“Dude! I totally blacked out last night!” It’s an excuse, a badge of superior partying skills, and a punch line all rolled into one commonly heard salutation on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday mornings. And while it can be unpleasant not to remember the night before, it’s clear that it is not uncommon for Dartmouth students to have a lapse in memory due to excessive drinking. More »
For some students, the only train they will ever travel on is the blackout train. Yes, the blackout train, the train that hits you with a bang, sometimes literally, after you have drunk one or two too many mixed drinks. It’s a place where nightmares come true, but memories are nonexistent. If you take a ride on this train, you won’t even know where you have traveled until your friends tell you the next day or you wake up with another unidentified passenger. More »
In the wake of the current sociological, dare I say even spiritual, upset — the untimely death of Anna Nicole, Britney’s courageous venture into ascetic chic, Pete Doherty’s disturbing gift to a penguin — our world, even here in the most static town in New England, begs for something staying, something reliable, something open twenty-four hours. More »
Drinking and cultural norms at Dartmouth have been documented time and time again, from blacking out to booting and passing out on an uninhabited couch. With an array of students constantly inhabiting cities across the country for work terms or after graduation, it seems natural to wonder how much of what defines the Dartmouth party scene is tied to the campus, and how much is more deeply ingrained. More »
I can’t forget Matt Hill ‘08. Matt arrived in Biloxi a few days before Beardsley and I. We only had him for a few weeks; unaware that other Dartmouth kids were coming, he’d made plans to teach screenwriting and film theory at a Yale program for high school students. (In characteristically Dartmouth fashion, he didn’t know anything about what he was to teach prior to teaching it; he spent his Biloxi downtime reading the subjects’ introductory texts.) More »
March 1, 2007 9:12 p.m. EST My Fellow Americans, Every time I put pen to paper to write this column I am humbled by the privilege and mindful of the history we have seen together. Each Friday we have gathered together beneath the vaulted barrel ceilings of the Hop, in the round belly of Collis, or within the great phallus of Baker Tower as you read your papers over breakfast. Over the course of the last term, we have together served Dartmouth through another period of its history, dutifully engaging in an open discourse regarding the issues we are faced with, and it has been my privilege and honor to serve with you. More »
Many years ago in a CVS not so far away, the razor market was simple. One or two blades. Disposable or cartridge. Then came the revolution: Gillette released the Mach 3, putting all other razors to shame. For a while, Schick struggled to recover. After matching their arch rival with three blades, Schick took the lead by introducing the world’s first four-bladed razor, the Quattro. Then in an episode of corporate one-upmanship, Gillette skipped four blades and jumped to five. Just for safe measure they even slapped another blade on the back of their new Fusion razor. But how much razor does a man need? Can a shave actually change your life? I have ventured to answer these questions that have longed plagued men by pitting the Gillette Fusion versus the mildly new Schick Quattro Titanium (the blades are now coated with titanium, which is only the coolest metallic element and second coolest metal overall behind the paradoxically named alloy, liquidmetal). More »
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