of you, but trust me: You’ll fail. The upshot though (and it’s a big one) is that these tables—and their chairs!—are always available. So even if the steel cut oats (read: porridge) isn’t just right, you can bet your seat will be. BEST CLASS PERK Noah Gray Unless you grew up glued to reruns of the Flintstones and still wax nostalgic about “Bedrock,” you probably haven’t spent much time perusing courses offered in geology and geophysics. But if you need a science credit, crave the thrill of adventure, and agree with Esquire that Rihanna is the “Sexiest Woman Alive,” it might be worth your time to check out G&G212: “Global Tectonics”. Here’s the breakdown: G&G212 is team-taught by “Majestic Dave” Evans and “Marky Mark” Brandon. They’ve been described in course evaluations as “chill,” “hella chill,” and “like, just two chill bros who really like the earth and stuff.” On the one hand, you will be forced to learn that never have so many things been said about so little happening over so many billions of years. On the other hand…what are your thoughts on rum? Created in Barbados in 1703, Mount Gay Rum is the oldest brand of rum in existence. It’s the rum that invented rum. The distillery is located not far from Barbados’ primary oil fields. Which is convenient. Because Majestic Dave and Marky Mark are interested in both. This is the perk: “Global Tectonics” comes loaded with a field trip over spring break. Last year, we flew to Barbados and spent two weeks cruising the island, spelunking, mapping, snorkeling, grilling, and boozing. Yale picked up the tab. The class is capped at 15, and the prerequisite is an intro geology course, but since you need two science credits anyway, take Dave’s lecture class and then take Mark to Liffey’s for a drink to guarantee a spot. Two bros, one class. This is the blue book’s best-kept secret. BEST CLASS FOR THE CASH-STRAPPED COLLEGE STUDENT Jordan Ascher This year, the best class for the cash-strapped college student is—you guessed it—ACCT 170: “Financial Accounting.” Though life can be difficult for the penniless undergraduate, take solace: This is the class for you. Promising a survey of “contemporary accounting and corporate financial reporting” along with “preparation, interpretation, and analysis of the earnings statement” and the “statement of cash flows,” the very description of this class is sure to make your heart beat just a bit faster. Now you might say, “What do I know about cash flows? I have literally no money!” But the real genius of this class lies in the part they don’t tell you about on the syllabus: committing fraud! Learn how to make the most of America’s promise of social and economic mobility by embezzling millions from that nonprofit whose books you’re “cleaning up,” or by setting up a Ponzi scheme designed to defraud a bunch of trusting elderly folks. Whether explicitly or not, I imagine the professor communicates it using a series of winks and loaded silences. Interpret them correctly and strike it rich! 7 THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST COLLEGE BASEMENT Adela Jaffe The Morse/Stiles basement—oh, excuse me, I mean the Crescent Underground, as it’s officially known—does not look like a residential college basement. Instead of the typical florescent lighting and painted walls (Calhoun’s, for example, are a befuddling shade of orange), this basement is adorned with embedded floor lights, sloping concrete ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows. Thanks to those windows and the outdoor sunken courtyard, which Amelia Cai, MC ’14, loves for its beauty but admits she has never seen anyone using, this college basement gets plenty of natural light, unlike other colleges’ bunker-like underground spaces. But architectural drooling aside—and seriously, if someone told me the Crescent Underground was actually the lobby of a hip, subterranean, boutique hotel, I’d believe them—Morse and Stiles students appreciate the space’s functionality. Catherine Chiocci, MC ’15, loves the Morsel, Morse’s buttery. The Morsel is famous for its Jim Stanley sandwich and a democratic ethos that led to a recent seven question survey on how Morse students like their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches prepared. The Crescent, the theater, is the envy of drama kids in every other college because of its tiered seating and sprung floor. And I know students from other colleges who sneak into the brand new gym, despite its proximity to Payne Whitney, simply because it’s so nice. Putting my own college loyalty aside, I have to admit that The Crescent Underground is the best college basement on campus—snobby name and all. 8 BEST CONSERVATIVE Lucas Iberico Lozada Given the average Yale student’s obsessive desire to please everybody, it’s always a little shocking when you meet someone who does not think that our government should help poor people out, because, you know, we’re rich and it’s our moral imperative and human rights or whatever. Still though, selfishness comes with the (Puritan work-ethic) territory. What’s truly shocking, therefore, is when you meet someone who isn’t just a no-taxes, yay-rich-people conservative, but the real deal: a God-fearing-pearlnecklace-wearing southern Republican. Elizabeth Henry, CC ’14 is more than just that, though. An active member of the Yale College Republicans (yup, they’re out there) and a blogger, her charming wit has surely got the tweed-jacketed nerds at the YPU in a tizzy. The Herald might never vote for you, but we’re sure as hell glad to know you. BEST COMPLAINT Tatiana Schlossberg My best complaint—and believe me, I have a lot of complaints (check out my website, tatertats.tumblr.com for a full list) is probably my complaint about other people complaining about Daylight Savings. Right off the bat, I just want to tell you that there isn’t anything you can do about it. This is true of a lot of things people complain about—their homework, dining hall food—but Daylight Savings is a law. Sure, there are laws that people change, but this isn’t one of them. It was proposed by Benjamin Franklin. Do you really want to go toe-to-toe with a Founding Father about losing one hour of a sleep a year, which you then gain back in six months? Are you really going to make a big fuss out of that one? Sure, I get it, the days are shorter, the nights are longer, but I would just like to let you in on a little secret: It all evens out. After the first day, I bet that you forgot to be angry, and you went on with your day. Am I right about that one? Let’s talk in April. Just kidding—if you are still complaining about Daylight Savings in six months I am very sure I don’t want to talk to you. The Herald agrees, despite the two other articles complaining about Daylight Savings we published this year. BEST COMEDY TROUPE Rachel Kauder-Nalebuff Two sphincters walk into a bar. The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve sphincters around here. You guys aren’t our clientele really.” The sphincters say, “But everybody should always fit in!” I like this joke because of its irony. Not everyone actually fits in at Sphincter—only girls do! And only girls with exceptionally high tolerances for poop jokes! They must also experiment with Yiddish accents and bisexuality. In addition to its exclusivity, the troupe’s mystery adds to its cachet. You’ve never heard of us? You’ve also never heard of that underground club in Brooklyn in the abandoned chicken factory, but I bet you want to get inside—same goes for Sphincter. You call a comedy group that hasn’t performed in a year lazy? Well, we call it exotic and mystifying. Most importantly, the names of the other sketch comedy groups on campus don’t hold a candle to Sphincter (ouch). With a name like that, we barely need to write good sketches. But to hold us accountable, come to our first show of the year on Dec. 6, The Return of Sphincter: Rising from the Asses. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST DINING HALL TABLE Josie Massey BEST DATE RESTAURANT John Stillman It’s Friday and you know what that means: It’s time to take the ol’ ball’n’chain out for a nice dinner. She’s got high standards for cuisine, but even higher standards for ambience. You’re not looking for a “let’s spend Christmas together in Key Biscayne” type of restaurant. But you also don’t mean to suggest with your choice of restaurant that your lady is a whore. Your roommate left his Mory’s membership card on his desk…you’re tempted to swipe it and take her there. No you’re not, that would be really weird. I don’t know why I assumed you would even consider something like that. You look to your girl. You see the way the lamplight plays upon her hair—she’s an angel. She’s also a gourmet. Where does she belong? Gourmet Heaven, of course! At 15 Broadway, New Haven, Connecticut, 06511! Right by Origins, THE stop for all your spa supply needs! NB: The vagueness of the name allows for a variety of interpretations. Is the heaven itself gourmet, as in, delectable and refined when you taste it? Or is it the heaven for gourmets, as in, the destination for human gourmets? Is the upstairs dining area of Gourmet Heaven the Gourmet Heaven heaven? Who is God? BEST DRESSED PROFESSOR Ted Lee “I love wool,” Dean Paul McKinley tells me as we sit in his impeccably decorated office. A Florida license plate on the shelf behind him proudly proclaims his heritage. “I grew up in Miami, where I couldn’t wear clothes like these.” He gestures toward his brown tweed jacket, whose tangerine threads accentuate his tie. The tie’s bright orange squeals delightedly from behind a curtain of black pheasants. “So when I moved to the Northeast, I was welcomed to a whole new world of clothes.” His outfits never lost that New England collegiate feel. His fashion is academic but never frumpy; his round glasses accompany slim cuts and a unique edge pairing classic suits with understated sneakers. As one student admirer fawned, “Dean McKinley is a god.” His guidance for those seeking to emulate the most stylish member of the Yale faculty? “The advice I always give people, which has to do with clothes and with life, comes from the wonderful Coco Chanel: ‘Before leaving the house, stop, look in the mirror, and take off one thing.’ Don’t overdo it.” Thank you, Dean McKinley, for making Yale a more beautiful place. If you’re one of the fortunate majority who isn’t in Timothy Dwight College, then you probably have very little reason to trek the 5,000 miles it takes to get there. You might never have even been to TD. But, there is one thing TD has that no one else does: No, it’s not a tiny courtyard, or giant stone urns outside its gate. Timothy Dwight has booths in its dining hall. Yes, you heard correctly; its Federal-style dining hall, whose ceiling looks like the inside of a vessel, has swankified it up to the 50s-diner-style level. On the far side of the dining hall are three wooden booths, complete with benches and tables. And these are not pretend booths like the ones in the back room of Yorkside where you can hardly fit in half a person. These crafted masterpieces can fit three on each bench—four if you don’t mind cuddling. You can pretend it’s your own personal dining room and have a party—or, take the whole place for yourself, and study while stuffing your face for hours! Make sure to get there early though, because the booths are snatched up quickly. Did you ever think you’d have a reason to go to TD? 9 BEST DESSERT A. Grace Steig That sweet aroma on High St. comes from the newest contender for Yale students’ affection: café and pastry store Chocopologie. With a name that sounds like an academic major, Chocopologie specializes in truffles with, ah, cosmopolitan tastes: apricot with basil, rum with honey and orange. Savor a dark chocolate heart enrobed in white chocolate with a delicate rosewater ganache. The shop offers pastries from its main branch in Norwalk, CT, as well as espresso, ice cream, and fondue. Compared to a froyo from Froyo World, across the street, the desserts are budgetconscious ($1.50 per chocolate, two to three dollars for small pastries) and inarguably satisfying. I tried chocolate potato chips, which were like coated wafer cookies, except with more salt, oil, and guilt—so, altogether superior. Chocopologie wins definite “cute” points for holiday lights and recycle-chic décor. According to general manager Christian Wilki, the furnishings are mostly from owner Fritz Knipschildt’s garage. Maybe I should reconsider throwing out my old things—a wood ladder, for example, can be painted silver and outfitted with frosted-glass shelves for displaying handmade grapefruit-rosemary syrup. The store’s long hours (open until midnight on Friday and Saturday) give it plenty of date potential. You could grab dinner at The Little Salad Shop first, but why bother? Instead, share an eight-dollar crepe at Chocopologie, then hazelnut dome cake for dessert. No need to chocopologize. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 10 BEST DOUBLE MAJOR Herald Staff BEST FELLOWSHIP Alex Shaheen Have you ever been paid to listen to Rihanna Radio? Look at picture books? Eat stale babka? Make a bibliography? The answer to all of these is probably no. Well then, let me tell you about the hidden gem that is the Blanksteen Curatorial Fellowship. This Yale fellowship has it all: crusty, bitter Jewish women who know more than anyone should about menorah history, hunched old men who take too long at the water fountain, and Holotov cocktails—you know, that thing when you get blitzed after work because you spent the whole day looking at pictures of Holocaust survivors. If you have even the slightest interest in art, the Jews who buy it, and 5,000 dollar bills then check this out. You spend 10 weeks (or nine if you’re me and bounced to go on a spiritual journey to Arizona with your mother) working at the Jewish Museum in New York. Everyone there is at least 70, so efficiency isn’t a strong point. If you make a few photocopies and put some shit in “Chicago Style,” you’ve clocked in a hard day’s work. And if that isn’t enough, all intern lunches are catered by the Kosher Marketplace. Seriously, who the fuck doesn’t like kosher hard salami and mayo-y egg salad? It’s all about the BCF for your YMCMS (young money cash money summer). Economics and political science: the best soul to dollars conversion rate around. BEST EMAIL SIGN-OFF John Stillman Gone are the days when “sincerely” would do. Gone are the days when “sincerely” held any weight, anyway. Proliferation of sincerity has led us to the brink of one of the more grave social cataclysms in the history of the World Wide Web (“www,” for short). I don’t mean to preach to the choir, but there’s nothing like an en vogue email sign-off to show which way the cultural wind is blowing. It’s like a virtual little weathervane right there at the end of your message. Electronic mailers have gone from “sincerely” to “your colleague” to “best wishes” to “best” to “bes” to “be” to “b” and now find that the proverbial well of pointless verbal gestures has run dry. “What is there to say anymore,” was a common question from the audiences during the tour to promote my upcoming book, Emoticons: Decorum’s Death Knell. But don’t despair, my woe-begotten young lass/lad. For in the youth, there lies the power to revive the sign-off as a locale for expressions of earnestness and professionalism. So, here it is, the best email sign-off in circulation today: “Get at me, John.” BEST FACIAL HAIR BEST DRINKING GAME Michael Gocksch As a Mets fan, I lost interest in baseball (the sport) sometime around 2007. Luckily, I’ve discovered that baseball (the drinking game) offers many of the same advantages as its NCAA-recognized brother—the game has a leisurely pace, and you don’t actually have to be athletic to excel at it—without the self-inflicted agony of an afternoon at Citi Field. Here are the rules: There are two teams of two to six players. At each at bat, a player on the batting team gets three chances to shoot a ping-pong ball at a column of four solo cups, beer-pong style. The nearest cup is a single, the second a double, so on, so forth. Once on base, the runner advances whenever a teammate sinks a cup. Alternatively, the runner (let’s call him Nick Murphy) can, at any time, initiate an impromptu game of flip-cup with the opposing team. If Nick chugs and flips his half-full cup of beer before the other team does the same, he earns a stolen base. If the other team successfully chugs and flips first, Nick is out. As the saying goes:, Tthree strikes and you’re out. There are three outs per inning and as many innings as you can get through before you run out of beer or break your kitchen table. Give it a try. And the next time your physician asks how you chipped your tooth, or developed such handsome muscle tone in your elbow region, or manage to maintain such an active lifestyle, feel free to tell him about your new hobby: “What can I say, Doctor? I play a lot of baseball.” Peter Gelman Sure, Woolsey Rotunda is a beautiful and somber reminder of the sacrifices Yalies have made for their country over the past three centuries, and the statues placed around campus remind us of our university’s proud history. But personally, I prefer the monuments to masculinity, style, and downright sex appeal that many of us men sport on our faces as we move through these shortest, gladdest years. From the football team’s bushy goatees, to those douchey little mustaches, to the permanent five o’clock shadow that I tend to rock, Yale men proudly let the follicles in their cheeks and chins burst out like so many phoenixes bursting from the ashes. Picking the greatest of these hirsute Olympians is no easy task, but I found the answer wandering the Berkeley dining hall. I’ve never spoken to the man, but via the wonders of Yale Facebook, I discovered that this paradigmatic facial hair belongs to Leander J. McCormick-Goodhart, BK ’15. McCormickGoodhart knows the secret to a top-notch facial hair display: A beard can only be truly great when it works in concert with the other aspects of a man’s appearance. And he has nailed his look. His full yet thinly trimmed mustache and matching chinstrap are the perfect accents to the flowing mane and understated suits that otherwise define his look. Put altogether, McCormickGoodhart looks ready to sit down with Descartes and Hobbes to discuss high matters while twirling their respective impeccable mustaches. Here’s to you, Leander, here’s to you. BEST FOOD CART And I tumbled out of Blue State, retching, dizzy, starving, hysterical, and naked. Dining halls closed, wind and rain screaming, the streets—the hard, black streets. No time to sit at Yorkside, no money for beer. No food at Ashley’s, all fluorescent noise. No will to round the corner, no poise for G-Heav. ABP—too bright, too clean, too obvious. Flavors—self-explanatory. So I stumbled into York St., into traffic practically, seeking anything, seeking everything, seeking jazz or sex or soup. What I stumbled upon, though, was better. It was all of these, it was everything. It was, in a word and a half, Ay! Arepa. Ay! Arepa is really damn good. It’s better, if only because it’s cheaper and faster, than its fat bourgeois brother Ay! Salsa. It’s run by that sit-down joint’s former head chef, tightened, hardened for the streets. And in the few months it has been around (just since September), it has generated a tight, hard following, as well. The famed grilled pork arepa comes with rice, fried plantains, grilled onions, corn, salsa, and guacamole. And it comes a minute and 56 seconds after you order it—sizzle, flip, music, and all—for $5.50. The vegetable arepa is $5.00. So you can grab Ay! Arepa for lunch and splurge on a Naked juice with your Durfee’s swipe. Or buffalo wings. Or Nyquil. Whatever. BEST FRAT PARTY Margaret Greenberg Who’s the hostest with the mostest? That’s right folks, it’s your friendly Alpha Delta Phi, occupant of 23 Lake Place and home of beer-soaked floors, vomit-filled washing machines, and fulfilled dreams. Be you a hipster, scenester, mobster, or library rat, your college career is not complete until you have done ADPhi’s annual toga party justice. How to do that? It’s quite simple, really. Start with the toga. If you’re going all out, you might as well be obnoxious and wear something sparkly. Next, pregame like it’s nobody’s bizness. If this is a one-time deal and you’re going for the best blackout story (warning: this is a BAD idea…but college is about making mistakes, right?), you better get to chugging that vodka. At this point, it’s probably good if you have an iPhone 4S so that Siri can take you to YUHS if/when your friends don’t feel like holding back your hair anymore. Next step: blackout, obviously. Finally, wake up the next morning and text what you did to all of your friends! “I tried to pay someone 20 dollars to make out with the squash captain!” “I woke up next to a mysterious British man’s feet!” “I hid in a broom closet (I thought it was a time machine) while cops busted the party!” What’s your story? Post it now at www. iblackedoutatadphitogaparty.com. 11 BEST GAY PARTY Emily Villano and Orlando Hernandez Orlando: I walk in, feeling very pretty. It is my first drag ball. My leg hair prickles through my girlfriend’s tights. (Needless to say, my legs are toned and rather sexual.) I am wearing her sequined dress and her flats. (Needless to say, I am somewhat embarrassed that we have the same shoe size.) She has done my make-up and hair—the former like a middle-aged trollop, the latter like a 12-year-old school girl. I am both pleased and disappointed to discover I am one of the prettiest girls here. Chorus: Alcohol is flowing. People are dancing. Lady Gaga is blasting. This is the LGBTQ Co-op Drag Ball. Emily: I walk in, feeling desexualized and strange. It is my first drag ball. I am sweating under the weight of my boyfriend’s dress shirt and blazer, and choking under his poorly tied tie. (Needless to say, he has no idea how to tie a tie, so I had to do it myself.) I feel both proud and jealous of my boyfriend, who is receiving far more attention than I am. Chorus: Alcohol is flowing. People are dancing. Lady Gaga has been turned off because of a speaker malfunction—but worry not! We know all the words, and most of us are more comfortable singing a cappella anyway. Orlando: It has been a night of revelations. Lying in bed next to Emilio, I feel like our relationship has been liberated from gender constraints. Dressing up with mascara and earrings has stripped gender down to what it truly is: performative, restrictive, and culturally determined. Emily: It has been a terrible night. Lying in bed next to Orlandita, I’m not sure which of us I find less attractive. I am ashamed by our flippant disregard for the complex societal expectations and gender roles involved in drag. And no, you don’t look fat in that dress. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 Vincent Tolentino BEST WORST FIRST DATE STORY Sam Lee Strip malls are good for bargains, but bad, it turns out, for dates. In my defense, it was not exactly a real date. My companion and I had hooked up the previous Saturday and, in the process, broken my shoddy IKEA bed. I decided, in a fit of masculine determination, that I could fix it myself. My new lady friend had a car, so, after she declined my invitation to coffee, I decided that the next best thing was to go to Home Depot together. I was killing two birds with one stone: We could hang out and fix my bed! As it turned out, my stone failed to kill either bird—at best, I might have maimed one. Things went quickly from mediocre to pathetic. My date was a terrible driver, and we nearly died on the way there. The Home Depot man, sizing up my scrawny figure and skinny jeans, was dismissive. My date sat on some lumber and watched as I flailed about, trying unsuccessfully to find the right stuff to buy. Desperate to salvage the evening, I suggested we explore the mall. We looked at pens at Staples. I bought some socks at Target. Feeling inept and pitiful, I tried to take us to a movie, but nothing was showing for another hour, and there was no way I could survive that long. We dined at Friendly’s, along with many morbidly obese people. I had seltzer; she had a milkshake. I couldn’t bring myself to eat. Defeated, I suggested we leave. Indistinguishable from the weary bargain hunters, we headed home. Later, I tried to fix my bed. I failed. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 12 BEST HAPPY HOUR Clayton Erwin BEST INTRAMURAL SPORT John Stillman I’m tired of people talking about how fucking sweet inner-tube water polo is. Oh yeah, Yale University, you think you’re quirky and shit? They’ve got the same thing at just about every accredited college these days, and they do a better job hyping it in their admissions spiel. And another thing: It sounds like the most boring game ever and was probably invented by dense people or toddlers. So just shut up. Your athletic ability (likely in extremely short supply if you are a loser who reads undergraduate publications, loser) would be much better spent at the Whale, where Saybrugians and Sillimanders and Morsels (ugh, the gooeyness of that one is palpable even on my computer screen) lace up booties with knives on the soles and hack away at each other with branches like some sort of B-roll footage for a Lady GaGa music video. Intramural hockey has variously been described as “a solid time,” “freeging sweet,” and “kind of a letdown cuz everyone sucked.” The crowd it attracts is a microcosm of the greater Yale community, which is to say, a bunch of intellectually curious and well-adjusted young people. Pads are largely optional. Ritualized goal celebrations are mandatory. You sweat a ton and it makes your back hurt. BEST JOG Henry Grabar Sage There are two kinds of people in the world, those who jog on the treadmill and those who jog in the city. Today, we concern ourselves with this second, curious group. Joggers are the flaneurs of New Haven, social observers and urban explorers. They run in search of new external stimuli and cardiovascular health. There’s certainly plenty to see in New Haven, but man cannot jog for observation alone. Practically speaking, red lights and busy streets are the urban jogger’s kryptonite, and there are a lot of both of those in New Haven. For this reason, the best place to jog is the Farmington Canal Trail. You might know the Canal Trail as the creepy-looking trench beneath Hillhouse Avenue, but north of Prospect Street, the path rises to run at grade. Here are some nice things about the Canal Trail: 1. You won’t see anyone you know, which I appreciate because I do not have a good jogging face. 2. The farther you run, the nicer it gets. New Haven’s industrial heritage, lined up along the old railway route, fades into leafy small-town America. 3. The asphalt is smooth and level, and the crossstreets are few. 4. You can jog to the New Haven town line, which is satisfying and also good practical knowledge if you ever need to jog from the New Haven police. If you’re anything like me (perpetually drowning in work/jobless/generally feeling unloved), you have just one thing on your mind when it’s cold outside and 4 p.m. rolls around: a drink (or a pitcher of drinks). New Haven offers a plethora of watering holes, but we at the Herald think that the best bang for your buck for an early evening pick-me-up is Prime 16. All 20 premium drafts are half price. It’s way cleaner than its neighbors, Black Bear and Wicked Wolf. The ambience is ideal (think mood lighting and flat screen televisions that sometimes play things besides sports). There are even (gasp) other people there during happy hour so you don’t have to feel like you have a drinking problem! You can enjoy a pretty good burger and some truffle-parmesan fries while you drown your sorrows in booze. Take advantage of it while it lasts—after college ends, your afternoon drinking habit might not be as socially acceptable. Prime 16’s happy hour happens Monday through Friday, 4 p.m. to 7 p.m., and Saturday from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. BEST HANDSOME DAN Herald Staff Daniel O’Brien, SY ’13. Look him up. BEST GROUP DINING HALL Emma Schindler Playas gon’ play and hatas gon’ hate. These sage words have stayed with me since I first heard them from the sweet lips of 3LW on Now That’s What I Call Music! Vol. 7. (Shit got really real that summer of 2001.) Now, you might assume that because I write for the Herald I’m not a playa in the strict stix-n-balls sense of the words. (Look Ma, double entendre!) And, well, you would be right. I am not a playa in either of the stix-n-balls senses. But buyer, beware: 3LW might have you thinking something along the lines of, “If not playa, then hata,” but come on now—that ain’t right! Fight for the right to eat with a group! Fight for the right to sit at big tables! Fight for the right to eat with your teammates! Fight for other people’s right to eat with their teammates! Fight for the right to eat late! Fight for the right to stand on that long line when you have no idea what you’re waiting for! Finally, fight for the right for the dining hall staff to have reasonable working conditions! (But seriously, it’s the least you could do.) FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO KEEP COMMONS OPEN! Everybody loves a playa, but more importantly, nobody likes a hata. I’m lookin’ atchu, Mr. & Mrs. Yale Administration. BEST LECTURE VOICE When your professor’s voice is the voice of history, you have to listen. Whether David Blight is reading from his notes or a poem by Walt Whitman or a speech by Frederick Douglass, it’s impossible to not pay attention. You might not learn anything about what he’s saying—immersed in the tone of the words that seem to come right at you—but you’re listening. So what is it about his voice? Blight teaches a lecture on the Civil War, and there’s something about his voice’s tone and accent and pacing that makes it sound like Blight’s voice is Iimagine what you would get if you tookcombined the voices of everyoneeveryone who ever told a story about itthe Civil War, Northern and Southern, black and white and d them. Maybe it’s just that Blight’s baritone is so perfect and that he speaks with such conviction that his vocal chords seem to be attached to his heart and that means they pull on your own heartstrings. Yeah. That’s it. Actually, Blight’s pretty well known for his voice. Several years ago, Liam Neeson was cast to play Abraham Lincoln in a Steven Spielberg’s biopic, and he called Blight up to listen to him speak. Neeson told Blight he wanted to master Lincoln’s Midwestern accent through Blight’s example. Neeson had seen Blight in a documentary—well, that’s what Blight says, anyway. I think Neeson just wanted the experience of being in Blight’s class—of sitting back to let those mystic vocal chords of memory do their thing. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST LUNCH SPECIAL Evan Walker-Wells Julie Reiter I’ve had a rough morning. I pulled an all-nighter on a paper that’s actually due next Friday. I spilled yogurt on my pants in a vital region. My professor said I look “tired” a.k.a. “ugly.” Walking across campus, I smiled creepily at someone I thought I knew, who in exchange gave me a confused frown. And I lost my ID, so I’m barred from the dining halls. What’s a chick to do? What any sane person in the Have would: Thai Taste Lunch Special. I place the call—the number is in my speed dial. “Hey. Yeah it’s me again. Yup, number six. See you in 10.” Ten minutes later, I blast through TT’s doors and am immediately slapped in the face by the unrelenting smell of peanut sauce. That’s exactly what I came here for. Special #6: shrimp peanut-sauced pad thai, chicken satay smothered in peanut sauce. If I went to the d-hall and paid cash, I’d spend 14 bucks on a lousy peanut butter sandwich I made myself. Instead, I’m digesting ecstasy hand-crafted by godly Thai men for $7.95 (+tax). You’ve got to be shitting me, that cheap? I’m not shitting anything, except this heavenly meal after it’s satiated my every desire. 13 BEST LIBRARY TO SLEEP WITH SOMEONE IN Ariel Doctoroff and Carlos Gomez We know, we know. Many would say that the best answer to this one is the staxxx. But that’s wrong. Though they may be pretty empty, it’s really cold in there! The only thing getting hard will be your nips. We recommend Sterling Memorial Library’s Philosophy Reading Room. Small and private, though there’s always the possibility that someone will walk in (even though they probably won’t). Hard surfaces abound. Shake the dust off of those veritable tomes. Start with some forePlato. Then let him see your Kant. . BEST LAWN Dylan Kenny Lawn—yawn. Even the word, slipping and whingeing over the tongue, relaxes. As do yawns, lawns come in many shapes and sizes. Residential college lawns are best for painful squints into the sun, surveying the pocked and muddied grass riddled with boozy lawn ornaments. Bring a couple of books you’re not going to read and maybe, y’know, a Frisbee or the ol’ pigskin to the Old Campus lawn to pose for a brochure photo. The New Haven Green (a green is simply the lawn for a city) is the perfect place to spend a long weekend relaxing in the psychotropics. But for the best anytime lawn experience at Yale, head for the hinterlands up Prospect, to the Sterling Divinity Quadrangle. The God Quad was designed to embody Jeffersonian principles et cetera; that’s all very interesting, but what’s important about the Div School lawn is that it’s well-tended and high up. The sky seems more open there; you can look down into New Haven, you can soak up the pious aura of the li’l city on the hill. Plus, the hike up is daunting enough that you can be assured it has not recently served time as an impromptu toilet. BEST MASTER PORTRAIT Cole Wheeler Generally speaking, the masters’ portraits that overlook the college dining halls fall somewhere on the austerity scale between the stone-cold “Andrew Jackson” look and the icily academic “Woodrow Wilson.” Some particularly progressive individuals opted for the “FDR,” with an ever-so-slight suggestion of humanity playing at the corners of their mouths. Former Branford Master Stephen Smith, standing boldly apart from the tradition of these stoic academic titans, opted instead for a look best described as “Harry Potter and the Receding Hairline.” From a distance, the painting of the man bears an uncanny resemblance to the boy wizard. Up close, it looks like the love child of Dwight K. Shrute and the dad from Honey I Shrunk the Kids. At no distance does it at all resemble Master Smith. Nevertheless, there’s something comforting about the portrait, tucked discreetly into the furthest corner of the Branford dining hall. The baggy, amorphous jacket, the asymmetrically bulging forehead, and the unabashedly dorky gaze feel like reassurance of our own self-worth in the face of the imposing legacy of this place. It’s true that not all of us can equal the enviable virtue and oh so grownup pinstripes of the YPU. But something about the sublime awkwardness of that portrait makes being the kid on the quiz bowl team who came to Yale to play Quidditch okay again. You go, Master Smith. Let your freak flag fly. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 14 BEST METRO-NORTH ACTIVITY Carlos Gomez There are a lot of old people on Metro-North. About 50 percent of these old people are old women. About 10 percent of these old women smell like pickles. And exactly 100 percent of these old women who smell like pickles want to sit next to me. I don’t know what it is, I really don’t, but my pheromones must be particularly attuned to dill-flavored octogenarians. Every time I take the train, a member of this obscure—but very real, let me assure you—population sits next to me. Sometimes they ask, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they just moan and plop down. They never have any sense of personal space, and they always smell like pickles. There was the one who forgot to pull her pants up all the way, creating an involuntary game of peek-a-boo every time she got something from her purse. She had a lot of things to get from her purse. And there was the one who passed out on my shoulder, leading me to believe she had died until she began drooling on my pullover. So what does this have to do with you, blissfully ignorant train-goer? How is the best activity on Metro-North sitting next to smelly old ladies? It’s not, clearly—it’s how to stave them off. Everyone wants their single seat—even those not plagued by pickle-people—and you can keep it in a number of ways: Put your bag next to you, fall asleep on both seats, cough loudly and/or scratch yourself constantly—the possibilities are endless. I’m on a train right now with my bags and feet on the seat next to me, sporting a thick cough while softly singing Eminem. An alternative is to just say, “This seat’s reserved.” It’s simple, easy, and does the trick. They’ll never know, and you will retain your ability to eat pickles. Lucky you. BEST MARY MILLER POSTER Herald Staff Turn the page, dear reader. BEST MYTH Herald Staff Yale’s hook-up culture. BEST NEW HAVEN PERSONALITY Rachel Lipstein BEST NEW BUSINESS Paul Doyle Never mind that the only thing you might purchase at the Apple store is a replacement charger—it’s still the best new store in New Haven. Few name brands possess the cultural capital Apple does, and for good reason. Yale students own Macs not just because they’re better than PCs (those are just so…utilitarian!), but also because they’re cool in a way that transcends mere hipness. With this outpost, Apple has endowed Broadway with some of its refined cool, anchoring the street in something deeper than the trends of American Apparel and Urban Outfitters. A little slice of utopia in the center of New Haven, the store offers proof that there does exist a place in this world where the people are friendly, the lighting is flattering, and everything works as it should. Yes, it may not be a place you shop regularly—or even ever— but it still stands as an emblem of man’s achievement, of the promise of technology, and, at the very least, of the stunning aesthetics of glass and silver. Surely that is enough. If you have a crappy or disordered personality like mine, your expectations for the Very Best probably aren’t super high. You’ll find a parade of shining stars walking down Chapel—alternately flirting, playing marbles, or mumbling. Google “New Haven personalities” and you’ll discover a healthy crop of MDs and PhDs—licensed experts— who might be able to help you determine a winner. (Unfortunately, all professionals consulted for this article declined to comment.) One figure, though, a rock for me (and others?), rises far and above the bent heads of New Haven streetwalkers—in this case, primarily Orgo textbook-laden students, backpacks bouncing as they trot up Prospect Street. Sage Boy leans jauntily against the façade of Sage Hall, hand waggishly on hip with a petrified but knowing smile. In daily life a strapping forester, he also has a sense of humor—ironically donning a dreadlocked Halloween wig or Western business attire. (And during finance interviews, too! Clean hit, Sage Boy!) He’s been known to hold signs, but he never lets his politics outshine the fact that he’s just a real boy like you and me. Unlike most lauded New Haven personalities, Sage Boy has fairly consistently made me laugh, is always better dressed than I am without being “inaccessible” or “larger than life,” and is in no danger of joining the cast of Real World: New Haven. I never thought I’d fall for the stoic type, but something about Sage Boy—I like my personalities at the other end of a twelve-foot ladder— makes me stand underneath him hoping for a wardrobe malfunction. Or at least a Twitter to follow. yale institute of sacred music presents great organ music at yale s t n e isem rt e v Ad martin jean Music of Buxtehude sunday, december 1 1 5 pm Marquand Chapel (409 Prospect St., New Haven) free and open to the public. no tickets required. plenty of free parking. www.yale.edu/ism yale institute of sacred music presents Anniversaries and Messages Yale Schola Cantorum Simon Carrington, conductor yale institute of sacred music presents Dona nobis pacem advent concert yale camerata Music of Lang, Liszt, Theofanidis, and Victoria Marguerite L. Brooks conductor Christ Church Episcopal 84 Broadway, New Haven saturday, december 3 8 pm · battell chapel 400 college street, new haven friday, december 9 · 5 pm Free; no tickets required. Information at www.yale.edu/ism Johan Zoffany RA Music of Bach, Telemann, Kyr, Victoria, and Willcocks Free admission; no tickets required. Information at www.yale.edu/ism. YOURS TRULY, DMM The Herald 100 Th He e ra 10 ld 0 Fridays Brick Oven Pizza Dancing Freshly Brewed Beer $2 drinks from 10pm-11pm No cover with a college ID 254 Crown Street, New Haven barnightclub.com d eral H the aff at t c a @ t st Con iness siness bus ald.bu m her ail.co e l a y gm THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST NIGHT OUT WITH YOUR T.A. STORY Lucas Iberico Lozada BEST NIGHT OUT STORY Jeff Cripe Mory’s is Yale splendor. On a Monday night (it doesn’t matter which), a group of us, all a bit worse for wear, headed to Mory’s to stave off our sobriety. Swinging open the big black door, that threshold of the rabbit hole, I was soothed by the warmth of the wood-paneled rooms, the supple leather upholstery, and the creaking of the time-worn floors as we walked toward the back bar. In short order, three cups appeared, filled to the brim, eager to be ritualized once more through a series of sips, turns, passes, and song. In turn, “It was Jeff” and “It was Sam” and “It was Lucy” and it was, of course, “George!” and we were happy and we were drunk. The Whiffs made merry in that old parlor and we joined in, conjoining Yale’s oldest traditions and its most recent inheritors. We toasted, and danced, and whirled and finally wound our way home. While others were seen reeling throughout the night— we might have laid down in the street, like gentlemen, if it was necessary, but we did not reel—we retired to the Townshend, where it was never uncommon to find us all peacefully asleep on the dining room floor. A few months ago, I found myself in a long line outside of the Hall of Graduate Studies’ common room. “What’s going on,” I asked. “It’s our welcome reception. People are waiting to get pictures with the dean of the GSAS.” Cool, I thought. And I was right—not only did I avoid an incriminating encounter with Dean X, but I also managed to get a heaping pile of food on a crappy paper plate and a big ole glass of Franzia before I was spotted by someone I knew. And by someone I knew, I mean the German studies graduate student who had been both a terribly beautiful distracting presence and the person who graded a lot of my assignments in a seminar I’d taken the semester before. Her coy recriminations left my mouth—and glass—dry. After I promised her that I was 21 and enrolled in a graduate seminar, she invited me to GYPSCY for a chance to “discuss her dissertation.” Ah, the joys of higher education. The suffering! The bitter loneliness! The sweet, underappreciated charm of reading glasses and unwashed hair! The subtle and thorough understanding of Walter Benjamin’s theory of forgiveness! Damn you, Yale College Policy on StudentTeacher Consensual Relations! 19 BEST OFF-CAMPUS HOUSING Marcus Schwarz BEST OBSCURE MAJOR Colin Groundwater If you’ve ever taken “Introduction to Film Studies,” chances are you took it for the reasons most people did. You get to watch some good movies, crank out a few reviews, and get a WR credit. Sounds good, right? In actuality, “Intro to Film Studies” is the tip of a largely unknown iceberg at Yale. Film studies is a major easily forgotten at any university, and one typically overlooked at the Ivies. Many have written it off as some small niche major for hipsters. While there might be a grain of truth in that assessment, it doesn’t do justice to the rich opportunities provided by the program. Yale has invested in revamping the film department to the degree that it now offers one of the best programs in the nation. The film collection in the basement of Whitney Humanities Center is a mammoth, though a largely untapped resource on campus. There are numerous opportunities to work on your own films if you’re willing to look into them. And the intro class is taught by the guy who interviewed Morgan Freeman. So when you’re in “Intro to Film Studies,” try to pick out the majors. They’ll be doing cooler stuff than you’d think. Last Sunday, I did my laundry at the Elmhurst, which is where I live. Luckily, the elevator came to the fourth floor when I pushed the button. I pulled back the glass paned door, then the accordion gate, and pressed “B” for the basement. The vehicle cruised down past third, second (through the glass I glimpsed the landlord walking down), first, then—the elevator jolted to a stop—basement. My neck felt something akin to whiplash. There are two washers and two driers in the basement. On one wall is a poster from the National Gallery of Art’s 1973 exhibit of impressionist and post-impressionist paintings from the USSR. (I also must mention the fuse boxes in another basement room which still use round circular fuses you twist into the socket when one blows.) Laundry in washing machines, I headed to Alpha Delta Pizza to pick up more quarters for the dryers. I can’t really eat Wenzels much since my apartment always smells like them, but I’ve never felt better about the store that makes that sandwich. The tall man who works behind the counter, Mustafa, is always happy to give me quarters for one-dollar bills. On Sunday, he asked me if I was doing laundry. Yup. I thanked him. Back on the stoop of the Elmhurst, I admired the two small pine trees that frame it—Charles Schulz would have done well to use them as models for Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. I looked up at “The Elmhurst,” inscribed in stone above the glass doorway. I was home again. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST OLD CAMPUS ACTIVITY Jack Schlossberg There’s nothing quite like lurking around Old Campus just before dark, watching people scurry from place to place. I often post up in the cozy crevasse right next to Dwight Hall with a cup of tea in order to enjoy the show. Often, when I hear a conversation that interests me, I slowly creep out and follow people to hear more. It was through this method I found out about the sale at GANT, but even half-off cable-knits couldn’t get me in that godforsaken hellhole. Another lurking technique I use is walking across Old Campus frantically with nowhere to go. It is important to sell this one, otherwise people will catch on. You must unzip your backpack, untie your shoes and have your hands full while power walking with a frown. This way, you can observe many more subjects and interrupt as many Frisbee games as your little heart desires. This tactic also works for finding out where people live, getting into otherwise forbidden entryways, and burning some calories all at the same time. Finally, nothing quite hits the spot like pretending to do lunges while observing a lady do her homework. This one is quite simple, my only recommendations are to wear a tank-top and never ever do this. 20 BEST OLD YALE Alexander Kayfetz-Gaum I get it: By Yale standards, the Owl Shop really isn’t that old. 200 years’ worth of Elis managed to survive before the Owl Shop’s opening in 1934. Surely, some might say, there is a Yale store/ song/building/person older and better than a cigar lounge and bar. Older, yes. Better, probably yes. Older and better? We think not. The thing is, the Owl Shop feels old. Dark leather, wood panels, and seniors (AARP, not ’12) are a start. But smoking inside is the kicker. Ever try lighting up in Connecticut Hall (older) or Pizza House (better)? Younger, worse places (à la Box) don’t let you do that. Even Elm Bar, a tobacco haven in its own right, makes you go outside. Thankfully, Owl goes by its own (old, good) rules. Non-smokers, fret not: Owl has drinks, chess, comfy chairs, new TVs, and charcuterie plates. The whole nine yards, really. So leave that Salvo gear at home, throw on your nicest tweed, and indulge in a bit of old school Yale. BEST ONE-ON-ONE DINING HALL Noah Remnick The best place to have a one-on-one meal at Yale isn’t a residential college, or commons, or even the Hall of Graduate Studies. It is only open one day a week, but it offers multiple courses and doesn’t even require a meal swipe. It’s Shabbat dinner at Chabad, a meal deserving of a rousing “l’chaim.” I went to Shabbat dinner at Chabad a few weeks ago after a friend gave it a fulsome recommendation. I arrived at the worn down white house, located at 37 Edgewood Avenue, to a revelrous scene: Rabbis downing bottles of Manischewitz, econ majors talking about Israel over appetizers of kosher sushi, a gaggle of Jewish mothers discussing their children’s college applications (to Penn, surprisingly). Due to overcrowding, my friend Lisa and I were placed at the end of the table next to the mothers. “What a great idea, bringing a girl here on a date,” one of them remarked to me. We weren’t on a date, but it quickly dawned on me how perfect Chabad would be for one. The lively atmosphere, the stimulating religious discussions, the copious amounts of free wine—everything about Chabad makes it a great place for a Jewish guy to bring a nice shiksa on Friday night. BEST PARTY Thomas Meyer On his deathbed, Irish statesman, founder of modern conservative philosophy, and hip-hop aficionado Edmund Burke turned to his peers and said, “You know, there ain’t no party like a fuckin’ Tory par-tay.” He threw up a peace sign, took a breath, and passed away. While this made little sense at the time (as Burke was very loyal to the Whigs and “ain’t” hadn’t yet entered the Irish lexicon), hundreds of years later and thousands of miles away, the wisdom behind his last words has, at last, become clear. At Yale, there really is no other party like the Tory Party. Where else can you throw on a bow tie, sip some port, and talk Known and Unknowns? Well, sure, I guess the Conservative Party and the PoR, and yeah, the Federalists too. Okay, but where else can you go to big banquets, talk illegal immigration, and play croquet? Yeah, I guess the other parties do that too. But, I’m telling you, the Tory Party’s different from other conservative parties in a big way: The people aren’t creepy. In fact, they’re great. Attend a Federalist meeting and tell me it doesn’t feel a little bit like an exorcism. Go to a PoR meeting and try to convince me that you didn’t come out a little racist. The Tories? Nothing like that. Their party is bumpin’ and conversation is flowing. So why not honor Burke’s memory this Thursday at the Tory Party? I’ll bring the Scotch if you bring Decision Points. Although, we should probably brownbag both. Emma Schindler BEST PLACE TO DFMO, ETC. Cindy Ok Upperclassmen à Grad Student à Professor = the natural mating progression for the age- and statusconscious among you. The first? Done and done. The third? Gonna take some building up to. Despite what the Goldilocks Principle might tell you, the second one is juuuussssst right. Take it from personal experience (read: my friend’s experience): The place to find your, uh, lean piece of grad student meat is the Halloween party in Green Hall. (These babes are low-cal, I promise. No hunks here.) Your cute Lit Theory TA? Check. That mopey chick from “Existentialism”? Lettin’ it alllll hang loose. Even your nerdy calculus tutor is lurking somewhere. (That’s right, non-English speakers welcome!) But remember, as someone once told an angsty Seth Cohen on the Best Season of TV Ever, confidence is key. And so, an inspirational anecdote for you all: About 25 years ago, a senior American studies major dressed herself as Jackie O.-in-mourning, forced a wannabe date to be her paparazzo, and caught the attention of lean, low-cal law student. You can find them now, all happily ever after and shit, in a brownstone in Brooklyn with three kids and a dog. You are a princess, this is a fairy tale, and if you do what I say and go to Green Hall next Halloween, he/she/anything in between, will sweep you off your feet. Scout’s honor. In your college experience’s whirlwind of sex, drugs, and texts, sometimes the purest endeavors are the ones that get ignored. The creep-behind dance move, the reactive turnaround-to-see-his-face, the (sometimes) fit and sweaty bodies surrounding you as you get dealt the predictable tongue…ah, yes. The feisty fourword phrase with almost no real consequences: Dance Floor Make-Out. There are about 47 best places to get pizza in New Haven and only one best place to find a two-in-one necking/dancing buddy, and that place is Toad’s Place, practically nestled in Ezra Stiles College and definitely nestled into our freshman selves. Toad’s (as those who know it well fondly call it) made national news in a New York Times wedding announcement of a bow-ow-OW Yale couple this past September. The couple’s budding romance (which began freshman year and continued in a Vincent Scully class) was consummated for the first time in a DFMO at Toad’s in the fall of 2004—‘twas not so long ago, my friends, not so long ago. A few IM conversations and some casual hangouts later, they were official, and only seven years after that, they were married. So when you’re deciding if you should go out on a Saturday night, think about how the DFMO may factor into your five-, 10-, or 15-year plans. Listen to your heart’s desires, don’t forget your Yale ID, and follow the line of girls through the door and into Toad’s Place. BEST PLACE TO LET ONE RIP Sam Sullivan It is a blustery autumn morning. The light scorches the plaza white. Beneath you are masterworks of literature in their original. Behind you stands grand old Yalé in all of its stone-edifaced, commemorative splendor. On your way through Commons, for good luck, you touched the hilt of the sword on the memorial relief sculpture, which looks like a little erect penis. Now you are standing erect in your pants with the glory of western culture and with a bellyful of lo mein. You look to the blue sky. It kisses you with gusts of approval. Will you not answer? Go on, I say, pucker your cheeks and blow, blow, blow. BEST PLACE TO GET MUGGED Herald Staff Just follow a grad student. You’ll find out. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST PLACE TO MEET GRAD STUDENTS BEST PLACE TO GO WITH YOUR PARENTS Ryan Arnold A visit from parents can be fantastic, but it can also be super stressful. Finding something to do in New Haven that is entertaining for everyone, not obscenely expensive, and within walking distance is tough. Fortunately, the Yale University Art Gallery was erected to address this exact issue (and for absolutely no other reason). The gallery’s five floors house more than 185,000 pieces, ranging from van Gogh’s “The Night Café” to ornate African masks (i.e. the collection will amaze both your parents and your little siblings). Like all things Yale—except for the cost of actually attending—admission is free and open to the public. The museum is open on both Saturday and Sunday and sits central to campus, right on the corner of Chapel and York Streets across from the Yale Rep. Also, let’s be honest: When are you going to make it there otherwise? The University Art Gallery is one of those places you’ll feel sort of guilty about not visiting more often once you’ve goneb for the first time. Your parents will likely thank you, or at the very least, be impressed by how cultured you are. 21 THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 22 BEST PLACE WORTH THE DRIVE Lucas Iberico Lozada BEST PLACE TO RUN INTO YOUR FRESHMAN YEAR HOOKUP Ariel Doctoroff You just picked up some Cinnamon Sugar Pop-Tarts. Ooh, ooh, and that Naked smoothie. Mango? Not today. You go for a safer choice. So you check out—eyes to the floor, you’re sure to mumble the “thank you” and “have a good night.” And you’re ready to enjoy the goods on your dirty little love seat (a painful reminder for the have-nots). It’s fair to say that you’ve seen better days. So when you climb through the crevasse between Durfee’s and Durfee Entryway C and run into the hunk/bombshell with whom you shared that one night of fantasy way back when, there’s a lot of “Oh, this? It’s nothing.” “What classes are you taking?” “There’s never been anyone quite like you.” With your backs pressed against the most remote walls in the tiny corridor, the heat is palpable. Or is that just your burning cheeks? You know your starcrossed lover is wondering what the hell he/she was thinking when you start giggling uncontrollably for no reason at all. Finally, you part ways and are left with a twinkle in your eye and the far-away memory of a night gone by. Ah, at least we will always have Durfee. BEST PREPARED FOOD AT G-HEAV Emily Rappaport Everybody knows I can’t keep a secret. I’ve got a big mouth, even/ especially about my own shame. (One time, I realized a dime had been stuck to my body for at least 16 hours.) But for much of last year, I harbored a secret that made me sweat. Now here I am—older, wiser, and ready to tell the world. It all started on a normal late night at Gourmet Heaven. I was in the market for the usual “study snacks”—chalky Chobani, watery, pre-packaged baby carrots, those Nature’s Valley bars that are so hard they break your teeth and scratch your palette. It was a simple quest, but my eye strayed. There, in the middle of the prepared food bar, where I had never ventured out of common sense, was a tray full of gold. Golden noodles. Lo mein. I have no idea whether the people who work at G-Heav are Chinese. Actually, I really don’t think they are. But they make a mean tray of lo mein. After I discovered it, I walked to G-Heav in the dark almost every night and quietly loaded the noodles into a white styrofoam container, occasionally mixing it with white rice and always buying a pack of gum as well to cover my tracks and justify the trip to myself. I’ve never tasted any of the other prepared food, so it’s probably unfair for me to declare unequivocally that the lo mein is the best. But let’s be honest—that mac ‘n’ cheese looks even crustier than what they’re serving up in Commons. Sleeping Giant State Park, just a hop and a skip away from Yale’s campus, is a totally diggable place for those with either motor-vehicle access or the masochistic desire for something called “exercise.” It’s a small park, not really large enough for anything other than a day-hike, which makes it perfect for a half-day holiday from the grind. Plus, there’s even a funky castle-thing where you can meet all sorts of “real American folks.” Take your parents! Convince them that you get exercise from activities other than walking from Pierson to TD once a week for a study session. Or your love interest! Straining up the shale will, if you’re anything like me, induce an asthma attack, which is an easy way to get rescued by your lover in a totally hot, sweaty way. Plus the view of New Haven and the Long Island Sound really hides the blemishes. After hiking for a couple hours, circle back and get a hot dog (or three) from the dude with the food cart. He’s not very nice, but the feeling of that sodium paste hitting your hard-worked stomach is unparalleled in the field of sport. BEST PLACE FOR TRASHY MAGAZINES Benjamin Schenkel I don’t do well with shots. (The medicinal kind, anyway.) So last April, when I had to schlep to DUH for four painful pricks at its travel clinic, I feared that nothing awaiting me there could calm my nerves. All I expected were kindly nurses, maybe graham crackers, and cartoon-y Band-Aids, of which I planned to beg for extras. My finicky self rejoiced when I made it to the waiting room. I’m used to seeing well-worn copies of the New York Times and the Herald—— strewn around campus. But anything with steamy reveals, glossy pages, and a Gosselin (or eight) on the cover? Forget it. Only at DUH could I sit in a trashy trance and fixate on celebrity gossip rags, lucky to be dwelling on suspected facelifts, tropical getaways, and affairs with costars instead of my own mortality. The “happy place” I transported myself to wasn’t all that happy, I guess, but it did the trick of distracting me from imminent ouchies. If you’re as enthralled by Hollywood excesses as I am, but can’t stomach giving Perez the page hits, join this wuss for an in-house magazine marathon. If anyone nags at us for loitering without an actual health complaint, just look up—nonplussed—and say we’re seeing stars. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST PROFESSOR COUPLE Miranda Lewis Lisa Kereszi, ART ’00, and Ben Donaldson, ART ’01, spend a vast majority of their days in the basement of Green Hall. You might not know this, but the building is definitely haunted (by Jodie Foster’s former stalker, none the less), so it takes a certain kind of person to want to spend most of their life down there. And it takes a super certain kind of person to want to spend their engaged life down there. For Lisa and Ben, it makes sense—they met there while getting their MFAs in photography (hello, adorbs meet-cute) and now they’re back to rule over the place like little photography gremlins. They share obsessions with flea markets, bad magic shows, early 20th century New Haven photographers, and Walker Evans. Ben runs the undergraduate darkroom, and together, the two have been slowly decorating the place with various vintage finds, like ’50s motivational posters and ’80s exercise videos. If you can make it down to the darkroom, you might find Lisa sewing embroidered name-tags on all of the photography lab jackets while Ben runs around helping students. They both have really good laughs. BEST PUNCH Herald Staff Remember the Herald party? We don’t either. BEST QR/L/WR Ariel Doctoroff BEST PSYCH EXPERIMENT Tatiana Schlossberg The best psych experiments are always the ones you do on yourself, like testing your allergies or answering hundreds of questionnaires in Cosmo to find out if he’s really your type, or which Sex and the City character you really are. Results are often inconclusive, but they tell me the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Me, I just want the same result, so maybe I’m not so crazy after all, Mom and Dad, if those are even your real names. God, please just let me be Charlotte!!!!!! Please?!?!? But there are some other DIY psych experiments that (somehow) don’t involve Sex and the City. At Yale, it can be fun sometimes to see how you can academically torture yourself, to see just how depressed you can get, in an intellectual way! A good method I’ve found is to take the following classes: “Civil War and Reconstruction,” “Violence and Civil Strife,” “Experience of War in the 20th Century,” and “Genocide and Ethnic Conflict.” Nothing puts your insanely trivial problems into crippling perspective while testing your capacity to grapple with the horrors of being human more than a courseload like this! Michael Frame has only been profiled 400 times in the last two weeks. The Herald doesn’t understand this, so we thought we would give him one more. We’re not super numbers-savvy, which isn’t to say that we are stupid, we just think differently. That’s what our mom told us, anyway. For us visual (read: “artistic”) thinkers, Professor Frame has just the class for us. It’s MATH 190: “Fractal Geometry,” which is just the fancy lingo for math-y sorts of patterns found in “nature, art, music, and literature.” Hey! We know a little about those things. Get at us, fractals. BEST RADIO SHOW Vlad Chituc Trying to find the best radio show at Yale is a lot like trying to find the best a cappella group—damn near impossible. That’s because unless you’re involved or friends with someone who is, you don’t actually care or listen. But man, did you hear that show your friend did last week on WYBC? It was great. They totally played that song you posted on their Facebook wall the other day and referenced that inside joke you guys have. I say this entirely without sarcasm: It’s actually a stupidly fun way to spend an hour of your week. That’s because WYBC programming isn’t about a broad audience; iIt’s about hearing your friends on the radio. Of course, it isn’t actually the radio—the only time Yale students listen to that is when they’re forced to in Durfee’s—but it was streamed over the Internet which, let’s face it, is the only way people listen to music today. It’s the 21st century. Who cares about the AM/FM? Not you or your friends—we have Spotify, Pandora, and wybcx.com. 23 THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST RESOURCE Emily Rappaport BEST READING LIST Bob Jeffrey SparkNotes: The Miya’s Menu CHAPTER 1: COCKUTAIRU Summary: As the Menu begins, the protagonist and narrator, whose name we later learn is Bun, ruminates on his Mongolian heritage. He proceeds to teach us about the many different types of sake and their fascinating histories. One was the victory drink of lesbian Chinese pirates of the South China Seas. Another tastes like salt water. In an aside about Pabst Blue Ribbon, the narrator expresses his opinion that PBR is a drink for poor artists, students, cheapskates, and sake bombers alike. Analysis: Cockutairu means “drinks,” in Bun’s invented language. CHAPTER 2: APPETIZERS Summary & Analysis: This section is written in a stream of consciousness with very little plot development. We learn that the “afro” is the most popular hairstyle among teens in Tokyo and that it can cost 1,000 dollars to have Japanese hair sculpted into one. 24 I don’t think I’m speaking just for myself when I say that emails from faculty and administration about resources and opportunities have become white noise. Marked as spam in my Gmail, I have the place where I bought my first pair of twin XL sheets, ShopBop, and about 63 Yale offices and programs (including/especially Ezra Stiles IMs). I think that probably makes me an extreme case, but there is one person whose emails everyone is wont to overlook—your personal librarian. In case you didn’t know, you were assigned a personal librarian at the beginning of freshman year. All Yale students are. I’m not sure exactly what the PL job description is because I never read any of their (very eager) emails, but it seems to boil down to helping students make use of the school’s vast library system and digital resources. Over the summer, I worked briefly as a research assistant. I needed to find some original articles about an incident that happened sometime in the past 10 years (I wasn’t sure exactly when) in Israeli or Russian newspapers. I went to the New York Public Library and sat for two full days going through microfilms of the Jerusalem Post. I didn’t find what I was looking for. It was all really annoying, I promise. But then I had an epiphany. I had a personal librarian! I had never contacted him before, but it didn’t seem too late to start. In the dead of July, I emailed him out of the blue, and within an hour (literally), I had links to 12 articles and references to five other librarians to contact. It’s 10:00 (the middle of your junior year). Do you know who your personal librarian is? CHAPTER 3: DINNER Summary: Seven-year-old Bun has a recurring nightmare about leaving the bathtub running and swimming among the fish he will later roll between seaweed and rice. A William Blake poem prompts Bun to wonder why sushi had to come from Asia. He discovers that around the time sushi was invented, West Africa also had both fish and rice. This knowledge triggers another interior monologue: Africa is where humans originated. Tilapia comes from Africa. Jesus may or may not have fed 5,000 hungry people with tilapia. The “Aquatic Ape Theory” contends that tilapia helped humans develop bigger brains. Clams start off as males and sometimes become females. French people’s lips are softer and warmer than everyone else’s. King Charlemagne liked Brie. Analysis: Um… BEST RESUME PADDER Kate Orazem Remember how when we were like five everyone wanted to be either an astronaut or the president? Remember how everyone grew out of it? Luckily, Yale provides a place for those who didn’t, a little bullpen for all the people who never passed the West-Wing-idolizing phase of political development. It’s called—wait for it—“Studies in Grand Strategy.” I know, right? That name itself is just resume gold. They might as well call it “Thirty Centuries of Acting Imposingly” or “Overly Portentous Self-Branding for Dummies.” GS is where the future leaders of this nation can gather to discuss the classics of political theory and surreptitiously snap drunk pics of each other at receptions. Its specially designed syllabus will provide you with all the tools you need to achieve success: gaming the system, schmoozing for dollars, and parroting neocon buzzwords you don’t believe in for personal gain. Oh, and Tacitus. Those dudes love them some Tacitus. BEST RETAIL THERAPY Emma Sokoloff Some might say that New Haven is dry of quality retail. Tracy B is too matronly. Gant is too preppy. You buy some cute flouncy top from Urban Outfitters and then see some other chick sporting it just as you walk out of the store. And, let’s be honest, as tantalizing as that big glowing apple may be, it’s not exactly appropriate to treat yourself to a new iPad on a whim. Call me crazy, but we shoppers at Yale are not limited to the streets bordering the perimeter of campus. It is possible to cross Church Street. In fact, if you walk just one block past the Green on Chapel Street, you’ll find the English Market, a hidden gem. This vintage warehouse is not the spot for an unadventurous or modest shopper. You have to have the stamina to sift through a bounty of knick-knacks and antiques, and the imagination to see these older items in a new light. If you’re looking to spice up your wardrobe or living space, GO. Want a lampshade with fringe? Check. Perhaps a velvet chaise lounge? They’ve got one. Have you been fantasizing about a sequined crop top? Because I bought one from the English Market last fall and to this day refer to it as “God’s gift to earth.” THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST SO/SC/HU Sam Bendinelli BEST ROOFTOP Peter Beck To the Yale Community, I write to let you know that three students climbed to the top of Payne Whitney last weekend. Please remember, this is very dangerous. Just because it is incredibly easy to hop over the blue plywood at the base, and then take the scaffolding stairs all the way to the top, and then climb a thin ladder connected to the spire on the top of the building, and then touch the blinking red light bulb at the top (probably the highest point on campus, with an amazing view of all of New Haven, and intoxicatingly precarious since you won’t get caught if you climb at night but it also makes it harder to see) does not mean you should. Looking for the perfect class to fulfill that last pesky distributional requirement? So was I. But following a suitemate’s advice, I shopped ASTR 130: Life in the Universe. I must admit, I was a little disappointed when I found out we wouldn’t be earning that science credit by parsing UFO stories and setting up telescopes on the roof of Beinecke to hunt for little green men ourselves. But if you can weather the letdown of the first 30 seconds of class, there’s a lot to look forward to. The professor, Debra Fischer, is infectious, and she’s arranged a series of lively talks from prominent researchers to break up the 75-minute lecture. ASTR 130 is really about how life on Earth informs our study of the universe. Starting at the beginning of—what else—the universe, the syllabus takes you on a warp-speed journey through the formation of galaxies, the solar system, and then our own planet. After the midterm, the trajectory reverses and you start by examining life on the third rock from the sun before proceeding to prospects for life on rocks a little farther away. The workload isn’t too intensive, and the semester’s six problem sets are engaging, especially when you get to make actual contributions to science by identifying galaxies and hunting for exoplanets using data from the Hubble and Kepler Telescopes online. Sound like a lot to take in? Don’t worry. For being one of world’s— hell maybe the universe’s—foremost experts on planets outside of our solar system, Professor Fischer always keeps things down to Earth, so to speak. As a reminder, please be aware of your surroundings at all times. Sincerely, 25 Ronnell A. Higgins, Chief of Police BEST SANDWICH Jess McHugh BEST SIGN Max Gordon The alley is dark, save for the sunlight reflecting off the Yale Cabaret sign. They say the mirrors of the lighthouse of Alexandria could set ships ablaze from 20 miles away. Perhaps the reflection of the late-afternoon sun will be kinder to the cars on Park Street. The sign hangs simply above a red door, a bright sheet of metal engraved with the words “Yale Cabaret.” On the back, the word “Yes.” It looks lonely in this narrow alley, surrounded by brick buildings and shingled roofs. On a campus where new buildings are made to look old, the Yale Cabaret sign is unabashedly itself—so polished, so shiny, so new. The small black box theater, to which the sign directs its viewers, serves as a home for the Yale Cabaret, an experimental theater collective from the School of Drama. The sign is like the theater itself: The black box gives writers, directors, and actors the blank space to project their visions, just as the reflections of the sign project back the visions of passersby. Perhaps this analogy can go even further. Just as without a person, a mirror is just a sheet of glass, without an observer, the Yale Cabaret sign is just a small piece of polished metal. But once you stop and look, it becomes something more. The Cabaret’s website quotes Marcel Duchamp: “The viewer completes the work of art.” The best sandwich in New Haven is Atticus’ grilled mushroom and stilton cheese panini. Now you may be thinking, “But where is the fried chicken and buffalo sauce? Or the clever name? Or the meat?” This sandwich is the wallflower that has been outshone by the Wenzel for years—the Molly Ringwald of the sandwich world, if you will—but its time has come. The grilled mushroom and stilton cheese sandwich does not need any bells and whistles because it’s just that good—too good for the unnatural colors and trans-fats that we usually find in sandwiches. This sandwich is the simple and delicious combination of caramelized onions, baby arugula, cheese, and, as the name implies, grilled mushrooms on sourdough bread, pressed into a warm panini. I happen to believe that caramelized onions make anything better, and in these dark days of final exams, this sandwich is the perfect, legal solution to any quiet despair you may be experiencing. So if you have a soft spot for the underdog and a love for all things rustic, then try the grilled mushroom and stilton cheese sandwich. She won’t let you down. BEST SEX SHOP Herald Staff VIP. A friend once saw his professor there. Everyone deserves a little love. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 26 BEST SLEEPING LIBRARY Jesse Schreck The Calhoun library is the best place to go if you want to nap but still feel semi-productive. There’s wood paneling, plush chairs, and a thermostat that just won’t quit. The floor lamps don’t work, and the overhead lights run on motion detectors (because libraries are so full of motion?). That might not sound important, but last year, I’d be staring at my computer, wondering why Aristotle’s translators decided it would be smart to have “virtue” mean two thousand different things (no regrets DS), and the room would suddenly go dark. I’d wave my arms: nothing. Why? Because some of the tables are conveniently placed nowhere near the detectors. I’d get up and walk around a little in order to (a) turn the lights back on and (b) say I exercised that day. But three minutes later, the lights shut back off. Nothing to do but sleep. Today, I saw some kid splayed out on one of the leather sofas: dead asleep, right in the middle of the room. 3:30 p.m. I’ve been there; we all have. That is the power of the Calhoun library. BEST SPECTATOR SPORT Bijan Stephen To tell the truth, I’ve never really understood the phrase “Walk of Shame.” I mean, sure, you’re returning from a night that you may or may not remember, but you (presumably) hooked up with someone. Can’t be all that bad, right? I can sympathize with those who may be reluctant to wear their nighttime “gettin’ sum” gear in the unforgiving morning sunlight—it’s not every day that begins with such an auspicious start. Just remember, any shame you might feel is directly proportional to the ridiculousness of your ensemble and inversely proportional to the skill of your partner. (If your night was good enough, your walk could even turn into a Pride Stride.) Pride Strides notwithstanding, the Walk is definitely a spectator sport. Tickets for front row seats are available at Starbucks on High Street every Thursday through Sunday morning from 8 am to noon. Nurse your hangover, but get there early. The best seats go pretty quickly. BEST SOUTHERNER Benjamin Schenkel Don’t let Kyle Killeen’s, ES ’12, good manners and innocent smile fool you. She may be a proud Louisianan (and, full disclosure, a friend of mine) but a demure Southern belle she ain’t. Though sweet as can be, Kyle actually gets the naughty humor she pretends not to, and she’s tough as a crawfish when she lets loose in her beloved IMs. Kyle may be feistier than your stereotypical debutante, but she’s in no danger of turning into a cold, crusty Yankee. Two years ago, missing the friendliness and relaxed attitude back home, Kyle co-founded the Yale Undergraduate Southern Society. She wanted to dispel conceptions of Southerners as “uneducated, racist, backwards,” by showing off their charms and comfort food. Besides standard fare like biscuits and grits, Kyle has treated her many admirers to deer sausage and fried gator—courtesy of her hunter-grandfather and cajungrocery.com, respectively. “If people want to make something they used to get at home, we’re open to that,” Kyle said in her unforced drawl. “We’re like a cultural house, just without the house.” Kyle is not the bragging type, but she admitted to converting her British suitemate into a semi-Southerner: “I have her saying y’all in everyday conversation now, and we’ve gone to all the [home] Yale football games.” BEST SPLURGE Marcus Moretti It was March, freshman year. I had just said goodbye to my friend from back home who visited. I was feeling low. I was also feeling chilly, so I strolled over to Denali. I stepped through the doors and found myself in the women’s section. I darted toward the men’s. I made it there in seconds, because the shop is quite small. Not much besides jackets are offered. Among my fellow men, but by myself at a shelf of North Faces, I raised a hand and let it drop onto the plush, black field of Denali fur engineering. My hand stroked the sensual surface; my hair bristled everywhere. I felt like a young Humbert Humbert petting his first nymphet. The price tags were ingeniously hidden. I stepped up to the counter contentedly, swiped my card, and left. 200 dollars. Like Wile E. Coyote running off a cliff, the gravity of that expenditure occurred to me only after a few steps out the door. My face caught fire. I squeezed the cardboard handle of the Denali bag in panic. I kept walking. Later on, I wore the jacket as a sort of test run. Several people told me it was patently not my size. I returned it the next day. On my way home, I stopped at Durfee’s, bought a carton of Ben and Jerry’s Americone Dream, and ate it all. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST STUDENT JOB Carlos Gomez Everyone wants a good job. Everyone. And a good job is hard to find on campus. Very hard. Because few people at Yale have much experience with jobs, if any. Our high-school selves were too busy with schoolwork, or internships, or extracurriculars to ever get a job. Not a good one, at least. But the time has come. This is what college is for, right? Getting jobs. Class is great and all, but a nice job is the perfect reminder that there are more important things than the 23rd term in a Mclaurin Polynomial. Of course, everyone would like a piece of Bass—shelving books and whatnot—but you’re getting ahead of yourself. The best job on campus is oft overlooked: Health Analyst for the Neurology Department. I know, I know. It can seem like a thankless job. No one ever “asks” for a Health Analyst. And a bad Health Analyst = a very bad time. But as long as you or your partner (you work in pairs typically, though this can be negotiated) aren’t afraid to ask questions and make the proper adjustments, there are a number of benefits to the Health Analyst for the Neurology Department job. For one, your work can be done anywhere: in the office, at home, in the back of lecture, under the table in seminar. It’s so easy, you can do it with your eyes closed. The going can get rough, of course, but you’ll find a way to smooth it out. Yes, neurology is an exact field—minor movements can make a big difference—but this also allows for quick improvement. I know what you’re thinking: I’m just not qualified, right? Don’t I need a degree for this? Wrong! Almost anyone can get and do this job. You’re just the Health Analyst for the Neurology Department. You’re not performing surgery; you’re simply lending a helping hand. You won’t be dealing with brain just yet. BEST TREND Alex Shaheen Have you ever had a rage blackout? Once, while at a party, I had a rage blackout. I was walking to the bathroom when I had an unfortunate encounter with an unnamed person at whom, according to various sources, I yelled “Shut the f*** up, b****.” I remember neither uttering these words, nor this person calling me a flagrant, unforgivable douche (maybe not in so many words, but I really couldn’t say). Although I have no regrets, this is hardly the best way to remove someone you detest from your life. There’s a better way. It’s a little sumthin’ called the Excomm (short for excommunication) and it’s the best thing since the electric nose hair trimmer. To be clear: The Excomm is reserved for the most heinous offenders, the ones you dream show up to school in track pants just so you can say, “You can’t sit with us!” The steps are as follows: Unfriending on Facebook. It’s a subtle, petty fuck you. But it feels so good. Completely ignoring them while making it clear that you’ve noted their presence and have been nauseated by it. Make a face like someone’s holding a small turd under your nose and then swiftly turn your head. Tell all your friends that you’re in the midst of an Excomm. Rally the troops. Fabricate stories that corroborate their complete inferiority as a human being. When the Excomm has progressed to its terminal point, forget that you ever knew this person and act confused whenever his or her name is mentioned. I may not be the Pope, but I can still be a frigid bitch. And so can you. BEST SUSHI Vlad Chituc Miya’s Sushi is a small and adventurous restaurant on the corner of Chapel and Howe, tucked away behind off-campus houses and the Yale Sculpture Building. Lively and crowded with students every evening (and a line out the door even still), Miya’s has no room for purists. But you’re not a purist. You aren’t bothered that a mixture of wild rice, quinoa, and other delicious grains replace white rice in Miya’s dishes. You don’t shy away from a roll just because it has goat cheese and apricot in it. No. You’re a Yale student. You’re better than that. You might even be happy that Miya’s shies away from traditional ingredients, because Miya’s is the Northeast’s only sustainable sushi restaurant. With the U.S.’s largest vegetarian sushi menu and delicious, ethically sourced fish in stock, it’s hard to even notice that shrimp or Bluefin tuna isn’t on the menu; their menu already has everything you’d want. There are dozens of delicious and cheap rolls for under $3.50, but the exotic rolls are more expensive (yet worth it—the Kanibaba, crab wrapped in warm potato topped with a cheesy lemon-dill sauce, is mindblowing). And most importantly, the fire-cracker sake in all of its derivatives—sake bombs with PBR, bonobo juice, and the immigrant cocktail—justifies the trip alone. There’s no reason to get sushi anywhere else. BEST STERLING PROFESSOR Herald Staff Thomas A. Steitz. Nobel Prize winners are so hot right now. 27 THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST TWINS Sally Helm Man, I really wanted to pick myself for this article. I’m half of a Yale twin set, but my redheaded fraternal twin sister Eliza goes to Northwestern—alas, it was not to be. “Technically, ”I guess, we aren’t “Yale Twins.” First of all, discrimination! Isn’t it enough that I had to suffer the indignity of being barred from the annual Twin Festival in Twinsburg, Ohio, because it’s only open to identical twins? Whatever, Ohio, no one cares. Second of all, it’s fine, because I found a pair of Yale twins who are as much like Eliza and me as possible without actually being us: the illustrious Travis and Emily Foxhall, ES ’13 and SM ’13, ladies and gentlemen. The first great thing about Travis and Emily is that they’re fraternal, aka the opposite of identical. Obviously, Travis is a boy and Emily is not a boy. People still get confused—one kid at their high school thought they were dating. (Maybe this is the same girl who believed Emily and Travis had been born “connected at the hair.”) Emily says they’re different on the surface, but they have the same underlying values. Travis says Emily is “an old dusty tome” and he’s “a racy magazine cover…but we have the same bibliography.” The two are in different colleges and have their own lives. Still, they’re close, and try to meet up for weekly twin lunches or dinners (aw). Other cute twin thing: They had a secret language when they were little, and called each other “Dado.” But it’s their differences that define them. “We balance each other, just like honey and vinegar…is that a thing?” Travis says. Travis and Emily are perfect fraternal twins, and fraternal is the best kind of twin to be (F U, Ohio). As full sets of Yale twins go, these two are number one. 28 BEST VIEW Carlos Gomez I spent the first semester of sophomore year with grand visions of being the next Frank Lloyd Wright. I enrolled in those architecture prerequisites. I bought my ruler and drawing pencils. I wore glasses for God’s sake and said things like “axonometric” and “orthogonal.” It wasn’t until two weeks and a day after classes began—after shopping period ended and I could no longer drop the two classes without halving my schedule—that I realized the architecture major was specially designed for the friendless and empty-hearted. If you haven’t been to the seventh floor studios of Loria, count your blessings. I spent the better part of my sophomore spring—the entirety of my sophomore slump—in that cold prison. I slaved away on pointless assignments in those dingy concrete confines, replete with a yearround draft and miniscule windows just high enough that you can’t look out of them. But there is a balcony. Oh, the balcony. The best view on campus is accessible only to those with access to the architecture studios. Anyone can get up there before 5 p.m., but if you want to see the sun set or rise, you need to have “special access.” The balcony is transcendent. You can see everything. Go ahead, sing a little something. Reenact that scene from Titanic. In the spring, lay on the warm stones and pretend you go to Stanford. Sometimes, they have food. One time, there was a keg. In short, the seventh floor balcony of Loria is awesome. And I never would have found nor had access to this vista without my stint in hell. Let it be heard, architecture majors and finance-bound alike: There is a silver lining to selling your soul. BEST VINTAGE Jessica Sykes New Haven is not often regarded as a fashion epicenter. It is, however, home to a student body in desperate need of clothing other than leggings, Uggs, or large totes. It may seem like the retail options are limited to Chapel (great, if you’re into those awkward, knitted, multicolored pullovers next to Book Trader) and Broadway (go for it, if salmoncolored chinos are more your thing), but there is a little store on Crown St. called Salvation Army that is sure to keep you guessing. The hipply-termed “Salvo” is a mecca for those seeking all things ’80s, ’90s, and early 2000s. Leopardshouldered black and gold bomber jacket? They have it. Floral grunge mini dress? It’s there. Sequin shoulder-padded ’80s cocktail dress? A mere seven dollars. While other vintage shops in New Haven offer a higherend product (as well as a shopping experience that doesn’t include old urine), Salvation Army provides the best bang for your buck. Part of the fun of shopping consignment is sifting through all the mom jeans and cropped vests until you find that nugget of gold, which might come in the shape of a hand-beaded cashmere cape or a flannel-lined red coat. Salvation Army is not just for the once-a-year Safety Dance costume or a tailgate tutu: It’s the perfect place to pick up special pieces that you won’t find anywhere else. If you’re looking for a good time, one-of-a-kind items, and blue stickers that give you 50 percent off, then Salvo’s the place for you. Oh yeah, it’s also a great place to pick up VHSs and dining room sets. BEST UNLIKELY URINAL Herald Staff The Senior Class Masquerade Ball. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BEST WINDOW Joy Shan BEST WEENIE BIN Herald Staff Second from the right, across from Bass Café. Trust us. It’s crunch time. Problem sets and research papers have you all strung out. Facebook-stalking your friends blithely partying it up at other schools does nothing to reduce your anguish. Luckily, there are under-the-radar ways to calm your soul and restore your sanity—none of which involve curling up in a fetal position with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. The clear winner? Go to the fourth floor mezzanine of the Sterling stacks, turn the corner to your right, and look out the fourth window. With its unassuming size and shape, it appears to be nothing special. However, as you peer beyond its iron lattice, the window’s height and positioning perfectly allow you to exchange dusty bookshelves for a soaring view over Yale’s stone rooftops and elegant courtyards. The complex geometry of Harkness amidst the comforting regularity of college chimneys and facades strikes you with its airy grandeur. On the horizon, the buildings of New Haven’s urban sprawl lose their dark foreignness; their rows of windows glow like miniature votives. Venture to the window at dusk to observe dark outlines of Yale’s towers against a sweeping rosy-plum backdrop or drop by on a foggy morning when you can make out new architectural details through the pearly sunlight. For maybe a warm second, you feel your anxiety ebb. No, this window’s views won’t make your work go away, but it will remind you of where you are in the first place. And if you are still stressed out, I assure you the pint of Cherry Garcia is a faithful friend. 29 BEST WATERING HOLE Alex Chituc There are a lot of great bars in New Haven. If you want to go somewhere expensive and hip, go to 116 Crown. If you want the best beer selection with two-dollar drafts on a Thursday night, go to Bar. If you want to go hard, go to Viva’s. But none of these places are what I think of when I think of the best watering hole. When I think of somewhere a college kid can relax with friends and enjoy a nice selection of beer for a reasonable price in a great atmosphere, I picture the new Rudy’s. Trust me, the only thing the new location has in common with its old location on Elm is its name. Unlike its old location, Rudy’s looks modern and is astoundingly classy. It has a long happy hour, lasting from 2:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., followed by a $3.50 special for on-tap beer after 8 p.m. The significant on-tap selection changes often, and the beer itself is great. There is a seating section if you’d like to order dinner with your drink, but I’d recommend just grabbing a batch of delicious Belgian fries while you order your friend another pint, because the deals mean you can afford it. BEST WALK Leland Whitehouse This is my pick-me-up of choice when I’m reminded of what a greasy low-life I am. I encourage you to make your own modifications. When I wake up smelling like beer and feet, sandwiched between my vehemently unlaundered sheets, I like to take a deep breath and remind myself that fresh air and elitism are never far from my reach. I steal a classy-looking thermos from my roommate and fill it with strong, third-world coffee then fling myself into the great courtyard. I walk with purpose toward Sterling Library, confidently misquoting lines of Proust under my breath and nodding benevolently at everyone I pass. At the entrance of the library I turn and face Cross Campus, squint at the sun in an attempt to feel pensive, and allow majestic stone architecture to bathe me in its prestige. Then, I thrust open the oaken doors and surge forth into the Cathedral of Knowledge, sip coffee in a leather chair, and read the Wall Street Journal until I am sated. THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 30 BEST YDN ARTICLE ABOUT WOMEN Emily Rappaport The hardest thing about putting together the Herald 100 may be that for every category, there are many, sometimes countless, possibilities for an answer. Best sandwich? Book Trader Tempesto works. Atticus grilled mushroom and stilton cheese works. Union League chicken club definitely works. Sleeping library? C’mon. What libraries have you not fallen asleep in? I’ve even dozed in those rock-hard chairs in Bass while they inexplicably blast the air-conditioning in the middle of winter. But of all the categories, the best YDN article about women may be the hardest to choose a definitive answer for. It’s like when a professor tells you to write your final paper on absolutely anything relating to absolutely anything: There are just so many options! Many of the opinion pieces published in the Yale Daily News this semester make up a pretty comprehensive compilation about how sex is basically equal to totalitarianism and people talking about/having it will be the downfall of Yale/the world. But alas, I have to choose, and I’m sure you won’t be surprised that the winner is Shaun Tan’s piece literally entitled “For more objectification.” He argues that we hear about the objectification of women all the time, like in relation to “sexy women, beauty pageants, modeling, stripping, porn and sexy clothing,” and “in the derogatory way in which the word ‘slut’ is used”—but we never really take the time to think about whether this is a bad thing. After all, he writes, we objectify everyone whom we’re not close to but can help us get what we want! But listen: All S.Tan wants is to see a world where a woman can “be proud of being a...sexual object” and “recognize her sexuality as a tool just as formidable as her intellect.” Amen, Shaun. With liberty and justice for all. BEST YALE MEME Brannack McLain Yalies love a good inside joke. Like the classic “What college are you in?” a good inside joke—a good meme—can be a perfect ice-breaker or shibboleth. Usually, memes spread sneakily and quietly. To catch on, you have to stay informed and aware, watching campy videos or reading offensive YDN editorials. But, on Jan. 14, 2011, one meme stunned us with its brash debut. It started innocently enough when some Yalies advertised auditions for their presumably shitty play by emailing 37 panlists without BCCing. Then, someone clicked “Reply All” and bitched about it. Worry not—that someone was quickly rebuked when someone even more self-righteous took the opportunity to educate the Yale community. “I think we can all learn a valuable lesson from this,” he wrote in an email sent to every panlist entitled “Don’t Click Reply All.” What lesson did he think we’d learn? Reading through the hundreds of emails that flooded inboxes and threw phones into seizure for the next several hours, half of Yale (plus bonus guests!) learned a lot. We learned about lost and found items, romantic interests, hobbies, birthdays, parties, and how desperate Yale kids are for attention (note: I replied all). The “valuable lesson”? Some of us are easily amused and some of us are easily offended. Bad combo. Great fodder for memes. BEST YALE TRADITION Alex Dancu On the Yale Commencement section of the official Yale website, detailed instructions are given as to how caps and gowns ought to be purchased or rented. “Keepsake caps and gowns” are made for sale by the very official Cap and Gown Agency. Off the bat, a responsible Yale senior (one who doesn’t plan on a fifth year due to an “unconventional” senior essay) might purchase these happily on a whim to join a graduation situation replete with gravitas (and veritas!). But let it not be so! In one of our many feats of better judgment, Yalies have for years chosen to put aside our traditional caps for the shark head, astronaut helmet, and, of course, the to-scale replica of the Taj Mahal. Parents, professors, and Tom Hanks be damned! We have the rest of our lives to be snobby about our alma mater, and rest assured we will be. But while we’re here we will continue in our obsessive quest to be the King of Nerds, crowned in creativity, looking down on that guy who forgot about the goofy hat rule and just wore his favorite fitted. BEST “WHY I CHOSE YALE” STORY Michael Liuzzi Some students choose Yale for the prestige. Others, for its reputation of academic excellence. Still others, for Salovey’s mustache. All the aforementioned rationalizations are worthy and noble. Befitting the hallowed institution on whose ground we walk. I apologize in advance for what I’m about to tell you and hope that you think no less of me when I say the following: When confronted with what some over-enthusiastic parents like to think is the biggest decision of an adolescent’s life, I went thrifting. While others were touring the Ivy League or winning the x-prize, I was trying (and failing) to impress the doe-eyed damsel of my teenage dreams with affected airs and nonexistent know-how. I was armed with thrift store addresses I’d acquired off of Yelp or Google maps or something equally uncool, but somehow only managed to successfully navigate us to one measly storefront. But, as fate would have it, one was enough. There, in the dingy joyless store, I (body half in the musty cardboard box, legs flailing, arms digging, face reddening) came face to face with the old white and blue. In the depths of a box where no ordinary mortal dares to go, I grabbed fate by the horns and chose my own destiny, I tangled with terror and came out on top, I outplayed the devil and won his proffered gold fiddle. I played with fire and gave it third degree burns. In other words, I snagged a “gently used”—though I prefer “vintage”—Yale Tee from the shame of an untimely fall from grace. I held it up for size and said: “Huh! I should check Yale out!” And well, here I am. I think the shirt cost me two bucks. 100 THINGS THAT SUCK 1. Science distrib utional requirem ent classes that about farming in are mostly India 49. People who 2. The lack of ou mupload pictures tlets in Book Trad of food that don’ im pressive. er t look good or 3. Occupy New Haven’s 2 a.m. 50 dr . Outdoor art in co um circles 4. “Midterms” th llege courtyards e week before fin 51. People who als 5. “Oh really? I say “I feel like I was just at the gy never see you an 52. When dining m and I also wa ymore” the gym” halls run out of s alive! At ice/nutella/cups/ sp oons plates/forks/ 6. YDN op-eds 53. Seasonal Af 7. THE LITTLE fective Disorder SALAD SHOP an 54. Hibernation d its cronies 8. The back tabl weight e at Thai Taste wh 55. The freshm ere the waiters fo 9. Celtica! an 15 and the so rget about you phomore 60 56. The post offic 10. Bass Café e and how often we end up crying 57. People who 11. 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People who es we heard abou Haven refer to their off-c t Patrick Witt 98. E-newslette ampus apartmen by number only rs from your frien ts ds ab road 99. BlackBerrys 100. #Occupy jo kes THE HERALD 100 / DEC. 2, 2011 BULLBLOG BLACKLIST 31 25th Anniversary The Yale Herald Saturday, December 3rd LC 317 1:30 - 2:30: Journalism after Yale How can a publication last in today’s economic climate? How much must print publications rely on the Internet to last? Where are the jobs, and what does it mean to be a journalist today? Panelists: Carl Bialik, Ben Greenman, Bradley Peniston, Cynthia Watchtell 2:50 - 3:50: Local journalism in the 21st century Given recent innovations in the field of journalism—Tumblr, Twitter, aggregation websites like the Huffington Post, and hyperlocal-journalism sites like Patch.com—we have to ask ourselves: Can anyone with a smart phone be a journalist? What does that mean for local journalism? Panelists: Stephen Lange Ranzini, Helen Bennett (New Haven Register), Vincent Vitkowsky (Advocate) Alumni bios CARL BIALIK is best known for his work for The Wall Street Journal, where he founded and writes the weekly Numbers Guy column about the use and (particularly) misuse of numbers and statistics in the news and advocacy. Bialik also writes for the Journal and WSJ.com about numbers and statistics in sports. Bialik is a founding partner of Gelf Magazine where he hosts the monthly Varsity Letters sports reading series. BEN GREENMAN was editor-in-chief of the Yale Herald in the Fall of 1988. He is an editor at The New Yorker, and has been with the magazine since 2000. Over the past decade he has published the various story collections such as Superbad, A Circle Is a Balloon and Compass Both, and Correspondences, as well as the novels Superworse and Please Step Back. STEPHEN LANGE RANZINI is the President and Chairman of University Bank. During his time at Yale, he was involved with starting two publications including the Yale Herald. Most recently, Lange Ranzini has helped launched an online digital media company, www.annarbor.com. BRADLEY PENISTON was editor-in-chief of the Yale Herald in the Fall of 1990 and is currently the editor of Armed Forces Journal, a monthly journal of opinion and analysis for military leaders. Since Yale, Peniston has written multiple books, founded the newsroom of Military.com, and has been an international editor of Defense News, a weekly newspaper about defense policy and procurement. CYNTHIA WACHTELL earned a joint BA/MA at Yale, and went on to receive a Ph.D in the History of American Civilization from Harvard. She is a professor of American Studies and the founding director of the S. Daniel Abraham Honors Program at Yeshiva University in New York. Her book, War No More: The Antiwar Impulse in American Literature, was published last year.
