If Robinson Hall is an apartment building, The D and the DOC are like neighbors. When they have barbeques, the smell makes our mouths water. When they have dance parties on the Robo lawn, we pretend we’re too busy to join them. And when people show up naked, covered in green paint to hand in their Croo applications, we hold the door.
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Raise your hand if this sounds like your typical schedule: Leave Hanover at 1 a.m. on Friday. Drive out to Cathedral Ledge. Sleep in the car. Wake up early. Climb all day. Walk down the mountain. Drive home.
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Glamorous, enviable and high-profile — these adjectives might come to mind when thinking of Croo members for Dartmouth Outing Club First-Year Trips. But this is simply not the case, insist the members of the trips directorate.
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The Schlitz Fund has enabled the wild adventures of many Dartmouth students, no matter their status (if any) in the DOC. Jennifer Garfinkel takes a closer look at the fund with a funny name.
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“Something subtle, unsaid, something — well, evil — something which nags a sense of awe and respect and fear, hides with the lichen covered rocks on the storm-swept summit and lives in the sighing fir trees which carpet the slopes and crowd the valley.” So begins the description of Mount Moosilauke in an unidentified handwritten account of the Doc Benton story in the DOC archives in Rauner.
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It is often said that a first impression is one of the most important factors in the formation of opinions about a person or a thing. If that’s really the case, then Dartmouth definitely has the right idea with the Dartmouth Outing Club First-Year Trips.
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“DOC trips are like, totally the most fun EVER!!”
This is all that I had ever heard about these wilderness initiation rituals that are unique to our college on the hill. Since DOC Trips are talked up more than Christmas, imagine how doomed I felt when my own trip (strenuous hiking, section E) wasn’t the best thing EVER, nor was it even close. I felt like the rest of my four years were doomed — I had already found the most fun thing EVER to be a huge bust. The rest of my college experience loomed ahead of me like another wilderness disaster waiting to happen.
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Some people might be nervous about going to college their first year. Will I make new friends? Will I pass my classes? Jean Ellen Cowgill was worried about the wildlife, thanks to an unfortunate otter attack. She muses about when animals (and through hikers) attack.
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Given my general inability to string together sentences and form coherent articles, as well as my questionable mastery of proper syntax, I decided it would be best not to tax myself this week by trying to write a whole article. Instead I have some Cheers and Jeers; I figure these tidbits are better for our MTV-addled attention spans.
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Who knew that Crayola blue denim could be so raunchy? “Kristin in Slim Slacks” is putting on quite a show for a disheveled photographer who takes pictures of her highly sexualized body. Women in hot pants, tube socks and Members Only-style jackets dance around with a shirtless, hairy, jiggly rando who, according to the caption, is named Jonny. A woman practically moons the photographer. This isn’t soft-core internet porn. No, my friends, it’s the erotic advertising for American Apparel, patting itself on the back on the way to the bank as consumers these days, including Dartmouth students, buy it all up.
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Think back, Dartmouth, to a time not at all long ago when the indie-rock-electro-pop-jungle-surf duo MGMT was supposed to play a concert in Fuel — three weeks ago tomorrow, Saturday April 12.
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A nationally ranked runner in fifth grade, a competitive skier in high school, a construction worker in Antarctica: Ian McKay ‘11 is as extreme as the locations he’s visited. Next on his to-do list: space.
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