Author Archives: David Walter

Today I went to Firestone’s rare books department to look at a book about medieval typefaces. I had heard that this book was really beautiful, and it was! I got lost in an enchanted forest of fonts, and by the time I found my way out I only had fifteen minutes left before seminar to eat lunch.

Head swirling with Gothic script, I ran over to Tower to grab some food. Today was build-your-own-burger day. I assembled the requisite components and, as a finishing touch, absentmindedly reached for a squeeze bottle of barbecue sauce. Without really looking, I dressed the bun thusly:

0216011310

Do you see what I see? A stylized, calligraphic capital A? (”A” as in, “Astonishingly Apropos,” given my earlier activity; also, “Astonishingly Artistic,” given that in real life, my penmanship is atrocious.)

Anyway, I post this because:
1) It completely and totally BLEW MY SLEEP-DEPRIVED MIND.
2) This is seriously the prettiest my handwriting has ever been, ever.
3) When it came time to eat the burger, I found out that the substance I had thought was barbecue sauce was actually A-1 steak sauce, which is gross (albeit also capital-A Apropos) and should never have been poured into a squeeze bottle marked “BBQ.” So if you’re a Tower member reading this, know that your condiment containers are grievously mislabeled, but also magic.

Yesterday we introduced you to Ladytown, the Frist classroom/discotheque that worked hard and partied harder.

Today, I present to you a time-lapse video (1 frame captured every 45 seconds) of Ladytown’s midnight-to-morning happenings, courtesy of Roger Wang ‘11.

People come, people dance, people go, but through it all, Yellow Hat stays anchored in the foreground, plugging away. What focus! What grit! What determination!  Truly an inspiration for us all.

wikipedia

wikipedia

Last week’s bat sighting in the Daily Princetonian building got me thinking (in numbered list form):

1a) What other critters might “accidentally” find their way into the office of Princeton’s paper of record?  And which of those animals would be big enough, strange enough, “newsworthy” enough, to force Da’ Prince’ to violate one of the cardinal commandments of journalism: “Thou shalt not report on thyself in the pages of thine own newspaper”?

2a) BATMAN. Thanks to 2005’s Batman Begins, everyone knows that the Caped Crusader attended Princeton in his youth. Attended, past tense. But what if the Prince-bat was meant as a public declaration that the B-man is back?

Well I got to thinkin’, and then I got to investigatin’, and now it’s time for some answerin’ answers.

1b) According to sources at the Prince, either “something big enough to eat you” OR “any animal you wouldn’t expect [ie, any non-indigenous species]” would warrant mention in the paper.  Good to know from a completely theoretical standpoint!

2b) Batman’s actually here. For real for real. His email is batman@princeton.edu.  His job is to keep us safe (from others, sure, but also from ourselves).  He’s not the hero we want; he’s the hero we need. “A silent guardian. A watchful protector.” BUT WHO IS THIS MASKED AVENGER?…

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Do you spend hours agonizing over your choice of a Facebook profile picture, only to worry that the pic just doesn’t feel right?  (It’s weird, but you swear your eyes in the picture start to look sadder and sadder — emptier — the longer you stare at them. Is that just a “you thing”?  Or are everyone’s Facebook eyes like that?) [Everyone's Facebook eyes are like that].

We feel your pain.  We want you to take better pictures.  And we figured — who better to teach you how than Jane Randall ‘12 of America’s Next Top Model?

Top Model second runner-up Jane Randall ‘12 frequently got knocked for not having a personality.  We’re happy to report this isn’t true!  See for yourself:

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UNJUSTLY ELIMINATED TOP MODEL CONTESTANT JANE RANDALL ‘12 LOVES SLEEP, HATES STAIRS. WE’D WRITE MORE ABOUT HER BUT WE’RE TOO UPSET RIGHT NOW.  JUST READ THIS SURVEY OR SOMETHING WHILE WE GO PUT A VOODOO HEX ON TYRA.  OK?  OK.

Ivano Grasso / The CW

Ivano Grasso / The CW

Name: Jane Randall
Age: 20
Major: History
Hometown: Baltimore, MD
Eating club/residential college affiliation: Cottage

Who’s your favorite Princetonian, living or dead, real or fictional?
Carlton from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

What’s the best meal you’ve eaten in Princeton?
Anything post-Street.

In one sentence, what do you actually do all day?
Sleep.

What is your greatest guilty pleasure?
Radio Disney

What’s your favorite article of clothing (that you own)?
Anything purple.

What’s the last student performance you saw?
The [Shakespeare] production that was put on in the New Butler amphitheater last year. I could see it all from my room.

What’s the best place on campus for a photoshoot?
Cuyler – I think Ralph Lauren actually shot an ad in the courtyard two summers ago.

What makes you laugh?
South Park.

What makes you cry?
The idea of actually working one day.

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America's Next Top Model

Ivano Basso, The CW

Cameras capture light, light reflects off surfaces — and that, dear readers, is where Reality Television must halt, unable to penetrate any further.

Try as you might, you simply can’t suck a person’s inner life into a videocamera, smash it into a million pixels, and then project what remains onto a TV screen. Scientifically impossible, I say!  Instead, all you can hope to capture are those aforementioned surfaces; all you can show are actions, not thought.

Not thoughts, hopes, and dreams, but cussing, fighting, and drinking: these are the building blocks of reality TV personhood, made available to editors for endless stacking and restacking until something like a character gets formed.

Someone like Snooki from Jersey Shore is an editor’s dream. She’s a wholly external creature: impulse translates directly into speech and action without the delay of unfilmable, tempering contemplation. And when Snooki acts, she acts BIG. To laugh is to snort, to drink is to guzzle, to cuss is to emit more [BLEEPS] per minute than a turn-of-the-century telegraph operator.

Snooki, in short, has a Reality Television “personality” – which is to say, an extreme one. Jane Randall ’12 does not, as America’s Next Top Model’s judges have remarked again and again, especially on tonight’s episode, which saw her land in the bottom two come elimination time for that very reason.

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Yale and Brown might have already gotten the full NYT treatment for their own “naked parties” — low-key shindigs where bare-skinned students drink wine, eat cheese, and just, you know, “be.” But it seems as if Princeton’s finally caught up with the times.  Here’s the invite the event’s organizers shared with The Ink.

From: XXXXXX@princeton.edu
Subject: Private Invitation
Date: October XX, 2010

You are invited to attend a naked party at  XXXXXX Hall this Thursday at 9pm. This is not a general invitation, but an invite for YOU; interested friends are welcome, but please let us know who they are beforehand – we’d like to keep this gathering under control.

(For a brief overview of naked parties, you can read this. Note that this isn’t an orgy, just a party sans-clothing.)

Some rules / guidelines:

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As you may have heard by now, SchwartzDY were eliminated last night on the Amazing Race. I’ll have a post up sometime in the near future about What It All Means, perhaps bundled with similar reflections on Jane Randall’s more successful run on America’s Next Top Model.  And by “in the near future,” I mean, “probably three months from now.”

Perhaps my procrastination is for the best. In all likelihood, you, like me, are just not Over It enough to really reflect on all that happened to Team Nassoon between the starting line and their Swedish sendoff.  Even using the past tense hurts right now, knowing that it’s all over for them, for us. One minute people you semi-know are mushing dogs and pitching tents in Lapland, and the next they’re just gone?

It’s like, is that it?  Is that the “real” we’re supposed to take away from “Reality TV” — that people just leave, and there’s no reason why, and we’re all supposed to be a-OK with it? How bleak. How horribly bleak. How cold and hard and bleak that is, like the frosty tundra our boys got stranded on as the Race passed them by:

race

But wait! All is not lost. Apparently someone eventually remembered about the permafrost-bound Princetonians, because here they are arriving at Elimination Station:

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Mathieu Young/The CW

Mathieu Young/The CW

Models today are kind of like children in the Victorian Era. To the grownups who run the fashion industry, they’re meant to be seen, not heard.

America’s Next Top Model reaches consistently thrilling creative heights by turning that truism on its head.  It’s a simple concept: Mic up some models, set them loose, and listen in.  With any luck, you can then grace the airwaves with bons mots that would turn even Wilde green with envy; for example, “Stank ho poured beer on my weave.”

As I discussed in my previous recap, though, Our Jane of Princeton is a special case: the more she’s shown talking, the worse she does.  Last week, a sudden case of the chatters set her up for a brush with elimination.

In tonight’s episode, Our Jane happily returned to her more circumspect ways, and her relative silence proved, if not golden, then at least good enough to grab the silver: her photoshoot with legendary Vogue photographer Patrick Demarchelier earned her the second callout to safety during judging panel.

And oh did angels weep with joy!

Lord knows I could testify ’till the sun goes down about Jane Randall Twelve’s miraculous redemption this cold autumn night; I could wax rhapsodic about the celestial fire in her eyes, the ethereal lightness of her posing; I could sing ’till hoarseness of Demarchelier’s holy encouragement, sacred as a blessing from the Pope on Christmas.

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Runyan

Jon Runyan

Even before the events of this past week, the U.S. Congressional race between Democratic incumbent John Adler and Republican challenger Jon Runyan wasn’t lacking for a compelling storyline.

Adler is a fast-talking lawyer trying to hold on to his seat in South Jersey’s right-leaning Third District; Runyan, the man seeking to unseat him, was until recently a Philadelphia Eagles offensive tackle (who held the dubious distinction of being ranked as one of the NFL’s dirtiest players).

But over the past few days Adler, not Runyan, has taken heat for his allegedly unsporting behavior.  Last Friday, the Cherry Hill Courier-Post charged that operatives tied to Adler recruited a bogus “New Jersey Tea Party” candidate to appear on the ballot and siphon away votes from Runyan. Adler denied the allegations; Runyan went on the attack.

It all came to a head last night at the Cherry Hill Jewish Community Center, where the candidates debated for the first time since the Courier-Post story broke.  Read what happened in the New York Times.

(photo: Master Sgt. Dwayne Gordon, Wikimedia Commons)

Oh my.

I knew things were heading south for Jane when she started talking. Top Model Jane doesn’t talk! Up until tonight’s episode, the show’s fifth, she’s been edited as a complete non-entity, a near-mute. Want proof? Someone on the Internet — not me, I swear — has strung together every single moment of screentime Jane’s gotten so far. If you have a minute and twenty-five seconds to spare, check out Jane’s episode three contributions in their entirety:

“Glorified extra” about sums it up.

But there Jane was, in tonight’s opening scene, no less, combining tonguetwists and lungbreath and repeated, vigorous jawflapping to produce the units of language most commonly known as “words.” Words! Unfortunately, these words were, “My father is a pulmonologist.” Then, in a confessional: “Growing up I was very fortunate. I haven’t had the struggles that other people have in their backgrounds. [What about Dean's Date, Jane?  What about Bicker?].

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