It is not just the vicious comments we observed in the wake of recent controversial opinion columns that demand we take time as a University community seriously to reassess the style and demeanor of our online discourse.
The fact of the matter is that coffee is too easy a purchase when it comes to our TigerCards. A $3 swipe here. A $3 swipe there. And all of a sudden, you’re down $300. If coffee is not your vice, how about Frist pizza or quesadillas or whatever it is that keeps you going? It’s all just a swipe away. No one carries cash; therefore, there’s no such thing as an empty wallet to curb your spending. During those late nights, whether in preparation for a paper-writing marathon or during a post-Street famine, there seems to be an endless supply of invisible cash at your disposal. Hence, we lose track of all those little, slowly accumulating purchases.
We’re at the stage where anyone with an idea and enough words can have a book in print in a week.
To assert that the only way to achieve the common goal of greater equality in higher education is to allow the government to designate certain races as preferred over others seems counterintuitive
The Board believes that Princeton administrators should also seriously consider reforming the University’s academic calendar to give our students the same benefits given to students at our peer institutions, such as Harvard and Yale.
When you are limited — either by regulations or market forces — to only drinking more or less, you explore only how much you can drink. But when you are free to explore it as an interest, your conversations and actions will reflect a preference toward complexity and quality, which will influence your friends and their friends as well.
The Editorial Board argues the pros and cons of grade deflation.
It’s difficult to say how I ended up backstage at the Naacho show. I absolutely cannot dance ... or do theater ... or sing ... or really anything that involves a stage, actually. However, I have always admired those who seem to own the stage with their various talents. Growing up with a mom who was an opera singer might have been a part of the reason I have such respect for dancers, singers and thespians. That admiration has only increased since attending Princeton. There are so many incredibly talented performers on our campus. From watching Triangle’s fall show to supporting my friends in the Shakespeare Company’s “Macbeth,” I have been unduly impressed with the multitude and quality of performances at Princeton. It seems every week that Theatre Intime is putting on a new show or PUP is performing a new musical. Most impressively, many of these shows are either choreographed or written by Princeton students themselves.
Five weeks ago, with exams finished and days to spare before Intersession, I marched proudly out of Labyrinth with 20 new books under my arm. The shiny covers stared out at me, and I was happy. This was going to be a superb Intersession: a bit of knowledge and a bit of skiing. I packed my suitcase, books included, and jetted off for a week of pure, unadulterated fun.
None of this is to say that Oz shouldn’t be allowed to speak at Princeton. USG and SD, like student groups everywhere, have every right to invite whichever speakers they think will fill seats. The problem here is that CPS has lent Oz and the mounds of pseudoscience he peddles its imprimatur by not fleeing, hard, at the first sight of his name.
Question: What ever happened to the life or death of the soul?
Today, instead of an editorial, the Editorial Board would like to inform you of a decision we have made after much discussion and contemplation. We would like to take this opportunity to explain our reasoning so that one is not struck with an utter sense of abandonment, disappointment and shock upon opening next Wednesday’s paper — yes, you will find a column where an editorial once was. We have decided to publish two editorials per week, instead of three. We see many benefits in this “downsize,” and we are excited to make this shift.
I’ve realized that what bothers me and others on campus in this regard is the appearance that some of our peers have given up the romantic notion of working as an end in itself and not just a means. The rest of us, not completely irrationally, dismiss the possibility that a good number of the 35.9 percent might actually enjoy their careers on Wall Street. But far from pitying them out of concern for their futures — futures we assure ourselves we’d hate to live — their choices make us uneasy.
