Galen Muskat ’18E

I remember 2 1/2 years ago, down to the very taste in my mouth and the angst and nausea that followed. And it was not even I who found myself suddenly threatened by a life-altering disease. It was mid-February 2015, and my dad stood by the washing machine removing

I doff my cap to Honolulu for passing what may be one of the 21st-century’s best pieces of legislation to-date: a law that allows police officers to fine pedestrians up to $35 for looking at their electronic devices while crossing the street. The law is a testament to intelligent

“I quit.” Those were the last two words I heard from Natasha. It was the start of another muggy August evening in rural New Hampshire, and the grind and uncertainty of waiting tables in the restaurant industry had claimed its latest victim. I met Natasha two months prior when I

I sat at Valentine several nights ago and couldn’t help but overhear two students sitting nearby: “Whoever designed this place was so stupid — I don’t even know what he was thinking.” “I know, right? Even the redesign failed miserably. Like, why would you put booths over here — you

“Better the wheels of government should stop … demonstrate itself to be a failure and find an end … than our principles, our honor be infringed upon — we have right, justice and the ‘King of Kings’ on our side.” If this sounds as though it came from the mouth of a Republican

The irony is ripe for the picking: the armed, militant protesters at the Malheur Wildlife Refuge in rural Oregon waved American flags as they relinquished their posts after a forty-day standoff with federal officials, decrying government overreach while at the same time waving a flag that represents the institution they

Even when I lived in Illinois, I did not pay attention to neighboring Iowa. For all its virtues — corn, rolling plains, the rare Iowa Pleistocene Snail — my attentions were elsewhere. It had, perhaps, an “Iowa aura.” But since the presidential campaigns for 2016 started last year with my best friend

It’s too bad Bernie Sanders isn’t related to Colonel Sanders, because he’d probably be better off selling chicken. I just can’t buy everything Mr. Sanders says and claims to stand for. I understand that politics is rife with contradiction and paradox. For instance, Republican candidates lusting

Whatever your gender identity, I encourage you to venture into the larger of the two stalls in the first-floor men’s bathroom of Frost Library. There, to your left, you shall see, inked on the gray metal barrier between the toilets, a challenge, of sorts: “Top 10 Nicknames for Biddy’