The Oberlin Drinking Song

CHORUS:

Well, it’s PBR for hipsters and Great Lakes for me and you

Let’s find a ride to Johnny’s, boys, and buy a dram or two

So pick your favorite pronouns and pass the bottle round

And we’ll have high times at Oberlin till S&S shuts us down!

VERSES:

(Sturbaum)

Welcome to Ohio, I hope you like flat terrain

The weather here is marvelous, assuming you like rain

Our May and our September are the finest months of all

And all the months that come between, you’re freezing off your WELL…

I signed aboard a co-op for to eat some tasty food

I signed aboard at Harkness for to do it in the nude

But all of those discussions, well, I thought I’d have a fit

‘Coz you have to reach consensus just to go and take a WELL…

A lady came to Oberlin and found the SIC

So many things she learned there, she felt so fair and free

A maiden when she came here, she’s no maiden anymore

She wouldn’t consent till she was spent, the dirty little WELL…

Well, there’s many here at Oberlin with amorous intent

There isn’t any doubt to how they wish their time was spent

They want it oh so badly, but they haven’t had no luck

‘Coz it seems they’re far too awkward to initiate a WELL…

Well, there aren’t any traces of the gender binary here

It doesn’t matter to us if you’re gay or trans or queer

It’s really not that out-the-way, these things will come to pass

And it doesn’t make no difference if you take it up the WELL…

Well, a prospie came to Oberlin, his bright eyes all agleam

To see if north Ohio held the college of his dreams

He had his doubts when he came in, by morning he did not

‘Coz we took him to the Wisdom Tree and smoked him up with WELL…

(I wrote these verses)

I went one night to Dascomb Hall and had a shot or six

Set fire to the laundry and the kitchen just for kicks

But heed my warning, Obies, and don’t fall into that trap

Just from stepping into Dascomb, I think I got the WELL…

I hear that sex with Connies is really quite the treat

‘Coz the ways they use their fingers and their mouths cannot be beat

But if you want to take one home, I fear you’re out of luck

‘Coz you’ll have to go to Robertson if you ever want to WELL…

Well, the athlete boys could think all day about the ball they run

The scientist thinks with test tubes and the redneck thinks with guns

The writer thinks with pen and ink and the caveman thinks with rocks

But everyone knows that Oberlin boys think only with their WELL…

(Asp)

A maiden came to Oberlin, a virgin all the way

She’d never liked the lads at school, or the lassies, I must say

But now she lives in Baldwin and the lesbian life is it

She’ll only date the fairer sex now that she’s touched a WELL…

archiphile:

carpenteria beach house | more living rooms

I

Throughout the afternoon I watched them there,
Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky,
Whirling fantastic in the misty air,
Contending fierce for space supremacy.
And they flew down a mightier force at night,
As though in heaven there was revolt and riot,
And they, frail things had taken panic flight
Down to the calm earth seeking peace and quiet.
I went to bed and rose at early dawn
To see them huddled together in a heap,
Each merged into the other upon the lawn,
Worn out by the sharp struggle, fast asleep.
The sun shone brightly on them half the day,
By night they stealthily had stol’n away.


II

And suddenly my thoughts then turned to you
Who came to me upon a winter’s night,
When snow-sprites round my attic window flew,
Your hair disheveled, eyes aglow with light.
My heart was like the weather when you came,
The wanton winds were blowing loud and long;
But you, with joy and passion all aflame,
You danced and sang a lilting summer song.
I made room for you in my little bed,
Took covers from the closet fresh and warm,
A downful pillow for your scented head,
And lay down with you resting in my arm.
You went with Dawn. You left me ere the day,
The lonely actor of a dreamy play.

“The Snow Fairy,” Claude McKay
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
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All I Could Do is Cry (Etta James)

RIP.

‘m fairly sure Gingrich wasn’t proposing an open marriage in the hopes of flouting repressive traditions: He was just seeking permission to continue a moral lapse he’d grown comfortable in. His strategy of choice—popping the question over the phone at Marianne’s mother’s 84th birthday—was tasteless, to put it mildly. And not only did Gingrich ask for an open relationship retroactively, after carrying on an affair for six years, I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have been cool with Marianne having her own dalliances, either. Newt Gingrich is by no means the poster child for healthy open marriages.

He is, however, the poster child for the messy, miserable life people can have if they’re stuffed into rules they weren’t built to follow. He’s the poster child for how our sexist and repressive culture can hurt relationships. Gingrich was raised in, and now advocates for, a world that sets up incredibly narrow parameters for sex and love, and shames people who don’t adhere to those standards. He’s also part of a culture that often gives a chuck on the chin to a straying husband (unless he’s a political opponent) while branding a female cheater with a scarlet “A”—of course he wouldn’t feel comfortable with his wife doing her own thing. Even if Gingrich were to desire an egalitarian, functional open marriage, he wouldn’t have the tools, the script, nor the cultural context to live in one openly. 

Everything would have been perfect if some [expletive] program note author hadn’t started off thus: “K 415 is something of an odd bird, and has suffered abuse from various musicologists [unnamed]” then proceeded to list these anonymous complaints, and then—naturally—compared the work to the more sublime late Mozart. Sometimes that word sublime really bugs me. I swear, if we knew more about Mozart’s complexion, we would compare the sublimity of his zits.
Jeremy Denk (Think Denk)