Miss USA--They're just like US

Donald Trump, an uncontrolled fit of morality, is threatening to strip Miss USA of her crown after allegations of underage drinking and bad behaviour. If we can move past the unfortunate word choice of "stripping" in conjunction with a beauty queen, I think we can move to the larger issue of pretty brats with full throated indifference. Beautiful people are allowed to be badly behaved, and in the case of young women, we should almost expect it. After all, if they don't have wild times as youngsters, what can they reflect on as they rot away in old age homes, forgotten by all but a few perverts? All these women have is their youth and looks, and when those inevitably crumble to dust they should be able to remember the halcyon days and be able to say "I did tequila shots at Marquee and fell face first into Janet Jackson." I mean, it isn't as though Miss USA has any actual responsibilites besides wearing a silly tiara and not falling down on television, so who cares if she get a bit sloshed in the week before her 21st?



Clearly, Lark-Marie Anton, the spokeswoman with the unenviable position of caring about these things, does. She is the one tasked with spouting platitudes like "Miss USA is a role model." To whom? I imagine some of the past "winners" are very nice and probably genuinely care about buying everyone in the world a Beanie Baby or something, but I've never seen Miss USA speak about Darfur, Tibet or the Kyoto Protocol. In fact, I don't have even the faintest idea what being Miss USA entails on a daily basis. I do think the very idea that we should reward people explicitly for how they look is a bad message for young women, who should be encouraged to develop brains and personalities that don't fit into 30 second sound bites. How can we so casually accept the practice of parading young girls on a stage to be ogled at, ranked and rewarded? I don't get it, but I do think that Donald Trump's indignation is hilarious, considering that he continues to get older and uglier while his wives get younger and prettier.



The whole things disgusts and amuses me.

Apathy is so cool, or whatever

The title is obvious, and not really all that funny, but it's the best description of my state of mind.

In this--my third year of college--I simply cannot be arsed with nerves or anxiety about exams and school work. I don't have the fear in me anymore. I've become pretty good at dialing it in and getting what I need done at the time it needs to be done. And I do it pretty well. So when I sit down and crank out an economics problem set in an hour and get 100% on it, you should know it isn't luck, but the workings of a man brilliant beyond the bounds of the natural order.

Not caring about things is as liberating as you would imagine, as long as you commit to it. You can't worry about how nonchalant you are, you just have to be it. It is a great feeling to walk out of an exam you didn't really worry about and be secure with the knowledge that you completely drilled it. Success is a necessary component of insouciant living, and I'm doing it to a T.

College is about change

I am slowly but surely lurching through my final exams and assignments. It's been a tough slog, I don't mind telling you. Today was the first day I wasn't working like a maniac, but that's because I turned out a stellar final paper over the weekend for a class tomorrow and gave myself breathing room. I do this because I am both extraordinarily talented and averse to all nighters. I have pulled only one so far in college; freshman year for my Russian history class. I had to write two 5 page papers, an output I consider laughable now, and I researched and wrote from about 6:00 PM to 6:00 AM. And then I went to a deli on University Place and saw about three students I knew getting breakfast after writing all nighters. It was what I imagined college would be like--primitive socialist accumulation and poppy seed bagels living side by side.

These days, I am usually able to finish assignments a day from the due date, which gives me time to edit the paper or give it to someone else. Before, my enormous ego and unshakable faith in my abilities wouldn't let me, but then I continued to get papers back with embarrassing typos and sentence construction at which even Borat would shake his head. I also have a lot of problem sets and math based exams, which doesn't really lend itself to peer review, or what professors would call "cheating." But here I am, putting together a presentation on Alexandre Dumas for Thursday in between cracking wise with my roommates. It's just what I imagined college to be.

How do you even ignite bones?

Libraries are dark and somber places by their nature, and never more so than during finals time. Here at NYU, the crunch begins immediately after Thanksgiving. Students of all stripes--Finance, History, Film, Nursing--are thrown headfirst into mountains of papers and a seemingly endless gauntlet of exams. In many ways I am exceptional, but in this arena I am not. I am faced with a daunting array of exercises designed only to needle me and break my will. Unfortunately for my exams, I am made of stronger stuff than candy and marshmallow.

I was feeling slightly uneasy about one of my assignments when I was taking the train back to Manhattan on Sunday, but the strangest thing put me at ease: the song "Fix You" by Coldplay. I'm not what you would call a big Coldplay fan, but I do like what they stand for--namely being British, posh, stylish, making relaxing music and marrying film stars. I also like that Chris Martin is friends with Ricky Gervais and has the ability to make fun of himself. I think you should listen to the song "Fix You" while walking down the street of a major city at night. It feels like the way the song was meant to be picturized, and if you're anything like me, a steady wave of calm will wash over you and bathe you in its peace. If I subscribed to this sort of thing, I would say it was an almost religious experience. I can't articulate how it felt, but I can say I wouldn't mind if it happened again.

Family Time Isn't Just for Families

Other than my actual family, my roommates are the only people I've lived with for extended periods of time. You'd think that five guys living together would be a hassle, but I love it. They are a reasonable approximation of a family, and Tuesday night is family night. This is when we usually gather in Matt and Jeritt's room and shoot the shit for an hour or two. If I tried to list the topics we cover, it would make most gentleman and a lot of truckers blush, but it is an invaluable component of the roommate experience. I remember being a freshman and wondering how I could keep a sliver of privacy while still living with so many people. The answer is you don't. In order to fully embrace cohabitation, you must be willing to be a masochist--namely be made fun of and have your self-esteem turned inside out regularly. Men interact by constantly ragging on each other, and it is the truest form of bonding we have. Any misstep you ever make will be frozen in time, and repeated ad infinitum in front of your parents, girlfriends, and guests. It is the unending quest of your roommates to shame you in new and innovative ways every day. It is incumbent on you to treat them in the same way. Women do not understand this--girls pretend to like their friends in public and hate each other in private, while Men act like they hate their friends in public and continue to say mean things in private. Having roommates who are incredibly quick and sharp makes it even harder to get away with doing/saying anything wrong or exhibiting weakness. It is much like sharks--we attack at the merest hint of vulnerability. It sounds cruel and impossibly inhuman, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Except Ramirez: I'd trade him for a 5-pack of Trident.

Master of the House?

It seems that Democrats have taken a majority in the House of Representatives. This excites me, not because I think the Democrats are going to do a particularly good job, but because I like drama and upheaval at periodic intervals. Also, I like the idea of another party in control of one of the chambers in government. It holds the possibility of fiscal discipline and the hope of a generation of new ideas. That would make me happy--but it will probably be another two years of idiotic name calling and childish grandstanding.

Can't wait.

Borat '08

I cannot say anything about Borat that hasn't already been said in any of the glowing reviews who are falling over themselves to say how great it is. I will say only this: I have been to hundreds of hilarious movies, but I have never been in a place where so many people have sustained so much laughter for so long. The theater of jaded downtown New Yorkers squealed with delight at the sheer absurdity of it all in a bizarre unison--it was an experience I will not soon forget. See this movie. Full title--Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan.

You should also listen to the song "Circus on the Moon" by Bruce Hornsby. I heard it on Pandora, and it's the kind of song that you should listen to it while walking alone on a brisk fall morning. You'll feel like you're in a TV show. A good one.