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(12/03/15 5:00am)
As an alumnus, when I was asked to write a piece for The Cavalier Daily, my reaction was two-fold. Firstly, a sense of surprise that anyone in college might be interested in reading what I have to say. You and I, dear reader, are in different places in our lives. You have a social life, classes, activities sponsored by the University. I work from home, spending most of my day hunkered over a desk eating dolphin-safe tuna straight out of a can with my fingers and ignoring texts from people telling me to go outside. “Go outside, Chris,” they say. “You can’t keep living like this, your skin has become translucent.” But I merely hiss and retract my head into my body cavity. Then again, if I’m being honest, that was most of undergrad too. Perhaps we aren’t so different.
(12/05/13 4:04am)
The Christmas season has come upon us. This was rude of the Christmas season, because usually it’s good to warn your partner before that happens.
(10/17/13 2:45am)
Stress at the University is universal. This is a very demanding school we go to, unless you’re a homeless person who has picked up this newspaper to protect yourself from the bitter mountain rains that sweep down like a merciless mother tigress from the east, which probably isn’t the case since this article is probably only going to be put online, which naturally leads to the question: how did you, a homeless person, get a computer? Shouldn’t you sell your computer and try to rent a room or something? Why do you even have a computer? Where do you plug it in? And come right down to it, why do homeless guys always have dogs? Dogs are expensive. Like that one guy on the Corner who has a pug. Pugs have all these weird medical issues like sometimes their eyeballs pop out if they strain against a collar too much. Google it if you don’t believe me, but you’ll be sorry you did.
(09/05/13 3:13am)
There comes a time in life when people realize that they need to go ahead and give up on ever having any sort of meaningful romantic relationship ever again. This moment comes in many ways, shapes and forms. For some it’s the byproduct of large amounts of alcohol, for others a pointed comment from your grandmother over Thanksgiving dinner about how we never hear you talk about a girl or anyone and your grandfather and I are starting to think maybe you’re “that way” and we want you to know we would still love you pretty much the same amount unless you end up voting for Hillary Clinton in which case we trust you know where the door is.