Drake Grows a Pair: "Take Care" Album Review

By Spence Blazak

I remember the first time I ever heard Drake. I hated it. It was his first single "The Best I Ever Had." Then I saw a picture of him and realized it was the beloved Wheelchair Jimmy from Degrassi, so I gave it another try. It was a masterpiece of modern camp-rap, as I like to call it. It was hilariously bad, and great driving music. My favorite line of the song is "sweatpants, hair tied, chillen with no makeup on, thats when you're the prettiest, I hope that you don't take it wrong." I found it comical, and said it to the girl I was together with at the time. She told me to go fuck myself. That basically sums up my relationship with Drake.

I then begrudgingly listened to his debut album "Thank Me Later" when it came out, and thought I was being Punk'd. He was parodying himself and he had only been around for maybe a year. I guess you could have called it potential (like Hova did), but I wasn't buying into him. I was already ramping up to see him back on Degrassi for the Boilling Point 4-Hour season opener. As B-Rabbit said in 8 Mile, he was destined to figuratively "walk his white ass back across 8 mile"…with "8 Mile" being "the Canadian border" in this case.

For me, he sealed his fate as a one hit wonder when he said in his LeBron James propaganda/ song "Forever" that he was the "greatest ever." Alright buddy. You've released one crap album. Hold your horses. Only Kanye is allowed to get away with being that big of a d-bag because he can back it up. I've always hated cockiness. I've still never forgiven LeBron for saying in an interview that he had "forgotten how to miss." Drake was dead to me.

That three paragraph long intro was completely necessary in showing my initial bias going into this album. I was ready to hate it and just spend this article making Wheelchair Jimmy jokes, but then it caught me off guard and bowled me over. "Take Care" is a great album and shows that Drake is finally living up to that once allusive potential and hype surrounding him.

Most rap LPs go in one ear and out the other because it is a genre plagued by "white noise albums". Rappers come and go. They rap about the same things over and over. They're poorly produced and probably mixed on a PC with Windows 97. The rhymes are laughable. But this is where Drake breaks free. He basically made a concept album on how he is failing at coping with fame. He is in the limelight life, one that is filled with loneliness, empty relationships, and materialistic compensation. Blowing money on gold chains and gallons of Petrone doesn't even give him fleeting happiness, he does it because its just a thing to do. He doesn't know any other way.

Drake is miserable.

This time around, his actual rapping and flow is completely revamped. I once saw a comedian who summed up Drake's style much better than I ever could: "Drake basically says a stupid phrase, then stops….and shouts a groan worthy rhyming word. For instance, he might say 'In the club err day, they let me right on through. I got so much swag they pull the alarm…….code red: MOUNTAIN DEW'." This Drake is a thing of the past. Now he is faster, smoother, and raps about the specific things he is feeling, not just cliched action (having sex, being tough, and smoking weed.) That isn't to say that Drake doesn't rap about those things, but he adds that in for a purpose.

The album opens with "Over My Dead Body," a slick opener where Drake shows that he has changed. The song is meant to bring you into a world he has created that resides between the first and last track. He is depressed, but won't actually say it. He's been disillusioned by this life style, and all he wants is to find someone who loves him not for his status.

In "Shot for Me" and "Headlines", we start to realize that Drake is directly addressing a girl who he used to love back when he was in Toronto. He wants her back even though she destroyed him. He wants to go back to the time when he could go out and be himself without the paranoia that everyone he knows (especially women) was just using him for his money. He just wants to be loved, but since that isn't working out, he goes out, throws his money in the street, and bangs strippers, thus causing him to hate himself. On top of this, he raps about how everyone will hate his new, morose sound, but that he doesn't care. A far cry from "like a sprained ankle, boy I ain't nothing to play with," right? He's a few pegs above rock bottom.

As the album progresses, Drake begins to flesh out his emotional state more and more. In some weird way, it is exactly like a Taylor Swift album. This album is an honest look into his life, his journal, his feelings, and his pain. Some of the biggest highlights are "Take Care", "Make Me Proud," "Lord Knows", and "The Real Her". They feature Rihanna, Nikki Minaj, Rick Ross, and Lil Wayne with Andre 3000 respectively. All of these featured verses soar. Rihanna is always good at what she does, but Nikki has frequently fallen flat of late. On "Make Me Proud" she plays to her strengths and brings to mind her now legendary verse on Kanye's "Monster". The usually over theatrical Ricky Rosay (another "Monster" alumnus) takes it easy, and by playing it cool, he adds something beautiful to the album. Lil Wayne also relaxes from his usual flow and focuses on his lyrics, giving my favorite performance of his since he rapped, "you drop em cuz we pop em like Orville Redenbacher." The album is beautiful.

Well done, Drake. You've officially become "Drake: The Rapper" and are no longer "Drake: Who had a Degrassi episode devoted to how he couldn't get it up for his girlfriend because of his spinal injury." Buy Take Care. You'll be glad you did. Heck. You can THANK ME LATER!!!!!! Thank you! Goodnight!

BREAKING NEWS: “The Harp Is Still Cool!”- Florence Welch

By Peter Long

For the better part of five years the music charts have been dominated by what I like to call glam rap (you know, Soulja Boy, Wacka Flocka Flame, remember Hurricane Chris?), a genre that is simply a pulpit for artists to display their excesses and fame.

So when Florence and the Machine’s debut Lungs dropped in 2009, it was more than just a breath of fresh air (or a new set of LUNGS, AM I RIGHT?!?!?!). It was an album that eased into a modern day renaissance of talented female artists and made playing the harp cool for the first time since the 1700’s.

The group’s new LP Ceremonials picked up where Lungs left off. The record starts off with the joyful stomp of “Only If for a Night” where Florence Welch wails the words with her Joni Mitchell falsetto. From there on it’s all raw emotion, powerful baroque-pop blended with tales of loss, learning to cope with personal issues and the eventual release of all that bad energy.

One of those songs that deal with release is “Shake it Out,” a track that touches upon many of the themes of Springsteen but when it’s all stripped away it’s the Ceremonials equivalent of “Dog Days Are Over”. The narrator talks about all of the burden that she had been dealing with and in one night, all of that grief will be put to rest, “I’m always dragging that horse around…tonight I’m going to bury that horse in the ground.”

“Breaking Down”, quite possibly the simplest song on the album when it comes to instrumentation and arrangements, is definitely the best. It’s contradictive with the bright strings, keyboard riff and somber undertones but it single-handedly balances a record that was hinging on the brink of being over indulgent when it comes to majestic ballads and tribal dance-floor beats. It’s very impressive to see that Welch and company can pull a tune like this out of their repertoire.

“Lover to Lover” sounds almost identical to Marvin Gaye’s classic “Heard it Through the Grapevine” but that just demonstrates the R&B and soul influence that resonates throughout the album and the band as a whole.

Ditto with “Heartlines” but in the case of African rhythms. Ceremonials justifies the fact that the rhythm section is almost as important to Florence and the Machine as the string section is and their presence will be integral to their progression as a band.

Ceremonials is the almost-perfect follow up to Lungs so F&TM is most certainly not the victim of the sophomore slump. Welch is on the verge of becoming a master lyricist and song-writer and when that day comes, her band will become a force to be reckoned with.

They find that blend of Brit-pop, Portishead and Adele and make it their own. Altogether Ceremonials is a solid effort, but give them a couple more shots to create something really great and spectacular.

Final Verdict: Buy the album. Every song is good.

11 Reasons Why Duke Is Worse Than Famine

By Spence Blazak

Duke University: an institute of higher learning, basketball powerhouse, and breeding ground for DOOSHINESS. I have spent the majority of my self aware years on a mission to show as many people as possible how wickedly vile this place is, and now I have a soapbox to stand on to pitch my case. Listen, my children, and you shall hear…..

-Their most profitable author is Tucker Max. A man who proclaimed in his ground breaking memoir I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell the greatest moment of his life to be when a girl burped after giving him.... good grief do I hate that guy.

-100% of their graduates who went on to be Presidents were forced to resign.

-They are basically the Yankees of NCAA-basketball. You know what I mean, Yankee fans. That team who always gets what they want. Duke gives Yankee fans empathy for the rest of us sports fans. Except for that rare hellish pair up of a fan who likes both Duke and the Yankees (I like to call these people Dunkees), Yankee fans can watch a Duke game and feel what the rest of us felt 27 times before when watching them.

-The first rule of being a bitter person who doesn't go to a top 20 college is this: despise all top 20 colleges. Especially when watching their sports teams. Sometimes the temptation can be tough, like when looking at Stanford's currently unbeaten season. I love Andrew Luck: he is the next Peyton Manning, a humble and nice guy, and he looks like Tom Welling (who played Superman on Smallville) if he was bitten by a werewolf. But I just…want his team to be completely decimated by the Oregon Ducks this weekend. Look at Duke: Half of their players look like extras from The Hills Have Eyes (see picture above), they get a number 1 seed in March Madness annually just…because, and they were most recently ranked the number 9 school in America. You know Harvard? Who actually likes Harvard? They are exactly like Harvard….but it was built by slaves.

-If they don't make it to the championship game, everyone considers the entire season a waste.

-Kyrie Irving played 11 games for them and went number 1 overall in the NBA Draft. Do you know who he was drafted over? A man who won me more money than I've ever seen in my life. I feel personally attacked. I'll explain. In the Environmental Department of Lakehurst Air Force Base's (the work place of my pop) annual March Madness pool, I have been losing year after year since I was age nine. I pick the same winner every year: Kansas or UNC. Even when one of them does win, I still don't have enough points to take the prize. This year, I didn't want to go through the heartbreak of KU losing to University of Northern Iowa again, and I refused to have the name UNC even uttered in my presence ever since they denied my application (in an unrelated note, it is right down the road from Duke….and was also built by slaves). This year, I went with UConn, because of a man by the name of Kemba Walker. Because of that man, I came in 3rd place in a pool with high school grads, 2nd place in my high school pool, and 1st at Lakehurst. I got over $200, won the hearts of millions, and beat my arch nemesis: my Dad's co-worker named Kahn. I out conned Kahn with Conn. One of the best moments of my life….and Kemba was robbed of a number 1 overall because of some snot nosed Duke punk. What did Kyrie do? Got his team to the Sweet 16, left for the NBA, and earned Kahn a second place finish. How very Duke of him….

-This is a statue of the man who the school is named after……..

-When it was being constructed, they were originally going to use the stone from a quarry near Princeton because, lets face it, Princeton is a few steps short of Heaven. THEN James Duke decided to go with something he found that was BETTER. He is quoted to have said "I wanted an older, more attractive feel than that of Princeton's harsh color". Thats right. He just bashed Princeton AND its aesthetics by saying his fledgling school was better at both! That cocky attitude was engraved in Duke's stone and remains in every crack of the university to this very day.

-Other Duke grads include Ken Jeong (the one trick pony Asian actor from The Hangover whose stereotypical characters are single handedly causing a public relations crisis for the Asian PR rep), Mike Posner (the singer with hit singles "Please Don't Go" and "Bow Chica Wow Wow"), and several CEOs of the companies that caused Occupy Wall Street.

-I can't find the video, but I once saw a coverage on Youtube from Duke's 1997 Drunk Frisbee tournament. It consisted of underage undergrads drunk on a Saturday morning and the following quotes were said:

"I'm 18 but who is gonna stop meeeee!"

"Fucking love frisbee, man"

"DUUUUUUUUUKE, DUUUUUDE!!!"

-A girl for her senior thesis decided to make a powerpoint presentation on all of the dudes that she straddled in her 4 glorious years at the university. Too good to be true? I HAVE THE FREAKING LINK!!!!!

I rest my case.

Softknock: Wookiee Football Season Finale

By Spence Blazak

Let me start off by saying this is a Wookiee post unlike its older brothers before it. In a very bad way. Imagine that there were four older brothers who were kind of cool, then a fifth one born who has one leg longer than the other and two different colored eyes. Not in a hot way, but in that disconcerting way. Also, he always brings in dead pigeons in and places them at his father's feet on top of his Ugg slippers. Like a dog. This blog post is that odd, doglike brother. Its not pretty. You won't laugh a lot. It will break your heart. I promise you that. You might cry. It ends with me in the rain cursing the heavens. Heck. Why take my word for it?

The Wookiees start off their week with an automatic win against forfeit-prone "The Dutch Masters." A stench of grandeur permeates the fall air. We want to celebrate by going to the field anyway, shaking open a bottle of champagne, and sitting on the field smoking victory cigars until we are kicked off or we get bored. Probably the latter. I'm feeling fly. No. Pelican fly. We have a week to plan our strategy for when we verse the free agents. What could possibly go wrong! The week was doomed to take a turn for the worse.

I've analyzed the statistics and it is still very possible for us to make it to the playoffs. The way I see it is that the free agents are the kids who didn't have any friends to get a team together, so I think we will win by pure superiority in morale. The Wookiees haven't even played their best ball yet. All fingers are crossed.

As the season has progressed, so has the friendship of myself, James, Evan, and Rips. We begin to immediately ask the most important question: what should we name our dog in the house that we live in next year? We have several possibilities:

Waffles

Charlemagne

Shawshank

The Dude

Vonnegut (Vonn)

Vermeer (Vermy)

and my personal favorite…..Facebook

We then begin to debate whether we want a big dog or a small one. I put my Croc-clad foot down and decree 3 Things:

1.) It must be small

2.) It must be taught how to give me "paw"

3.) It must know I'm his Mummy

Someone then points out that it seems like the main purpose of this dog for me is that it provides the optimal amount of comedic material. My response: "Are you going to tell us Darth Vader is Luke's father next?" I immediately mark that person in my book of people who little Facebook won't be able to see until I've taught him how to attack.

Yes. That was the most exciting part of that week.

Also, I've managed to befriend one of the school's pitchers for the baseball team, and have recruited him for the Wooks. He says he has friends on the team who would also be interested in playing. I can't believe it. The Wookiees have just drafted the infield of a D 1-A baseball team. I jump up and click my heels out of joy.

GAME DAY

I go outside, send the text for the troops to rally in the middle of Bishop Beach, and wait to see who shows. I only see Evan. As happy as I am to see his smiling face, we need 3 more players. James is at class. James's roommate Joe is mad at me for party-boying him in my boxers…can't say I blame him. Bayo, Reggie, and Rommel have disappeared. Rips is driving on Route 18. Dalton tore a tendon in his leg. Then every single other person was in a Physics Lab. Who knew Physics was a thing?

Just when all hope is lost, Mike and J.Y. (the pitcher) show up. Sadly, the rest of the baseball team was busy. I look around and see that we are only one person short. I lay down in the giant botanical Rutgers "R" and fake cry. Strike that. I lay down in the pile of wood chips where the "R" used to be….they tore it out from the last 5 times I laid in it.

I decide to call Vinny and tell him we are one man short and ask if he can help us. Time is ticking. He says he will call us back. We wait by my knock off Blackberry in a swell of anticipation, hoping, wishing, praying for our season to continue. Ticktockticktock. That intramural champions t-shirt is so close I can almost feel its polyester based glory.

The phone rings.

Vinny: "I have players for you. You're good"

Trumpets sound from the heavens. The angels cry. God himself high fives me.

Vinny (cont.): "You can make it here on time though right?"

That son of a bitch. Got our hopes up just to tear them down. We get our second forfeit because we were didn't make the bus. And we didn't make the bus because we were waiting for his call. I didn't realize "Vinny" was Italian for "Judas".

I don't remember much after that. Its mostly spurts of memories. Our expulsion from the league was so traumatic that my mind became was put into a Boggle. Not just that night, but for the last month until today. In fact, I don't remember much of anything at all. Days pass.

I get a PS2. I play the entirety of "God Of War". In the end, I killed the Ares himself , and take his place on Mount Olympus. I toss the controller onto the desk, tear my pants off, and yell "AAAAARRRRREEEEESSSSS HAAAAAS FALLLLLLEEEEEEN". I go out into the hall to run around in excitement….and the door blows shut and locks behind me. Everyone with a key is off duty or in class. I go and nap in the lounge while wearing my Taylor Swift 2011 Tour t-shirt and in my boxers. Stupid Ares.

I lose another week of self awareness. I find myself on a Sunday night just returned from a trip home. James regales me of a party with a Flyers cheerleader in attendance. She looked like Taylor Swift AND was funny.

James: "Yeah man, you really missed out. You would have LOVED her!"

Me: "AAAAARRRRREEEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!"

Two more days evaporate into the oblivion that humanity refers to as "the past". I'm in line for takeout. Sub night. I grab the piece of paper to fill out my order. There is no bacon. I'm very mad. I write "BACON!" and put a check next to it. I also write that my name is "Cat Daddy." I chat with Rips and make my way throughout the line. Then I hear the Indian sub lady yell: "HELLO! CAT DADDY? CAT DADDY. NO BACON!"

A week passes. I've just given blood and am sitting at a table with two Jewish girls and a guy who spent the entirety of the time we were hooked up to the machine either making AIDS jokes or complaining about not getting into NYU film school. I try to escape him and the snack table, but Dr. Scarybeard makes me sit back down for 15 minutes.

NYU D-Bag: "WOW! Every freaking person here is Jewish! This is crazy! You're not Jewish are you, bro?"

Me: "No. Just Polish."

NYU D.B.: "AWESOME! HIGH FIVE!"

*reluctant and painful slap of hands*

Girls: "We're Polish too! We actually just visited there this summer!"

Me: "Wow! See anything cool?"

NYU: "DID YOU GO TO ANY CONCENTRATION CAMPS! LIKE THE SCHINDLER'S LIST ONE?!?!?!"

Girls: "Well we went to one and it was just so sad, but that one you're talking about is in Germany-"

NYU: "NO ITS NOT!"

I get up to walk out. A frightening ginger girl on duty stops me. No, not Kelly. She takes me back to the table.

Dr. Scarybeard drops a vile of blood. Everyone looks over. I make my move and bolt for the door, barely making it back to my dorm. I also have 5 bottles of apple juice in my pocket. Spence 1, World 0. World leads series 654-9.

Time passes, children grow, leaves change color, and I continue my trek among the living. I dress as a fruit ninja, Holden Caulfield, and the Dude for Halloween. I rediscover hot chocolate. A girl pees in my bed. The circle of life continues.

Then I open my email. It reads: "Dear Spencer, We regret to inform you that you have been put on probation from the RIFFL. You may not do any sports until you come meet with the coordinator of RIFFL. You've hurt the organization by not showing up, and we want to have a discussion." I might as well be out for good, because as much as I love the Wookiees, that love is nowhere near as powerful as my hatred for 25 minute bus rides across campus.

Thus ends the Wookiees.

Or does it? If I do decide to go meet with the RIFFL Big Wig, then the Wookiees are eligible to enter……INNER TUBE WATER POLO. The Wookiees just might see another day.

As Abraham Lincoln once said: "It take more than a bus to stop the power of the human spirit!"

50/50: Review (And a Discussion of the Genre Sad-Coms)

By Spence Blazak

Last week, I went to a therapist for the first time. It was horribly depressing. We sifted through things in my memory that I had purposely tried to block out. Then I started to tell her a story about my life. Half way through, she began to cry. A woman with a Ph. D. from Princeton was crying at my life. I found this so sad, and yet…it got my award for "Funniest Thing of the Week." I literally couldn't stop laughing on my walk home. It was such a ridiculously depressing moment, so much so that I couldn't think of any way to react except to laugh until I couldn't breathe.

I've found that this is a very odd and underused type of comedy, but if it is done right, it can be brilliant. It is a realm of black comedy that is both hilarious and poetic simultaneously. Arrested Development tapped the surface, but it was hardly a show dedicated to the depressing. Louie, on the other hand, is an interesting example of a series completely immersed in this brand of comedy, but, while I haven't watched enough of it to get a completely accurate reading on it, I can never seem to find its heart and it comes off as too self-serving.

The Office is the real beacon for sad-com. One of my favorite moments of the American version is when Kevin is waiting all day to here from his doctor if he has cancer, and Michael is mad because it is taking away attention from him on his birthday. He then spends the episode trying to get people to talk to him instead, like a small child. Michael is so needy that it is hilariously pitiful, and also so sad that he can be that self absorbed. One of the most powerful moments of the series because it is more human than anything ever shown on crap like Two and a Half Men.

This is where and why 50/50 thrives. It has something to say not just about friendship and overcoming hardships with a good attitude, but about humanity at its core. This type of comedy cuts to the center of a character faster than most melodramas.

The story is about what you get from the trailer: a young public radio producer in Seattle discovers one day that he has cancer. The plot could easily shift into a self serving, quasi-philosophical piece of dog shit like the The Bucket List, but instead it recognizes its place as a grounded piece of realism. The actual plot is watching Joseph Gordon-Levitt's character go through the 5 stages of loss and grief and interacting with his mother, lover, therapist, and best friend. His character development is riveting.

It holds a tone that is filled with gloom and doom, yet somehow mildly optimistic every once in a while. I wouldn't say its a roller coaster, because it is a lot more subdued and relaxed than that, so I'd compare it to that one time I was operating the Super Himalaya at the Jenkinson's Ride Park of Point Pleasant Beach, N.J., and the belt broke. As my Bulgarian boss yelled at me for not being a machinist (and for being unable to speak Bulgarian), the car would go straight for a little bit before falling a little bit, with that pattern continuing for a few more seconds. Its top speed was that of a briskly walking mother with a stroller. I don't mean to say that it is slow at all, it just…takes its time, which is very refreshing. This story structure works perfectly for the movie.

The performances are all very good, but at the center is Seth Rogen as Levitt's best friend. Will Reiser wrote the movie as a basis of his own life and experience with cancer, and in real life, his best friend was actually Seth Rogen. Thats right. One of the only meta-cinema movies in the decade features Seth Rogen yelling the c-word. While Rogen's character is heavily dramatized, he gets into the character like nothing I've seen in a very long time. Off the top of my head, it reminds me of a scene in Woody Allen's Hannah and Her Sisters where Woody (who always plays himself in his movies) tries to kill himself, and then walks around New York realizing how much he wants to live. Rogen's face tries to be as happy as possible for his friend without being so happy that it pisses him off, and you can see the weight of this stress on his shoulders the whole time. It really is an excellent performance that transcends the movie itself.

All in all, missing this is a crime for anybody who likes movies. It isn't just great, it is almost trailblazing. If The Bucket List is half-a-star, and American Beauty (maybe?…I'm reaching here…) is a four star, then I give 50/50 three and a half stars

Your Fake Study Abroad T-Shirt and You: How to Pretend You Are Cool

By Chris Hubbard

They say it is the one experience in college you will carry with you for the rest of your life, even into your late thirties: that when you go over seas, your life will never be the same, and that everyone should experience a semester abroad. To leave your country behind for half a year you would receive the opportunity of a lifetime in some exotic and beautiful country, life long friends (unless you smell weird or something,) and a receiving a free t-shirt that says, “I Studied Abroad,” in the mail a few weeks later. Or you could sit on the couch, watch Spaced and play Mass Effect 2 for eight weeks, lose life long friends (unless you have Xbox Live,) and have a free t-shirt that says, “I Studied Abroad,” accidentally mailed to you. Should the later happen, you coooooould send it back with a correction letter, yada yada. BUT FREE T-SHIRT! Besides, the shirt works just as well as the expensive trip. I found it’s not actually going that matters at all, but the fact that other people think you went that is the key.

“You went abroad? Where did you go?”

“Oh, I went to Africa.” The faces really light up when you say Africa more so than a lot of other places I’ve found (people seem less interested in Europe these days, don’t ask me why, but I’m assuming its because the squirrels are red over there). Maybe it is because Africa is so exotic to Americans. It might as well be Mars to most people. So to go there and come back in one piece makes you a folk hero for some reason.

“Africa! Really? That’s amazing? Where in Africa?” Okay, so here is the toughest part of the conversation so far. It’s not that it’s necessarily hard to answer, it’s just important because it sets the tone for the rest of the conversation. To say you went to Egypt is to end up in a lesson on monuments. “What are the pyramids like, what about the sphinx, did you see King Tut?” To say South Africa is a lecture on apartheid waiting to happen. Plus, now it’s up to you to give an update on the political progress of an entire nation. You have to be careful with people who know their stuff too. What if you give a country in civil war, and the person you’re talking to calls you out on it? Now you’re screwed before you really even started. I generally stick to saying Kenya, it’s familiar enough that people recognize the name, but they typically know nothing about it.

“Kenya! Wow, that’s amazing. What was it like over there?” This is where a well selected country really pays off. I can literally say anything I want to so long as it vaguely fits a person’s preconception of Africa, and pushing these boundaries is particularly entertaining. The crazier you get with the stories, the better as far, as I’m concerned. I once told a woman that we rode cheetahs from city to city.

“Doesn’t that hurt the animals?”

“Hurt them? They don’t even feel us on their backs! They’re pretty much the only means of transportation over there.”

“That’s remarkable! What’s it like riding one?”

“Oh, it’s the only way to travel as far as I’m concerned. I’m thinking of trading my car in for a Mufasa soon actually.”

“Wasn’t Mufasa the name of a character from the Lion King?”

“Yeah, but where do you think the name comes from? It’s a breed of Cheetah in Kenya.”

I’ve found that as the years pass, I can sometimes get away with more and more outrageous statements so long as I can write it off as being a product of the times. Things change over the years and not everyone remembers what things were like in Africa in nineteen eighty-whatever.

“The elephants were so tiny they could fit in our pockets.”

“But aren’t elephants humongous?”

“Well, today they are! What with the internet and all of that cancer going around, but back then it was different.”

Obviously if you’re going to go this far, you have to make sure you’re never going to see this person again. You can’t just tell your grandfather all about cheetah races and giraffe stampedes because he’s more than likely going to tell someone who actually knows something all about it, and then soon he’s coming back to curse you out. Save the outlandish stuff for the casual stranger, they usually won’t remember too much about the conversation anyway. Pretty much anyone in line at the bank, or at the laundromat, or on the subway is fair game as far as I’m concerned.

“You studied abroad? You know, I’ve studied abroad… or two. (pause for laughter)”

But the laughter never comes. If anyone, for any reason cracks this joke at you, and they will, be it while you are wearing the shirt or otherwise, you have a few options.

1) You can run away. It’s not cowardice; I’ve done it lots of times. Don’t even respond, just run. You’ll never see them again, I promise. Sometimes it’s really the best way of dealing with a jokester who has no idea what’s funny and what’s just plain stupid. Look, everyone who’s ever made this joke has on some level, thought they were being original, which means that they are obviously slow and won’t catch up if you decide the bus station a few blocks away is a better place be standing.

2) If you know the person, then all the easier to deal with. You don’t have to go anywhere or say anything, just turn and look then straight in the eyes… and slap them. Make it a hard slap, but don’t knock any teeth out or anything crazy. Just a good smack to the face. They won’t say it again, whether they are now crying, or trying like crazy to kick the shit out of you.

3) If you don’t know the person and you don’t feel like running, you can stand up and confront the problem head on if you’re in the mood.

“You sir, are the reason why this country is the most hated nation in the world, and I weep for the generations to come that will have to pay for your ignorant remarks here today.”

I usually point and turn up my nose when I say this too. It’s the best way to get out of any confrontation when it comes to your I Studied Abroad T-shirt. The reason it’s so effective is because it puts you in the driver seat. You’re taking the wind out of their sails quickly. I make sure to be loud enough so others can hear me too. That way I come across as the cultured one, and the people around us chime in on my side.

“You’re just embarrassing all of us. Why don’t you go back to your cave, you Neanderthal!?”

I’ve seen it turn even the most confident of wisecrackers into defeated creatures, running with their tail between their legs to get away from the scene of their embarrassment, which can only add to the satisfaction of wearing a Study Abroad Shirt…while having never studied abroad.

Above all, it’s important to remember that this Study Abroad Shirt is not a toy. It’s a serious conversation starter, and nine times out of ten, you will end up talking to someone about it. It’s better to have a plan. No one likes looking like an idiot, especially when you’re thirty eight and you’re still wearing clothes from your college years.

Spence’s note: Another way to deal with a jokester is by doing it the way that someone who I hold near and dear to me dealt with a similar situation two years ago: a random parent on a Rider tour. For those of you who don’t know, Wookiee Wednesday contributor Brian Long used to be a tour guide at Rider University. Bored with the monotony of the tour life, that clever bugger Brian decided one day to start his tour off with a new line: “Hey ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Rider! Now, I know what you’re thinking…. ‘Rider?.....I DON'T EVEN KNOW HER!!!!’”

Someone immediately filed a complaint.

The lesson here is that when you are in doubt, blame it on Brian and get your satisfaction from knowing he got yelled at.

Ides of March: Review

By Spence Blazak

Disclaimer: This is a modification of my review for The Daily Targum coming out on October 13^th. It is like the one in there, except in this one I added in a few swear words and the word leopard. Enjoy!

Phillip Seymour Hoffman looks more and more like my Pop with each passing role. His one sentence review of the movie was "P.S.H. played a great D. Blazak!" I digress. Ides of March just might have the best cast of any movie in recent memory, and this is why it hurts a little more that it doesn’t live up to its talent factor. Its good, but it just isn’t as good as it could have been. If you hear that your brunch is going to be cooked by Bobby Flay, Cat Cora, Ina Garten, and Mario Batali (…….no….no….. I never watch Food Network…..), then you just receive Nutella-covered garlic crackers, it is disappointing regardless of Nutella’s hazelnutty goodness*.

Governor Mike Morris (George Clooney) is campaigning for the Democratic Party’s Presidential bid. The climactic battle has come down to Ohio. Our main character is Stephen Myers (Ryan Gosling), the charming, second in command on the Morris campaign who has the power to make every female intern within a 2-mile radius take her top off and purr like a snow leopard whenever he pouts his marble chiseled lips.

Stephen is a valuable piece in the game of the Primary for both sides. The only way Paul (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), the head manager of Morris campaign, could be trying to hold onto him any harder is if he was SITTING ON HIM!(count it!). Meanwhile the rival campaign manager (Paul Giamatti), is trying to use Jedi mind tricks to win the beautiful Stephen over to his side.

Cover ups ensue, politics corrupt the incorruptible, illegitimate children abound, and dark glances are shot at enemies and friends alike. Ides of March’s greatest triumph lies in the performances of its cast. Presidential candidates pitch the same platforms every four years, but for some reason, people keep coming back and getting enchanted all over again. Clooney recognizes this and plays such a good candidate that the audience is practically handing him a blank check for a campaign contribution after the first debate.

Hoffman and Giamatti are, in my opinion, the two best actors in Hollywood today, and they lose themselves in their performances, making you wish they had even more screen time. Hoffman gives a one-two punch to the world of cinema that began with his tough-as-nails performance in Moneyball from two weeks ago, while Giamatti finishes off possibly the best year of his career that included two perfect performances in Win Win and Barney’s Version as well as one of the funniest things on recent television when he guest starred in an episode of 30 Rock as a pony tailed-footage editor who “went to hockey camp and became a Confederate Civil War re-enactor to meet women.” Marissa Tomei also appears as a New York Times reporter who brilliantly captures the d-bag, two toned personality you need to get a real story.

As for Gosling, he has begun to shape a career that is looking very similar to Leonardo DiCaprio’s. Ever since The Notebook, Gosling has slowly been building up more credibility for his actual acting chops rather than just his good looks. DiCaprio almost quit acting after Titanic, but then he earned respectability with performances like Howard Hughes in The Aviator and Billy Costigan in The Departed. Along with Drive and Crazy Stupid Love, Gosling has also had an excellent year featuring three well crafted performances, and his work here makes me very curious as to what else he has up his sleeve aside from his godly canon of an arm. Wookiee Wednesday contributor Brian dared me to write that. Pay up, buddy.

The movie is also the latest entry into the “Clooney-noir” genre, where George Clooney puts his hand into every aspect of the movie. While it is respectable to love ones work that much, the directing comes off as a little bit “blah” and the script’s wittiness just winds up falling flat a lot of the time. Brian put it best by saying “he is like a kid in school who sucks at drawing, but no one can tell him because he is the President’s son.” Even in his “masterpiece” Good Night and Good Luck the shot composition is its major flaw, but it is well covered by how cool cigarette smoke looks in black and white.

All in all, Ides of March is good, but it is just missing….something. The underlying theme appears to be not much more than how politics can change a person seemingly made of unbendable metal, as well as the horrible price of getting ahead in the world. Think of it as a Thanksgiving turkey. It looks great, but the stuffing is made out of a balled up copy of The Trentonian.

If All The President’s Men is a 4 star political movie, and Swing Vote is a 1 star example, Ides has the scale just barely tip in its favor to come in at 3 stars.

*this might be very presumptuous of me that it would have “hazelnutty goodness” because I’m allergic to hazelnuts and have never had them for fear of a VERY sore throat.