From the Editor 9/29: Defining Humor

The Oxford English Dictionary tells us that humor is “That quality of action, speech, or writing, which excites amusement; oddity, jocularity, facetiousness, comicality, fun.” Alternatively, the Oxford English Dictionary says that humor could be used to mean “The faculty of perceiving what is ludicrous or amusing, or of expressing it in speech, writing, or other composition; jocose imagination or treatment of a subject.”
The Oxford English Dictionary goes on to say that the word humor is often used as a noun but that it can be used as a verb. When used as a verb, the Oxford English Dictionary posits that humor means “To comply with the humour of; to soothe or gratify by compliance; to indulge.” This definition is of course strictly transitive.
When the verb is used in a more figurative sense, the Oxford English Dictionary says that the word means “To comply with the peculiar nature or exigencies of (something); to adapt or accommodate oneself to; to act in compliance or agreement with; to fit, suit (with something)”
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word ‘humor’ comes to us from the ancient Latin ‘humorem,’ which appears in other romance languages in similar forms. The closest form to our English ‘humor’ is the Anglo-Norman “(h)umor.”
In Middle English, the word was spelled “Umour,” or sometimes “Umor” (Again, according to the Oxford English Dictionary).
The Oxford English Dictionary also says that one of the earliest English uses of the word ‘humor’ comes from the book Humerous Dayes Mirth by George Chapman, when the author says “The skie hangs full of humour, and I thinke we shall haue raine.”
The word humor had different connotations back during the Middle Ages. For example, the Oxford English Dictionary tells us that in the fourteenth century humor meant “Any fluid or juice of an animal or plant, either natural or morbid.” At this time, the OED says, physicians believed there were four humors in the body, “blood, phlegm, choler, and melancholy or black choler.”
The Oxford English Dictionary asserts that the word humor is often spelled ‘humour’ in the United Kingdom, but that American writers usually spell it ‘humor.’ The Oxford English Dictionary does not assert that either of the spellings is correct, as this is not the Oxford English Dictionary’s job.
The Oxford English Dictionary maintains that there are two possible pronunciations of humor, hjumo(r) and jumi(r). The Oxford English Dictionary says that the H found in humor is pronounced the same as the h in the words ‘hot’ and ‘inhale.’
The Oxford English Dictionary also says that the pronunciation of this ‘h’ is a relatively recent development, and that many people choose not to pronounce it, especially in the UK.

From the Editor- Thoughts on Liberty

When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. –Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world.
He has refused his assent to laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his governors to pass laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of representation in the legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved representative houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the legislative powers, incapable of annihilation, have returned to the people at large for their exercise; the state remaining in the meantime exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavored to prevent the population of these states; for that purpose obstructing the laws for naturalization of foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migration hither, and raising the conditions of new appropriations of lands.
He has obstructed the administration of justice, by refusing his assent to laws for establishing judiciary powers.
He has made judges dependent on his will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, standing armies without the consent of our legislature.
He has affected to render the military independent of and superior to civil power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his assent to their acts of pretended legislation:
For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by mock trial, from punishment for any murders which they should commit on the inhabitants of these states:
For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing taxes on us without our consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury:
For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pretended offenses:
For abolishing the free system of English laws in a neighboring province, establishing therein an arbitrary government, and enlarging its boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule in these colonies:
For taking away our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and altering fundamentally the forms of our governments:
For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated government here, by declaring us out of his protection and waging war against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burned our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large armies of foreign mercenaries to complete the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow citizens taken captive on the high seas to bear arms against their country, to become the executioners of their friends and brethren, or to fall themselves by their hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian savages, whose known rule of warfare, is undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.
In every stage of these oppressions we have petitioned for redress in the most humble terms: our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.
Nor have we been wanting in attention to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, enemies in war, in peace friends.
We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these united colonies are, and of right ought to be free and independent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as free and independent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.

From The Editor

Hey guys, I didn’t really have time to write a “From the Editor” for this issue, so you should really just move on to some other section.
Seriously, there’s nothing here. I was super busy this past week and I didn’t have time to write anything to put here. Stop reading now.
I promise you, there is nothing to read here. I’ll admit that it’s my fault I didn’t have time to get this done. But I had to go to Washington, D.C., this weekend to celebrate Easter with my family. I mean I guess I didn’t ‘have’ to do that, but I really wanted to go. I mean, come on, I haven’t seen my family since the semester started! What, you think the “From the Editor” column is more important than my family? Well of course you would say that, you’re not a member of my family.
But seriously, I’ve got nothing here. Just stop reading. Stop. Now. I assure you, there will be no reward for finishing this column.
You know that part of “Fight Club” where they start Project Mayhem and in order to join you need to stand outside the door for three days while Brad Pitt tells you that you can’t join? Well, this isn’t like that at all. I swear on all that is holy there is nothing in this column.
What the hell, bro? Why are you still here? There are so many better stories in this issue. Did you see that thing on page 3 about the Bon Jovi songs? It’s really funny; go read that instead of this. There isn’t anything here.
Christ in heaven, what am I going to have to do to convince you to stop reading this section? Maybe you’ll go away if I just stop typing right now.
DAMMIT YOU’RE STILL HERE.
As a matter of fact, if you won’t respect my authority as EIC, then you don’t deserve to be reading this publication. Put this copy back in the nearest Slant distribution thingy so it can go to someone who will actually listen to me.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re betting that at some point I’ll quit telling you to stop reading and then I’ll say something really profound. And then you can go talk to all of your friends and be like “Oh yeah, you need to read to the end of the ‘From the Editor,’ he says something really cool in the last paragraph.”
Well the joke’s on you! There is nothing profound in the last paragraph of this column. Do you know how I know that? Because this is the last paragraph of the column.

All (adjective) Things Must Come to an End

Happy Friday, everyone! In honor of this special Friday issue of The Slant, I hope that all of you enjoy your Friday by doing what you do best on the weekend: don’t do any studying, go out to party really late, drink heavily, don’t remember when you ended up going to sleep, and waking up after noon to get disgusting Rand brunch. Enjoy today like you would the start of any other weekend!
It’s hard to believe, but it’s already April. It’s been so long since I was handing out pairs of orange Slant frat-glasses to you ungrateful freshmen at the August student organization fair. You assholes probably lost them too. If only back then you could have seen how cool you’d be today… Your loss!
Seeing as how my mind is now completely void of any future clever or creative ideas, the autonomous collective has decided to put me out to pasture and bring to you a new voice of reason for the final Slant issue of the year a few weeks from now. Listen for when the football stadium’s foghorn goes off randomly at 9:30PM on a Monday night. That means we have a new pope of joke!
For now, my image as a sprightly 20-21 year old will be forever preserved in the school’s library collections online and otherwise. I will join my predecessors in the continuum of cartoon fools that will be looked upon years from now by some crazy kid going through the entire back catalogue of The Slant just as I did myself. And then one day I will have a job, real or fake, but to Vanderbilt I’ll always be the one who consistently wrote esoteric sports and history references and for almost two years placed pictures of Asian girls and Japanese text all over the pages of the greatest student newspaper in the universe.
I leave you with these truths: invest money in your own personal hot sauce. Coffee is the greatest smell in the world. Some people take beer pong too seriously. Girls who eat junk food (responsibly) are awesome. The Chef James soda fountain is the fizziest. You can get two soda bottles from some vending machines if you stick your hand up the hole and hold the gate shut. The dorms are never actually closed over non-summer breaks. Picking up pizzas at Papa John’s on West End saves you tons of meal money. I love boobies.

Pensive Thoughts

Ladies, gentlemen, I write this to you near the end of my tenure as editor in chief of The Slant, your favorite student publication. March 23rd, as hard as it is to believe how quickly that it has come, is my last issue leading you blindly into the fray against corruption, bigotry, snooty professors and sometimes downright disgusting food.
As I return from walking back home slightly drunkenly on a Saturday night, all I have to say is that The Commons experiment is not as bad as we all think it is or thought it was. You freshmen may not believe it, and you Kissam-free sophomores may enjoy being away from it, but the conveniences of living with your entire grade within urinating distance is certainly something to remember.
Sparing you the buzzwords such as “community” or “living and learning,” The Commons truly is a bonding experience. After the awkward couple of weeks that we all shared, I used to look forward to when I’d be 21 and living in a Towers suite, but honestly I want to return back to when we were a little more innocent and had a few more years ahead of us. Not to say that this year and the last were lost, but walking through Commons slightly inebriated at 3:00 in the morning made me realize that living there is a lot like getting hazed except with 28 meals a week. We all went through it, and we all really hate those people who had the corner rooms in the new buildings. Assholes…
As someone who’s lived in Nashville his whole life, I didn’t think much of these crazy new and renovated dorms in August of 2008. However, now I yearn for the simple days of being an undecided engineering major who delighted a side of Japanese class. Thinking about that, I really do miss having a class where we actually talked with each other about things that didn’t suck. Even as my GPA and tendency to fail Calculus classes repeatedly shows that I’ll probably be here past 2012, I miss those lazy winter nights of being absolutely dumb and going into the cold to smoke cigars next to the Wyatt center. I live on the 14th floor now; I can’t be crawling out of people’s windows onto balconies…
Freshmen, freshwomen, as the time draws near to pick housing ballots, please realize the great opportunities you have remaining to stay friends with people you may not otherwise know, also known as your random hall mates, because once you return for you sophomore year, things will not stay the same no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that they will be.

Feburary – It’s Messed Up

February is a strange month. It has 28 days, but some years it gets all moody and decides to have 29. I guess it’s better than having a random 1/4th of a day though. Can you imagine New Year’s Eve being 30 hours long? Well, that may be a good idea to stimulate the party economies of the world…
What’s really weird is that sometimes our spring break ends up in February. February is hardly spring; it should be called “winter break part 2: junior edition.” It’s like the straight-to-DVD sequel of Christmas Break. On the subject of spring break, is it here yet? I’m worn out of school already, and nothing has even happened yet. Not that there’s anything wrong with taking a whole week off. Wait, though, does that make the MLK day analogous to fall break now?
There’s one thing that everyone should experience in February every year. It’s a time of passion, disappointment, excitement, and commercialism. However, this year, I am without it despite a brief flirt with this beauty in 2010. Yes, I’m talking about the Winter Olympics. If it’s going to snow, we might as well get to watch cross-country skiing at Rand. If it’s gonna be stupendously cold, we better damn well get to watch three hours of curling at night on CNBC. Also, I am hankering for America to beat those damn Canadians at hockey after our country’s hopes were dashed by, of all people, the crybaby Sidney Crosby. Canada was so close to being entirely embarrassed on the world’s stage, especially after their Olympic torch didn’t even work. Not only that, but their government decided this month not to funnel the country’s internet usage either. That idea was on pace to be the blunder in that country’s history. Hey, though, we got to make a few jokes at their expense.
With football over, all the male attention now is directed to March Madness. Let’s be real, here, NCAA basketball is in fact better, because the NBA is the worst league in professional sports. Since 1980, only eight different teams have won the NBA title, and all-time, the Lakers and Celtics combine for over half. You can’t argue with numbers like that.
Let the record show that the greatest news this February is by far the Valentine’s levels for Angry Birds… Now that’s a thinking man’s game.

Lunch Rush is Super Serious Business

Stardate: January 24th, 2011; 8:40 PM. I sit before you, the public, attempting to enjoy my southern fried chicken wrap from The Pub. Meager chicken influx. Poor wrapping job. Lukewarm fries. Depression rampant.
Everyone has numerous beefs with the school – hard tests, Kissam singles, Greek drama – but none are quite as infuriating as when dining goes wrong. Before I go out on a tear, let’s praise what we all share. I live in Towers West, so on a piss’s whim, I can have either Quiznos or CT West. Big ups for that one. I also have a kitchen to make my specialty, bacon and eggs, whenever I so desire. Thanks, Housing. Dining, though, you better be prepared for the wrath. Half a gallon of milk in the Towers East munchie costs as much as a gallon would out in the real world. I know that the $250 given to us is fake money, but it’s still part of my semi-annual budget.
As you can see in my picture, I am tolerating a Rand burger. The burgers are edible now that I know about the excellent Fire Sauce. It burns your mouth so good that the food’s flavor doesn’t really matter anymore.
Honestly, I don’t care so much about the quality of the food. Well, okay, Rand Brunch has gotten me very sick multiple times in the past, but now that I can make eggs on my own time, that’s no longer an issue.
The problem about lunch is that EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU JERKS has it at 12:00 or 12:15 with me. As soon as my class lets out, I turn on my primal rage and I book it from Featheringill to Rand. You’d better get the hell out of my way, because I’m a man on a mission. Seconds lost in the footrace is minutes wasted standing in line. Rand real estate is of prime value as well. I’m gonna get that table, so, girls who decide to hold conversations at the foot of the stairwell, you best take your gab elsewhere, because chivalry is dead on arrival when quesadillas are at stake… or steak, delicious steak.
VSG wants to put food trucks on Frat Row to alleviate the Rand congestion. That’d be a great idea, except to be really effective, they’d need to be there all of the time in locations where people can go inside to eat. Contrary to what a tour guide will tell you, it’s cold most of the time at school, and at least in Rand we can waste time in line indoors.
Granted, the greatest unsolved mystery is what the hell goes on at The Pub. If any computer science majors can figure out the algorithm they use on picking what to make first, please email your answers to eic.theslant@gmail.com. I’ll buy you some Pub wings for the right answer just so that I won’t have to wait in that damn line anymore.
My number’s next now, bitch.

Things Not Understandable

There are many things in this universe that I don’t understand, and as a result, these things annoy me quite a lot. Whether it is sports, music, food, cultural geography, spark plug design or Australian Rules Football, I just don’t get some of it.
I don’t understand why people who live in a college town are diehard fans of the school they didn’t attend. People who live in Nashville who are UT fans confuse the bejebus out of me. Is it the age-old debate of Proletariat vs. Plebian? Most likely so except not stated as snobbily as I just did. Are all Catholics required to be Notre Dame fans even if they live miles away? What makes even less sense to me are fans of pro teams from states in which they do not live. In high school, I knew a guy who loved the Broncos. The only problems are we lived in Nashville, not Denver, and his family had never lived in Colorado. His reasoning was based on the fact that they should have been good with Jay Cutler. At least he has the dignity to stay loyal to the franchise – something that can’t be said about most Patriots or Red Sox fans.
I don’t understand when people use the first person when talking about their favorite sports team. Are you on the team?? The only appropriate situation for doing so is if it’s the school you’re attending.
I don’t understand lab reports as a teaching mechanism. I don’t think I’ve learned anything useful other than that there are many ways to fudge data, there are many heavy-duty machines on campus that have a very specific use, and that most of them don’t work. Well, fudging data has made a lot of people successful in life…
I don’t understand free-form jazz. It’s cool and all, but I’m not going to remember it later despite my best intentions.
I don’t understand people who eat cheese pizza or don’t like spicy food. Sack up; stop being a little bitch.
I don’t understand anything about California. Shit’s messed up.
I don’t understand the appeal of diet soda. It does NOT taste good, and it’s made of Aspartame. That’s way too much chemistry going on, and as a Civil Engineering student, I’m against that. Always buy Mexican sodas from the K&S World Market, because they’re made with delicious sugar. SUGAR!
I don’t understand how I was able to fill this box with so much fluff and still impress my good friend Lady GaGa.

Kanye West vs. The World

Not that it needs to be said explicitly, but it keeps becoming more and more apparent that heavily-circulated music keeps getting worse and worse. Case in point, Far East Movement’s “Like a G6” might be the absolute worst song I have heard in many years, and that is saying a lot. It’s as if someone took a computer and made a song, but forgot to put the song part into the .flac file. Many claim that T-Pain is to blame for the computerization of music, but I believe he redeemed his ways by collaborating with the genre-bending “I’m on a Boat.” However, even the fact that T-Pain has become less relevant clearly hasn’t stopped the multitude of hack jobs from making “music.”
Over the past few weeks, I have come to the conclusion that the downfall of contemporary pop music can be experimentally traced to Lil Wayne’s 2008 single “Lollipop.” As the 90s officially died in 2001, it can be deduced that hip-hop entered a strange era of being popular, yet still being distinctly rap. Ludacris, Kanye West and 50 Cent were able to use old-school sample-based beats with gangster-esque vulgarity to create a bastard child of creativity that somehow still managed to be pretty dang cool. As a certified white-boy, I am obliged to be in love with Madvillain’s 2004 Madvillainy – the most critically acclaimed hip-hop album of the decade, which naturally means it’s not popular and that no one has ever heard of it. Lil Wayne shook up the scene by being so goddamn strange, but “Lollipop” was the definitive “jump the shark” moment.
Consider the other songs on Tha Carter III. They are mostly all classic Weezy, especially the bad-yet-still-good “A Milli.” “Lollipop” had Lil Wayne using Autotune prominently for the first time, and its popularity still has all of us reeling in the consequences.
After “Lollipop” blew up, everyone and their producer’s brother was booking Lil Wayne to be featured on a single. Kanye West took the idea and made an electronic album that was clearly too advanced for Top 40 listeners’ brains. The Autotune epidemic became so inundating that not even Jay-Z could fully kill it in his tracks.
As hip-hop becomes more and more like pop, it disturbs me that artists are trying to come up with catchy choruses rather than a complete song. One of my roommates, bless his heart, often falls victim to the ruse. He knows the words to choruses of every song in the Top 40, but ask him to sing a verse and he has know idea what’s going on.
The truly, scary part of this is that I have no idea who has the ability to revive 90s hip hop. Jay-Z failed, Lil Wayne gave up, and Kanye West is a jackass. I think if we’re ever going to see another Straight Outta Compton or a Big Willie Style for our own generation, then one of us is going to have to step up. That’s right Slant readers, I’m calling on each one of you to put together a sample beat from your favorite James Brown song and spit some bars over it. And act quickly, we don’t have much time to spare.

On Birthday Happenings

By the time you have picked up this newspaper and promptly begun to undo your pants in steamy shit-or-jizz anticipation, something amazing will have happened: today, October 27th, is my birthday. I’m not sure if this has ever happened before in the 124-year history of The Slant, but it is actually a bit strange in that I have written this editorial beforehand. Who am I to believe now that I will still be alive on October 27th? Every Pub lunch I outlast is another wet noodle fight with Death himself.
If one has a birthday on a Wednesday, is it really a birthday at all? In 2008, mine was on a Monday, and I had the gift of a Japanese test. お誕生日おめでとうございますね? 2009’s edition brought me the unabated joy of Physics B lab from 4:00-7:00, and this year, the English or Japanese languages cannot express how excited I am to have Fluid Mechanics Lab from 1:00 to maybe 5:00 PM. Nothing against any of those classes, well, except the septic tank from hell that is Physics B, but maybe – just maybe – classes should be cancelled on October 27th. First Vandy caves in for MLK day, then Veterans’ Day, then Moon Pie and RC Cola day… How about Clay Day? Just sayin’.
As I turn 21 years of age, let us reflect on the last true birthday that allows for a government-given privilege. Turning 15 grants you the glory of identification in the form of a learner’s permit and 16 – a restricted license. 17 meant you could drive past curfew, and 18 sent you a nice letter in the mail about the selective service act. 18 also let you vote, but 19 and 20 leave you a bit empty. What a cliffhanger! Other countries don’t seem to believe in the tortur- I mean, delaying gratification.
Last year, as The Slant crew was preparing our glorious and much-heralded Payne Award for Ethics in Journalism-winning October 28th, 2009 issue, Managing Editor and spicy Cajun Justin Barisich turns to me and says, “Hey Clay, I just told you it’s your birthday on Facebook.” If there’s one aspect of Facebook that has not been tainted by Farmville, blatant violation of the end-user-license-agreement or ceaseless scavenging for bikini pictures, it’s the little pink present box that appears to the side of the home page. For one day a year, you get to make someone you may not even know feel all bubbly wubbly. My go-to phrase is usually the incredibly terse yet emotional “hb, yo,” yet people still appreciate the deviation from the normal “happy birthday!” as the little red notifications increase.
So, as this editorial makes its way into the library archives to forever encapsulate my age as a brisk 21, hear me out: the next time you see that it’s someone’s birthday and you don’t see them in person, give their online ego a little boost and just say something. It doesn’t have to be profound – hell, the stupider, the better. Your little blurb may rekindle some lost magic. Unless, of course, you don’t want to ever see those people again and relive whatever embarrassment their metaphysical presence brings. In that case, be a man and ignore the ramifications of your steadily declining social prowess!