In a patient satisfaction survey completed last spring regarding Dick’s House, it was revealed that 85 percent of Dartmouth students are satisfied with the care that they receive there. (Surprised? I was.) Why, then, does it seem that 100 percent of Dartmouth students complain about the College’s Health Service 100 percent of the time? Well, it may just be because when the same students were asked how they felt their peers would rank Dick’s House, the satisfaction rates were quite lower. So it appears that when it comes to the Health Service, Dartmouth students have retreated back to the mentality of second grade — when you got chicken nuggets just because your friends got chicken nuggets.
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Fall at Dartmouth is a time of transition. Freshmen have completed their inaugural laps ‘round the bonfire, but they remain uncertain of their place in both frats’ and stacks’ basements. Having completed the thrill ride of rush, sophomores begin the (mandatory?) fun of pledge term. Seniors, scouring the archives of Career Services, search for life outside the Dartmouth bubble. Juniors just look around and wonder where Sophomore Summer went, and why they didn’t go to Spain with all of their friends. A time of loss, I remember my commencement speaker saying, but also a time of opportunity.
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Dearest Mononucleosis,
I really think we should start seeing other people. I would love to spend time with humans — my blankets are nice but they are hard to have conversations with, they don’t really respond. (Not, that I have tried …) There are some really cute ’10s out there and I have a hunch they would be better suited to your tastes: young and ready to share saliva.
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Glad you had a good Homecoming. Kudos on getting drunk, making out on some dance floor, throwing beers at that skinny kid in the Zeppelin T-shirt. Awesome.
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At this moment, I am in a very awkward position. Although I have committed to write an article about the best kept secret on campus, I am reluctant to state all the wonders of Foley House for fear of losing my spot in the spring. That’s the beauty of 20 West Street — once you discover it, you wonder where it’s been all of your Dartmouth career, but you also gain the desire to keep it a secret from the general public.
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“I wanna grind up on you. I wanna grind up on you.”
- Repeated several times by guy on Mass Row.
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For a long time on campus I played rugby for the DRFC. Then this year, after burning Norwich University to the ground again (look it up), their team decided to take revenge on us by ripping my knee in half. They did not quite succeed; they just managed to dismantle my anterior cruciate ligament and implant some device in my eye-duct that made it produce some wet, salty substance that tasted like high school prom. Naturally, it’s been a tough start to senior year.
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Quiz! Which group had a more awful sense of timing: the people who scheduled Homecoming right before midterms, or the ’09s who rushed Kappa? It’s a toss-up, but at least Homecoming will still exist next year. (Man up, KDE: Campus needs a New Coke.)
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Wednesday’s police blotter, complied by Dane Schlossberg ‘07, described several incidents of lawlessness that went down in Hanover this Homecoming. Unfortunately, Detective Schlossberg had to work within a word limit and was therefore forced to exclude a handful of reportable events from his blotter. Anxious to avoid the task of inventing original material this week, I volunteered to run the Po-Blot overflow in my column.
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Sadly, my relationship with New England produce would be classified by Facebook.com as “open”: I have been caught getting “jiggy” with Michigan peaches and, dare I say it, California avocados. Lately though, I’ve been thinking that it might be time for “the exclusivity talk.” How did I come to this enlightened, mature decision? Just check out the four varieties of apples from Vermont’s Riverview Farm at Foodcourt. Or sample some of the local farm-raised, grass-fed beef at Homeplate’s grill. You won’t be disappointed.
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Book: “Special Topics in Calamity Physics,” by Marisha Pessl
Pessl creates a fictional but eerily realistic world of pompous parents, mysterious teachers and child geniuses as she tells the story of introverted prodigy Blue Van Meer. Pessl’s unique and quirky writing style — written in Blue’s voice — creates an intricate web of a story that can be described as a romance, who-dun-it or drama … but probably deserves its own category. - Sara del Nido
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