Pitchfork was the friend you loved to hate. Although you would scoff at his pretentiousness and proliferation of the hipster culture, you secretly compulsively read all of his album reviews and pirated every album crowned “Best New Music” in between sessions of Urban Outfitters online shopping and utter self-loathing. He was an insufferable asshole, but his role in your life was undeniable, invaluable – Pitchfork told you that Animal Collective was music’s second coming, and you believed him and legally changed your middle name to Avey Tare. Pitchfork taught you all about DIY and film cameras; you gleefully purchased your Lomography Holga and filmstock. Shaping your life in way not even your parents could, Pitchfork made you who you are today.
Then came Kanye. Kanye is also an insufferable asshole, although the two lived in different spheres: Kanye of shutter shades and gold diggers and Pitchfork of Ray-Bans and PBR. Yet, worlds collided on a seemingly normal day in November.
And Pitchfork died a traitor.
November 2010 brought not only a dismal round of midterm elections, but also a greater travesty, the release of Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. The day was the 22nd, a Monday. A normal, brisk fall day, until we heard it. Nicki Minaj speaking in a British accent. Kanye referencing Celine Dion, Kings of Leon and Leona Lewis in one sentence. Orchestral interludes. Cop lights, flash lights, spot lights, strobe lights, street lights. Every relevant rapper making appearances. A questionable Chris Rock phone conversation. A stab in my heart and a Bon Iver appearance. And then we saw it. Pitchfork, our dear friend, our harsh critic, our indie God, gave it a perfect score. Arcade Fire didn’t get a perfect score. Even Animal Collective didn’t get perfect marks.
Kanye’s final track asks, “Who will survive in America?” Again. And again. Well I ask who will survive in a world where Pitchfork gives a 10.0 to a rap album? Who will survive in a world where the man who accused George Bush of hating black people has championed the primarily white indiesphere? Is this indie affirmative action? Has the counterculture become the mainstream?
You saw it as dyslexia… they meant a 0.01. You hoped it was maybe just Chicago pride: Pitchfork and Kanye trying to compensate for the Cubs. You desperately wished it to be April 1st, and this catastrophe was all a joke.
But it wasn’t. It was the ultimate betrayal.
And in a fiery explosion rivaled only by the one Kanye rescues his phoenix from in Runaway, Pitchfork and its credibility were brutally massacred.
Pitchfork is survived by his contemporaries MTV and Top 40 Radio. Though never on good terms in life, they are forever reconciled in death – death of integrity, death of originality, death of indie. Ke$ha, Waka Flocka Flame, and Willow Smith forever.
Those who choose to gloss over Pitchfork’s fatal mistake mourn the loss of their online bible and their now irrelevant thin scarves and excess cartons of American Spirit cigarettes.
Talks of a memorial fund circulated, but P4K’s demographic proved incapable of finding a way to torrent the any paltry sum of money.
Pitchfork’s Indie Credibility Questioned After Giving Newest Kanye West Album a Perfect 10.0 Review
VU Launches Robbie Caldwell Resignation Investigation
The announcement of head football coach Robbie Caldwell’s resignation over Thanksgiving break, although met by typical amounts of Vanderbilt apathy, actually surprised some members of the community. Rumors circulated – sex scandal? Paid players? Steroids? Most settled on the football team’s atrocious record as the primary reason fir Caldwell’s resignation. However, a formal investigation into the Chancellor’s office and campus propaganda outlet, The Hustler, revealed much more to the story than officially released.
The first indiscretion discovered was the blatant grade inflation present in The Hustler’s weekly analyses of the football team’s performance. The paper’s low readership initially hid this practice, but in a school notorious for grade deflation, it was eventually unearthed. Although the team was clocking in each week by the layman’s standards in the range of F to, well, F, The Hustler’s incredibly talented and knowledgeable sports staff continued to award them B’s and C’s. Perhaps the staff writers attend the games a bit too inebriated, or maybe they just have a general lack of football know-how, but a 2-10 season getting a higher GPA than freshmen pre-meds? Needless to say, myriad red flags were raised when the investigation turned to The Hustler’s sports staff. As there is no crying in baseball, there are no test banks in football.
Next: a direct confrontation with the Chancellor’s office. Instead of wallowing in the immense bureaucracy, and instead of talking to secretary after secretary and wading through to-be-unreturned emails, the office was made accessible with uncharacteristic transparency.
“It honestly came down to the Honor Code – the foundation of morality on our beloved campus,” Chancellor Zeppos commented. “If we must choose between passing a test in integrity and completing a pass, we obviously pick to complete a pass. But the football team couldn’t even do that.”
What exactly this means, one cannot be sure – but the implications are undoubtedly severe, and we remain without a football coach. However, some argue a new coach-less approach may work allowing application of HOD group project skills. Stay tuned for more updates as they develop.
Lying: A Family Affair
Every fall, a weekend clearly marked by an actually winnable football game and a lack of sign-posted fraternity parties, parents flock to our beautiful campus for the pure, unadulterated joy formally known as Family Weekend. Upperclassmen know the drill having lived through the tests and trials of this weekend, but freshmen know not of the challenge they are about to face. Am I still allowed to go out Thursday? How do I explain my hangover? Can I tailgate Saturday? If not, how do I explain this phenomenon? Where do I hide my alcohol? How do I begin to explain my impending Midterm Deficiency Reports?
The answer? Lie. Like a rug, like a dog, like whichever idiomatic phrase floats your boat.
Here are a couple stock explanations for what you shouldn’t have been doing:
>> Piercings – Your science class is conducting a study on puncture wounds, and being the selfless person you are, you volunteered.
>> Alcohol in the dorm room – Instead of running the risk of being roofie’d, you took initiative in your life and decided to be responsible for your own consumption. Such drive and forethought!
>> The Xs on your hands – At an interpretive board game night with your floor this week, featuring hot apple cider and fresh cookies, you physically acted out tic-tac-toe.
>> New spandex wardrobe – You and the girls are teaching an 80’s dance class for underprivileged inner-city children twice a week.
>> Probation letter – Eh, you’re on your own for this one.
>> Tailgating – Dizzy Bat, Cornhole and dancing on elevated surfaces are exercises for essential physical attributes such as balance, coordination and focused vision that are often neglected during the week in the name of academics. As for the Natty, you’re part of a conservation of water movement.
>> Lying – Your parents might have read this article and called you out on it. Convince them with the five components of ethos you learned last month that you are not lying, but testing the bounds of rhetoric and tropes.
The conclusion? Now that you’ve got all of the heavy lifting out of the way, enjoy the weekend. It’s only once a year that you get free Pancake Pantry, Jackson’s cookie dough egg rolls, a re-stocked fridge and some good ol’ lovin.
Trendspotter: Greenman Suit
Ninety percent nylon, ten percent spandex. One hundred percent this season’s top fashion trend.
Entertainment has always been a viable source for fashion advice. Whether it’s Blair on Gossip Girl’s preppy chic, Stacy and Clinton’s words of wisdom on What Not to Wear, Seinfeld’s puffy shirt, or Borat’s mankini, we love to draw inspiration from the stars. This fall at Vanderbilt throws those multi-piece outfits and common sense out the window – it’s all about the Greenman. Making its first appearances spring semester, the new season of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia paired alongside a sense of reckless abandon have led the Greenman suit to the height of its popularity.
In the past, Greenman suits were reserved for publicity stunts, attention seekers and obnoxious party promotion characterized by questionable thrusting. Avoiding marketing myopia and becoming irrelevant, the creators of the Greenman have reinvented the suit in which Charlie once frolicked with a new line of suits in every color and pattern imaginable. Neons, pastels, sparkles, distressed, tie-dye – the suit has no bounds. Football games? Look out Snuggie, this suit has sleeves and pants. Dance parties? These new suits come equipped with air vents and wicking technology, not to mention a whole range of blacklight-friendly colors. Class? Now your professor really can’t tell if you are still drunk. Ugly face, good body? Peeping Tom? Robbing a bank? Covered. Literally.
Worried about looking just like everybody else in your Greenman suit? Wanting to retain that sense of originality and ingenuity? Irony aside, considering the homogeneity of the Vanderbilt student population, the suit is easily accessorized and totally tailorable for individual flair. Ties, bowties, rain boots, Ray Bans, high-waist belts, scarves and hats all look impeccable with the appropriate Greenman suit.
The best part about all of this is the price. Suits range from sixty dollars for the traditional, to around eighty for embellished and the low two hundreds for the Vineyard Vines special edition. Bottom line: if we can see your face this fall, you’re doing something wrong.
Winter Olympics experience Seasonal Affective Disorder
A petition filed by a grassroots international coalition to move the Winter Olympics to a more favorable season, Spring, has been voted on and approved by the International Olympic Committee. Although general initial response was surprise and dismay, upon further consideration fans, athletes and television networks are excited.
“Honestly, it’s cold and boring here,” one fan lamented at the Vancouver games. Some argued that that’s just Canada, but consultation of viewing numbers and a survey of fans revealed otherwise. In the US, American Idol still had higher numbers than the Olympics, meaning that America, so presumably the world, thrives on mediocrity and petty drama. “Having the Olympics in the spring would allow for an MTV Spring Break-esque atmosphere at the Games. There’d be hookups and breakups galore, plenty of backstabbing, and we know all the athletes look great in swimwear,” an Olympic official told this Slant reporter. It has also been rumored that Jersey Shore’s ‘The Situation’ has been hired as a consultant on this social aspect of the Games to report in 2014.
The athletes are pumped about this new era as well, because the events are staying the same despite the move. The ice skaters will have to quadruple lutz over holes in the ice, hockey players can push each other into the water instead of checking, luge and skeleton will more so resemble giant water slides and skiers will have to avoid grass patches. These modifications will challenge the athletes mentally and physically, adding a new dimension to their game. Furthermore, the sheer danger and stupidity of the sports now are not only interesting, but captivating, appealing to everybody’s reckless side. “I’m so stoked for these Games. I’ve never shredded a half-pipe with melting snow before, but it’s just going to add to my skills. Some say it’s impossible, I say I’m Shaun White,” America’s favorite red-head since Little Orphan Annie said.
NBC is so excited about the move that they filed a subsequent petition moving for the Olympics to be held every spring, flatly denying accusations that this was filed to further avoid coming up with programming to fill their gaping schedule and help their horrendous ratings. Despite motivations, everybody can agree: these new Olympics are brilliant – part reality show, part stupid human tricks, part international cooperation and copulation. Everything America loves and more.
Delta Force to the Rescue!
Last spring when the Delta Force, Vanderbilt’s newest superhero group, stepped up to fearlessly answer the Lambda Cry for help concerning the IFC Recruitment process, skeptics and critics abounded. The integrity of the process was undoubtedly in jeopardy- for the formerly clandestine recruitment process of weeknight pong bonding, was to now require a formal rush week.
Delta Force chair KAptain America insisted that the hiked grade and service requirements would bring in a better class of future heroes.
Part of the recruitment process involved a recommended dress code of each participant’s best incognito clothing. Some students who elected to wear clothes outside of the socially accepted brands and styles were upset when they were ostracized for such apparel. “I guess I’m just not cookie-cutter enough for these guys,” one such student lamented. “You’d think this was sorority recruitment, worrying so much about appearances.”
“Being inconspicuous one of the most important parts of having an alter-ego,” Delta Force member BetaMan rebutted. “We wanted to ensure that nobody stuck out too much. The more homogenous the population, the harder it is to spot the heroes. That’s the ideal situation.” Unfortunately, this plan backfired- as just about everybody whore khakis, a button up, a tie and a navy sport coat simultaneously, looking more ridiculous than a day-after-Halloween walk of shame.
Recruitment, itself, took place in an incredibly relaxed ATOmosphere, playing games requiring a mere child’s capacity including kickball and four square. The kids who dominated those games in elementary school recess who thought their glory days were over were pleasantly surprised by this turn in events.
“I was the most popular boy in my fifth grade class. Mainly because I was the six month reigning four square champion and because I had the coolest Nikes,” a rush from second floor Gillette said. “I got to middle and high school, though, and it was a rapid decline – thank you Delta Force for bringing me back to the top.”
Bid Day was truly a AEPicturesque one, for not only did the to-be heroes receive their bids (signified by cases of beer, brands differing by house), they became privy to what superpower they would spend the next semester developing during the pledge process. Among these were the Phi Kap Unbreakable Kneecaps, impervious to the possible peril of dizzy bat gone wrong; Sigma Alpha Elbow, for pong perfection; and amongst the most coveted – Sigma Neutralizer, a body incapable of vomiting regardless of consumption.
Fifths were downed, sleep was eliminated from schedules and the gloriousness of pledging began. The Delta Force undoubtedly considered the week a success and plans to fade from the public eye until the next Sigma Crisis occurs.
Caitlin Meyer says: Join The Slant!
Instead of telling you how working for The Slant will diversify your resume, relieve massive amounts of stress and give you a platform to ruthlessly ridicule whatever you want, I’m going to take this opportunity, 6x6in box of space and approximately a minute of your time to talk about myself.
This past August, I was a freshman.. sorry, ‘first-year student’. Granted, I’m still a freshman – but not in the deer-in-the-headlights, lanyard-wearing, travel-in-packs sense of the word. I had planned on joining The Slant since my visit to Vandy in April; the newest issue was on the racks then and I just couldn’t believe how outrageous it was. A school publication fearlessly touting obscenities, ‘penis’ and consistent criticism of the administration, and the Vandy world in general – it even came with a disclaimer! – seemed phenomenal and way preferable to the stereotypical, boring, ‘real news’ publications.
I followed through and joined The Slant. I was promptly ripped to shreds, viciously criticized, made fun of and proceeded to cry. The sarcastic, witty, pretentious bastards that compose the staff of the paper took one look at me and told me never to come back. Meryem is a heartless bitch. Not really. At all. It’s great.
Writing for The Slant and working alongside such awesome people that I wouldn’t have met otherwise has been one of my favorite parts of the Vandy experience. And the good news is, we’re always looking for new people. Come on in Mondays at 8 in Sarratt 130 and join the party, you won’t regret it.
‘New Moon’ sheds new light on how movies should be made, Mr. C approves
Move aside Precious, illiteracy is so overrated. Hasta la vista, Inglorious Basterds; learn how to spell. Away you go, Away We Go – Maya Rudolph, stick to comedy. The movie of the year, our generation and, dare I say it, of all time has arrived – New Moon.
The newest installment in the defining saga of the 2000s triumphantly combines stellar acting with unparalleled screenwriting, obscenely attractive actors with stunningly beautiful actresses and incredible special effects with sly product placement to create a undeniable cinematic masterpiece.
Kristen Stewart as Bella is back in t-t-top-notch stuttering, rapidly blinking and self-degrading form; paired alongside the eternally (literally) brooding, constantly-excersising-self-control-as-to-not-harm-Bella-and-eat-her Edward, and the newest leg of the love triangle, baby Jacob who seemed incapable of consistently wearing clothes. All three give Oscar-worthy performances, each delving so deep into the characters that rumors have even circulated as to Rob Pattinson frequently consuming animal blood in preparation for the role and Taylor Lautner becoming a nudist. Kristen Stewart was just being herself.
The plot of the movie is pure genius. Although Edward is so in love with Bella that she is his “only reason to stay alive… if that’s what I am,” she spends all of her time worrying about being old and even more insecure, as he retains his youthful glow. Or sparkle.. especially in the sun, if you will. He leaves her. She falls rapidly into a tumultuous depression characterized by night terrors and strange Lykke Li songs, proving once and for all that girls everywhere necessitate constant validation and male company for happiness.
Then comes Jacob. Bella shamelessly leads him on, enjoys his shirtlessness, feels whole again and lets him know how beautiful he is; only for him to abandon her as well. The remains of her self esteem are obliterated. Once again, Bella is alone.
She then figures out that Jacob is a werewolf. And fails to find this strange.
Alice comes back and Bella runs off to Italy with her to try to stop Edward from killing himself. There, they encounter Dakota Fanning, who admirably succeeds in being as obnoxious as always. Edward proceeds to apologize and Bella abandons all self-respect and gets back together with him. She goes back to wanting to be a vampire.. and he gives in. Given that she marries him. This utterly unpredictable plot is something we have not seen in film in years, and warrants endless admiration and acclaim.
Rarely is such a film made with such a wonderful, heartwarming story; but even more rarely is such a film made with the composition and technical aspects up to those standards as well. The overly dramatic camera shots and movement as well as impeccable special effects (namely the slow motion birthday party fiasco and Edward’s breathtaking skin, sparkling more elegantly than a middle school girl decked out in Bath and Body Works’ Body Art roll-on glitter) work together seamlessly to accentuate the story and enhance the value of the masterpiece.
The only downside of this phenomenal movie was the soundtrack; whoever thought it was a good idea to replace Rob Pattinson’s moaning and whining that made the Twilight‘s soundtrack so endearing and powerful with the likes of Death Cab for Cutie and collaborations between some strange groups Bon Iver and St. Vincent was a complete buffoon. Replacing Paramore with Thom Yorke and Grizzly Bear? Inconceivable. Preposterous. Don’t fret though, officials have confirmed that this problem will be remedied with some Miley Cirus, Ke$ha and Jason DeRulo for the next soundtrack.
Soundtrack aside, New Moon is briliant. Numbing the minds of the tween and Pattinsonophile demographics is great, great enough for opening weekend totals rivaling that of trivial films such as The Dark Knight in fact. We are a privileged generation to be able to experience this epic saga in the making.
This film’s greatness seems to be insurmountable, but for Eclipse next summer, the goals have been set even higher. “We plan on expanding our appeal even more,” Twilight insider revealed. “We plan on introducing a Team Alice, to spice things up a bit; as well as a special appearance by Lil Wayne.. because who doesn’t love a little Weezy F Baby?”
I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait.
Vandy Vans Extend Hours for Halloween
In the spirit of Halloween and a budget surplus, VSG proudly announced yesterday that Vandy Van hours will be extended to include the ‘Walk of Shame’ period (7-9 AM) this upcoming weekend.
This special route will include stops at each of the Commons houses (as opposed to the normal stops of merely Ingram and North), as well as the back doors of Branscomb; alongside newly tinted windows on the vans to ensure complete privacy and complimentary makeup and mirror use for students to un-dishevel themselves on the ride home.
“With the absurd amount of money raised at Homecoming and our concern for the welfare of Vanderbilt students, this just seemed like the right thing to do,” a VSG officer said. “We’re very excited to further provide services to our student body and further coddle the freshmen.”
Attempting to legitimize this proposition to the administration, said officer laid out VSG’s main talking points: “This is an issue of health as well as dignity. It’s late fall and the weather’s cold – twenty minute walks barely dressed are an incubation ground for illness. Furthermore, these ‘Walks of Shame’ irreparably damage a lot of people’s reputations, and paired alongside the Halloween costumes of today.. the results would be disastrous.”
General student response to this proposition was overwhelmingly positive, freshmen girls of questionable morals are especially excited. “Now I can wear my six inch stilettos and corset and go totally all-out for my costume and not have to worry about getting home from wherever (hopefully Towers!) the next morning. Thanks a lot VSG!” one such girl said.
Some members of the administration at first weren’t as pleased. “Sparing these students the embarrassment of facing the repercussions of their actions does them no favor,” one senior administrator lamented. After taking into consideration how poorly large numbers of half dressed, sloppy girls traipsing across campus Sunday morning would reflect upon the school to alum and prospies, though, the following statement was issued: “If we were to give them a test in trigonometry and a test in dignity, I suppose we’d rather them fail the test in trigonometry.”
J.K. Rowling Sues Vanderbilt Over Commons Dispute
After approximately eighteen months of prepping the case, a Rowling representative announced last week that the creator of the legendary Harry Potter series is suing Vanderbilt for copyright infringement and general intellectual property theft following the creation of the ‘Commons’ and subsequent programs.
“At first we allotted Vanderbilt the benefit of the doubt and saw the infinite similarities as mere coincidences,” the rep said. But after the less-than-expected profits from the sixth movie and a general temporary lack of income, it was time for action. “It was blatant theft and imitation, absolutely shameless,” the rep sniped. “They abandoned commonplace American university procedure and replaced it with Hogwarts knockoffs.. and then tried to hide it. It’s highly offensive and, honestly, utterly absurd.”
Complaints listed included the following: the referring to of freshmen as ‘first-years’; the utilization of ‘Houses’ instead of dorms; having prefects (aka ‘RAs’); and using Heads of Houses to govern respective dwellings. “That was just what caught our attention initially,” the rep said. Upon further inspection, the investigators were dumbfounded. “The depth to which the administration at this school ripped off Rowling and the Potter name is obscene.” The search revealed plans to have a ‘Commons Cup’, revoltingly similar to Rowling’s ‘House Cup’; a dining hall modeled directly off of the Great Hall, featuring high ceilings bedazzled with chandeliers and an abundance of candles; and the recent formation of a Quidditch team, complete with broomsticks and a Snitch. Some House Heads have had the nerve to up the ante further – frequently holding ‘Murray Magic’ gatherings, with invites sent exclusively via text (not unlike the gold coins for Dumbledore’s Army, eh?). In addition, rumors have circulated as to the replacing of pencils and paper with quills and scrolls as an even further effort to ‘go green’, clearly the code name for Project Hogwarts.
Although official public relations employees have refused to comment, a member of the Chancellor’s office, who would like to remain nameless (who shall be referred to at this point on as She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) gave this Slant writer the scoop. “Honestly, Rowling and her crew must have been Obliviated to not have noticed all of this. Or Imperiused,” She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named mused. “We looked at Hogwarts and saw a school that worked. It exemplified diversity, uniqueness and the embodied childhood dream. This generation grew up anticipating a letter to Hogwarts on their eleventh birthday only to be bitterly disappointed. We provide an opportunity to really ‘live the dream’. We’re even considering making graduate school a requirement, so the students truly get the seven-year Hogwarts experience here at Vandy.” When asked about the lawsuit and possible consequences, She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named quipped: “Don’t worry. We’ve got more than a few tricks up our sleeve yet.”
