In light of the Charlie Hebdo shootings this past January, and the recent attacks in Paris, many have reacted by painting Islam and the Middle East as being fundamentally at odds with Western values such as free speech.
America is not and will never be a Christian nation.
For the duration of this semester, we in editorial have intentionally sidestepped any discussion of Donald Trump’s presidential campaign. We’d say it’s the journalistic equivalent of ignoring the elephant in the room, but it’s been more akin to trying to cover your eyes and ears while the girl from "The Exorcist" vomits all over you and your surroundings, punctuating her invasive illness with proud recitals of racist rhetoric, stomach-churning stupidity and blatant pandering.
Politics is a rough-and-tumble business. More than that, it’s also confusing. But rest assured, dear reader, this columnist is the one-stop shop for all of your political questions and quandaries. So without delay, let’s clarify some political points your Politico friend keeps on talking about:
I remember the first time I went to UF in the winter of my senior year in high school. The red brick looked almost authentically collegiate Gothic. I remember the feeling of life beginning, one I tried to recapture during Preview weekend while driving in the snow-white blur of rain on I-75. I laughed at the billboards erected by the autochthons of my new home, who apparently still feared they might be aborted, performatively reading Schopenhauer in the stadium.
On any given Friday, this would be the space where we make a witty aside or use a semi-obscure pop-cultural reference to introduce that week’s edition of Darts & Laurels. Well, we hate to disappoint, but we have nothing of the sort this week. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Just letters, words and sentences to fill up space until we get to the main attraction…which is Darts & Laurels. Yup.
I lived primarily off two things when I had a meal plan: Gator Dining chocolate chip cookies and unlimited pineapple.
I thought I might write something about Friday’s horrific scenes from Paris. I thought I’d write about how we could use this to take events in the Middle East seriously from a humanitarian perspective without falling into the obvious trap the Islamic State group has set for us, whereby we abandon the very multiculturalism and tolerance that has made the West a place of relative peace and security. It’s these very attitudes the huddled masses who flee ISIS’ apocalyptic cruelty yearn for. And, while writing, I could hope in vain that far-right, Eurosceptic freaks won’t ride a wave of nationalist reaction and ethnic resentment into office, dismantling the diplomatic structures that have maintained relative peace in Europe for 70 short years (not counting a genocide against Muslims in Bosnia). I would also really like it if, when vicious goons like Marine Le Pen and Nigel Farage lead their gangs into parliament halls, they wouldn’t plunge the world into a second Dark Age, complete with our very own crusades.
Earlier this year, Martin Shkreli, the CEO of Turing Pharmaceuticals, increased the cost of a life-saving HIV drug by about 5,000 percent. The price raised from $13.50 per pill to $750 per pill.
One would be very hard-pressed to find a UF student or Gainesville resident who doesn’t love Chick-fil-A. The juicy, delicious chicken always complemented by a duo of dill pickle chips, the diverse and flavorful sauces, the consistently crunchy and impeccably salted fries, the sweetness and perfect consistency of the strawberry milkshakes… there’s just so much to love. In a perfect world, we could spend this entire editorial extolling Chick-fil-A’s bountiful virtues.
A frequent refrain among heartbroken and sexually frustrated young men: "She doesn’t like me because I’m a nice guy." No, not really.
I love the phrase "Every Gator Matters." It expresses the value of every member of the Gator family and our care for one another.
In 2004, "South Park" aired the episode "Douche and Turd." The episode concerned an election to adopt a new mascot for South Park Elementary, with the two sole choices being the titular Giant Douche and Turd Sandwich. The show, which aired a week before the nation had to choose between George W. Bush and John Kerry for the presidency, not only satirized the often-mediocre choices we face come election season but also the sheer frenzy Americans are prone to work themselves into when they take a stance on public figures.
About two weeks ago, America was hit with the horrifying story of Jeremy Mardis. Mardis was a 6-year-old boy who was shot to death by two police officers while riding in the car with his father in Marksville, Louisiana. Mardis’ father, Chris Few, had no outstanding warrants for his arrest, nor was there a gun found in Few’s vehicle. This information begs the question: Why were shots fired by police in the first place?
Last week, students under the banner of the Million Student March demonstrated on college campuses across the country. There was even a demonstration at UF, although only about a dozen marchers actually showed up. Regardless, the collective demands of the protestors were clear: tuition-free public college, $15 minimum wage and the cancellation of all student debt.
When I was deciding my career as a little girl, full of blind naiveté and enthusiasm for a world that seemed so clearly ready to catapult me to stardom, there were a lot of options on the list. My aspirations ranged from ballerina to doctor to orange-truck driver over the years, but there was one job that kept coming up in the mix, no matter how many years passed: I wanted to be a writer.
Following Friday’s attacks in Paris, the American jingoist machine has begun whirring to life. Monday’s headlines were dominated by the rhetoric of American governors declaring their state would not play host to displaced Syrians. As of press time, governors or state officials of more than 20 states, including Florida and more traditionally liberal states, such as New Hampshire, have released statements saying as much.
Registering for Spring classes is a perpetually stressful experience. Just in case the mid-semester deluge of papers, exams and self-doubt wasn’t enough, you also have to effectively plan four months’ worth of classes (assuming you’ll make it through December alive). While this process used to make me feel as though I had some aspect of my life under control, it has recently become an unavoidable and highly involved burden.
About two months ago, I wrote a column about the plight of 9/11 first responders and the progress of the James Zadroga 9/11 Health and Compensation Reauthorization Act.
The free world continues to weep for Paris this week.
Solutions by The State News
