Hey, you! Tell me if this describes a situation you’ve ever been in. You’re at someone’s room jamming to some tunes, grooving to the rhythm, and suddenly catastrophe strikes: the phone which was making said music dies. It could happen at any time. And what do you do? You just sit there sheepishly, not willing to subject your personal music library to the judgement of your peers. It’s fine, there’s no need for music. You can just sit here in silence. That will be fine for sure. Continue reading
The morning of September 18th, the fire alarm went off in both Mather and McBride residence halls as a result of a gas leak that, in a surprise plot-twist to the Mather students who smelled gas while reluctantly exiting their rooms, was not in the building but was actually in Allen House. Due to the early hour and the… alarming nature of the alarm, many students had not yet arisen from bed, dressed themselves, showered, or gathered their class materials––or any materials at all for that matter. Some exited their buildings with only a towel and whatever bit of dignity they had left. As students flocked from their dorms to Gund Commons to Peirce to their classes, those unaware of the situation were seemingly indifferent to the pajama-clad first year students, paying them little attention at all, but I’d like to imagine a world where the best-dressed (or best not-so-dressed) evacuees of Mather and McBride were given the spotlight they deserve, so here’s what a Mather-McBride Evacuee Fashion Show might have looked like.
It’s 4:30 am, and I wake up from a nightmare in a cold sweat, covered in a pile of Cheez-It crumbs. I scramble for my phone, my hands shaking as I wipe the tears from my bloodshot eyes. My roommate shakes her head and rolls back to the other side of the bed. “God, not again. Go to bed. He’s not real.” I do not answer. I am rendered speechless by the image of my tormentor, the man who haunts my nightmares: Josh Radnor.
Deb Ball is most certainly a unique Kenyon rite of passage. We’ve all seen too much, we’ve all done too much, none of which we can unsee or undo. We asked our new (first-year) writers to reflect and share their first times. Continue reading
On Friday, September 27, The Atlantic published an article called “The Cat With a Campus Wrapped Around Its Paw.” Amazingly, it was an eight hundred word piece in a national newspaper that someone got paid to write…about Moxie, the cat. I would like to take a moment on this blog, just slightly less disseminated than The Atlantic, to provide an alternative perspective: it’s a fucking cat.
Get ready, because we’re back again with the next long-awaited edition of Kenyon Doppelgangers, the classic Thrill feature where we profile two students with uncanny similarities for your viewing pleasure. I’m sure you’ve all seen our first student, Krane, ’22, hanging around Rosse and sometimes swinging by the Gund Gallery, but our second subject is a bit of a mystery.
Tryin’ find where it’s at this weekend??
Spend a crunchy evening filmed at poor quality with your boos, LFP + JZ, to find out.