Issue 2 Spring 2023

OBERLIN’S ALTERNATIVE STUDENT NEWSPAPER

ISSUE 2 COVER ART

Front Cover: Derya Taspinar

Back Cover: Nyakwea Ndegwa

Forsberg and Teagan Hughes Co-Editors-in-Chief

Reggie Goudeau Features Editor

Raghav

Arts and Culture Editor

Hey buddy! You look really nice today; I like what you’ve done with your bangs. You’re really serving lately. Nobody’s doing it like you. Everyone’s noticed. It’s been awhile since we last spoke, eh? The ole editors’ note always seems to slip through the cracks last minute. Teagan and I, like all Grape editors past, are busy little beavers. Last week, I got a root canal for the first time and told everybody about it because I was so proud of myself for being a Big Girl (I was really, really scared – both of the drill and the bill). And in only slightly less harrowing news, I’ve been writing an abundance of desperate, sniveling cover letters and also an English capstone about old, working-class women in 20thcentury European novels. How can you not love a difficult old broad with a rich inner world? Truly who I aspire to be! Anyways, I hope you’re well, reader. Wishing you love, prosperity, spring break, and a swift line at Azzy’s.

Saffron

Hello! I’m excited to write another one of these—as aforementioned by Saffron, it’s been a bit. Aside from The Grape and classes, I’ve been spending a lot of my time on comedy stuff, trying to squeeze as much of it in as possible before I graduate in May and the world is never funny again (just kidding, kind of). Lately, I’ve been finding myself listening to a lot of the same old music I used to listen to at ages 14, 15—unfortunately, a lot of musical soundtracks (so, so sorry). I was, at first, imagining this as some sort of regression. But then again, it can never be a true regression because the context of my life is so wildly different now. I remember, too, that the last time I was really engaging with this stuff was at a time of great turbulence; maybe it’s just the transition music of my life. Thank you so much for picking up this issue of The Grape. This paper has been one of the highlights of my wildly busy year; we hope you enjoy it too. We hope your semester has been wonderful so far, and that it continues to be. Come see us at a contributors’ meeting soon!

Much love, Teagan

Saffron

Fionna Farrell Opinions Editor

Raj

Isabel Hardwig Bad Habits Editor

Skye Jalal, Zach Terrillion, Ollie Axelrod, Ellen Efstathiou, and Max Miller Staff Writers

Julian Crosetto Layout Editor

Maia Hadler Art Director

Frances McDowell and Molly Chapin Production Assistants

Going Out With a Bang at the BHM Fashion Show

Reggie Goudeau Features Editor

before I even attended here. This event is normally handled by the Black History Month Committee and frequently associated with the Afrikan Heritage House. The show often features student-made outfits acquired through ethical and environmentally-conscious needs. This one in particular had a sale following the event featuring

outfits from this and previous fashion shows. As the description provided on the Afrikan Heritage House’s Instagram page mentions, the event “provides participants with an opportunity to express and celebrate themselves and their beauty.” It is a beautiful expression of Black joy, queerness, and beauty in a eurocentric society, and an exciting time every year. With all of this in mind, I was honored that fourthyear Evyn Lundy asked me to be the show’s

I’ll admit, I was more than nervous to be performing at my biggest venue since Solarity. I did not get to practice my set nearly enough beforehand, and only saw the stage I’d perform on the day of the program. Even with these obstacles, I still felt excited amid my anxieties. Arriving early that day to see the stage and many of my friends adorned in immaculate outfits was also pretty encouraging. It was more than difficult to run over the lyrics to all three of my songs while making conversation and trying to maintain my poker face. Still, I persevered and managed to give a performance that I and many of the audience enjoyed. While I did admittedly choose popular songs from my discography to make my life easier that did not lessen the intro’s quality. After all, everyone turns up to R.E.G upon hearing those first few notes of “Goal Post.”

The remainder of the program after I completed my set was beautiful in atmosphere and in a literal sense. Lance Gulley’s rendition of “Lift Every Voice and Sing” was a fantastic follow-up, with just the right amount of trembling in his vocals (particularly with the line “bright as the listening sky”). I felt it

prepared everybody in the audience and the models wonderfully for what was to come. What I felt was the best showcase of music that evening was easily the performance by OCBMG. Their wide variety of instrumentalists and vocalists each brought a great contribution to their set of three songs. The first of these featured themes prominent in Black musical tradition, such as exhaustion and endless work. The bassist and trumpet player here were also beautiful. OCBMG’s second song was much lighter, and also quite sensual with a nostalgic instrumental. The drums dropping about a minute into the track were a nice touch, and the band members here particularly shined during many back and forth moments of ad-libbing.The third song began with crisp drumming to lead into their wonderful closer, a rendition of Lizzo’s “About Damn Time.” The two vocalists’ (Lance and Inayah Raheem) contrasting pitches and vocal flourishes added a great flair to the track, especially combined with the live music. I was also astounded to see a flute solo during this performance, which was a clever nod to Lizzo’s reallife ability to play it.

The MCs at these events are always a treat, and alumni Diwe Augustin-Glave, a former resident of A House, more than lived up to the expectations of those before. They both looked great, and introduced each theme well. Speaking of which, everyone looked gorgeous no matter what category their outfit was in, which was also a great reflection of this year’s theme. Said theme this year was “Woven, Worn, and Reborn,” a nod towards sustainability and how many of the pieces of outfits for this and previous fashion shows were acquired by thrifting. Some of my favorite sections from memory were the one with everyone in ballroom attire, the studentmade section (featuring a beautiful money dress and separate outfit with repurposed pom poms) and the one featuring all-denim.

Aside from the event starting a little late (which should not be held against my fellow Black people during BHM), everyone did their part here. The sound and livestream were smooth, the performers were engaging, and the models all looked gorgeous. I couldn’t have asked for a better note to leave Oberlin on, and I’m proud to have contributed to it, no matter the impact’s size.

Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

Losta Slots, Losta Lies: Predatory Advertising in the Mobile Game Industry

Dude Dudunsparce Contributor

Lotsa Slots is a free slots game on the Google Play and Apple Store. While there are many slots games available, this one is special because of its outrageous ads on YouTube. I have seen many different formulas for these ads, and each revolves around two basic concepts: free coins and large jackpots. One example (and the one I’ve seen the most) goes like this; A woman comes up to a car and asks if a man in a suit is the CEO of the game. He responds by saying, “10 trillion!” while handing her a briefcase. She asks the same question again, and he says, “another 10 trillion!” The woman gets tired of this and throws the briefcases down, saying that she has too many coins and can’t spend them all. This leads to the meat of the ad where the CEO explains that this game has plenty of opportunities to get free coins and a high chance to hit large jackpots in as fast as 10 spins.

The ad ends with the woman who was initially mad about having so many coins being happy that the game is like this. Most other ads of this variety have a similar formula, mainly with a setup where someone is mad they have too many or not enough coins, and the CEO goes over the main selling points of their game. Other than the information about coins, the game advertises no ads and there being no need to top up by buying coins or other things in the game. These ads made me wonder if there truly was a slots game like this, so I decided to download the game and give it a try.

At the start of the game, I got 5 million coins, which is interesting because ads start the game with 2 million. You also get another 40,000 coins from a daily gift. I picked one of the three slots that you start out with and began spinning. On my first spin,, I got a “Big Win,” which just means I won a lot of coins and not a jackpot. I did hit my first jackpot fairly quickly, but it took much longer than the initial ten spins as advertised. To give the game some credit, you do get a lot of free coins and high payouts. Still, I ran out of coins on the third day. If you run out of coins, you have the option to top up or continue spinning with more coins that the game gives you. This sounds nice, but they only give you enough coins for one spin at the minimum bet of 20,000 before bombarding you with pop-ups detailing how to buy coins.

This brings us to the first major problem with the game and a lie from the advertisement. There are several ways to top up, giving you more coins, power-ups, or other useful things to help get through the game. It’s obvious that Lotsa Slots is meant to tempt players with potentially billions or trillions of coins off of next spins so they keep buying coins at every opportunity to increase their bet amounts. It makes the most sense to me to bet a smaller amount to save coins and have more chances to hit a jackpot, but the game heavily incentives players to bet higher amounts by locking bonuses and even certain jackpots behind higher bet amounts. The entire purpose of this is to make consumers run out of coins faster

and to increase the number of coins it seems like the player is winning. If you bet 1 million coins and win 2 million coins, the same ratio would apply if you bet 2 million coins. This artificially makes it feel like betting more coins is worth it. While there are chances at higher jackpots by betting more coins, this chance is very low and leads to less coins overall.

Another key feature of the game is a million side activities going on at all times. As you spin, you level up and unlock new features in the game. This includes live events that go on for 3-5 days at a time, clans that people can join to get coins from other players, and even caring for a dragon that players hatch from an egg. This is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to opportunities for earning daily free coins. Getting free currency sounds like a good thing, but many of these opportunities are locked behind playing the game for at least an hour, combined with winning or betting a specific number of coins. Sometimes there are rewards for logging in daily, and the game will alert you about missing some coins. The worst part here is that many of these extra features let players pay real money to increase the number of coins they can get from them, again trying to push winning more coins at all times. While the gameplay outside of the slots has many confusing aspects, the slots themselves also have unique gimmicks that can be hard to understand.

At the beginning of opening a slots game, you get a sentence or two explaining the gimmick before being left to figure out the rest on your own. For example, the slot called “moolah” is farm-themed and lets you get bonus coins by collecting water and growing plants. There’s also a minigame on every board that players can unlock by getting three specific symbols at the same time. For the moolah slot, the minigame puts you on a board with colored spaces. Players then spin a wheel with colors adjacent to the board and move to the corresponding space they land upon. Each space gives you more free spins once the game is over, such as a wild reel (a line on the slots completely full of wilds) or another screen to win on. Once you reach the end of the board, you’ll activate your remaining free spins with wilds and multiple screens at the same time. This is yet another way to make it feel like players are winning a lot of coins because these happen pretty rarely and usually only bring consumers back to their initial coin profit prior to betting, if that.

I wanted to see how Losta Slots compares to other similar games, so I downloaded the number 1 casino slots game from the Google Play Store, Quick Hit Slots . This game has a similar formula to Losta Slots with players receiving a lot of free coins at the start of the game and from outside factors. The slots themselves are not as complicated, which helped me actually understand what counts as a hit and why. I also haven’t seen many minigames here; there were mainly opportunities to get free spins with occasional multipliers. Admittedly, it was harder to play

Quick Hit Slots because I won much less. I played both games for about a week, so I hesitate to think this isn’t just related to luck. Either way, both slots games use similar tactics to coerce money from players.

Slots games are devious examples of predatory advertisement and gameplay in the mobile game industry. They clearly value profits above the actual mental health of their players. I could imagine someone being addicted to gambling through online slots games and spending hundreds of dollars with no chance of making the money back. All of this, just for some online points without no real meaning. Even when I was playing, I was tempted to buy coins or power-ups for the low price of $1.99. Seeing your coin amount increase is deceivingly exciting, and these games both understand and prey on these feelings. While most free mobile games are focused on earning money, slots games are easily some of the worst examples.

Illustration by Maia Hadler Art Director

A Message from SLAC — “It’s All About the Dollar”

Mary Ann Mongomery, Izzy Sanchez-Foster, and Keagan Tan Contributors

Saturday, February 18th, marked the 3-year anniversary of Oberlin College’s announcement that they were considering outsourcing over a hundred unionized workers. Despite a robust student, teacher, and alumni-led campaign against the layoff, the decision to fire 113 workers was finalized in August 2020. This decision was made in order to outsource dining services to AVI, disrupt the union, and cut costs, furthering the Board of Trustees’ neoliberal agenda. Removing longtime custodians, dining service workers, and other staff disrupted the Oberlin community and drastically impacted the lives of those fired. Lori, a former custodian employed at Oberlin for 26 years, expressed that for her the layoff “was like suffering through a death and I went through a deep depression.” The stress of this event was only worsened by the fact that the Covid-19 pandemic had just begun and finding work was extremely difficult. Marsha Rae Douglass, a former GCC cook and custodian was barely back a month after undergoing surgery before getting laid off. She shared that “trying to find a job in the middle of the pandemic was...awful. It wasn’t happening, everything was closed down. So now I had no job, I was still trying to recover not only physically but financially from the kidney transplant, bills piled up, it was a mess.” The layoff fucked over hardworking, compassionate members of our community. Most of them were at the college for over ten years, and several were a mere month or two from retirement. These workers, more than any of the faculty and students, were painfully aware of where the college was headed after these layoffs. Jack Kubicki, who had been with the college for 13 years, stated, “...they’re just trying to do away with the unions because they don’t want to pay nobody health benefits, they don’t wanna pay a proper wage. When you work for somebody for a long time, you would hope they cared enough about you that they’d want to see you be able to live a decent life when you retire.”

In the summer of 2022, the Labor Institute (an Oberlin alumni-run organization) sponsored an internship where four Oberlin students, two of them SLAC members, conducted interviews with 16 of the workers fired in 2020. In the interviews, we found that the consequences of the layoff were felt far and wide, and the short notice of it left workers scrambling to make ends meet. They experienced significant healthcare, housing, and other financial challenges; forced to blow through their savings just to survive. Over decades of service, the workers had established themselves in the community by providing skilled labor and expertise while supporting themselves and their families. They developed close relationships with the students and staff. They helped feed us, kept our homes clean, and generally went out of their way for us. Some even drove students to doctor’s appointments and cooked them meals.

The interviews conducted in 2022 have been used to create a report that will soon be printed and distributed across town and campus. This month, using findings from the report, we’ll be creating an exhibit that will offer those affected a chance to tell their own stories, try to find justice, and encourage us all to fight for our community. The audio-visual display will be presented in Mudd Library starting March 10th.

Most of us weren’t on campus for the layoff, and it’s imperative that we understand what motivates our administrators (surprise, surprise, it’s not kindness, joy, or the pursuit of education). Furthermore, we must respect and honor workers past and present, who are the heart of this community. Before the end of 2025, Oberlin’s contracts with Campus Security, UAW, Carpenters, and OCOPE are all set to expire. This means Oberlin could attempt the same layoff and outsource technique, so understanding what happened in 2020 will ideally prepare us for the fights ahead.

Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

“A&W”: It’s Still Lana

Catherine Gilligan Contributor

Lana Del Rey has embodied innumerable personas throughout her career: troubled starlet, trailer park princess, old money debutante, tormented mistress. Needless to say, she’s been around the block. It’s easy to imagine a version of Lana in which she’s still clinging to the vulnerable nympho bit; Lolita pushing forty, if you will. Instead, it seems as if she has managed the opposite; her latest single, “A&W,” showcases a refreshingly mature, if jaded side of the pop princess as she delivers the ballad of the keenly self-aware side piece.

One thing Lana is often maligned for is her reliance on cliches — the various “female archetypes” she personifies, her cloying Old-Hollywood sound, her middlebrow cultural reference points. While none of these critiques are wrong, per se, I think they minimize just how weird a lot of her songwriting actually is. Her maximalist approach to lyricism and hyper specific anecdotes (Fuck you Kevin!) can be as rich and compelling as they are off-putting and heavyhanded.

“A&W” features a cleaner, but equally engrossing, more “grown up” version of the same word salad Lana has been honing since “Maybe we could go to Coney Island/Maybe I could sing the national anthem/ Buy a white sweater for the last white day of the summer/ Buy my purple

wig for my mermaid video.” The seven-minute track contains a host of dark, funny and bizarre lines. Among them: “Called up one drunk, called up another/ Forensic Files wasn’t on”; “Did you know a singer can still be/ Looking like a sidepiece at thirtythree?”; and naturally, the bril liant hook, “It’s not about havin’ someone to love me anymore/ This is the experience of bein’ an American whore.” Her frankly corny air of melodrama, coupled with the track’s many excruci atingly earnest lyrics make for something uniquely tongue in cheek — the gallows humor of a grown woman scorned.

Of course, I’d be remiss not to mention the real star of “A&W,” which is none other than its fi nal three minutes. After nearly four years of little but saccharine tracks about wanting to love her police lieutenant fiancée “like a woman,” Lana has finally re leased something fun for the girls! Interpolating Little Antho ny and the Imperials’ “Shimmy Shimmy Ko- Ko Bop,” the sec ond half of the track is an upbeat electropop dance party, perfectly punctuated with the marvelously snide “Your mom called, I told her, you’re fucking up big time.”

So say what you will about Ms. Mesh Mask, Lana “Question for the Culture” Del Rey, but over a decade after her commercial de but, she seems to just get better with age.

Illustration by Julian Crosetto Layout Editor

Into the Oscar-Verse: Eat My Shorts

Zach Terrillion Staff Writer

The Film Academy last year decided to cut six awards from its annual telecast. Three of those were the short film categories. These mini-movies, categorized by documentary, live-action, and animated, are often made by independent studios and up-andcoming filmmakers. They can be tasty little morsels of what the medium has to offer. However, in 2022 they were deemed unworthy of the big leagues. In 2023, Apollo held a week’s worth of screenings showing the 15 films nominated for this year. I decided to check out a showing of the animated film line-up because animation tends to be my favorite form of everything. The five pieces shown varied wildly, moving from a watercolor children’s book adaptation to a drug-addled teen sex farce to post-modern ostrich stop-motion. Some were vulgar. Some were cheesy. It was all a time. I outline my thoughts below.

An Ostrich Told Me the World is Fake and I Think I Believe It:

This title! No notes. This stop-motion short from Australia focuses on Neil, your average office worker in an existential crisis. He realizes his entire world is, in fact, the set of a student stop-motion movie. The flick deconstructs the stop-motion process as quicklytimed hands animate characters in the clear frame of a camera. The fourth wall breaks were clever and tonal shifts were handled well. Neil takes apart his own body into various pieces, creating images straight out of a Cronenberg movie. However, the film offered little beyond its strong hook. I would have liked a bit more of a character arc for our lead or as much as the 11-minute runtime could accommodate. The ostrich was pretty great, however.

The Flying Sailor:

At 8 minutes, this Canadian piece is the shortest of the five. It’s also the most experimental. It features a unique rotoscoped style, with bungled curves reflecting the imperfections of our titular character. A cartoon opening straight out of Popeye gives away to a horrific explosion triggering a mini-apocalypse in the sailor’s town. He is flown through the air, clothes shedding as he enters a fetal state. The imagery is bold, with bloodshot linework illustrating the chaos of the sailor’s surroundings. Flashback sequences feature the child version of his character imposed over live-action backgrounds. It’s interesting, but that is much I could say about the film. My wish for more themes and story is a personal preference, but I feel the filmmakers could have added more subtle details that give this airborne marine more of an inner life. The most surprising bit of the short is that it is actually based on a true story. In 1917, a Halifax sailor was flung over 2 km into the air due to a devastating explosion. He lived to tell the tale. Truth is stranger than fiction, and animation is a great medium to show it.

The Ice Merchants:

The shorts picked up starting with this gem, telling the story of a merchant and his son trying to survive in their lonely home clamped to the edges of an ice-coated mountain. The coloring is gorgeous, stripped of anything but red and white, as if the world is bled to show only the refined blurs of the frame. The character designs are simple but personalized, occupying the straight-laced outlines of a New Yorker cartoon. Life is fully granted to this world, down even to the trickling of water and the rolling of a coffee mug. A gorgeous score and soundscape don’t hurt either, with excellent editing coming in for a high-tension climax. The final shot of a

artist’s brushstrokes. The 2-D animation of character expression combines perfectly with the depth of 3-D. I want all animated flicks to look like this. I’ll advise you to abandon every ounce of cynicism, irony, pessimism, postmodernism, etc., that you hold in your soul. You must be EARNEST. OPTIMISTIC. Or, like me, in a weirdly emotionally vulnerable position. If you’re not, you’ll probably hate this British work. Every other line is something out of a selfhelp book you find in a counseling waiting room. The emotions are clear. The musical score soars. The found family trope reigns with an iron fist. I did weep a few times even though I could tell I was being manipulated. Sometimes you need a little manipulation. If you need an escape from our cynical world into a sweet little tale of Self Love 101, I can’t recommend it enough.

My Year of Dicks:

Right after The Boy, The Mole, etc.…, the screen showed a content warning for explicit sexual content. Putting something raunchy right after the kid’s book adaptation? My friend and I were curious. Then the title showed up. Roars of laughter erupt from the audience. Explicit indeed. This film memoir has the most traditional narrative of the five, chronicling a teen girl attempting to lose her virginity to various guys (her “year of dicks,” though the type of “dick” being described is up to interpretation). The animation is trippy and nearkaleidoscopic. It mixes and matches styles ranging from 70s LSD to 90s anime. A bold creative decision pops out for nearly every frame. It’s a feast, so much that it could nearly make you car sick. What surprised me was the writing. The script better captured the existential dread and dubious relationships of 15-year-olds in 25 minutes than Euphoria has done in 2 seasons. The humor is edgy, of course, but there’s this lovely sweetness beneath all of it. It’s tender like the last short but in its own way. The teen girl angst is allowed to shine through without cynicism and exploitation. It’s also freaking hilarious.

pile of hats may be the best, most quietly devastating, and life-affirming visual storytelling I’ve seen this year.

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse: Ok, I have THOUGHTS on this. At one moment, I think it’s my second favorite of the five. The next moment, it’s my least favorite. At 34 minutes, it took up nearly half of the presentation. The loose story follows a boy searching for a home, eventually being joined by a gaggle of adorable animal companions. The watercolor art style was my obsession. The outlines of the characters seem to float like an

The Oscars will air all 23 categories again this year, giving the short films time for appreciation. I’m predicting the Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse to take the award. It’s the kind of film that makes most souls teary-eyed, no matter how supposedly manipulated those tears are. Plus, with stars like Idris Elba and backers like the BBC and Apple, it has prestige and influence. In terms of what I want to win the Oscar, unequivocally, My Year of Dicks. It was my favorite of the bunch, and I feel it is the work that most propels the animated medium forward. It shows what animation can do and the diverse stories it can tell. Also, I want to hear a random celebrity announcer shout the title on live T.V. for the whole country to hear.

Illustration by Frances McDowell Production Assistant

“This is Why” Paramore Still Matters: A New Album Reconciled

Zach Terrillion Staff Writer

How do you review your favorite band’s new album? It’s like when your artist best friend shows you their latest piece and asks for feedback. Are you supposed to tell them it sucks? You don’t want to hurt their feelings and harm the bond you guys have built for years. For me, Paramore and I have something deeper than friendship. It’s been imbued since my babysitter first played the Twilight soundtrack when I was six. This month, the beloved poppunk trio dropped their sixth studio album, This is Why, their first since After Laughter in 2017. Between the last and current Paramore albums, we’ve had an authoritarian president, growing discontent within new social media platforms, and societal isolation induced by a global pandemic. The band envisioned this piece as a response to all the lessons learned over those years. It is reconciliation in many ways. This review is a reconciliation of that reconciliation.

The opening, titular track, “This is Why,” is a thesis of sorts for the 40-minute work. It’s funky as fuck, with discordant guitar strums creating an immersive soundscape. Hayley’s signature earthbound vocals reflect on a refusal to confront the times. It explores why we “don’t leave the house.” The beat drops create the impeccable impulse to start banging your head. It marries the punk atmosphere of Paramore’s classic albums with the experimental rhythms of After Laughter. “The News” marks a rare moment of Paramore explicitly engaging with modern politics, where “every second our collective heart breaks.” The exploration of the times feels more surfacelevel. We know the current moment is “deplorable and historical!” Still, Paramore centers the emotion of the moment rather than the moment itself. Emotion. The lessons we all learn are explored in a way only a 20-year-old group can. The reconciliations we are making.

The following two tracks, “Running out of Time” and “C’est Comme Ca,” embrace the band’s punkish roots. The former piece is a bit reflective, specifically about whether the narrator has been a selfish prick all of their life. Hayley moves a bit away from her signature belts. She mumbles, overlay -

ing her voice to create a near-ghostly internal monologue. As she “runs out of time,” her voice becomes discordant and fading. Perhaps this reflects on Paramore’s existence as a whole, a band always trying to catch up and reinvent itself over the decades. The song cuts off at the end as if it failed to beat the clock. The latter track, French for “it is what it is,” is deliciously bratty. The childish “na-na-nas” in the background reflect the old-fashioned teen rebellion that the band has long embodied and inspired. It’s their Riot! era in miniature. When they were “running on spite and sheer revenge,” needing “a certain degree of disorder.”

Disorder definitely kicks in as the peppy first half of This is Why falls into a more forlorn second. “Big Man, Little Dignity” kicks off with the eerie sadness of brass instrumentals. It’s earnest and bluntly romantic, as Hayley sings about someone they can’t stand but somehow can’t let go. “Crave” is simply gorgeous, leaving a tug in the stomach that fills it up with emotions. Some light acoustics take you back to when things were happier and sadder at the same time. When “just for a second, it all felt simple.” The chords of these tunes reflect the melancholy of After Laughter’s “26” and Brand New Eyes’ “Misguided Ghosts,” which are my two favorite Paramore songs. They inhabit the angst that makes you nostalgic for the worst time of your life. I could think back to 8th grade me — a “big man” in all their “little dignity.” Like Williams hums, “I’m already missing it.”

“You First” stands out for its sheer intensity. Hayley imagines herself as living in a horror film. Something waits and stalks her, a “devil on my shoulder” reflected in the recurring rhythms. This may be the most Emo song on the album. A character grapples with their demons and battles an addiction, “giving energy” to some stray animal: “Karma’s gonna come for all of us, and I hope she comes for you first.” #Edgy. Still, the song’s “emoness” is not quite as rebellious. It’s energetic but not exactly youthful. It’s a song made for 30-something emos like the trio performing this whole thing, the ones who thought they’d simmer down as they got older. To be punk

and emo is not a phase put away once you graduate high school. It’s a state of mind, a stalker throughout one’s life. It’s a pretty universal state of mind. “Everyone is a bad guy,” Williams croons. The genre’s called “Pop-Punk” for a reason.

For the remaining songs, “Figure 8” and “Liar” didn’t stand out quite as much, but we get a compelling conclusion. The album gets capped off with “Thick Skull.” The lyrics are chilling. “I am attracted to broken people. I pick ’em up and my fingers are bleeding.” Damn. Hayley overlays her voice again to reflect her getting “hit over the head” and reaching “epiphany.” Her character is harming herself to reach a

new realization.

While the title track opens This is Why, this final piece was ironically the first one Paramore developed for the album. This context coats the whole album in this intense sadness and chaos. However, “sadness” and “chaos” could be the two defining words of this era. Broken people get hurt trying to put each other back together. The very last line of the song and the whole album says that the band has been “caught red-handed.” Why? The band has done something. Something wrong, or oh so right? Why did they do this thing? Why have they mattered to us for all this time? Perhaps this album can tell us why.

Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

Arm Chair, Ophelia Jackson

Wish I Were Me, Maia Hadler

Omede’Tai, Maia Hadler Maxwell, Maia Hadler

Which Way Out, Molly Chapin

Face, Lucas Ritchie-Shatz

Mid Century Montag, Lucas Ritchie-Shatz

Choke, Jewel Crosetto

Unpack This, Ophelia Jackson

That Happens Here, Too?: On the Ineffectiveness of Oberlin Hazing Training

Ellen Efstathiou Staff Writer

Roughly a month ago, Oberlin students opened their emails to fnd an unexpected message from Vector LMS: all students must participate in a mandatory training course about hazing. Since it wasn’t from an Oberlin email address, and since there had been no warning that this was going to happen, I did what anyone would do and forgot about the message as soon as I read it. I didn’t delete the email, though, just in case I became involved in one of The Grape’s notorious hazing situations.

For the sake of writing this article, though, I sacrifced my time and patience and completed the aforementioned training. There were fve parts and a ten-question quiz at the end to ensure that I had been paying attention.

The introduction explained hazing and its prevalence across college campuses. Hazing, in the real world, is not synonymous with how it is portrayed in the media. Oftentimes, it is much subtler. I had to answer some questions about whether I’d ever been involved in hazing or thought other people here would participate in it. Unless judging someone for not being from New York counts as hazing, I don’t think there’s much of it happening here.

The next sections were Understanding Hazing, Identifying and Reporting Hazing, and the Conclusion. They explained that they get their data from the Alfred University National Survey on Hazing. They also gave more examples of hazing and said that no organization is immune to it. They said that it’s normal to want to be part of a group, but hazing shouldn’t be involved. Then they ask you for feedback on the course and if your attitudes towards hazing have changed at all. (They hadn’t. I wasn’t planning on hazing anyone before and I’m not planning on doing it now. Although, I suppose that now, people joining clubs might be more aware that hazing can happen).

Yay, we made it through the whole thing.

First thing’s frst: why has there been so little information about this? Students did not know ahead of time that the training was going to be something they were expected to take. The email tosses around the word “mandatory,” but is it actually? What is going to happen if someone doesn’t take it? For consent trainings, which are also mandatory, it is very clear that if you do not go to the training, there are consequences. Your ID card will stop working. Meanwhile, I know many people who have not yet participated in the hazing training. Many people claim simply to have not received the email. Everyone has participated in consent training, Oberlin made sure of that. If hazing is such a big concern, Oberlin should make sure students know we need to take the hazing training.

Furthermore, why was the email with the information about the training sent from outside Oberlin? With the number of phishing scams that students get, why would they think that this one is legit? So that brings up the question, does Oberlin actually care about this? And if they (evidently) don’t, why are they doing this? What is the point of having an outside company send everyone a suspicious-looking email and not following up on it? And sure, you can reach out to Associate Dean of Students, Thom Julian, to ask any questions you might have, but in order to fnd out who to contact you have to click on the

link in the suspicious email frst.

Continuing with the comparison to consent training, I think that in order to make the hazing training actually efective, it needs to be done in a way that allows for conversation. That is what makes consent training useful. You have to engage in it—there is no way around it. For the hazing training, one can easily zone out for 25 minutes and answer the questions on the quiz at the end with common sense. If the professional company that Oberlin hired to do the hazing training is no diferent than what my high school did about hazing (having us sign a contract that said we wouldn’t haze), then what is the point of hiring the professional company?

Finally, is there even a need for hazing training at Oberlin? I have not experienced hazing here. According to an article in the Review, most people at Oberlin don’t think hazing is an issue. Now, the hazing training is due to legal reasons; however, this is bare minimum stuf. Like a lot of trainings that educational places are required to do, there is much emphasis on recognizing what something is. There is much less about what to do to prevent it. This is something that having Oberlin-specifc training would help with. For example, in the consent training, they can give you Oberlin-specifc advice about what to do if sexual assault does happen. The general advice from the professional company hazing training of “go to the Dean of Students or someone else with that type of power” isn’t going to actually help anybody.

Illustration by Frances McDowell Production Assistant

Why Tell Stories While the World is Burning? (A Cheerful Article?)

Captain Ruffles Contributor

It’s a cliche at this school to remark that “nothing I do as an individual matters in a capitalist world-system built on exploitation.” I can avoid Wall Street all I want and make snide remarks about business bros, but there’s always a sense that I’m using this liberal arts smugness as a false sense of superiority. Anything to remind myself when I’m down, “If I can just point to someone more obviously complicit than me…” then I can find some shallow comfort to ease my conscience.

I’m also a creative writer. Second side of the coin. As much as I like decrying the world’s obsession with measuring the worth of anything by its instrumental “usefulness,” my instincts buy into this quantifying ideology all the time. If I wasn’t so bad at math and science, maybe then I could be an engineer or chemist developing new technologies to combat climate change. Shit, I hate economics, but if I understood how the economy worked, maybe I could contribute to designing anti-capitalist institutions. I’ve done activism and organizing, to a small degree, but it never feels enough.

No—instead, I like to write stories. In a world on fire, where your friends are the community leaders you wish you had the courage to be, where they are the researchers you know will change the world with their insights, what is the point of writing stories?

Escapism? Exploring the human condition? I don’t exactly think of storytelling in either terms. I have always seen storytelling as a conduit for dealing with difficult emotions. Feelings and realizations that won’t leave you. Thoughts and feelings that, no matter how much you talk and search for the right words, can never be fully understood in conversation. Life will always confront you with absurdity, weird dramatic tonal shifts when convenience towards your feelings just refuses to exist, difficult decisions for which no one can tell you what truly is the right thing to do, overwhelming realizations at how small you are in the face of systemic issues. Writing and talking about these feelings and difficult decisions can be useful, but I’ve always found there’s just something about experiencing a story that explores messy mixed emotions and impossible dilemmas that feels more cathartic.

This is not the same as saying stories are best when they’re dark and heavy. It’s not about tone and weight. Comedy can be one of the best places to process overwhelming emotion. It’s why dark comedy can be so resonant. It’s why

eat-the-rich satires can be so cathartic in a way that just shitting on rich people in conversation might just not be. Moreover, stories and the worlds they build can tap into the feeling of what it’s like trying to constantly make sense of your place in an insane system. Journalist reports, academic readings, intellectual op-eds, these can be insightful and sobering in their information, sure, but they are ultimately too reflective and composed in essence to communicate the

primal feelings that erupt when you’re sitting there bombarded with unexpected tragedy.

That feeling of recognition. Seeing myself, or more precisely, experiencing the emotions I could never put into words directly, all communicated through a story well-told, reminds me I’m not alone. While the world is burning, and as much as it’s easy for me to obsess over the urgency of what some of my peers are doing with their work, I try to remind myself of what storytelling offers.

Illustration by Maia Hadler Art Director

The Many Faces of the Anti-Woke Warrior

Fionna Farrell Opinons Editor

Anti-woke fervor seems to have reached its zenith in 2023. If you ask me, I don’t necessarily think we’re getting much better. My grandmother still likes to ask me things like “What race wouldn’t you date?” after I ask her for money every six months. Corporate brands support BLM like they’re part of an MLM. And for whatever morsel of “progress”—that word as in-the-open yet elusive as our albino squirrel—that manages to happen, an army of Tucker Carlson dickriders and Joe Rogan listeners still find a way to complain about it. I don’t know how it got like this; it is much cause for embarrassment, if embarrassment is an emotion you still feel.

Perhaps if the American political system weren’t so fubar as of late, the anti-woke warriors would find more productive things to do with their time. NFTs don’t grow on trees and alpha YouTube channels aren’t go ing to create themselves. Alas, though, these in dustrious pursuits are only second-tier options for the chronically anti-woke. The anti-woke cause has swallowed up the GOP—and with it, the minds of countless impressionable fourteenyear-olds—with such fanatical, unrelenting te nacity that there may not be a point of return anytime soon. I yearn for the old days when poli ticians were more focused on killing each other. Now, they are set on killing an idea. For Republi cans—but, more broadly, anyone who suffers the slightest disillusionment with the moral edicts of PC culture—”wokeness” has become synony mous with all things laughably wrong with the world. It is no beacon of progress, but rather, something that inhibits the great, essentialist values of America from uniting us.

Obviously, the most outspoken decriers of the woke cause (who may or may not be from Flor ida) are the ones we’ve come to know by name. Ron DeSantis, who is more-than more than like ly to announce a 2024 presidential bid, has be come the anti-woke Jesus. From his cross of lib eral backbones, DeSantis preaches only the most extreme of PC, AOC-bashing rhetoric, complete ly cavalier, or rather oblivious to, all the noxious “isms” that it perpetuates. And while immense danger does, in part, lie in his rhetorical unfinesse—DeSantis spewed a generation of bum per stickers with “Florida is where woke goes to die”—it should not be forgotten that the legisla tion he and others support upends livelihoods. It certainly becomes a great matter for concern when the law you signed gets nicknamed the “Don’t Say Gay” bill.

The DeSantis thread is clearly the most overt brand of anti-wokism that pervades our political sphere; its abiders are the types to call wokeism a “cruel and dangerous cult” and treat it like more of a virus than covid ever was. In this way, it can be quite easy for the rest of us (not those of us who are “woke,” per se, but simply those of us who do not go full conniption over the word) to view these individuals as reactionary pundits within the era of post-Trump causelessness. “Wokeism” serves as a convenient dog whistle, when the escape from PC buzzwordbullets grows narrower by the day. Heavy runs the blood that spills over Twitter.

However, the ensconcement of anti-wokeness into the Republican party might stretch far beyond Ron DeSantis and those who would purchase his bumper stickers. It is the most comfortable conclusion to come to, that the anti-woke demographic is only one of two extremes, and that the majority of us idle in the infinite middle. But in reality, few causes within the GOP, especially among 2024 presidential hopefuls, permeate beyond the anti-woke umbrella. I’d like to talk about one such of those hopefuls and her unique brand of anti-wokeness; Nikki Haley may be far less offensive, to the average middle American, than bigot-spigots like DeSantis, but her rhetoric and message shows us a new, more insidious layer to the pervasive anti-woke cause. She reminds us that the anti-woke club is not simply just an old boys club.

Haley, whose myriad titles include UN ambassador and former governor of South Carolina, is also a woman. Not only this, but she is a woman of color. If there’s anything that history has taught us, it’s that things have been particularly hard in America for women and people of color. It’s tough to imagine that, in the 14,789th parallel universe in which I become a politician, I wouldn’t devote myself entirely to legislated misandry. Haley, however, thinks that modern feminism relies entirely on “victimhood,” and that every decision in women’s lives (on the subject of abortion) are “boxed in by a woke mob.” Again, the mob makes another rhetorical appearance, but whom or what exactly is she referring to? It remains a mystery. Perhaps the mystery is just now reaching its peak of suspense—when Biden was elected president three years ago, Haley had this to say (tweet): “With Biden as Pres, we should all be worried about the woke left. They will stifle free speech in the name of “freedom” & enact discriminatory policies in pursuit of “equality” & do it with a vision that has no resemblance to the America we know &

It would be totally presumptuous to say that Haley isn’t allowed to be a bigot just because she is a woman of color. Because we are in the America that she “knows and loves,” she has the absolute freedom to do so. However, what is truly cause for concern about Haley’s campaign is her willingness to weaponize her identities to marginalize working-class people of color. In her campaign ad, she proudly declares, “Not Black. Not White. I was different,” and then goes on to soapbox about the importance of unity—and that true evil exists not in America, but in China and Iran. Unlike DeSantis, Haley might not be threatening physical violence on the abstract ideal of wokeness; however, she has also said that racism “does not exist in America,” not only denying history, but attempting to erase it.

Well, it’s not like Haley has a chance of winning—the polls put her at a scanty 7%, compared to Desantis’s 28%. Can you guess whom the 43% belongs to? It is another person of color, that color being orange. The anti-woke spread is becoming more inclusive by the day.

Illustration by Julian Crosetto Layout Editor

Loser Boyfriends are the Latest Trend

Ollie Axelrod Staff Writer

With the rise of the new decade, a shocking trend has emerged in celebrity dating gossip: extraordinarily hot women are dating freaks. Though the recent pairing of Emily Ratajkowski and Eric Andre is especially confusing, it is only an acme of the predecessors that were MGK and Megan Fox and, to a lesser extent, the more palatable Kim Kardashian and Pete Davidson. But why is this happening? To what can we owe these women’s decisions?

Well, these pairings are all fairly algorithmic. The women involved are generally older, wellestablished, and incredibly conventionally attractive, while the men are often younger, appeal to more niche audiences, and have that frustrating and often unplaceable trait—one that I would call goofiness.

The archetype of the so-called “goofy guy” can be difficult to define. His appeal goes beyond just being funny or charming: in fact, the goofy guy is sometimes not particularly funny or charming at all. His characterization comes more from the attempt than the output. This is to say that the goofy guy is desperate to be liked—a social anxiety that can easily be mistaken for sweetness—and as a result he is twitchy and performative, his words often eloquent but stilted, his one-liners seemingly half-prepared. In this, he is utterly approachable. We see this desperation in the faux-punk, wannabe-cool egoism of Machine Gun Kelly as much as we see it in the self-deprecating, compensatory humor of Pete Davidson and the loud, attention-seeking slapstick of Eric Andre. At least from their public personas, these men are completely uncomplicated and deeply obvious, which somehow makes them kind of adorable.

In this, the goofy man does have some public and personal appeal. However, in the celebrity and influencer dating sphere, in which I function under the assumption that nearly every relationship is at least in part fabricated off of cultivating and marketing some sort of image, I’d argue that the goofy guy is also increasingly fashionable. The marketization of dating is nothing new, especially in celebrity culture. Famous pairings were often between beautiful younger women and significantly older or more powerful men with some sort of critical notoriety. Winning the dating game proved market value. Look at Leo DiCaprio’s infamous string of girlfriends: each one has an ideally Instagrammable face and is a walking epitomiza -

tion of youthful beauty. Furthermore, finessing the dating market can be incredibly profitable. Gorgeous young women have found success and fame through the men that they date: both Hadids, for example, kickstarted their public careers by dating successful musicians. However, as women become more socially conscious, public opinion is beginning to waver away from this insidious lust for feminine youth. The trend of the goofy/gorgeous couple subverts these gendered power dynamics—though still in the context of a patriarchal sphere. The gorgeous women are often significantly more palatable and powerful than the goofy men that they’re dating, but they’re also more dehumanized. What Emrata, Kim Kardashian, and Megan Fox all have in common is that their celebrity is sourced from and can be heavily attributed to their desirability towards men. Their public careers have been one long objectification. Perhaps women whose entire public image depends on their patriarchal palatability can only change the narratives of their fame by exchanging the men that they surround themselves with. The goofy boyfriend humanizes and distincts the women that he dates through shocking red carpet couples’ outfits and off-beat talk show interviews. An easy example of this is Machine Gun Kelly and Megan Fox. The truly unbelievable aspect of the two’s relationship is not simply that Megan Fox chose to have sex with MGK, but that she ab -

sorbed his childishly provocative aesthetic and image almost immediately. Although the public’s perception of Megan Fox’s swift turn into Hot-Topic-style-BDSM hedonism has been far from favorable, maybe being a subject of controversy and ridicule is preferable to going through the world as a blank and inoffensive pretty face. This analysis is complicated by the general suspicion that MGK’s power over Fox in their personal relationship went far beyond consensual kink. As long as celebrity women continue to successfully source their value through men, insidious patriarchal structures will continue to lurk beneath these relationships.

This criticism is not necessarily constrained wholly to the rich and famous, especially as influencer culture blurs the line between celebrity and citizen. As I have become more engrossed in the Twitter gossip surrounding the goofy/ gorgeous phenomenon, I’ve noticed traces of it on Oberlin’s campus: incredibly beautiful girls get with extremely weird men, and hanging around with them and their friends seemingly provides them with both external and internal social validation. Now, there is nothing wrong with dating weirdos—trust me, I’m all for it. But it’s important that we’re thoughtful about the men that we date. Do we like them, or are we crafting a narrative?

Illustration by Frances McDowell Production Assistant

Hey guys,

It’s Gags. Today is a dark day. I ‘m not sure when I’ll be back with my regular column. Things have been really busy yaknow... sex therapizing and what not. Anyway , let us know if you wanna fill in for me and enjoy this issue of Bad Habits!

Letterboxd Reviews by Dads

Captain Ruffles Contributor

The Godfather (1972) (5 Stars)

The greatest movie ever made but very demeaning to women and minorities.

Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked (2011) (½ Star)

I love my kids unconditionally.

Star Wars (1977) (5 Stars)

Saw in back in theaters in ‘77. CGI just can’t beat those practical effects!

Ghostbusters (2016) (3½ Stars)

I didn’t really get the humor, but my wife and daughter loved it, so it’s a good movie in my book.

Deadpool 2 (2018) (3 Stars)

Ryan Reynolds is quite a handsome fella, isn’t he?

The Martian (2015) (4½ Stars)

Great demonstration of the unbreakable human spirit.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017) (1 Star) I didn’t like it.

Midsommar (2019) (3 Stars)

I didn’t get it.

Knives Out (2019) (4 Stars) Well, that was quite the who-donut wasn’t it?

The Irishman (2019) (5 Stars)

Scorsese’s done it again. A cinematic masterpiece.

Paddington 2 (2017) (5 Stars)

I get it.

Illustration by Maia Hadler Art Director

IS SNL GOING DOWNHILL?

Bad Habits Team

Although SNL is a vaunted and much-loved institution for many, it’s drawn mixed reviews in recent months, leaving many to wonder what its future has in store. We’ve gathered a few Grape writers to share their thoughts.

“The Store Norske Leksikon (SNL for short) is a Norwegian encyclopedia that has both (old) print versions, and an online (free) version. This week, I ventured into the world wide web to see what SNL has to offer.

I figured I’d start with an easy word: hello. Everyone knows about the word hello. The first result that SNL gave me was “Hello, Dolly!” While this wasn’t what I was expecting, I was still pleasantly surprised. I’m a huge fan of old musicals, and this made me feel like SNL cared about me personally.

Next, I decided to go to the homepage and see what they were offering people there. I found an entry about Pål Grøt. Who was Pål Grøt, you ask? Why, he was a Norwegian rose painter, wood carver, and carpenter! Many mugs and beer bowls that he made have been preserved. Why didn’t he make cups instead of bowls for beer? I don’t know, SNL didn’t tell me that.

It was about this point that I was starting to real ize the shortcomings that SNL has. For one, it’s in Norwegian. I don’t know any Norwegian. I had to Google Translate everything if I wanted to under stand it, and we all know how bad that can be.

I decided to abandon Google Translate. While I couldn’t understand any word that didn’t look at least slightly like English, there were still nice pic tures to look at. From those, I could at least figure out what the entry was about, even if I wasn’t learn ing anything. I went down a rabbit hole about biol ogy.

Also, the layout is quite nice. All information is clear, as long as you know Norwegian. Their little bird logo thing is cute too.

In conclusion, SNL, helpful if you know Norwe gian, bad if you don’t. And now, as a present, here’s some fun words I found and translated:

Ekteskapsformidleren - the marriage broker

Samsvarsbøying - compliance inflection

Skiskyting - biathlon made of skiing and shooting

Tuberkelbakterie - tubercle bacteria

Publikumsvennlige - public friendly”

- Ellen Efstathiou

“The level of excitement I had for writing this may be mildly concerning. In middle school I had a hyperfixation on logistical information relating to airports. I have looked at the “airlines and des tinations” section of the Wikipedia pages of termi nals more than the average closeted teen looks at the “personal life” section of celebrities. The images earn solid marks. The interior is giving dentist’s of fice. #waiting-room-core. The SNL website is sexy enough, with ooh-inducing terms like “comment/ request” and “city emergency management.” What kind of emergency? The cute little thundercloud emoji might provide some hints, a kawaiification of natural disaster. It’s compelling, methinks.”

- Zach Terrillion, on the Shawnee Regional Air port (Federal Location Identifier-SNL)

“I’ve heard a lot of people say that they’re going to stop watching SNL, but I think that’s a fool’s errand—there’s literally nowhere better to keep up to date on the happenings of U.K. ice hockey than in

the Scottish National League. Yeah, there’s been a lot of recent turnover, but that’s to be expected in such a high-stress environment, and it’s hard to deny that they’ve got some real talent going for them right now. The Aberdeen Lynx remain a clear favorite for league champion, but their recent loss at the hands of the Kirkcaldy Kestrels could throw everything into question. Though currently sixth in the league, the Kestrels themselves have a couple of wild cards up their sleeves, including 18-year-old wunderkind Innes Gallacher. He’s definitely going to be someone to watch for the next couple of years, and if the Kestrels are in an upswing, it could upset the entire league ranking. That’s not even getting into the Paisley Pirates’ recent double-header, which could easily put them above both the Edinburgh Capitals and the Dundee Comets. All that to say: if you think this season of SNL is boring, you

aren’t paying attention.

If you’re instead referring to the other SNL (the Scottish National League of table tennis), I can acknowledge that they’ve had a rough year. Founder and leader Chris Dangerfield recently sold the rights to the league to Steve Pound, “an individual who has a long history with table tennis,” and critics have been left wondering where the league will go next. What will become of the youth brackets, the action shots, the judging committee hand-selected by the Board of Table Tennis Scotland? SNL might have an uncertain future, but it also boasts a long history of perseverance, courage and table tennis. Give it a little time, and it’ll once again reassert its place as a beloved national institution.”

- Isabel Hardwig, unprompted

Illustration by Julian Crosetto Layout Editor

Seeking Home? Find It Here.

Oberlin Association of Realtors Contributor

Imagine a glimpse into the future: fall 2023. Oberlin College has admitted yet another record-sized class in a row and converted half of its dorms into First Year Residential Experience buildings. Where’s an upperclassman to live? Fear not, for we have taken the liberty of compiling a list of the hottest alternative places to live around Oberlin:

1. The shack above the Bike Co-op

A literal condemned structure, what’s not to love about this little shack attached to the back of Keep Cottage? The years of graffiti and the gappedboard walls give the place an undeniable sense of character and charm that simply doesn’t exist anywhere else on campus. Plus, due to aforementioned gaps between boards in the walls, it’s extremely well-ventilated — perfect for those hot summer nights we regularly enjoy in Oberlin.

2. In between the outside of the windows and the concrete frame of the King Building

If you like living life on the edge in the fullest sense of the word, these perches on the King Building are perfect for you. At roughly 3 feet wide and 12 feet long, they provide all the space a college student could possibly need. Located conveniently outside every King classroom, you couldn’t find a more central place to live. Who doesn’t want to sleep just 4 steps away from their classroom? You’d even have a built-in alarm clock in the form of a 9am politics class full of overconfident white boys who just loooooove the sound of their own voice!

3. The window nook in the art library

This is an incredible place to live for so many reasons. It’s the only place on this list so far that includes a bed and table. It even has pillows on the window bench, so all you’d need to provide at move-in are blankets. The views here simply can’t be beat, as you have a 24/7 look inside of one of the best college art museums in Ohio. You’d even have the coolest roommate in all of Oberlin: a cast of the Venus de Milo!

4. Next to the Conservatory Koi Pond

Do you like camping? If so, perhaps you should take advantage of the premier camping ground on Oberlin’s campus: the koi pond. A natural oasis within a concrete jungle of mid-century architecture, this area boasts running water, tall trees, and local wildlife.

5. Inside of the half-empty jar of salsa that your roommate has left in the fridge since October.

Oddly lime-flavored, but the floor-to-ceiling windows are super nice!

A Semi-Comprehensive McDonald’s Review

Proudly Brought to You By Two Uninformed, Unqualifed Idiots

Max Miller Staff Writer

I find myself meandering over to the McDonald’s on South Main more often than I’m proud to admit. I am not sure why I do it, or what exactly I am looking for, but, somehow, Mickey D’s always seems to scratch an indescribable itch. For whatever reason, though I visit fairly regularly, I haven’t tried the Golden Arches’ options beyond the dollar menu. I decided to explore McDonald’s other offerings with my Californian buddy Harry Sneddon. We picked them up, found a random room in Wilder, and went to town.

1. McChicken

Max Miller: I just want to say that I get four of these every McDonald’s order. My McDonald’s order is four McChickens and a vanilla shake.

Harry Sneddon: How much is a McChicken?

MM: $2.50. It’s on the dollar menu.

HS: How the fuck is it on the dollar menu if it’s $2.50?

MM: It’s a $1, $2, $3 menu.

HS: That’s ridiculous. The state of this country. [Bites]

MM: That is God’s greatest gift.

HS: I don’t think it’s that good. It’s a fried chicken sandwich. It’s supposed to be crispy. I’m eating a piece of memory foam.

MM: That’s awesome! Why would that be bad? I love memory foam!

HS: I’m not a fan. It’s also McDonald’s chicken where you throw six whole chickens with feathers into a blender and then you strain out whatever’s left.

MM: That’s why it’s the pinnacle of chicken sandwiches. It takes six chickens that could be used for six diferent chicken sandwiches and takes a horse from somewhere in Croatia and mixes them all together and creates beauty.

McChicken,

Photo by Max Miller

2. Big Mac

HS: A Big Mac is less than a quarter pound.

MM: Why is it called “Big” then?

HS: It’s two eighth pound patties. They’re little slivers of beef. [Bites]

MM: It’s weirdly disconcerting on frst bite. I feel uncomfortable right now. I’m not sure why.

HS: It’s too much bread. The three buns is too much. The bun to meat ratio is of. That being said, the sauce, the cheese, that whole combination is really good. I like the onions. I like the Big Mac sauce. Let’s be real, the sauce is Thousand Island. But it’s good.

MM: It’s not revolutionary by any means. It’s an interesting favor combination. I just found it to be a bit underwhelming for a Big Mac. It’s supposed to be big. If it was a Small Mac, maybe it would be diferent.

HS: It should be a half pound. It should be a double burger and not two half burgers stacked for fair and presentation.

MM: The thing about the Big Mac is it is thin. You could fold it up and throw it like a paper airplane.

HS: I like the beefy feeling when I bite into a hamburger. It’s all bread.

MM: It doesn’t feel like real food.

HS: That’s the same thing that bugged me about the McChicken. There’s a sameness when you bite into it. With a burger there’s a formula. The bun is kinda crisp, there’s a meaty middle, the pickles are crispy. There’s a feeling of bite. Big Macs - I just sink through them. It’s all mush. It’s like someone gave me a cube of bugs that tasted good. It would taste good but you’re still eating a fucking cube of bugs.

MM: I would eat a bug. You wouldn’t eat a bug?

HS: A single bug, sure. A cube of bugs is a whole diferent deal. A conglomerate?

MM: What kind of bug in theory would you eat a cube of? I would eat a cube of ants, personally.

HS: That’s so many ants.

MM: And you wouldn’t eat that? I would.

HS: And you’d eat four McChickens too.

3.

HS: Such high expectations for this. This is what a chicken sandwich looks like to me. It looks like it’s actually fried. At least it’s trying. It’s got sauce. Got pickles.

MM: And the shape looks like chicken.

HS: Yeah, this looks like at least a chicken breast was here at some point.

[Bites]

MM: No. I hate this. It’s terrible.

HS: Memory foam conglomerate chicken is bad. The amount I have to chew this might be worse.

MM: This is my least favorite one. I hate this, which is a real shame because I thought I was gonna really like it.

HS: I’m not as ofended as you are. I just think it’s mid.

MM: It reminds me of Rat hot wings on Wednesdays. Which is not good. No ofense Rat.

MM: I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to sleep tonight.

4. Filet O’ Fish

HS: You said this one’s polarizing. I’ve heard it’s polarizing. I think this is gonna be OK.

MM: This is gonna be the best sandwich I’ve ever experienced.

HS: I just got a whif of Filet O’ Fish.

[Deep Snif]

MM: [Coughing] Dude, I inhaled it.

HS: Oh my God. It smells like dying fsh. I’m sorry I mentioned it. It hit my nose and I was like “there’s something dying.”

MM: It smells like death.

HS: It smells like rotting fsh.

MM: Should we just dig in?

HS: I don’t know if I can.

[Bites]

HS: Oh. I don’t like it. I don’t wanna do this anymore.

MM: Oh my God.

HS: [Hacking sound] That’s fucking awful. I can’t fnish that. I feel like I’m gonna throw up. I feel like I’ve been poisoned. This sandwich has just violated my entire digestive system. The full tract has just been sullied irreparably.

HS: Maybe if I didn’t notice the smell frst it would’ve been ok? But it was pretty awful. So bad. That’s gonna haunt me.

MM: Is this what we’re killing our fsh for?

HS: My main concern with fsh eating is mercury poisoning. And lead poisoning. When you eat a big fsh you’re eating 30,000 fsh per fsh.

MM: What the hell does that mean?

HS: If you eat a sardine, there’s a little bit of lead that doesn’t matter. But if you eat a salmon that ate 40,000 sardines over the course of its life, it accumulates. The lead doesn’t get expelled. So they just accumulate all the lead from everything they eat.

MM: You think you could make a pencil out of salmon?

HS: Don’t ever ask me that question again.

MM: You think if you put a salmon in a zeppelin it would fall down?

HS: I need this Filet O’ Fish out of my sight.

MM: Also, the absolute audacity to package it in a container with waves on it?

HS: Yeah, those fsh live and die in a bucket. That thing’s never seen the ocean. Maybe the sandwich is better in other places.

MM: Where?

HS: Japan.

MM: There’s no way they serve Filet O’ Fish in Japan.

Spicy McCrispy

Big Mac, Photo by Max Miller

Spicy McCrispy, Photo by Max Miller

Filet O’ Fish, Photo by Max Miller

5. Apple Pie

HS: When secret menus were big in the 2010s, you used to be able to get them to grind one of these into a McFlurry.

MM: That sounds really good. My greatest fear with secret menu stuf is the cashier doesn’t know the order. Imagine how silly you sound. “Hey, can I get some Jingle Bell Hell fries?” And they’re like, “It’s my second day. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” The names are always so stupid. Who came up with animal style fries by the way?

HS: Have you ever eaten them? They’re slop. You feel like an animal when you eat them. In-N-Out is overrated. I hate to admit this as a Californian, but In-N-Out fucking sucks. If In-N-Out was quick and easy it would be good. It’s like an eight hour line. Habit Burger. I’ll put you guys on. If you’re ever in California. Fantastic.

MM: Here’s what I will say as a New Yorker. I have to concede. Shake Shack: also overrated. You pay nine bucks for a burger that tastes like the inside of somebody’s boot. And then, I’m like, “I want a shake.” Seven bucks. And this is the best part. They have a black and white cookie shake and a cookies and cream shake. What the hell is the diference? They’re the same shit! It’s unbelievable. Why would you do that?

I will never understand. I never remember which one I’ve gotten, so I don’t know which one is good. I know what favor I want. You’re making it too complicated. Why the hell would you have two diferent options on the same fucking favor? Makes no sense. It pisses me of.

[Bites]

HS: Fucking delightful.

MM: I would say it’s tied for the best thing we’ve eaten today.

HS: With?

MM: McChicken, baby.

HS: That’s fucking insane. That’s actually insane to say. The apple pie is the best thing here. It was crispy.

MM: On a whole, I thought it would be much better than this. I typically really like McDonald’s. I was disappointed on the whole. Also, if anybody knows somebody who enjoys Filet O’ Fish, cut them out of your life. They will commit nefarious acts in the future. On the whole, I was expecting to be like, “Dude, this is so good!” And it was really just mid at best.

Harry: That’s our review.

Max: Lovely. It’s been a pleasure.

Interviews With Oberlin Students

Minnie P. Ennis Interviewer Extraordinaire

INTERVIEW #1:

The Grape: Is it okay if we ask you something for a Grape article?

Interviewee: Sure

The Grape: Uglypersonsaywha???

Interviewee: What?

The Grape: haha

INTERVIEW #2:

The Grape: Would you rather drink a cup of oil or whole milk?

Interviewee: Um, milk.

The Grape: What if it was sunfower oil?

Interviewee: Still milk.

The Grape: Olive?

Interviewee: You know, I actually have to go to class right now.

INTERVIEW #3:

The Grape: What is your biggest life regret? Please explain in detail.

Interviewee: ...

INTERVIEW #4:

The Grape: Do you think I’m the ugliest person to ever exist? (Be honest.)

Interviewee: No.

The Grape: What about him over there?

Interviewee: No.

INTERVIEW #5:

The Grape: Okay. FMK: Jessie J, Ariana Grande, Nicki Minaj.

Interviewee: Who is Jessie J?

INTERVIEW #6:

The Grape: Who is the Secretary of State?

Taso Mullen: Joe Biden.

Best Bathrooms for Nosebleeds: a Comparative Study

Andrew McCracken Contributor

INTERVIEW #7:

The Grape: Are you psychic?

Interviewee: No.

The Grape: Are you sure? How many fngers am I holding up?

Interviewee: Three. I can see them.

The Grape: So you’re psychic and a liar?

INTERVIEW #8:

The Grape: Do you want to ask me any questions?

Interviewee: Maybe, um, let me think…

The Grape: Nevermind.

INTERVIEW #9:

The Grape: Would you rather have a hot dog or a matter baby?

Interviewee: What’s a matter baby?

The Grape: Nothing much, what’s up with you?

Fair warning: this article contains regular descriptions of blood in its many forms. Don’t read this if you don’t like blood: you will not have a good time. If you’re fine with blood, though, do read this.

Over the course of the cold and dry winter term, I found myself in many situations, several of which involved nosebleeds. And because I consider myself to be a man of the people, I have decided to collect and distribute my wisdom on this subject. Please enjoy this non-comprehensive list of the best and worst bathrooms to have a nosebleed in.

Dascomb & Talcott

My first encounter with the Talcott bathrooms was at the beginning of winter term. I was weeping on the floor outside the locked doors of Heritage, mourning the closure of the dining hall, when my nose suddenly began to bleed. I quickly dragged myself to the nearest bathroom and wept into the sink. Salt, blood, and sink water mingled and swirled down the drain.

My Dascomb nosebleed was almost exactly the inverse of this. It was very late at night, and I was sleepily reading a book. Without any reason or warning, my nose began to bleed, and I hurriedly

Apple Pie, Photo by Max Miller

rushed to the bathroom and waited for it to finish. It was only once the bleeding stopped that I discovered the true danger. In my sudden mad rush to the bathroom, I’d left my phone behind, and without that, I couldn’t get back into my room, where my phone was. I only realized this when shambled back to my door and couldn’t figure out why it wouldn’t open. Instead of walking ten feet to my RA’s door, I simply flopped onto the ground and curled up in a ball of misery until a kind janitor found me in the morning and gave me a bag of chips (shoutout Chester).

Both Dascomb and Talcott bathrooms have regularstyle faucets, which are unobtrusive and functional. In fact, the Dascomb and Talcott bathrooms are almost the same, which is why I’m reviewing them together: solid 4 out of 10 for both of them.

Wilder

The Wilder hall basement bathroom is one of the absolute worst to get a nosebleed in. At first, this is counterintuitive: the basement bathrooms are clean, and frankly pretty nice. But look a little closer, and you’ll see how this fiction unravels itself: the sinks.

My primary issue is with the faucets. They’re the kind that were designed by some sadist with an unusual hardon for the mid-2010s airport bathroom aesthetic. They’re the ones that lack the second most important faucet feature, and indeed the one that is most resounding throughout human faucet history (which is coincidentally my selfdesigned major).

They’re the kind without handles.

They don’t have a regular knob to turn. Instead, you need to undergo extreme hand flagellation to activate a sensor which will then dispense the most flimsy stream of water in history, and (like my ex) the slightest lapse in contact will turn them off immediately.

I have other complaints as well. The faucet juts much too far out over the sink basin, and it intercepts blood drops, splashing them over the countertop. Said countertop is also more prone to smearing blood rather than wiping it. The list goes on.

This is by far my worst nosebleed experience. The only redeeming factor was that my friends were there to alternately help me out and gawk in horror. (Thanks, guys.) Negative one million out of ten, I never want to do that again.

Stevie

Shockingly, the Stevie bathrooms are actually the best that I’ve had to use thus far. The basin is large and deep, which helps keep the blood in the sink. The faucets are set a comfortable distance back so that the blood all lands in the sink. It’s private enough that I can drain a pint of blood out my nose in my own cubicle of misery. Honestly, my only complaint is that they’re outside of the dining hall itself. What kind of miserable wretch decided on that? I had to leave my dinner and all my earthly possessions in Stevenson dining hall because my nostril was flowing like the seven seas, and now, twenty minutes later, dehydrated with a headache like the Sco Pitbull Night, I have to verbally battle the cafeteria worker because she doesn’t believe me even though I have a dark crust all over the left side of my face?

Despite that, Stevie is still the best nosebleed I’ve had on campus (I can’t believe I just typed that out). However, I choose to believe that the main factor of this is not the facilities, or the setting, but in fact the random Obertone who walked in, looked at me, looked at the sink, and told me “that’s what you get for trying to sneak in.”

Thus concludes my preliminary research into the best bathrooms on campus to have a nosebleed in. In the rest of my time at Oberlin, I hope to delve further into this engrossing and fluid topic. If any of you who read this happen to see me around–in class, at a dining hall, in my room, or anywhere else in our respective lives–feel free to just absolutely deck me in the nose. Give me your best left hook and I will be eternally grateful for your contributions to my scientific madness method.

A Sickly Victorian Writer Spends A Night At Oberlin

Captain Ruffles Contributor

It was a dark and stormy night, and the precipitation bore down like a hail of cold arrows. The road to Oberlin College was treacherous, but my carriage nonetheless arrived punctually outside South Hall. Upon setting foot in the residential hall, I made my way to my assigned Room 219.

I was taken aback by a note nailed to the door that stated that my assigned lodging was now occupied by three displaced students sharing a single bed and that I would be promptly relocated to Room 369 in North. The letter was signed with the words “best regards” as to alleviate my stress. I attempted to vacate South Hall in pursuit of North, but quickly found myself trapped.

Every instance I believed I found the staircase to freedom was revealed to be false hope. I cannot explain how or why, but the hallways of South are alive and endless. They are haunted by the sounds of laughing men who dislike deodorant and musicians pushed to the brink of burnout. The building is a ghoulish trickster of the highest regard; a riddle wrapped in an enigma hidden within a conundrum designed to test the limits of sanity. Fortunately, I am British.

While taking refuge in a bathroom, I happened upon a greasy young fellow of ambigu -

ous gender presentation who went by the alias of “Flip”. I asked Flip if many of the residents of this higher-education institution shared such distinguished ambiguous gender features like them. Flip said many did. At this point, Flip floated and guided me out of South Hall. I will forever be grateful for them.

Flung out of the jaws of South, I persevered through the freezing rain. While I made safe passage to North, I was not prepared for my stay. My room was the size of a shoebox, but no matter, one has to be grateful to have a roof over one’s head. More disturbing was the ability to hear with perfect clarity what one’s neighbors were saying or doing.

As a distinguished gentleman of pristine prudence, I do not enjoy overhearing the sexual exploits of my fellow residents. Especially when they involve the lactation fetishes of Manhattan millionaire sons with their Midwestern cowgirl girlfriends (complete with moo imitations). Perhaps this is the price of education, and I as a mere temporary traveler cannot grasp the intent of the infrastructure of this institution.

I cannot imagine how one can successfully pursue one’s educational needs at a school like this. I wish these Oberlin students the best of luck. They’ll need it.

Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant