“Yo, I’m sure that everybody out listening agree / That everything you see ain’t really how it be.” Mos Def had it right. As inscribed in the lower Common’s bathroom, Def’s words resonate as Reedies enter their seventh week of school. Outside the bubble, The Faux museum, as its name suggests, is more than meets the eye. What appears to be Chinatown tourist trap reveals itself to be a critical, mind-bending, humorous inquiry into the nature of art, reality, and love (1). Reedies think highly of their college: Reed exceptionalism runs rampant as students and administrators alike tout Reeds “life of the mind” over the Ivy Leagues “life of the privileged.” Bill Deresiewicz, author of a new book praising colleges like Reed, spoke in VLH this past Tuesday. Met with some criticism and some praise, his advice for students is not what many were hoping for (6). How much do you know about the Reed Student Advocates? One of many such support organizations, Aysha Pettigrew ‘15 leads readers through the SAPR program that you only thought you understood (4). Famed Reed poet Annelyse Gelman ‘13 returns to Reed for a night of poetry and music (8). Porches and Frankie Cosmos come to the SU (10). As always, we find our intrepid heroine Grace navigating the world of Pancho Savery, gingerbread men, and fox-squirrels (9). As per usual, you can like us on facebook, or see our past issues online at www.reedthegrail.com.
Brendan, Brian, Grace, Jordan, Lauren, Maddie, and Vikram
News & Features
Another couple of tourists wander into Tom Richards’s Faux Museum and peruse the gift shop. They take in the collections of vintage books and postcards, the spinning prize wheel, the bright colors, and the jauntily angled visitor testimonials on the walls. After a minute or two, Tom tells them that there’s a museum back behind the partition. “A critical thinking museum with a sense of humor.”
“We just came from a museum,” one says.
“Oh yeah? Which museum?”
“The Portland Art Museum.”
“Never heard of it,” Tom says. “But this is the oldest museum in the world.”
There is a lot of discussion around Reed College these days about what our response to sexual assault on campus is going to look like this year and the years to come. I am a Sexual Assault Prevention and Response Advocate; I work for the Sexual Assault Prevention and Response program. Hopefully, I can start answering some of the questions that the community has about our response to these incidents. Obviously, I do not have answers to all of the questions that are being asked on campus, but I do feel that providing information about our program will be helpful for campus discussions. I want the student body to be as involved as everyone wants to be because this is such a far-reaching and important topic.
I am worried about preaching to the choir,” Bill Deresiewicz says, smiling. Garnering a few laughs, this remark set the tone for the following lecture and Q & A session. Deresiewicz began his lecture with a genesis story: how his new book Excellent Sheep: The Miseducation of the American Elite and the Way to a Meaningful Life came to be. Beginning with praise for his critical essay “The Disadvantages of an Elite Education,” Deresiewicz described the letters of agreement he received from both students and faculty at schools all across America. His basic premise is this: the “Elite” academies, such as the much-bemoaned Ivy League Institutions, produce not good citizens, but anxious, unfulfilled, business professionals.
If I were to make a list of certifiable coolgirls, Annelyse Gelman ’13 would certainly be on it. During her time at Reed she could be found showing off her academic prowess in the psychology department, fervently discussing poetry with English professors, and improvising as a bunch of ducks in a human-suit in Fellatio Rodriguez shows. Since graduating, Gelman has been busy working on artistic pursuits, including publishing a book of poems, animating videos, and playing music with her band. Last Saturday night, she returned to campus to share some of her work at a poetry and music show she organized in Eliot Hall.
Aaron Maine’s first riff reverberates as I reach into my backpack. My hand dives into a vast puddle of Lagunitas, grinding against several shards. He takes an assertive step towards the microphone. Those of us standing in front glance at each other in anticipation. And then he gives us what we want. “I give you he-aaaaad / be-fore you he-aaaaad / to the-ra-pyyyy” resounds from the speakers, amplified by a chorus of boisterous audience members. Many drunkenly mimic Maine’s endearing hip-jerk and head sway. I am vaguely aware of the blood gushing from my left hand, but I haven’t the slightest impulse to relinquish my front-row standing. The guitar lulls. I swiftly unroll my knee sock, wrapping it tightly around my broken-beer-bottle-induced laceration just in time for the chorus. The SU erupts with, “what did you do when you want-ed to di-iiiiie.”
Grace: Pancho, I just saw the weirdest looking animal outside of Vollum. It was like a rat but with an ENORMOUS tail.
Pancho: Sounds like you saw a squirrel.
Grace: Ok, Pancho, I think I know what squirrels look like.
Grace looks into the camera, like, “Can you believe this guy?”
Grace: This was huge, like, twelve squirrels. It also had the tail of a fox, might I add.
Pancho: Oh, so it was a fox-squirrel.
Grace: Are you fucking kidding me?
Grace: I can’t believe this.
Miss Lonely Hearts
Dear Miss Lonelyhearts,
I was excited to be a junior until I realized that all the hot seniors who I was in love with all of last year have graduated. I never actually talked to any of them personally (I made out with one of them during Thesis Parade), but I get so sad when I go to the Paradox and they aren’t there, chugging Depth Charges and eating day-old bagels. How am I supposed to deal with this loss?
— Lost ‘em to the Laurels