Fresh off their 24-14 victory over Oklahoma in the 2008 BCS National Championship game in Miami, the Gators are ready to roll again Saturday in the season opener against the Charleston Southern Buccaneers.
If the eyes are the window to the soul, then a bumper sticker is portal to the back of a moron's head.
Labor Day will officially kick off the American fantasy football season in 2009, and no matter where you are this weekend you will be within earshot of a conversation about somebody's fantasy draft.
It was once said that "a basic tenet of a healthy democracy is open dialogue and transparency." I can proudly say that democracy must be alive and well, because I have had one of the most engaging dialogues with the student body in the past week than I have had in a long time.
I have a problem with the Bible. Specifically, I have a problem with a particular verse in the Bible. Even more specifically, a particular translation of a particular verse in the Bible.
In Friday's edition of the Alligator, Student Body Treasurer Maryam Laguna wrote that after a temporary gap in delivery, The New York Times would be restored to newspaper boxes on campus starting Monday. However, what she neglected to mention is that despite the temporary return of the Times, the paper's readership program still has been cut from the next proposed Student Government budget.
Passing health care reform is the Democratic Party's ultimate panacea, but failing to do so, and failing publicly, would be President Obama's "waterloo," as Sen. Jim DeMint, R-S.C., opined earlier this summer.
Sometimes, I think about how much the next generation will change because of the Internet, and I feel old in anticipation.
Having taken French classes since high school, I am always impressed with someone who has actually learned to be fluent in a foreign language.
Health care reform, Michael Jackson and Lady GaGa's penis. What do all of these things have in common? Together they comprise 99.9% of the news cycle, and I never want to hear about any of them ever again. Under any circumstances. Period.
To all you students who are new to UF, welcome to the next four years of your life. Returning Gators, try to cut the freshmen some slack and welcome back as well.
This past summer, while everyone was in a chilled-out, lazy summer mood, I was the girl armed with her class schedule, 50 fliers, a campus map and the bus schedule. I was the one spinning around wildly with a deer-in-headlights look on my face, trying to figure out where my next class was.
December of my junior year, I was sitting in my friend Jen's apartment drinking Sangria. I was also about to fail my organic chemistry class, which I was taking for the third time after dropping it twice.
Alas, you've made it. Your 'rents are gone, you're already sick of Broward Dining and you may or may not have thrown up in your pillow case last night. (R.I.P. Fall 2006; I haven't eaten pad thai since.)
Although I doubt that I am the first person at UF that you have heard this from, I would like to welcome you to the University of Florida!
This following is an open letter to all new freshmen at UF.
Writing columns for the Alligator was never my first choice-I wanted to be a reporter. I've since realized I have zero aptitude for that profession, but that's what I wanted to do. After trying and failing and trying and failing, I decided to submit something to letters@alligator.org. To my surprise, it was published as a guest column. When I got the e-mail asking for my classification and major, I turned to my roommate and said, "I am going to be opinions editor of the Alligator by the end of the summer." And it happened.
Greetings, oh young and naïve freshman!
It has been my secret dream for three years now to hijack my commencement speech. I had the perfect plan. There was just one problem; there will be no big-name speaker. When I learned this, it hurt. Because, Gators, there are issues we must discuss.
Sunday nights, trash nights, before I roll the garbage out to the curb, I strip off all my clothes and leave them in a little pile on the bench by the front door. Naked, I approach the street with the garbage can, which smashes the grass under its weight. It's one of the busiest streets in Akron, Ohio, during the day. But come 2 a.m., traffic is sparse. After the can is in position on the curb, I don't hurry back to my pile of clothes. Instead, I pace the dew-soaked grass, and I let the night air touch all the parts of my body it normally can't.
Solutions by The State News
