Sixteen sets of eyes are fixed on the TV in the Kildahl lounge. Everyone listens carefully (volume cranked up to the maximum 55) to the melodramatic conversations taking place between Ryan, Marissa, Seth (et al.) in the season premiere of The O.C., which aired last Thursday night.
When I met President Thomforde at an ice cream social this year, he was seeking student opinion on his houses new paint job. As it turns out, the eye-catching colors were not Thomfordes idea.
Lets not talk about our parents having sex. Lets talk about whether or not our liberated parents are actually as free and open about sex as their twenty-something selves were back in the sixties or seventies.
Elliott Smith was a closet genius, an artist distressed by developing the cult following that he did. With the release of From a Basement on the Hill, Smith offers up one final sacrifice to the music gods, a beautiful album which is necessarily tainted by recollection of his untimely death.
