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Wearing all black is not a symbol of mourning -- it’s about being a monk in the bohemian order. Not nihilistic, no, never that. Save me the lecture, just give me the banter! When you’re wearing black, you’re wearing everything.
The waters don't really go by me
He was throwing back a few drinks with his closest mates at the local Asian fusion restaurant: a jovial Thursday evening, only of note because of how unspectacular the joy was. Laughter permeated. As it happens in these settings, the question arose:
Isis Gaston, the artist more widely known as Ice Spice, will receive an honorary doctorate of Marketing Sciences from The Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania during a commencement ceremony at Franklin Field where she will address graduates of 2023 as well as all the munches in the crowd.
Everything is different these days. The bricks on Locust Walk have a new texture. It’s a mild fifty degrees in the dead of winter. The Stranger Things boy is gay now. The university is facing an identity crisis.
The place might have been commissioned by Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani. Laminated floor to ceiling, every surface a design boardroom’s fervent debate, a commemoration of wealth so immediately productive of crowds and jammed traffic that going to class evokes the splendor of attending a 2016 makeup product launch at a Los Angeles mall, the one-hundred-forty-million-dollar Huntsman Hall manages to strike a nerve in anyone who steps foot inside. Can you belieeeeve Pret has four Philadelphia locations, and TWO of them are in Huntsman Hall: one on the ground floor, and one on the second floor, for the MBAs of course.
The first fire was the fire of falsehood, “when we do not fulfill what we promised.” Next came the fire of avarice, “when we place our love of worldly riches before the riches of Heaven,” then the fire of discord, “when we do not fear to offend the souls of our neighbors even in superficial matters,” and the fourth the fire of irreverence, “when we think it nothing to despoil and defraud those weaker than ourselves.” The four rolodexed through my mind as I made my daily trek to the dining hall. Interactions all doomed from the start. Damned by their own inertia, they collapse in on themselves and follow this tragic pattern.
Following in the footsteps of legendary female business pioneers (don’t ask me to name one), Danielle Bregoli is slated to step foot on Penn’s campus as the leader of Venture Lab, Penn’s newest emetophilic attempt at selling wayward college students on a dream.
Only at this very special place will you be considered exotic if you’ve gone to public school.
But I'm never gonna give up
The mouthwatering chicken over rice (with both sauces, you fucking freak) with extra cucumbers, and a drink for an extra dollar…
No, it’s not the Biolux™ Dentures – I’m smiling due to my joy!
Here’s the deal: You, me, and like seven other people all crammed around a table discussing Foucault in one of those stuffy College Hall rooms that reek of “historic” carpet. You can keep it, Philo.
In a rare feat of investigative journalism, UTB managed to unearth exclusive information about President Elizabeth Magill’s musings on worldly topics. One thing led to another, and she eventually divulged her identity as not only Penn’s first Gen X president, but also the first synesthete to hold the esteemed position.
In the wise words of John Green (he/him), “I don’t know who’s driving this ship of Theseus.”
Some nights, before going to bed, a strange figure appears to me in the mirror of the Harnwell College House high-rise dorm I brush my teeth in front of. He’s like me, only shorter (in height and hair length). His face is round, the kind of round that your aunt’s ballet friends would probably comment on in a fatphobic way in the summer of 2012. It’s me, my inner child!
God, this girl is so rogue. Basically, you’re sitting in your recitation group for your ancient greek history class, and the girl across the table from you says, “it’s giving boring.” Holy shit. She is so funny. How am I such a fool to not think to string together such words myself. Her parents are Republicans but she is bisexual. That is really cool. You open Instagram and see her Parade ads. It’s so cool that she’s an influencer.
It was a day like any other in Professor Nina Strohminger’s Wharton classroom (*WARNING* the author of this article goes to the less important school at Penn and is making conjectures about what a Wharton classroom is like), virtual, that is. Students donned in Lululemon and Canada Goose opened their Excel-doing, high-speed laptops for a riveting lecture about holding hands and coloring inside the lines, and maybe some business ethics.