– Beginning of Time: As Eve is about to toss away the apple she’s holding, Delmar Crim appears, asking how the apple tastes. “Are you sure it’s okay? Can I get you a different apple? Perhaps a Granny Smith? Maybe some cinnamon?” Not wanting to hurt Crim’s feelings, Eve eats the apple. Henceforth, we are all fucked.
There will be a 25-30% decrease in editor’s note due to editors boycott of the inhumane treatment of imported Azeri workers. Anyway, the judge says to Mickey, "I’m sorry Mr. Mouse, but insanity is not legal grounds for divorce."
Tuesday’s lunch was part of Bon Appetit’s intranational "eat local" campaign, and featured Connecticutian agricultural products and specialties. Students ate apples, squirrels, apple cider, pumpkins, and apple fritters (fried in squirrel oil and glazed with pumpkin seed extract). For dessert, instead of the usual soft-serve ice cream, Bon Appetit featured a comprehensive selection of different life, health, car, and home insurance plans.
Some Wesleyan students see a problem and complain about it. Others make a difference. Last week, hundreds of students boycotted Bon Appetit’s reign of terror by not buying lunch at the Usdan Student Center. However, only one student truly exemplified what it means to "make a difference."
"It was the best time I’ve ever had dancing for three hours by myself," said Donovan Arthen ’11, not depicted here. In 2005, the Sex Party came under fire when several alarms went off halfway through the night, summoning Public Safety to the scene, disappointing those who’d bought tickets.
Grilled Cheese ’11
I’ve been talking to a lot of people around this campus, and one thing gets brought up repeatedly: our representatives in student government are not delicious enough. Recently, the WSA has been described as "bland," "flavorless" and "supremely uninteresting." Well, I’m here to change all that. Grilled cheese brings a proven leader, both in administration as well as great taste. Who among us does not enjoy two slices of delicious cheddar cheese, encased by two crunchy slices of butter drenched bread?
(Note: For the safety of the author, portions of this article have been omitted.) I now share a first initial and last name with a visiting professor, which, due to a curious university bylaw, makes me an assistant professor. And I must say, the world of academia has a squalid underbelly, full of all sorts of questionable behavior. Basically, I’ve learned some shit, man. Some real weird and awful stuff, that I consider it my duty to share with you, the lay student/horrified bystander. So right here, right now, I break the professor’s code to bare the secrets of the Ivory Tower.
The Ampersand has always been inquisitive. Is there a God? What’s the key to happiness? Who shot J.R.? In this issue, we are going to focus on the toughest question to answer: WHAT THE FUCK?
I remember the first time I met Delmar Crim. I was walking quickly to the library. I noticed I was advancing on a man of short stature, with a light blue shirt and white hair. I don’t like to pass people on the street, so I tried to slow down, but in the same fateful moment, he too decreased his pace. He sensed my presence and glanced jerkily over his shoulder once, twice. Glance. Glance. Finally, he turned. He asked if I was a freshman. I asked if he was a professor. He said “No. I’m Delmar,” and revealed his Bon Appetit post.
Let’s face it, The UsDAN campus center, seemingly transported from a state school in the Deep South, pretty much sucks. But why does it suck so much? Why does it have to be so….lacking in panache? What the fuck?!