Issue 3
Speaking of Rights...
Erin Pellett
Undergraduate/Creative Writing
Every day, I am reminded of the sad state of affairs that has become normalcy. I am constantly denied rights that every human being should have, just because of who I fall in love with. I have been fighting for the past few years for a just society and a government that will recognize that I, as an American citizen and taxpayer, am guaranteed and deserve the equal rights that I am still denied because I am not a heterosexual.
Spoons Didn’t Make Rosie O’Donnell Fat
Andy Boden
Undergraduate/Political Science
I got the idea for this article immediately after I finished writing my article about the Supreme Court decisions I disagree with. I thought back to the time when I saw a bumper sticker that read, “Guns kill people like how spoons made Rosie O’Donnell fat.” This is certainly one of the most scathing arguments I’ve heard against gun control, and certainly one of the more tasteless. The sarcastic tone of the argument implies that guns don’t kill people nor did spoons account for the corpulence of the former talk show host. To me, this is a silly argument that involves an ad hominem attack against one of the nation’s most famous and outspoken gun control advocates.
College Students are Stupid
Zeke Witter
Undergraduate/Creative Writing
I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. Through many a sleepless night I've wondered at, and lamented, the ignorance of an enormous portion of my peers. I can't give up hope that this is a university; this is higher education; this is where the smart people are, but regardless of my misguided optimism, I'm constantly bombarded with examples of the stupidity of those around me.
Holding Bunnies
Lisa Brancaccio
Undergraduate/ Print Journalism
his sparkling eyes glimmered with charm
as he softly ran the back of his hand
across my cheek
and told stories of comedy and romance
involving our nieces and nephews
who gallivanted between the legs of guests
at the reception.
i laughed until i cried.
our first home rested
on the corner of apple and main.
its pale pink shutters stood out
from the browns and blues
of our elderly neighbors.
tim spent an entire summer
painting the hand-me-down wooden playground.
he polished it until every sliver and crack
disappeared
and its smooth surface shone in the sun.
tim and i read to bella every
morning
afternoon
and night.
she could spell better than a fourth grader
when she was seven.
