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Columns
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Written by Sam Bowman
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In an era of less-than-humorous sitcoms and repetitive reality shows, finding something appealing to watch on TV can be challenging. With the generally mediocre mid-season replacements already in gear on many television networks, it’s time to highlight the shows actually worth tuning into. Now I’m no TV expert, but I do watch my fair share, so here are my picks of the week:
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Written by Sam Bowman
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It is undeniable that high school students swear. Every day, students swarm school campuses like hordes of obscene wasps with textbooks and Tourette’s Syndrome, twitching and screaming obscenities over minor problems. Swearing teens soon become swearing adults, and swearing adults become the leaders of the nation. These leaders soil our forefathers’ great ideals of American democracy with their crude language about feces and fornication in the presence of foreign leaders. What can the average American do to circumvent the flood of words that would make sailors blush and thus lead to the inevitable degradation of our nation.
The solution is really quite simple. At birth, all babies should have their lips sewn shut, so they will never speak for the rest of their lives.
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Written by Sam Bowman
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As we got ready to end an eye-opening Thanksgiving break, my mom hugged her dad goodbye at the bottom of the stairs. When she stepped back from the withered man, she wiped away a tear; he was wearing old and worn-out clothes and smelled of alcohol.
My family had been visiting my mom’s parents and family in Southern California. We spent most of the time with my grandma, but on the last day visited my grandpa who lived nearby. My grandparents split up many years ago; My grandpa would drink, and my grandma would deny it, but eventually my grandpa took his drinking too far. My family could no longer deal with his alcoholic habits and finally, neither could his body. His abused liver almost gave up on him, and about a year ago his doctor estimated he had only six more months to live. Surprisingly, he is still alive, living alone in a tiny apartment above a pizza parlor. His doctor has informed him many times that if he continued to drink, it would be the end of him, that the alcohol was poison and anymore in his system could kill him.
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Written by Sam Bowman
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Keane: One foggy fall afternoon I went to the forest and thought about myself. Keane, I thought, you have been many men. You have been a lover, a fighter, a dancer, and a writer. You have eaten out of garbage cans and off of the floor, been to the circus, gone commando, rode on elephants. But I realized something. Keane, I whispered to myself, though expansive your experience has been, you lack something elementary. You cannot ride a bike. Circus bears and suckling children can ride bicycles but you cannot. For shame! You are a joke. I fell into despair.
Andrey: The bicycle machine is a hell of a thing, the most efficient mode of transportation known to man. Not as magnificently disastrous as a motorcycle, sure; but efficiency, according to communism, is as glorious as devastation.
In the hands of a true professional, the bicycle sometimes allows people to transcend the fabric. To transcend is really the ultimate goal of pursuing the bicycle; it proves that the machine is saturated with magic. After all, who were the Wright brothers but bicycle mechanics?
So, one day I walk into the journalism room to witness fellow newsman Keane Ng bursting into tears. I try to stay away from people displaying emotions of any kind, but reluctantly I asked him what the deal was. I learned that Keane was an empty vessel, having never experienced "the magic." And so I came to understand that I’d have to pick up where Keane’s parents had failed. I’d have to teach him the ways of the bicycle.
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Written by Jake Watters
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JAKE |
The ninja’s numbers are dwindling, yet the existence of a stable ninja workforce is crucial to the well-being of the world as a whole.
The ninja fills a broad variety of roles, doing everything from stopping giant drill cars to disturbing the soil beneath New York City to acting as cronies for the world’s super villains. The copious amounts of blood the ninja spills also act as great fertilizer. Coupled with the ninja’s incredible precision and agility, this makes the ninja a remarkable gardener.
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Written by Sam Bowman
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Although I have been a city girl all my life, true to San Francisco and its urban traits, I have always liked to get away from the noise and the crowds of the city. Every summer, I usually pack up my many, many items of clothing — sorry, I am a girl! — and drive with my friends and family to Grass Valley, a little country town near Tahoe, where I can sleep in a log cabin and hear nothing but the coyotes’ howl at night.
However, since I can’t go to the country every day, I escape from my crazy, busy urban life through country music. A few years ago, I would have been hesitant to share this, but I know that music shouldn’t stereotype a person; instead, music should be a part of an individual’s personality, emphasizing one’s originality and diversity.
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Written by Sam Bowman
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I never thought a vacation could make such an impact on my life and how I feel about who and where I am today. Spending my summer in Bosnia this year was a crazy joy ride. But before I get into the details, I should explain where and what Bosnia is, since people are usually clueless. Bosnia, formerly Yugoslavia, is a small country in East-ern Europe where I was born and spent the first four years of my life.
My older brother and I spent almost two months there this summer. While for some it might have seemed like a long time, for me it was quite the opposite.
The first day was so overwhelming. I was thrilled to see my relatives whom I had not seen in such a long time, but the tedious flight and the unbearable heat exhausted me to the point where I could barely keep my eyes open. However, all the fun and excitement started the following day in my hometown Dubica, as we strolled through the familiar main street, filled with clubs, cafés and bars.
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Written by Sam Bowman
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Leave kitchen!” five Italian boys screamed. As they began making dinner for three of my friends and me during their one-week visit to San Francisco from Assisi, we wondered how they would act during the week and how they would adjust to our customs.
“We’re all vegetarian!” we protested as they shoveled bacon and sausage into both dishes. “You promised to keep the meat separate!”
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Written by Sam Bowman
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When I was a wee freshman, I looked up to those legendary demigods in their striped red-and-white beanies. They led me through Lowell at orientation and saved me from the horrors of a double incomplete on my first self-scheduling day. I vowed to one day become one of them — a Shield and Scroll member.
Junior year came along, and it was time for me to apply for the prize. As I attended the informational meeting along with about 400 other juniors, I realized it was extremely competitive. For the following week I scrambled around to get an unofficial transcript and signatures for my extra-curricular activities. I grew increasingly doubtful as I looked over my grades and activities — I could imagine teachers and members frowning at my statistics as they compared me with 400 other applicants.
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Written by Sam Bowman
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Fluorescent lights beamed down on my steadily mounting anxiety. This was my first debate competition, and despite months of preparation I still did not feel prepared at all. I turned to my partner, who stood motionless, staring at our case files, wondering what procedure to follow in debate. I had already set myself up to lose, not yet realizing that I could benefit from this experience--—no matter how humiliating it would turn out to be.
The opposing team came a few minutes later. They radiated confidence and experience. The boy was wearing a dark navy suit with a blue tie and carried a small briefcase; the girl wore a black suit and also carried a briefcase. They looked so professional as they quietly discussed their plan. Five minutes later, a man in his twenties stepped into the room carrying a laptop. A former debater, he was the judge for this round.
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Written by Sam Bowman
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I used to think of driving as an experience that combined the bumping bass of my speaker system and noisy, exhilarating acceleration. But after a terrifying driving mishap in June this past summer, my definition of driving has completely changed.
It was my friend’s 17th birthday, and she was having a party at her home in El Cerrito. At around 11 p.m., a group of us decided to go out for some ice cream with the birthday girl as the designated driver. As she was cruising on Highway 580 heading toward Oakland in the second left lane, some of us loudly belted out K-Ci & Jojo’s “All My Life” as it played on the radio.
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Written by Hansel Palarca
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The crowd screams under the night sky as a chilling breeze blows through the Chronicle Pavilion. Speakers boom and lights blaze, as Cher parades around the stage and screams, “Ladies and gentlemen ... and flamboyant gentlemen, children of all ages, welcome to the Cher-est show on Earth!” Could this twist to the classic line at the opening of Cher’s farewell tour show that the gay community has finally become a true part of society?
Recently, queer culture has gained more attention as television shows focusing on gay characters premiere and become instant hits. But is this inclusion in the mainstream circus necessarily a good thing?
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