October 2, 2006 - Dolphin Student Group Web Accounts

F
irst
OCT 2, 2006
Volume 7, No. 3
Call
Magazine
At Penn, Everyday is
Judgment Day
Philly vs. Oz, Round 1
A Wolf in Hot Pink Boy Shorts
8
FIRST
keep your pants on
LOOK
andrew pederson
Andrew can’t stand any more armpit
stubble. American Apparel ads have
to go.
14
FC dispatch: australia
becky haenDel
Becky is in Australia... and will never
leave. We’re in Philadelphia... we will
also never leave.
4
judge not, lest ye be from long island
benny laitman
Benny’s complaint.
6
cunning linguists
dave nagdeman
Dave picks apart the finer points of the political soundbite.
10
bye bye rock music
Al moran
Al laments the day the music seriously died.
11
drunken follies
kiley austin-young
Alcoholics rejoice: you’ve been typecast.
12
beauty and the beast
kate bracaglia
Kate brings the inner workings of jackass to you.
cover: Hey Piggy, Shelby Prindaville
Contact
FIRST CALL, Kelly Writer’s House
3805 Locust Walk, Philadelphia, PA 19104
www.firstcallmagazine.com
[email protected]
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006
Contributors
Editors-in-Chief: Lauren Saul, Anna Stetsovskaya. • Executive Editor: Andrew Pederson • Editor: Shira Bender
Assistant Editors: Adam Goodman, Isaac Katz • Design Editor: Michael Sall • Layout Editor: Krystal Godines
Business Manager: Anna Tolmach • Webmaster: Tim Potens • Contributing Writers: Kate Bracaglia, Becky
Haendel, Benny Laitman, Al Moran,Dave Nagdeman, Andrew Pederson, Lauren Saul, Anna Stetsovskaya, Kiley
Austin Young • Layout Staff: Michael Etemad, Isaac Katz, Ashwin Shandilya • Photographer: Shelby Prindaville
Artists: Shira Bender, EJ Horlacher Yue Wu
LETTER FROM
THE EDITORS
EDITORIAL
Dear Pennizens,
You won’t be keeping that title
much longer if one ‘92 alum has his
way! To rescue our noble institute
of higher learning from the dregs of
the US News and World Report college rankings, Penn grad Noam Harel
thinks we should change our name to
either Benjamin Franklin University
or – even better! – to the name of the
highest bidder.
You thought the Ben Franklin
Bridge, the Ben Franklin Parkway,
the Franklin Institute, Franklin Field,
Franklin Square, and the Franklin
Mills Mall weren’t enough Philly institutions and landmarks named after
the inventor of the catheter? Do the
countless local statues, urine-encrusted and not, constitute insufficient fellating of America’s most obnoxious
moralizer? After barely surviving
the nonstop Franklin-worship of his
birthyear tricentennial, we still can’t
escape the endless idol worship of our
most famous almanac writer.
Or, conversely, is Penn’s endowment
so small that we should sell ourselves
like the Whore of Babylon? Why get
hung up on our – snicker – small endowment (ahem)? Penn is envious of
the endowments of Harvard, Yale, and
Princeton. No problem – we could be
called Costco College, University of
Golden Palace or Trojan Condom University. A good complement to our expanding endowment! After all, there’s
no better way to increase alumni contributions than change our name to
something even more phallic. The
only question: will the name change
come before or after the class of Penn
’15 enters its freshman year?
Naturally, such a piss-poor argument begs for rebuttal faster than a
gay hustler on crystal meth. Freshman Dan Brickley was up for the challenge. Penn’s lack of name recognition
is a blessing in disguise, he says, because the “people who matter” know
the difference between Penn and Penn
State. Naturally, though, Brickley’s
elitism is hidden by a veneer of exactly
the opposite; he likes Penn’s name because “blue-collar” people are, apparently, too ignorant recognize it. Nothing like reverse snobbery to unmask a
true snob!
Here’s what we think, and you
Penn/Franklin/Trojan students listen
up. You. Didn’t. Get. Into. Harvard.
Or Yale, for that matter, or Princeton. Penn isn’t in the US News top 3,
and whether Penn is ranked 4, 7, 47,
or 470, your college experience will be
the same. In class, the same non-English-speaking TAs and barely-English-speaking math professors; at parties, the same diluted beer and creepy
frat guys; on the streets, the same
stray bullets and 3-dollars-a-Hershey
bar fundraisers; on College Green, the
same speechifying Christian evangelists with bullhorns and earnest Darfur activists with leaflets. You will still
leave Penn with a marginally useful
degree and mountains of debt – unless you’re in Wharton or are a thirdgeneration legacy from Great Neck,
Long Island.
Oops on that last one. Not everyone from Great Neck is a ludicrouslyprivileged asshole, as Benny Laitman
writes in this issue. Read on for more:
how American Apparel ads promote
reality porn, how music today couldn’t
hold a raised lighter to that of the 60’s
and 70’s, and how progressives can
subvert political discourse in order to
overthrow the conservative political
machine. Kate Bracaglia interviews
Jackass’s Johnny Knoxville and Bam
Margera (even after 34th Street uses
other reporters’ questions in its “oneon-one” interview). Kiley AustinYoung tells us when drinking has led
to alcoholism, and our First Call Dispatch shows once again that there’s no
place like Australia.
Turn the pages, crazy Pennizens –
as long as you can keep that title.
POLICY
F irst Call
ate
is the undergradu -
magazine
of
the
P ennsylvania
Monday. Our
U niver-
sity of
published
every
mission is
to provide members of the com munity an open forum for ex pressing
ideas
and
opinions .
To this end, we, the editors of
F irst C all, are committed to a
policy of not censoring opin ions . A rticles are provided by
regular columnists and writ ers . T hey are chosen for pub lication based on the quality
of writing , and , in the case
of commentaries , the quality
of argumentation .
Outside
of
the weekly editorial and other
editorial content , no article
First
Call, its editorial board , or individual members of F irst C all
other than the author . N o
content in F irst C all unlesso represents the opinion of
therwise stated represents the
official position of the admin -
istration , faculty , or student
body at large of the
of
P ennsylvania.
U niversity
Isaac Katz, Assistant Editor
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006 Great (Pain in the) Neck
Penn Students Judge too quickly!
Benny Laitman
“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Benny.”
“Melanie. Where do you live?”
“Riepe—Lower Quad. You?”
“Hill.”
“Oh.” I knew what was coming.
“So…” Oh, great. Here it comes:
“Where are you from?”
I have come to hate this question.
Why? Because of the inevitable next
part of the conversation:
“New York.”
“Oh, where in New York?”
“Long Island.”
“Oh, where on Long Island?”
“Great Neck.”
“Oh…” She kind of titled her head
to the side, and the conversation ended there.
Y
eah, that’s right. I am a white, Jewish male legacy from Great Neck,
Long Island. My mom went here, my
grandfather went here, and my great
uncle, uncle, and four of my cousins
went here. I am the stereotypical accepted Penn student. I am also the recipient of some of the most irritating
comments ever.
But I’m not the only one. After asking students, freshmen and seniors
alike, I have found a common theme.
“People are just too quick to judge,”
one freshman commented, “They
think they know you just by where
you’re from.” It seems like almost every time this conversation comes up,
someone gets annoyed.
I don’t know how many of you
know where Great Neck is or what it’s
about. It’s not just a town—it’s more
of a type. There are many of them out
there: most of Long Island is a “Great
Neck,” and everyone knows a “Great
Neck” near him or her. For those of
you who like literature, Great Neck
was the “West Egg” in Fitzgerald’s
Great Gatsby. For those of you who
like television, Great Neck was mentioned in a few episodes of Entourage,
such as “Guys and Doll” (the one with
the Shrek doll).
To be honest, for a while I couldn’t
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006
even say where I was from. During
my first visits to frat parties, meeting
all those seniors, I said was from “outside Queens”—I was so embarrassed.
I don’t have a mansion, I don’t have
millions of dollars—I just live there,
and people are so quick to judge that
they group me into the spoiled rich
kid category.
People from the “Great Necks” of
the world aren’t the only ones being
judged too early. Some kids get judged
for being from “farm country.” I talked
to a girl about living in Indiana. She
asked me, “what do you initially think
when I say that I’m from Indiana? Is
it corn? Soybeans? Nothing?” Truthfully, I thought nothing. I didn’t even
know Indiana was a state until I was
in middle school (and I got into Penn?
Maybe it’s because I’m a legacy). She
continued, “In reality, I live in a suburb of Chicago, only about 30 minutes away from the city. But no one
believes me, ever. True, less than fifteen miles away is farmland en masse,
but “the region,” aka Northwest Indiana, is very suburban. We literally sit
on the Indiana/Illinois state line.”
It’s funny how people think they
know everything, especially in a
school like Penn with so many intelligent people. Students think they know
a person, their family, their friends,
their lifestyle, and their financial status, all on the basis of where they are
from. It is disheartening to see the
judgment call made in a school with
such a diverse population. “It makes
you feel bad,” one freshman said, “like
you can’t say where you are from because they are going to make fun of
you, almost. I can’t change where I’m
from, so why does it happen?” It’s a
good question to ask since many who
come from affluent communities, or
“farm land” communities like Indiana, or anywhere else for that matter,
are often worried about others’ reactions to where they live.
But there seems to be hope, and it
as the son of a legacy student, gave me
a great opportunity to ask my mom
how she was treated upon her arrival at Penn. My mom’s response was
nothing surprising: “It was basically
the same thing as it is now. It didn’t
help that I was from Great Neck either. They just automatically assumed
you were a JAP.” JAP, an acronym for
Jewish American Princess, is synonymous with the familiar WASP terminology—it just so happens most of
my town is Jewish. “People didn’t give
you a chance to show who you really
were. Their assumptions became def-
Students think they know a person, their family,
their friends, their lifestyle, and their financial
status, all on the basis of where they’re from.
lies in our foreign friends. I have the
pleasure of being very good friends
with kids from all over the world here
at Penn. Both of my friends from
Greece and Turkey gave approximately the same answer when I questioned
them about the reactions to their origins: “Most people were just pleasantly surprised. They were inquisitive.
They wanted to know more about
it. It was great. No problems here.” I
guess people only criticize what they
already know—correction: what stereotypes they already know.
I’m not going to lie. The fact that
I was a third generation legacy did
cross my mind as I was applying Penn.
And, it’s even possible that it had an
impact on my acceptance. But the
truth of the matter is, my grades and
my extracurricular activities is what
really got me (as well as all of you)
into this school. It’s unfair to think
that legacy students have an advantage. Unless their families endowed a
building, or they are Amy Gutmann’s
favorite nephews, legacy status does
not carry that much weight. Most of
my Penn legacy friends, in fact, who
applied to Penn, were rejected.
This type of behavior isn’t limited to
me and to our generation of Penn students; this has been going on for decades. Being a legacy student, as well
inite descriptions. If it was that bad
back then, I feel bad about what it
must be like now.”
So the question is, what can we
learn from this? Only we and those
we care about know the truth—and
no one else. Now, when someone im-
plies that I only got into Penn because
my mom went here, I respond with a
comment like, “No, it has nothing to
do with that. It probably has more to
do with the fact that my grandfather,
great uncle, uncle and cousins went
here. Yeah, that probably did it.”
People are not going to stop making judgment calls. Therefore my plea
instead is to ask, or rather implore,
everyone to hide their initial judgments. You might find out that your
stereotypes are wrong. And for those
Great Neckers who find themselves
on the receiving end, we just have to
not let it get to us, and come to terms
with who we really are. I know I have.
I can only hope that everyone else,
when confronted with this situation
can do the same. Now I have to go
pick up my Porsche. FC
Benny Laitman is a freshman in the College.
You can write to him at laitman@sas.
Calling All Salespeople!
Are you unabashedly social,
brutally business-minded,
meticulously organized, emptyresume’d, or strapped for cash?
First Call Advertising Staff
needs YOU! (and you need
money)
Next Meeting:
Tuesday, Oct. 3, 8:00 PM
Huntsman Hall F92
Email Advertise@
firstcallmagazine.com for
more information.
Are you interested in Finance
AND Advisory Services?
The Financial Services Advisory (FSA) Practice of Ernst
& Young we will be visiting
Penn’s campus to host an information session in advance of
resume drop. Undergraduate
candidates in areas of Finance,
Accounting, Economics, International Relations, and other
Quantitative disciplines are all
welcome.
Dates:
October 10 - Information
Session 6-7pm
October 14–15 - Resume Drop
November 1 - On campus
interviews
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006 patriot games
the battle for hearts and minds starts with the soundbite
Dave Nagdeman
A
potent conservative hegemony
hangs over American political
discourse. Progressives from near and
far have been responding in various
vague and insipid ways, but are failing
to mount a truly effective opposition.
Intellectuals on the left speak to
competing values, pitting modern
reason against primitive revelation in
an epic battle to define our zeitgeist.
A battle in which, given historical
precedent, reason will inevitably
crown them victors. Despite this
foregone conclusion determined
by the God of Reason, progressive
politicians remain incapable of
enlightening Middle America about
the obvious superiority of their values.
Berkeley linguist and cognitive
scientist George Lakoff has deciphered
the Democrat Party’s failure as an
inability to “frame” the public debate
as effectively as the Republican
Party. “Frames” are the conceptual
structures, the grander metaphors, in
which political discourse is expressed.
A prime example of frames, according
to Lakoff, is Arnold Schwarzenegger’s
acceptance speech in which he says,
“When the people win, politics as
usual loses.” This immediately frames
the Republicans as “the people”
and the Democrats as “politics as
usual.” Henceforth, the Democratic
legislators become, in Lakoff ’s
words, “enemies of the people.”
On a micro-scale, frames can
be seen in the moralizing of issues,
e.g., the crusade to remove the “evil”
Saddam Hussein or Senator Reid’s
reply to the 2004 State of the Union
address in which he rallied against an
“immoral budget.” But the innovation
of Lakoff ’s approach is not simply in
demonstrating that good political
rhetoric descends from casting issues
in a framework of personal values;
that’s an old trick. Rather, Lakoff
proposes that Republicans and
Democrats differ in their respective
“meta-frames,”
the
conceptual
systems which encapsulate each
side’s political rhetoric. These “metaframes,” he argues, are to be found
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006
in the distinctly Jungian archetypes
of the “strict father” against the
“nurturing parent,” politically correct
code-speak for “soft mother.” By
evoking these primordial human
codes, the modern political machine
incurs our loyalties to either side.
Assuming these meta-frames to be
accurate descriptions of the ideological
meta-structure of contemporary
American politics, we must then
question their applicability. In what
ways would their exegesis contribute
to liberating the Democratic Party
and its devotees from the tyrannical
grip of Karl Rove and his minions?
Lakoff replies that Democrats must
simply, like the Republicans, embrace
their archetype, framing all discursive
output with those terms. When asked
how exactly the Republicans have
done this, Lakoff explains: “[T]hey’ve
put billions of dollars into it. Over the
last 30 years their think tanks have
made a heavy investment in ideas and
in language.” Thus financial backing
secures a competitive ideology.
Ignoring for a moment Lakoff ’s
outright denial of language’s claim
to transcendence, it is still obvious
that in his world, political success
derives from constructing a wellfunded infrastructure for producing
ideological fences to keep the “cattle”
in. Even leaving aside what Lakoff
stands to gain personally from
increased contributions to progressive
think tanks such as his own Rockridge
Institute, framing the American people
as cattle merely reminds them that the
“liberal elites” who run the Democratic
Party really do despise them. For the Democratic Party,
buying into Lakoff ’s frames would be
tantamount to accepting that voters
are won only through savvy statistical
analyses and semiotic manipulation.
Democrats would be acquiescing
to a nihilistic cynicism that would
ultimately separate the “educated” elite
from the herd of “common” Americans
who still find meaning in their day-today lives. That the ignorant masses
might ascribe to a higher truth and
not be beholden to well-researched
sound-bites is inconceivable to the
scientifically-minded Lakoff, who
views language as mere philology
and its cognitive correlatives. On
both sides of the aisle, this sort of
thought only encourages politicians
to be aloof from voters, since it
allows them to believe that they are
knowledgeable while their voters can
be gently corralled by sweet nothings. As Monsieur Colbert might chide, if
Lakoff hates democracy so much, why
doesn’t he say so in so many words?
Unfortunately, Lakoff ’s broader
analysis is little more than an
expression of the current moral
streams underlying American politics
today. Lakoff, offering only a picture of
two themes equivalent in might, fails
to demonstrate a coherent strategy
by which one side could outflank
the other. In fact, the solution from
Lakoff ’s model only leads to increased
funding for his own pursuits at the
expense of the Democratic Party’s
relationship with the electorate.
To address the true reason for
the dominance of the Republican
political discourse, we must examine
the potency of political language and
therein find the key to unraveling it.
While context is, no doubt, partly
responsible for both the intended and
the implied meaning of the political
sound-bite, its potency lies in the
concreteness of idioms, which are
best utilized by the Republican Party. The current party-line, propagated
by Ken Mehlman, chairman of the
Republican National Committee, is
that the Republican strategy in Iraq
is “Adapt-to-Win,” which is set against
the supposed Democratic alternative
of “Cut-and-Run.” Such phrases are
a literalist’s wet dream, with so little
leeway for interpretation. One does
not need to think what such phrases
might, would or could mean, given
different circumstances. It is common
sense that a losing team must “adapt
to win,” just as it’s common sense
that to “cut and run” is a cowardly
departure from battle. Whether these
taglines accurately describe the party’s
strategies is irrelevant—the truth hurts.
The closest thing that Howard
Dean, chairman of the Democratic
National Committee, gives us as the
current sales pitch of the Democratic
Party is that “Republicans have failed
America” and that Democrats can
provide “a new direction.” These
vapid pronouncements lead to
questions that would trouble even old
Socrates. How have they failed? How
are we to measure success? Is failure
necessarily its opposite? What sort
of new direction is this? Does this
new direction lead to the good life?
Despite the efficacy of the
conservative machine, the progressive
movement should not follow in its
wake. Whether it’s the Democrats’ lack
of investment in ideas and language, or
simply their inability to comprehend
the common man’s quest for graspable
meaning in a world still mourning
God’s death, inventing pithy catch
phrases just isn’t the Democrats’ bag. Rather, they must destroy
their opponent’s weapons by doing
the only thing that can be done to
concrete things: blowing them
up. If progressives hope to reassert
influence over America’s ideological
discourse, then they must explode the
well-researched sound-bites that the
Republicans use so well. This does
not consist of asserting parallel soundbites like Dean’s “War on the Middle
Class,” but of directly reappropriating
the idioms, as in a proper “War on
Terror” directed at Bush himself,
accusations
that
Republicans
are “cutting” social spending and
“running” and pronouncements that
Democrats are committed to “adapt
and win” “the hearts and minds” of
“ordinary people” the world over by
not “shocking and awing” them with
tomahawks in their living rooms.
Sound trite? Perhaps, but these
phrases do demonstrate the ease with
which hard, firm and fast phrases
imbued with virtuous simplicity can be
exposed as purely formal expressions
devoid of any valid content.
While I certainly have not done full
justice to Lakoff ’s political theories,
which can provide some insight into
demographic trends and cultural
codes, the Democratic Party’s salvation
does not lie in outsmarting the people
they hope to govern, but in speaking
their language. The major difference
between Democratic and Republican
rhetoric is not “values” but the potency
(dare I say virtue?) of the word. The appeal of any political sound
bite is in the singularity in meaning
and the resultant ease of the word’s
comprehension. If the Democrats
hope to gain victory, they must explode
this autocratic language by using it
precisely where the Republicans had
intended them not to—in talking
points endlessly disseminated by the
24 hour news cycle. The one thing
to be learned from the Iraq War
is, quite simply, that one may not
need the most expensive equipment
to win a battle, but one certainly
shouldn’t take instructions from
sycophants. FC
Dave Nagdeman is a senior in the College.
You can write to him at nagdeman@sas.
LEGAL NOTICE
If you rented U-Haul moving equipment from a U-Haul center or independent dealer in the state of
Pennsylvania after August 7, 1992, and were charged for a second rental term because you returned the
equipment after the scheduled return time but within 24 hours, then you are a member of a Class Action
Lawsuit against U-Haul International, Inc, and U-Haul Co. of Pennsylvania (collectively “U-Haul”). You are not
being sued. The Class has sued U-Haul for refunds of these charges. As these charges were only applied to
people who returned equipment after the scheduled return time, U-Haul believes these charges appropriate
and necessary to maintaining its low-cost rentals; U-Haul has denied any wrongdoing or liability.
There has not been any determination of the merits of the lawsuit.
The Philadelphia Court of Common Pleas has granted a preliminary approval of a settlement between the
Plaintiff Class and U-Haul. The settlement provides monetary benefits in the form of refunds of some of the
additional rental charges to Class members who submit a valid and timely claim. If you submit a valid and timely
claim form, you will receive 75% of the amount you were charged for a second rental term. If the total amount
claimed by class members exceeds $250,000.00, each Class member will receive a pro rata share of the
settlement amount. Your claim will be subject to research to determine its validity. If the amount claimed is less
than $250,000.00, U-Haul will donate the difference to charity. As part of the settlement, counsel for plaintiffs
will not seek or receive any fees or expenses in connection with this litigation.
A legal notice concerning this lawsuit was published in this newspaper on or about September 30, 2005. If you
did not exclude yourself from the Class in response to that earlier notice, you are eligible to participate in the
settlement. In order to receive money from the settlement, you must submit a valid Claim Form postmarked on
or before December 1, 2006. You may obtain a copy of the settlement agreement and claim form by calling
1-877-745-4148 or by visiting www.U-HAULPennsylvaniaLitigation.com. If you do not submit a Claim Form, you
will not receive money, but will be bound by the settlement. If you previously excluded yourself from the Class,
you will not be entitled to submit a claim for money, but you will still have the right to file your own lawsuit.
If the settlement is finally approved by the Court, you will be bound by the settlement unless you
previously excluded yourself from the Class.
A final hearing to determine whether the settlement is fair, reasonable and adequate and should be finally
approved will be held before the Honorable Mark I. Bernstein, Courtroom 246, City Hall, Philadelphia, PA on
January 8, 2007 at 9:30 AM. The final hearing may be continued without further notice. You have the right to
appear at the final approval hearing and to object to the settlement. If you wish to do so, you may
(but are not required to) give advance notice of your intent to object by mailing, postmarked on or before
December 15, 2006, a statement outlining the nature of your objection, addressed to
U-Haul Litigation, P O Box 2081, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19103.
You can obtain additional information about this lawsuit and your rights by calling 1-877-745-4148 or by visiting
www.UHAULPennsylvaniaLitigation.com. You can also call or e-mail any one of plaintiffsʼ three attorneys;
Joanna Buchanico – 215-814-6750 – [email protected]
Richard D. Greenfield – 410-745-4149 – [email protected]
Ann Caldwell – 215-248-2030 [email protected]
Do Not Call U-Haul Offices, the Court or the Judge.
Reference: Boyle, et al. v. U-Haul International, Ltd., et al., August Term 1998. No 0840
(Court of Common Pleas, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006 real girls keep their pants on
reality, fiction, and a whole lot of stretch marks
Andrew pederson
T
his last week, the “natural”
series of American Apparel
advertisements finally went too far.
The starkly-lit photo spots, ubiquitous
in Philadelphia since the arrival of
our very own AA outpost on Walnut
Street, use non-professional models to
sell a line of retro, functional clothes.
The store is what you would expect to
see if a Fruit of the Loom truck plowed
through a Sherwin Williams store.
The ads are what you would see if you
went to www.amateurteens.com.
This week’s ad certainly qualifies
as borderline pornographic, with a
chubby girl-next-door lying back in
nothing but a pair of black tights,
her hands and forearms covering
her exposed and badly tanned
breasts. The basic, “natural” feel of
the ad contrasts sharply with the
usual fashion aesthetic of anorexic
perfection and presents an interesting
and provocative challenge to business
as usual. But how successful are they
in promoting the “everyday” image of
“real” people?
The ads do present, in graphic
detail, some “normal” people; this is
an ostensible attack on the modeling
establishment and its superficial ethos
of perfection. Indeed, the clothing
company states simply on their Web
site: “American Apparel values a
natural aesthetic when it comes to our
clothes as well as our models.” The
results are photos which are simple,
straightforward and leave as little as
possible to the imagination.
You can actually see the pimples
on Sheily’s ass. The stubble under
Natasha’s armpits stands proudly,
untouched by razor or overbearing
men. Natasha’s thong unitard brashly
reveals cheeky dimples and the fine,
purple veins crisscrossing the notquite-ass, not-quite-thigh flesh. The
style of photography uses close-ups
with unidirectional, harsh lighting
to create an exaggerated snapshot
effect. The photos – shot in banal
settings such as bedrooms, cars, on
couches, in the shower, in the kitchen
– have an ephemeral air which belies
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006
their minute detail: rich textures of
teeth, lips, hair, tartar, coffee stains,
pimples, razor burn, fripples. Nothing
is hidden, so it seems.
Or rather, everything is brought
out.
Despite the appearance of
naturalness, there is something
deeply unsettling about these ads.
While it is true that the fashion
industry and its destructive tradition
of one dimensional representation
and exploitative, objectifying gaze
over women deserves, even begs, for
a challenge, the American Apparel
“natural” models fall very short of
redefining any visual role, much less
introducing a “natural” perspective
that eliminates the impossible ideals
set forth by previous generations of
fashion ads. In spite of everything,
it still feels a whole lot like looking at
porn.
The reasons for this failure are
threefold. First, their attempt at
“naturalness” merely exchanges one
imagistic stereotype for another.
The plastic bodies and static smiles
of Hollywood are traded in for the
wan grin and pudgy stomach of the
“average” girl, an image which is just
as constructed as any other. When
you look at the pictures, the focus
is still the physical presence of the
model, and she still interacts with
the camera to create an ideal space
in which the viewer can imagine him
or herself. The images, like any other
advertisement, invite you to project
yourself next to them and see how you
stack up. Through their authority as
“accurate” images, photographs assert
themselves as points of reference from
which people will then extrapolate
their “needs” as consumers. For the
AA ads this is doubly so, since they
try so hard to establish themselves
as “real.” For porn this is triply true,
since people still insist on injecting a
plot.
Overall, the only things that
qualify the AA models as “real” are
the photos’ over-attentiveness to
detail and their “snapshot” qualities
of blurred motion, odd angles and
superfluous flash. When one looks
past this thin stylistic veneer, the
same forms are lurking that haunt
the SI Swimsuit Edition. Even if the
people in these photo shoots were not
models before the shoot, they certainly
become models during it and seem to
take special relish in overplaying the
role. The recurring “seductive” gazes
are so seductive they almost reduce
the girls eyes to slits, the JapaneseFrench-Canadian sales clerk bites her
pinky as if she were lying on some
tropical beach, and the erogenous
zones are displayed disproportionately
compared to other body parts – all
the worse since they’re wrapped in a
cacophony of cheap-looking colored
spandex. And, as always, there are
still no grossly obese models, despite
the fact that America is overbearingly
fat. How “real” can that be?
The second reason why these
ads fail to present any authentic
alternative to the visual lies
perpetuated by fashion advertising is
that the whole approach is simply part
of a clever branding strategy! Instead,
these images carefully calibrated to a
newly-defined demographic which is
categorically opposed to the popular
view of “perfect” supermodels. What
we are given, rather than the promised
authenticity, then, is a constructed
“anti-fake” which is negatively defined
by the world of Cindy Crawford and
Vogue. While the people who model
for AA are more diverse and don’t
conform to the same rigid aesthetic
guidelines as, say, Cosmopolitan,
the ads still display a specific kind
of person for a specific reason. The
kind of person is simply the synthetic
antithesis of the supermodel— at
the opposite end of the spectrum, to
be sure, but a creation with similar
anatomy.
As stated on their Web site, the AA
brand is based on clothes and people
which are “natural.” The girls pose in
suggestive, unnaturally languid ways
that underline the products effect
on lifestyle. People who wear these
clothes are natural, relaxed, freespirited; the kind of people who would
take close-up pictures of themselves
in their underwear and not give a
shit if millions of people saw. People
who don’t wear these clothes, or
who value color coordination or use
professional models, are “fake” people
who push impossible, uncomfortable
and discriminatory designs on poor,
unsuspecting regular girls. Their
alternative is to package the image
of the skin blemish and make clothes
for the self designated “imperfect.” If
body image is so unimportant, then
why not eliminate images of the body
altogether? Why pursue the hypocrisy
of an anti-body-image image of
bodies? Why not just make porn?
AA is just trying to sell clothes, and
their reality is the same as any other
retailer’s: shaped by sales.
Lastly, the ads in AA are just as
sexist and objectifying as any others.
“Natural” or not, the most common
images are T and A, and female
models outnumber males 29 to 3. In
any case, Glen’s photo shoot is not
nearly as extensive as Lauren’s, and
I’ll wager that it gets fewer hits. Even
in the ads themselves, sex is a central
selling point. I need only cite the series
of road trip photos where the girl
alternatively takes off her top, sticks
her fingers down the front of her pants
and then, at the very end, is shown
unloading a blanket from the trunk of
the car. The numerous girls who do
photo spreads on couches or beds are
very literally having kinky, contorted
sex with invisible people. Honestly,
how many shots of somebody’s ass do
you need to sell a pair of pants?
The way towards a media
revolution is not through the creation of
an Abercrombie Catalog doppelganger
with unattractive people who don’t
shave. At least with professional
models, we know that they’re fake;
the cues are obvious. Here, the
marketing strategy is so well designed
that the “realness” of the models and
the laid back, everyday nature of the
products are virtually unquestioned,
leaving in place the assumption that
other brands are “fake,” uptight and
closed minded products of superficial
corporations. The girls are accessible
in a very naughty way that Claudia
Schiffer isn’t. One gets the impression
that you might just run into one doing
her laundry in a pair of powder blue
panties, sitting on top of washing
machine with a mischievous grin. Oh,
wait. That was a porno movie I saw.
Never mind.
AA is a wolf in hot pink boy shorts.
The images, cunningly made to seem
“real” give a new, devious standard of
normalcy which is every bit as limiting
and sexist as the old one. Girls are
made to seem accessible in photos
that so resemble the stolen views
of errant thongs and inadvertently
exposed flesh in public places that
it’s scary.
These ads are living
voyeurism. “Reality” has become just
another marketing strategy, and like
everybody else who prides themselves
in their ability to distinguish “reality”
from “advertising” as a discriminating
consumer, I am afraid. I am very, very
afraid. FC
Andrew Pederson is a senior in the College.
You can write to him at [email protected].
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006 Bye Bye Miss American Pie
This time you’re really gone
hirty-five years after Don
T
McLean’s lamentation in his
magnum opus
that “something
touched [him] deep inside/the day
the music died,” it is time to reexamine his idea of the demise of American music.
One cannot encapsulate the death
of music into one day -- the deaths
of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper, and
Ritchie Valens (although they were
all phenomenal musicians). However, music is dying before our eyes.
After the infamous 1959 plane crash
that claimed the lives of these three
performers, rock music had a renaissance in the 1960s and 1970s, leading to timeless classics that revolutionized rock and roll.
However, since this “Golden Age,”
music has steadily declined, and the
future looks rather bleak. As each
musician from the era passes away,
music takes a severe, irrecoverable
blow; no one is replacing the greats
in talent, showmanship, or legendary status.
As a disciple of the “most rock that
was recorded in the 1960s and 1970s
was amazing” music philosophy, I
see only a few good things in modern
rock music. I try to distance myself
from it and indulge in classic music that still conveys a powerful message, years after its release.
A few weeks ago, I went to see The
Who perform at the Wachovia Center. I’ll admit I was a bit skeptical
(after all, half of the original band
is six feet under), but the concert
turned out to be amazing. These old,
worn-down, balding, and beer-bellied guys can still play a damn good
rock show.
Their command over the audience
was unbelievable; during every major song one could sense the enthusiasm and excitement in the air. During the anthem of “Baba O’Riley,”
20,000 people sang in unison with
Pete Townshend the famous verse:
“Don’t cry, don’t raise your eye; it’s
only teenage wasteland.” Many of
the older fans seemed to grow younger with each passing song, almost as
if they were returning to their teenage years through the music.
Then Roger Daltry and Pete Townshend stole the show, with micro10 FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006
Al Moran
phone swinging and windmill-guitar-playing antics. These guys are
pretty old, but the vigor with which
they played, sung, and jumped
around the stage was truly an amazing sight. I expect to see even greater talent in a few weeks, when Eric
Clapton will play to a sold-out crowd.
A major selling point for these shows
is nostalgia; people come to see legends and quickly realize that these
legends are just as amazing as they
were in their “prime.”
An instructive encounter with
modern rock occurred at the concert.
A “band” (a group who produced tremendously annoying and primitive
noise) named “Peeping Tom” opened
for The Who. They might well have
been the single biggest musical atrocity that I have ever witnessed.
This “Linkin Park alternative”/
death metal/rap hybrid played about
six songs, all involving basically the
same drum patterns and guitar riff.
Urging fans to “wave your fucking
finger in the air” the lead singer sang
the meaningful and melodious lyrics
of “Now roll it up and smoke it again/
now light me up and snort it again/
now fix me up and shoot in again/I
can’t believe I did it again.” At least
when the Beatles encouraged drug
usage, they did so creatively, like in
“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”
Check out Peeping Tom’s Myspace.
It will give you a good laugh. Amazingly, these guys have 22,000
friends. Whoever let them open for
The Who should be shot. Many older fans brought kids to this concert,
and this is what they saw from the
get-go. After about six songs the booing became too overwhelming, and
“Peeping Tom” was basically forced
to resign the stage.
Since many musicians of the 1960s
era are dead today because of drugs
and other unfortunate lifestyle choices, I often have to resort to DVDs
and recordings to “see” concerts; of
course, the infectious crowd energy
isn’t there, but the quality of the music and the passion of the performers
most definitely are.
The virtuosity of these musicians
compared to the pop radio rock today is laughable. Most bands today
build songs around a catchy lyric or
a popular sequence of power chords.
The rest of the song, put simply, is
garbage. Difficult guitar solos become rarer, and bass solos are basically nonexistent. Drum lines are
simple at best. Bands seem more
concerned with image than talent,
and are preoccupied with wearing
eye shadow, singing in a sickeningly high and whiny voice, and wearing
tight jeans. Gone are the intricate
musical displays, and poetic lyrics
with meaning deeper than “Oh-myGod-my-life-is-the-worst/my-girlfriend-cheated-on-me/I-might-aswell-kill-myself ”refrains.
Lead singers often take an active
stance on politics, urging a liberal mentality, when they often know
little more about politics than the
thirteen-year-olds whom they try to
indoctrinate. Are they trying to become modern-age Bob Dylans or
Joan Baezs or Janis Joplins? Possibly. Unfortunately, they’re not wellread, and they do not even find creative ways to express viewpoints.
However, rock bands will only produce what their fans demand of
them, and if “emotional” upper middle class white boys and girls will
“rebel against the man” by dressing
against the status quo and condemning the government, so be it.
I suppose the most fundamental questions one can ask are, “Will
anyone remember these ephemeral
songs and bands 25, 50 years from
now? Will their current fans care?
Will anybody care?” Music is a business governed by money instead of
talent and passion. Unfortunately,
“Peeping Tom” is not an isolated example in modern music.
For now, classic rock fans can still
see some of their musical heroes perform live. The same musicians who
wrote amazing lyrics 30 years ago
perform their songs today with the
same skill and emotion. However,
as time moves on, age will invariably
take its toll. Before too long, all that
will remain of our beloved classic
rock musicians will be videos and recordings, not to be replaced by anyone in our generation. FC
Al Moran is a sophomore in the College.
You can write to him at moranaf@sas.
the beer chronicles
freshmen discover drinking
kiley austin-young
1. If you genuinely believe the
weekend starts on Wednesday
and proclaim such absurdities as
“Wednesday is the new Thursday.”
2. If every night of drinking requires at least half the next day to
reassemble the tiny pieces of the
relationships you shattered while
drunk.
3. If you find yourself consistently using the phrase, “I’m really sorry for what I did. I don’t remember
seeing you last night.”
4. If your main goal in attending a football game is to get drunk
and start a fight with someone
supporting the other team. And
by other, you mean either. It really
doesn’t matter.
5. If you subscribe to the maxim
“drunk words are sober thoughts”
in order to be able to publicly insult people and take pride in your
“candor” while slurring Malcolm
X quotes: “I’ve had enough of
someone else’s propaganda. I’m
for truth, no matter who tells it.
I’m for justice, no matter who it’s
for or against.” God, if only everyone was as morally upstanding as
me, you think.
and not “Mickey D’s or some shit.”
10. If you pregame at Hillel.
11. If you recently had a drunken heart to heart with the security guard because everyone else had
gone to bed by 7:30am.
12. If you decline plans with
friends because you just have
“soooo much drinking to do.”
13. If you find breaking an empty
forty on the cement the best stress
reliever ever.
14. If you think any man who
won’t freeball under his costume
for the toga party is a total pussy.
15. If your rib still hurts from
that drunken fight last weekend.
But it’s totally cool because “it
doesn’t even hurt to breathe anymore.”
16. If you agree that if you had
a chance to eat dinner with Bill
Clinton, Tucker Max or Frank Kelly Rich, you would totally choose
one of the latter.
17. If you can’t walk in any direction without running into a girl
you slept with while drunk.
18. If it takes you more than fifteen seconds to realize where you
are in the morning.
19. If you recently experimented with absurd alcoholic combinations, such as Sake and Jack
Daniels or Merlot and Captain
Morgan’s. It may be nasty, but you
insist: “It all ends up in the same
place anyways. Don’t be an alcohol
snob. Tool.”
20. If you really just can’t fucking stand being sober. FC
Kiley Austin-Young is a freshman in the
College.You can write to him at kileya@sas.
6. If you are known not by name
but by actions you perpetrated
while drunk. For instance, “the
guy who started that huge fight”
or “the guy who was ass naked in
Harvard Square” or simply “the
guy who peed in <insert extremely
public place>”.
7. If you invite a girl back to your
place for a bottle of wine mainly
for the wine.
8. If you insist that you’re not really drinking. This is only wine. A
wine drunk is “different.”
9. If you gave a homeless man
twenty bucks with the stipulation
that he would spend it on booze
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006 11
Death be not sober: Jackass Speaks
An interview with Johnny Knoxville, Unfortunately
I
’m not exactly what you would call a
risk-taker. I look both sides before
crossing the street and I never talk to
strangers, particularly in West Philly.
Yet perhaps it is my rather benign
lifestyle that allows me to appreciate
those who truly live life to the fullest.
On this list of freestyle adventurists
are Jackass stars Johnny Knoxville
and Bam Margera – two goofballs not
only willing to go out on a limb, but
to balance on the very end of the limb
and flip golf carts over it. Flipping gold
carts is of course, dangerous, and not
surprisingly, Knoxville and Margera
have garnered quite a reputation
for their crazy and wild stunts. Yet
while parents and politicians have
tried beating down the door, looking
to chastise these evil hooligans for
infecting the youth of America with a
riotous spirit, Jackass fans have called
out for more. And more is what they
got – especially now with the release
of a second full-length movie, Jackass
2. When I heard the stars were in
town to promote this new outrageous
comedy, I jumped at the chance to
meet them. There’s nothing like the
kings of outrage to add a little risk to
my life.
The interview takes place at
the pristine Four Seasons hotel
downtown, a seemingly incongruous
location to host stars famous for
stapling their balls to their thighs.
Even more incongruous is the
immediate setting for the interview: a
deliciously posh suite about 10 times
the size of my claustrophobia-inducing
dorm room. A buffet table is carefully
laid out with gourmet desserts, coffee
and sparkling water. I can’t imagine
that the order will remain once
Knoxville and Margera pass through.
I’ve just helped myself to a heaping
portion
of
chocolate-covered
strawberries when a strange woman
in a blue dress and wedge heels
totters in. She looks around briefly—
probably checking out my gluttonous
portion of strawberries—and with a
flourish announces, “Here’s Johnny!”
Finally.
12 FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006
Kate Bracaglia
Enter Johnny Knoxville. He
wears all black except for a pair
of blue and yellow striped socks.
A black bowler derby sits atop his
head. He glances at the dessert table
with disgust and asks, “Where’s the
mini bar?” before plopping down on
the couch, feet on the coffee table.
The strange woman reappears with
two beers for Knoxville. He opens
both, double-fisting with skill that
would put SAE to shame.
There’s nervous laughter, and
Jackass co-star Bam Margera
stumbles in. Knoxville whoops. “Here
comes Bam; he’s famous!” he exclaims.
Bam wears head-to-toe black as well,
except for bright purple Doc Martens
and a sparkly silver scarf draped
around his neck. He reclines next to
Knoxville, who graciously hands him
a beer. The interview begins.
“So, Johnny, what’s up with
the sunglasses?” I immediately ask,
noticing he dons aviators despite the
dimly-lit atmosphere.
He laughs. “I’m always hung over,”
he replies. “But it’s nothing a beer and
some sunglasses can’t fix.”
Another journalist poses the
question: “I heard you guys drink
a lot of Miller High Life. Is that the
inspiration for most of your stunts?”
Margera replies right away. “For
me, I’d say it’s red wine on an airplane,”
he remarks, seemingly unaware of the
oddness of this statement.
Knoxville appears to ponder
this for a second. “I’d say…scotch,
amphetamines and ignorance,” he
finally decides.
The journalist pursues. “Is there
anything you guys won’t do?” she
asks.
Knoxville shakes his head. “I
think at one point, there used to be a
line, but we just keep drawing over it.”
Margera is in agreement. “Yeah, I
mean, I got 15 stitches on my head one
time, and that wasn’t even on Jackass.”
Knoxville snorts, “Yeah, it was on
amphetamines.”
But Margera insists on explaining.
“No...I wanted to dive into this lake
and my friend told me it was 15
feet deep, but really, it was only 2
feet deep...and I dove in headfirst.”
“Didn’t you notice it wasn’t 15 feet?”
counters an incredulous Knoxville.
No wonder these guys are on
TV; their repartee is hilarious.
Margera shrugs. “It was dark.”
An awkward silence ensues. I decide
to break it.
“So, Bam,” I ask, “when you
play Tony Hawk (Underground for
Sony PlayStation), do you play as
yourself?” I mean this question to be
light-hearted, but Margera answers
with complete seriousness.
“I play as Geoff Rowley,” he
reveals. “He’s better than me. Besides,
I play with myself all the time,” he
adds with a smile.
Another question is asked - “Do
you get recognized often in West
Chester?” Margera nods. “Yeah dude.
The other day I pulled up in my lambo
(Lamborghini) and this guy walks up
to me and goes ‘Fuckin’ Fag’ and takes
off down Church Street.”
He grins. “Luckily, I knew there
was like a 3-minute light there so I
take off down the street after him and
roll up next to him and I’m like, ‘I
fucked your girlfriend this morning,
so I’m at least bisexual. Stay jealous!’
Then I rolled away.”
“What about those West Chester
University kids? What’s the deal with
them?”
Margera’s face fills with passion. “I
hate those fuckin’ frat motherfuckers,”
he replies, voice rising in intensity.
“They’re always trying to steal the
alligator (statue) from the High Street
Café (in West Chester) for like events
and shit. But the guy who works there,
he’s my man, and I told him about (the
attempted theft) so he covered the
alligator with WD40 and put some
string on it and shit so if those fuckers
try to steal it will be slippery and fall
on their head and shit. But I hate
those motherfuckers. They always do
stuff like throw refrigerators on my
lawn and I have to deal with it.”
Margera is getting angry, so I
don’t press. Time for a subject change.
“I heard there’s a Jackass video-game
coming out,” I venture. “What can we
expect from that?”
“We’re still working on it,” replies
Knoxville. “But hopefully it will be
a pretty good presentation of the
show.”
“What can we expect from
Jackass 2?” asks another girl.
Knoxville smiles; clearly, this is the
question he was waiting for.
“This movie is just everyone
going crazy from top to cunnilingus
bottom,” he describes. I make a
mental note of his use of cunnilingus
as an adjective. “Maybe like 30
minutes from the first one would have
made it into this one,” he continues.
“It’s fucking insane.”
“Speaking of insane, whatever
happened to the guy in the first movie
who took off running when you fell
through the air ducts, pretending
to be diamond thieves?” asks a
colleague, clearly remembering the
quintessential Jackass moment from
the first film.
Knoxville chuckles. “That dude
was totally flipping his shit. We
found him like four blocks away in
a supermarket, huddling in the back
aisle near the freezers. He was going
totally crazy and muttering stuff about
people falling through the ceiling. It
took us like 10 minutes to explain to
him that we were filming.”
“So do you think there will
be a Jackass 3?” presses another
journalist.
Margera replies: “If there’s a
Jackass 3, I think we will die.”
“Word,” echoes Knoxville. “We
said there would be no Jackass 2,
and then we shot it anyway. But I
had so much fun shooting it that I
got permission to shoot for two more
weeks in November, so who knows.”
Margera gives him a look.
“November might be your time
to die,” he responds seriously.
Somehow I can’t see the fear of death
stopping these two. Neither can
anyone else, apparently.
“Is there anything you guys
are afraid of?” asks one girl finally.
“Bulls,” says Margera. “And snakes.”
I laugh, inquiring, “so what did
you think of Snakes on a Plane?”
“Fuck Snakes on a Plane,” he
barks. “What’s next, fucking Bees
in the Shitter? Fucking Turtles on a
Bus? Fuck that shit.”
Time for another subject change.
“How did you feel about Steve Irwin’s
death?” I ask, racking my brain for
recent events.
Knoxville looks momentarily
despondent. “It sucks,” he laments. “I
fucking love that guy. But it’s a pretty
gnarly way to go out, pulling a stingray
out of your heart.” I have to agree.
“Has Irwin’s death changed your
outlook when it comes to taking
risks?” asks another reporter. Yeah,
right, I think.
“No,” replies Knoxville casually.
“We know what can happen, and we
knew before his death.”
The woman in the blue dress
and heels reappears warning us
to wrap it up. A journalist from
Drexel gets the last question.
“In the trailer for Jackass 2, you
feature negative reviews from critics.
Are you affected by what critics
think?” he inquires.
“No,” retorts Knoxville. “We
don’t give a fuck about the critics.
We started the show because we just
wanted to entertain each other and
have fun. We’re just glad we get to
fly around and act obnoxious and
have other people pay for our beer.”
Sounds like the life to me. FC
Kate Bracaglia is a Senior in the College.
You can write to her at katiej@sas.
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FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006 13
first call dispatch: australia
australia vs. west philly: go abroad or die trying
becky haendel vs. andrew pederson
Australia, Land of Sunshine!
First Memories!
When I first arrived at Trinity, I immediately felt like I
had moved in to Hogwarts. Hanging in my closet was
the newest addition to my wardrobe: a black academic gown (i.e., my Harry Potter robe). I didn’t have to
wait long to flaunt this new look because the Dean of
the college requested that the 30 exchange students,
including five other Penn students, and I attend the
welcome ceremony. We congregated in the junior
common room (JCR) where we were greeted by the
staff, attempted to sing the Trinity song, and officially
became part of the community upon signing the Trinity book.
Assassin Game!
During the middle of a cheer, I noticed a shiny gold
sticker on my shoulder and realized that I had been
“killed.” In an effort to raise money for charity, the
community service group at Trinity organized a game
of assassins. Within only a few days of the game I
was dead, but I enjoyed meeting new people and even
“killing” a friend.
Parties!
One of the best parties was the Trinity Ball, which lasted until five in the morning! The theme was opulence,
and opulent it was! The party was at a really chic club
with a huge dance floor, open bar, and heaps of lounge
areas with comfy couches. A few friends from other
colleges came and joined us for a long night of dancing, drinking and heaps of crazy pictures.
Music!
When it comes to music, however, Trinity is often
number one. A month ago I enjoyed a relaxing evening listening to classical, jazz and contemporary
music at the intercollegiate soiree, a competition with
the different colleges. A friend from my hall played a
beautiful piece on the violin, contributing to a Trinity
sweep of all categories!
Mascot!
I particularly enjoy when our Trinity mascot dressed
in a green, red, and white striped joker costume leads
us in cheers.
14 FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006
philadelphia, land of
aggravated assault.
First Memories.
My first night at Penn, I felt exactly like I had come to
summer camp. A big, alcoholic summer camp with
rich people. Somebody had been nice enough to stock
my wardrobe with the mysterious gift of a couple of
skimpy, sparkly numbers with lots of slits and sequins
(like my Tina Turner Halloween costume).
Assassin Game.
While I was stumbling back from “New Thursdays”
at Smokes, I noticed a tiny red stain on my chest and
realized that my wallet was no longer there. The West
Philly community group “Gimme Yo Money, Mutha
Fucka!” had apparently organized a meet and greet to
raise money for the crack-impaired. I enjoyed meeting my new friend, but then I was dead!
Parties.
One of the best events was the Beer…..thing, at…..that
guys house, which lasted all the way until……uh….until…..well there was this girl, and … shit…well a long
time. I woke up in a flower bed. The party was….
pretty ……cool, I guess. There was beer, and heaps
of beered up people waiting for…beer. Man, if that
recruiter from Goldman Sachs sees those photos on
mini feed, I’m screwed!
Music.
Penn’s music is second to none! Remember IQRAM?
Huh? IQRAM!! You know, IQRAM! Well fuck you,
you fucking Freshman. What do you know anyway?
You probably spent a “relaxing evening” last night inside your dorm room listening to some smooth jazz
crap. I’ll bet you even play the violin. Tool.
Mascot.
I particularly enjoy when our house mascot, Buddy
McToke, dressed in rumpled, unwashed clothes, leads
us to WaWa at 2 am in search of Tasty Kake.
...Land of Sunshine continued!
...Land of Aggravated Assault continued.
Fine Dining!
Fine Dining.
Extracurricular Activities!
Extracurricular Activities.
Every night the 300 Trinity students gather in the dining hall for dinner. The room is filled with old wooden tables and chairs, portraits of famous people and
previous Trinity residents, and a high table covered in
a white table cloth, glass pitchers, and decadent silverware for the administrators. On Sunday through
Wednesday night I partake in the traditional formal
dinner where we all dress in our academic gowns and
share the day’s highlights. Now just imagine a room
full of black gowns with huge sleeves (I swear another
person could fit inside mine!) and a mixture of students from all over the world and you can begin to understand my dinner routine.
While it is hard to describe a typical day or weekend at
Trinity, there are often footy games, movie nights, parties in the JCR and much more to keep us busy. Last
Tuesday night I huddled under blankets with friends
to watch the scary Australian movie “Wolf Creek”
about backpackers in the outback. Most of the movie
was spent with the guys trying to scare us resulting
in heaps (my new favorite Aussie word!) of screaming
and some girls even sprinting out of the room.
Highlights!
While it is difficult to decide on a favorite Trinity moment, the gala night and Trinity ball were definitely
two highlights. Gala night was a Friday night spent
in a cocktail dress sipping wine and eating sushi in the
JCR before watching the Trinity musical with everyone from Trinity. A friend from Penn, Marc, joined
the cast who sang and danced phenomenally. Afterwards we went to a club for the after party and celebrated their exceptional performance.
Becky Haendel is a junior studying abroad in Melbourne, Australia.
You can write to her at bhaendel@wharton.
The dining hall is always packed with hundreds of
hungry Pennsters lining up for pizza, hamburgers and
the nightly special. Pizza and hamburgers every night
of the week? You bet! They even put out green plastic crates FULL of glasses that you can refill with as
MUCH soda as you WANT! Monday through Sunday,
students dress up as hung-over middle aged consultants in sweat suits and see who can jam the conveyor
belt with the most uneaten food. Just imagine a room
full of unkempt, wasteful people stumbling around
in MC hammer pants. I swear you could fit a whole
other person in those sweatpants! Throw in a jappy
cat fight at the salad bar and you can just imagine my
nightly routine!
Every day at Penn is so different. What with the B’s
at APB and the morning W to the DRL with a stop
off at Steiny-D to play footy with Professor Econ-Fox.
Last week we huddled underneath her desk to do the
scary “Multiple Oral Regression,” which involves more
breath control than a scuba dive. Most of the time,
she kept trying to scare me, resulting in heaps of water-marked homework papers. One time, I even had
to run out of the room for an extra towel!
Highlights.
There have been so many great moments here, but
Kappa Alpha Qdoba’s semi formal and that dog that
drinks beer were definitely two highlights. Semi formal was spent spilling beer on cocktail dresses and
stuffing as many appetizers into my pockets as possible. Lucy had a few too many and joined the DJ in
some kind of…. “dance”. Afterwards we had to follow
her out back and pry her out of the back of a van. The
DJ didn’t seem to mind; he kept muttering something
about “exceptional performance.” Oh, and then Ruff ’s
McDrunk came and puked all over everything! Fuck,
that dog is awesome, man!
Andrew Pederson is a senior in the College.
You can write to him at awl@sas.
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006 15
Recruiting: Do You sizzle or fizzle?
Lauren Saul And Anna stetsovskaya
Hot
not
pregame
• Removing “rhyming groinage with coinage” and
other interests from facebook profile.
• Going private on facebook.
the
schmooze
• Flirting mercilessly with the recruiter.
• Writing the names of friends too busy drinking
like fish at sink-or-swim on the sign-in sheet at
your 50th company presentation.
• Turning those elbows into torpedoes to keep others out of the suck-up circle.
• Perfect handwriting: Sebastian Jonathan Crawford III. Major: Finance, Accounting. Class: 2009.
Just practicing.
dreams cut
short
• “not invited.”
• “Unfortunately, you have not been preselected.”
pearly
gate #1
• Popping the Katzenbach Partners free mints like
there’s no tomorrow.
• Classy initialing.
• Bacardi breath at 11AM. Coughing up a hairball.
• Lingering to scope out your competition, their
middle initials, and their majors.
the look
• Red power tie.
• Biting the kid next to you in the waiting room.
• Clasped, manicured hands. Fake smile plastered
on face.
• Having an Herbal Essences moment before the
big interview.
• Red power thong.
• Asking him if Bank of America called him back,
too, or if that’s just me.
• Carrying an interview cheat sheet and noisily
shuffling it until C-40 opens.
• Sweatstains the shape of Africa.
handshake
• The bone-breaking power grip.
• A floppy, perspiring fish
somewhere
between the
fourth &
second circles of hell
• Let’s talk about manholes.
• How do you value this company?
• Toting the ubiquitous garment bag over a wellsculpted shoulder.
• Let’s talk about why you think you belong at our
firm.
• What’s 0.31% of 382?
• Triumphantly clacking flip-flops through Huntsman in that slamtastic suit.
things to do on the internet
ACROSS
2. Take a ______ test, and see if
you’re introverted or just plain misanthropic
3. Send a bunch of ______ to your
mom’s screen name in drunk-type
6. Write on your ____ about details
of your day that nobody cares about
7. Spend three hours stalking your
high school crush on ______
9. Check for your grades on _____,
only to find that it is down again
11. ____ into the CIA website and get
blacklisted from America
12. Break up with your boyfriend in
an _____
14 :) :( ;) :’( :*)
17. Try to figure out the 6-letter word
on ______
19. Update your AIM _____ with an
incredibly witty quote, keyboard art,
or perhaps your school and year of
graduation!
DOWN
1. _______ the latest Ben Folds CD
2. Find some free _____ and jerk off
4. Find your future _____ on Jdate if
you’re of the tribe, or match.com if
you’re into Dr. Phil
5. Auction “It” off on ______, and
hope your girlfriend never finds “It”
16 FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 2, 2006
under the bed again
8 . Get a job on _______
10. _____ yourself and see what
kinds of site mentions will keep you
from being President someday
13. Check out the latest video of a
fat kid pretending to be Darth Vader
on_____
15. Have ______ with someone
you met in a chat room – you’ve got
needs, after all
16. Talk to your abroad friends for
free over _____
18. Rack up daddy’s credit card bill by
doing some _______.
21. Get out your gambling urges and
play some online _____ while it’s
still legal
22. _____ your sins to your Google
group before Yom Kippur starts
23. Add your name to a ______
being sent to Congress about an issue
you know nothing about
24. Start a Facebook _____ dedicated to shutting down Facebook – all
the cool kids are doing it
20. Go on hotornot.com and give
ugly people really high _____ to
make them feel good