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The Tufts Daily
Where you read it first | Wednesday, April 2, 2025

Columns

The Setonian
Columns

Romy Oltuski | Word Up

In the search for immortality, some of the most successful people have been those who have managed to live on through their names. Iconic talents and heroes lend their names to film genres, battlefields and schools of thought. Less talented people with lots of cash to spare lend their names to plaques and auditoriums. And then there are those who really aren't looking for fame or immortality at all but somehow make their way into the English dictionary.


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Columns

Ethan Landy | Call me Junior

When I saw last week that Brandt Andersen, owner of the Utah Flash of the NBA Developmental League, wanted to see Jordan battle Russell one-on-one, three successive thoughts popped into my head.


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Caryn Horowitz | The Cultural Culinarian

From chili dog runs at Ben's Chili Bowl to the menu at the Inaugural Ball, I've waxed poetic about the food choices of our First Family too many times to count. A friend of mine who is well-versed in my First Foods fascination introduced me this summer to Obama Foodorama, an Obama-centered food blog that tracks everything from new policies in the Food and Drug Administration to what restaurants Michelle frequents. (My latest obsession is the Michelle Melt at Good Stuff Eatery in Washington, D.C. — a turkey burger with an herbed mayo inspired by the herbs grown in the White House Kitchen Garden.)



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Emily Maretsky | Nice Shoes, Let's Date

In the wave of dating conversations I've had since last week's column, about 90 percent have ended with me exclaiming, "So why don't you just ask him/her to grab coffee on Friday and get it out there?" only to stir up a myriad of excuses.


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Alex Prewitt | Live from Mudville

Hockey. A sport usually reserved for toothless, bearded men whacking each other with sticks and clumsily ripping off their shirts for the amusement of the 100-or-so fans in the stands. But now, it seems that followers of hockey in my hometown of Washington D.C. have multiplied like bunnies. My theory for such a spike in Capitals followers and attendance?



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Columns

Rory Parks | The Long-Suffering Sports Fan

There are very few college-age Boston sports fans that can feel my pain. They can try to empathize, but any comforting words they might have to offer are eventually unveiled as hollow and meaningless. "Hang in there," they say. "It'll get better."


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Zach Drucker and Chris Poldoian | Bad Samaritans

Like many of you, we saw Quentin Tarantino's bloodstained epic "Inglourious Basterds" (2009) this summer. We've followed this movie since it was a wee little script back in 2004. Ever since its premiere at Cannes this past May, we've been subject to a promotional "blitzkrieg." Everywhere we looked we saw Brad Pitt's cheeky grin. As excited as we were, we left the theater slightly underwhelmed. Why? We felt misled. We went into the theater conditioned by all the trailers to see the Basterds kill some "Nat-sees." Instead, we only got about thirty minutes of the Basterds. All that build-up, but hardly any payoff.


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Ethan Landy | Call Me Junior

I can no longer be surprised by what the New England Patriots do. If I woke up tomorrow morning and learned that the Patriots had traded Tom Brady for first- and third-round choices in 2015, I'd probably be convinced to spin that into a positive.


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Caryn Horowitz | The Cultural Culinarian

The past two months have been very emotional food-wise for me. Two of my foodie mentors have been in the national spotlight for two very different reasons: one has received critical acclaim, while the other has reached the end of his tenure. Of course, Anthony Bourdain and Frank Bruni are fully unaware of their formal mentorship positions, but that's a moot point.  


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Columns

Emily Maretsky | Nice Shoes, Let's Date

On a Friday night, it's pretty common to see students tossing back a couple of drinks and sizing up the guys and girls at any given party. Hookups are considered the norm on campus, but it's a rare event to plan out a date, agonize over the perfect cute-but-not-trying-too-hard outfit, and worry about keeping the conversation going for an hour or two.


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Columns

Alex Prewitt | Live from Mudville

Summer, for most college students, is spent relaxing. Beach trips, late nights under the stars and the occasional beer consume the hot hours for Jumbos spread out across the world. But beneath those seemingly carefree hobbies is a wealth of understanding and knowledge.


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Columns

Derek Schlom | I Blame Pop Culture

My life is a mess, and I insist that pop culture is to blame.  I've been referred to as a pop culture junkie, but I disagree — the term "junkie" implies a dangerous addiction, a chemical need that must be satisfied in order to function, even as the substance harms you.



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David Heck | The Sauce

"And a big 3-2 pitch coming here from Eckersley. Gibson swings, and a fly ball to deep right field. This is gonna be a home run! Unbelievable! A home run for Gibson! And the Dodgers have won the game 5-4! I don't believe what I just saw!" — Jack Buck


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Caryn Horowitz | The Cultural Culinarian

Practically every phone conversation I've had with my grandmother over the past three years has had the same format: She asks me about the weather in Boston ("It's cold, Grandma, but I'm keeping warm"), she asks me about my classes ("There is a lot of work, but I like my courses"), and then she asks me how the food is.     The last question has not always had such a standard answer.     During my freshman year, I babbled on and on about all of the choices for food there are on campus. I would tell her about stir-fry in Carmichael on Tuesdays and late-night snacks at The Commons or The Tower Café. Sophomore year, my enthusiasm waned; our conversations were more like, "I am so stressed, and I am bored of the dining halls, and I wish I could get pizza delivered to the library, and now I have to go do work, OK love you, bye!" As a junior, I told her about eating at my friends' houses and my favorite places to eat out in Cambridge and Boston.     Constantly talking about my food choices with my grandmother has made me realize something: Collegiate culinarians have it rough. It's hard not to get stuck in a rut after eating in the same dining halls and ordering from the same restaurants day after day, year after year. Living in a house off campus can provide more food freedom, but who has time to cook every single day after sitting through class, writing papers, doing problem sets and then going to a never-ending slew of appointments and meetings?     Yet despite my frustration over the years with our food options, I've realized something: The concept of the college meal plan is absolutely genius.     I feel like if there were a way to apply a meal plan to real life — aka life after graduation — it would be brilliant. No more coming home from your job and scrounging around in the kitchen to cook something while you're exhausted and just want to crash on the couch. No more living on sandwiches and pasta because that's all you know how to cook. Think about how nice it would be if you could pay an upfront fee and then have all of your meals taken care of for a couple of months with a variety of choices in location and type of cuisine for each meal. If your new job in New York City came complete with a New-York-City-on-a-meal-plan, it would be like heaven on a Big-Apple-shaped plate.     Clearly, my real-world-meal-plan plans need some work, but there are definitely parts of collegiate dining that can be applied to life after the dorms. First, always keep a well-stocked pantry; just like it was always helpful to have cereal and soup in your dorm room for late-night cravings, it's even more useful to always have staples like pastas, rice and beans in the pantry for quick meals when you're crunched for time. Second, don't forget about creative means to cook things; you can make a great grilled cheese with an iron (just don't use it for clothes afterward), and you can cook oatmeal and even brew your own beer in a coffeepot. And finally, don't completely dismiss dorm room mainstays like Cup-o-Noodles or Ramen — I know a great recipe for a delicious pasta salad made with Ramen noodles and bagged coleslaw mix.     Here is the best advice I can give to the Class of 2009: Always remember what you've learned about food in college, use your good food genes, watch as much "No Reservations" as possible, and stay away from high-fructose corn syrup. And as you embark on your post-Tufts adventures, keep in mind the words of Henry Bromel: "It's important to begin a search on a full stomach."


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Columns

Giovanni Russonello | Look Both Ways

What was I thinking? If you've been wondering, I don't blame you. I've been drawing false lines around bands, tying artists together with ersatz thread, and acting as if one group's music can possibly be defined as the child of a single influential parent. In truth, each new song is no less than a singular brew culled from the reactive cauldron where every bit of music that's ever been heard resides. Even we, as human daughters and sons, are products of our surroundings, the languages we learn, the friendships we make, the sex and stock villains we see on TV, more than the genes we've been stuck with. If it were the other way around, Jakob Dylan and the Wallflowers might have really had something going for them. But alas, all we've got to hang on to is "One Headlight" and that other catchy song where Adam Duritz wails his big, old heart out on the background vocals.



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Mikey Goralnik | Paint the Town Brown

You're obviously free to disagree, but as a senior who used to be on its executive board, I think Concert Board (CB) is, bar none, the worst organization at Tufts. Did you know that they have about $180,000? Can you believe that? After four years of unimaginative, underwhelming bookings, some of which I'm actually expected to pay to see, and a truly backwards mandate, I think we should take that money, buy a yellow Lamborghini, and let every student drive it for a day.


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Zach Drucker and Chris Poldoian | Bad Samaritans

Many songs seem to be written specifically to cash in on the emotions that saturate a particular moment. The other day, we were on iTunes (what's this $1.29 baloney, Apple?) and noticed an iTunes Essentials Graduation playlist. We were truly perturbed by what Apple recommended. "I Believe I Can Fly," really? Since when has R. Kelly, an alleged pedophile who urinates on his underage partners, been a guiding light for America's youth?