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I would like to start off by mentioning that as a Collegian Web developer, I've had to type the words "Obama Inauguration" about one zillion times in the last week, and if I have to do it ONE MORE TIME I'm gonna immolate my keyboard. So, instead of mentioning it, I'm going to replace it with the term "Nuclear Holocaust." (And, since we have a new president, we can pronounce that ''nuclear" as opposed to "nuk-leer.")
What is Spiders for Life? The club has been "on the books" for quite a while, but in recent years it has faded away almost entirely. Until now, that is.
By Lucy Green
WASHINGTON -- The city is locked in the grip of a powerful "O-gasm." Trudging the length of the frozen Mall from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial, a body could acquire a countless bounty of worthless, tacky Obama memorabilia. Step right up and get your T-shirt with Obama's smiling face on it, or maybe one with a dollar bill emblazoned on the front with a picture of Obama, looking pensive, replacing George Washington. And what lady wouldn't want to wear a snazzy pair of Obama earrings, or even secretly sport her Obama panties?
I was going to write a grand exposition on the Meaning of Life for my first column as your new assistant opinion editor, but instead I've decided to talk about the cattle auction channel.
During the last week, while Israel attacked Palestine, drug lords pushed Mexico deeper into political disarray and the FDA discovered salmonella in my peanut butter (knock on wood), someone on this campus was stressing out about balloons.
I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to the University of Richmond students, faculty, staff and alumni for the generosity you showed my 3-year-old son, Cole Hafer, who is facing a life-saving liver transplant. Last year's Trick-or-Treat Street donated $10,000 to a fund that has been established through the Children's Organ Transplant Association. However, the kindness, dedication and hard work of those involved with the event was worth more than any amount of money. We are truly touched by the love and concern showed by so many people. Cole sleeps with the autographed balls he was given by the football team and basketball team and often says, "I want to go to the Spider school when I get big!"
The changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery takes about 10 minutes from start to finish. The tomb guards engage in a precise routine with unrivaled execution, featuring 21 second intervals of rest and 21 step increments across the tomb.
And just like that the year's already over, and what a wild one it was. So, to send 20 aught eight off in style, I present to you my Richmond Year in Review.
NEW YORK -- Friday night I stood beside more than 30 Richmond alumni to watch our football team make school history. From 800 miles away, we packed into a pub named The Australian and screamed with the crowds in Chattanooga, Tenn., and every other fan watching around the nation. Although I felt like a teenybopper wearing my Richmond '11 T-shirt, I didn't care because the place was packed and our Spiders rocked the house.
I'm sure I'm not the only person who had a less than enjoyable time attempting to puddle-jump across the Forum Thursday after a day of rain that rivaled the remnants of the tropical storm we experienced in September. It served as yet another example of a problem on campus that is almost never brought up: the terrible storm water management system on campus.
Writer's Disclaimer: The following article is satirical in nature, and provides absolutely no facts whatsoever.
Look around everyone; we don't have any reasons to be thankful. It's really cold outside, there's tons of schoolwork to do and geese are taking over the grass in front of the library. We don't even have holidays that stand for something noble. There are two holidays coming up: the second most drunken day of the year (Thanksgiving) and the most commercialized day of our miserable capitalist lives (Christmas). Congratulations to America for eating Thanksgiving and Christmas and pooping out gluttony and materialism. That's an awkward image, to be true, but completely apt.
By Holland and Jane Clark
By Jarrett Dieterle
By Claire Whiting
I was driving west on Interstate 64 two weeks ago, past McDonald's signs and strip club billboards, into the nighttime abyss under the stars. All I wanted that night was to spend my life traveling across America with a pen and paper in hand, writing about all that I found.
I like to think of myself as an objective gatherer of news and information - an unbiased observer of all things around me. But something I saw at the Spiders vs. Georgetown game a few weeks ago has been weighing on my heart since: pastels.
By Anna Dounce
By Ashley Cyburt