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This weekend the Badgers head East to Michigan to face off against the Spartans on Saturday and the Wolverines on Sunday.
This is the second installment in our ongoing mystery series. In the first installment of Nowhere, three friends, Hannah, Cade, and Levi walk across a frozen lake Mendota in the middle of the night. As they explore they hear a strange pounding noise and Cade falls through the ice. Hannah saves him from the ice and walks him home. The next morning, on her way to College Library, Hannah sees police searching the lake for a body. Near the police she spots Levi who tells her that Cade was not with them the night before. If you want to catch up on the story in more detail you can click here.
Surely you’ve seen, or at least heard of, David Zucker’s movies. The 1971 UW-Madison alumnus is a giant in the film industry. He directed “Airplane!” and “The Naked Gun,” and helped start the careers of South Park creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker as well as “Dumb and Dumber” directors Peter and Bobby Farrelly. In town for a campus tour with his son, I sat down with Zucker to talk about his time at UW-Madison and everything that followed.
With 125 wins, two WCHA regular season championships, three conference tournament titles and four straight Frozen Four appearances, Wisconsin's senior class has had a career that most collegiate players can only dream of.Yet for as much as they've won, those six players—Sarah Nurse, Sydney McKibbon, Mikayla Johnson, Mellissa Channell, Jenny Ryan and Ann-Renée Desbiens—have always been defined as much by their failures as by their successes.While they won the WCHA, they couldn't beat Minnesota in Minneapolis. While they got a No. 1 ranking, they couldn't convert it into a title. While their star goaltender set NCAA records, she didn't win the Patty Kazmaier. Even making the Frozen Four every year turned into a negative after three straight semifinal losses to the Gophers.It's easy to see this year as an extension of that pattern. Despite holding the No. 1 ranking the entire year, boasting the top offense and defense and the country's best player and avoiding another matchup with Minnesota, the Badgers still couldn't capture the program's fifth title.But these players are far too talented and accomplished to be defined by what they couldn't do.They routinely gave Minnesota—a team that was one game away from five straight national championships—all it could handle. They set NCAA records for attendance, not once but twice, and helped establish LaBahn Arena as one of women's college hockey's premier venues.Mostly importantly, they maintained a tradition of success and created a team culture that has put their successors in a position to succeed even more. The younger members of this year’s team repeatedly cited the seniors as a major factor in their smooth transition to Madison and the college game.
*Before I start this article, I want to begin with a consent caveat. Everything discussed in this article is clearly pointing to all sexual activities between consenting partners. A full definition of consent given by Sex Out Loud states “Consent is the clear, freely-given, informed, enthusiastic, continuous presence of a yes and not the absence of a no.”*I’m not going to lie to you. As you can assume, being so open about sex all the time does not come without judgment from those surrounding me. While I originally was nervous to post and share my articles on my social media due to being friends with older adults as well as past teachers, I found that a lot of the people who were hesitant at first to click my links were more of my college-age connections. Comments like, “What Sydney? You just talk and write about sex all day?” and “Wait but what does your family think?” consistently have surrounded me since I first took over this column. While I wouldn’t say my dad particularly loves that his daughter is a sex columnist, I also wouldn’t say it is the bane of his existence (also if we’re talking even older; my grandfather recently informed me that he shares my articles with his colleagues because he’s proud of me, regardless of content, so take that, Judgmental Judies). Whenever I have a new article published and I feel that twinge of nervousness in my stomach after sharing it on my Facebook feed, I have to check and ask myself, ‘why’? When I am re-posting other articles about various topics like politics, beauty, life, etc., I never am nervous about what my followers will think. However, when it comes to my own very open articles about sex, I have a fear of others’ comments. This alone reminds me exactly why I have chosen the path that I have—sex is still such a weighted topic in our society due to the way we have socially constructed certain connotations surrounding these activities. Sex is taught to the public to be taboo, something you will most likely engage in during your lifetime but something you should not speak about unless behind closed doors. This hush-hush mentality, and thus a lack of education on the topic, has led to a plethora of problems including high rates of STIs, high rates of sexual assault and rape as well as unwanted pregnancies.To me, sex has never been a topic I have feared speaking about. While I know there is a time and a place deemed appropriate for certain speech (something about social cues and filters I’m supposed to have??), I have always been able to talk openly with my mother, as well as with my friends, about sex. In my mind, sex is sex; just another part of life (like exercising, going to a fun class, etc.), another activity almost everyone I know is engaging in quite often. I have observed, often in large groups, people become super shy when sex is brought up and others boast about how great their sex lives are while silently shaming others in the room if they aren’t experiencing the same type of sex. However, behind closed doors, those people have also been the first to ask me certain clarification questions and admit they told lies when surrounded by others. Why do we feel the need to make every sexual experience into something bigger than it is? Countless times my girl friends have come home after a hookup and relay how amazing it was and then a couple months later talk about that same experience negatively, claiming “whiskey dick” ruined the sex or something else (I am not excluding myself from this behavior FYI, I have definitely fluffed up a sexual encounter due to pressure I’ve felt from others). But why do we do this? Where is this pressure coming from? If we have had a sexual encounter that wasn’t something to write home about, why are we telling our friends the opposite? And, vice versa, if we consistently engage in mind-blowing, incredible sex (props to us), why do we feel the need to push that in the faces of others when they discuss their own experiences quite differently? In my opinion, we need to place an emphasis on normalizing sex as a part of conversation, instead of treating it like a dangerous taboo, and in turn we will eventually see a dramatic reduction in rates of STIs, sexual assaults and hopefully an increase in positive, educated dialogue amongst parents and children as well as teachers and students in sex education classes.While I am by no means saying that everyone should always be having sex or must always want to engage in sexual activities (we need to welcome and acknowledge our asexual friends, our abstinent friends and also educate ourselves on certain age restraints and laws put in place to protect us), I am just saying that the way sex is discussed in general needs to shift. When we talk about sex, when we cancel out the negativity surrounding it and instead educate those with pleasure-inclusive curriculum, we then can lessen all of the “hoopla” surrounding this activity. The less we look at sex as an activity that can only be performed by certain people, at certain times, in a certain way, the more potential we have to educate those around us about the basic human right to enjoy our lives.The way most of us are taught to talk about sex growing up can directly correlate to a lot of young peoples’ tendencies to lie about their sexual encounters. Whether we are lying about the number of partners we had or have not had, how frequently we are having sex or when talking about the things we like in bed, at some point in our lives we will find (or already have found) ourselves fibbing about something. For example, I know a lot of young sexually active women that lie to their gynecologists about the number of partners they have had due to embarrassment of that amount being deemed socially “too high.” I also know a lot of young sexually active men that talk with their guy friends about any sort of anal play in bed, deeming it as a negative activity and using the words “that is so gay” when in reality they love a good finger (or toy) up their butt in private. These two examples bring up sexual myths we love spreading that could be stopped if we encourage open dialogue about sex. For the first example, the number of partners a person has should not be something we use to judge others for. There is no legitimized standard set for the limit to the number of people you should be having sex with. You set those limits for yourself. If you are happy with yourself and genuinely enjoy having a lot of different partners, good for you! If you are more comfortable only having sex with a few people in your life that is also awesome! What we define as too many or too few partners should be something only we have a say in. The second one points to the myth that if a person with a penis engages in any sort of butt play during sex they are automatically gay (one caveat before I debunk this, what the fuck is wrong with being gay?). Regardless of whether you are having sex with same gender or opposite gender partners, this myth needs to be debunked. Everyone has a butt and it can be pleasurable for everyone as long as you are educated on what you are doing, being hygienic and using lots of lube. A heterosexual man that enjoys his female partners playing with his butt does not need a label on him staking him as “gay,” if he is simply just a person with a penis enjoying sex as is his right just like it is everyone’s right that wants it. You would never hear a gay man negatively claiming that sex with a vagina is “so straight” so think about what you are saying before you say it.If you cringed once while reading this article or identified with some of the examples I threw on the table, this shows exactly why the quality of sex education needs to shift greatly for the generations below us. Many of us in our 20s and older received abstinence-only sex education, no sex education at all or basic sex education which was non-pleasure inclusive and focused on anatomy. For some, these types of sex-education made sex seem like a scary but intriguing and appealingly bad behavior we were tempted to engage in as young people, similar to exploring with alcohol and drugs. We were told we shouldn’t be doing it, which made a lot of us want to do it more. Like I said before, this rabbit-hole explains high rates of STIs on college campuses and high rates of sexual assault among young people as well. If we can shift the way sex is taught to young people and make it sound less scary but place a higher emphasis on open dialogue and education, the generations below us will be able to condone their sex lives in a much smarter way than we did. Long story short, let’s stop making sex weird. Instead, let’s be able to talk about sex in the same breath we are using to talk about an interesting class we went to or a fun museum exhibit we visited. Seems like we’re all doing it, let’s not be afraid to discuss it. Did this piece make you question how you discuss sex? Are you considering being more open about sex and want someone to talk to abouut it? Maybe it sparked a discussion between yourself and some of your friends? Have any thoughts or comments? Even any ideas for future sex columns? You can always shoot Sydney an email at sex@dailycardinal.com.
One of the biggest things college kids have to adjust to is the need for more effective time management skills. Without having their parents around, students have to learn to find the balance between doing school work, going to class, running errands, eating healthy, sleeping enough, socializing, exercising and participating in hobbies. Nobody is there to take care of you anymore or tell you do to your homework. Nobody cleans after you or makes you food, something most of us are used to our parents doing for us back home. It is important to strike this perfect balance between everything in your life, while adding frequent breaks to do the things you love or just take time for yourself.
A former UW-La Crosse police dispatcher is seeking a settlement after being fired for telling a student employee that “all immigrants deserved to go back to where they were from.”
Madison Police Department Chief Mike Koval was reprimanded but will not face any disciplinary actions after calling the grandmother of Tony Robinson—a teen fatally shot by an officer in 2015—a “raging lunatic,” according to a decision reached Tuesday by the Board of Police and Fire Commissioners.
In light of the recently published article in The Daily Cardinal regarding Islam’s flaws, I took it upon myself to research the alleged charges laid against Islam and its doctrines. The author, Kort Driessen, repeatedly stated his desire to engage in open and honest dialogue about the flaws of Islam. However, his request for honest conversation is undermined by his own bias and uninformed opinions.
Those who experience an emotional trauma are at a greater risk for revictimization due in part to an onset of post traumatic stress disorder. But, a stronger understanding of the human brain’s processes may help reduce the risk and severity of these symptoms, thereby reducing the risk for revictimization, researchers say.
While UW System firearm restrictions may find themselves on the legislative chopping block this year, students and activists have raised concerns about the potential impact of such reform on sexual assault on campus.
Researchers at the UW-Madison recently found that listeriosis, the infection caused by the foodborne bacteria called Listeria, damages the placenta and results in miscarriages during the early stages of pregnancy in non-human primates.
After leaving a party her freshman year, UW-Madison student Alexandra Adams was sexually assaulted by a friend she had a crush on.
Rape and the fear of rape is a part of the American college experience for women. On American college campuses, one in four undergraduate women will be sexually assaulted or raped by the time they graduate. Indicated by UW-Madison’s Association of American Universities Sexual Misconduct and Sexual Assault Climate Survey, our precious UW-Madison is no exception, with 27.6 percent of undergraduate female students reporting experiencing nonconsensual penetration or sexual touching.
College campuses continue to boast horrifying statistics on sexual assault even with programs in place to help educate incoming students about how to identify and prevent high-risk situations in which sexual assault can occur. Representing a disproportionate percent of reported sexual assaults are Greek organizations on campus; longitudinal studies show fraternity men are three times more likely to commit sexual assault than other college men.
In December 2016, when 10 members of the Minnesota football team were indefinitely suspended in connection to an alleged gang rape following the team’s season-opener, it took less than 48 hours for the rest of the team to announce a boycott of all football activities, including the Holiday Bowl.
With some calling to expand college football’s four-team playoff, I say why not go whole hog and play an exact replica of this year’s March Madness bracket on the gridiron. I’ll be deciding these games by examining the 2016 resumes of the teams in the tournament, and close calls are my personal opinion. With none of the four College Football Playoff teams in this tournament field, it’s wide open for the taking.
EDITOR'S NOTE: This article reflects the views of its writer, not of The Daily Cardinal as a whole. It should not have been published, as explained more fully in a note from the management desk, for which we deeply apologize. We ultimately decided to leave the article up, in order to avoid censorship and allow continued discussion and criticism of the piece.
This the first installment of a new mysterious story that will be released in multiple parts over the remainder of the semester. “Nowhere” follows the story of Hannah in her search for her friend Cade and takes place right on the UW-Madison campus. The story begins on Lake Mendota in the middle of winter. Our next installment will be released April 3.Cade is unflinchingly honest. I’m not listening, and the night is quiet and clear. “This is a bad idea,” Cade says, sinking his hands deep into the pockets of his Carhartt. “Hannah.” He means for me to come back. “We’ll just stay away from the thin ice,” I laugh. “It’s still solid.”Levi lets out a huff and watches his breath plum in a slow curling cloud above him; he hikes up the collar of his black peacoat. Even in the dark, I can see the warning glance in his grey eyes as I climb over the rocks behind Memorial Union and out onto the ice of Lake Mendota. “Goddamn it, Hannah,” Cade says and reluctantly he, then Levi, follow me. The sound of a night train rumbles from the other side of campus. The hazy glow of the Capitol, the castle-like Red Gym, the lights of the Union Theater, all behind us now. I turn around to see the boys. “Woah.” My breath also climbs up above, away from me. “Look at it reflecting on the ice,” I say. I pull out my phone and point the camera at Cade and Levi with the lights behind them. The auto focus jumps from Levi to the Union Theater, underexposed then blown out—dark, blurry images. “You’ll never get a good one,” Cade says. “You just have to look at it, and hope you remember it right.” I roll my eyes. Levi stands motionless staring at his Converse against the ice; he lets out a deep sigh and watches his breath rise and disappear into the clear night sky. I slip and fall. Levi’s gaze snaps down to me, “You’re drunk. Go home,” he says with a small smile. “You’re drunk. You go home,” I say. “It’s not even midnight.” “OK, Hannah,” Cade helps me up then mutters under his breath, “That statement would have been true an hour ago.” His hands are winter-dry and cracked; he never wears gloves. He holds his hands out to make sure I’m OK. I laugh. As we move further onto the ice, Cade develops the concern of a worried chirp when I almost slip—that kind of genuine tenderness on the brink of a laugh, and a caution in the way he watches me to make sure I don’t slip in that half-second of complete confidence after I get my balance back. Levi stops suddenly, “Hannah, did you hear that?” I listen, a sound like a metal cable snapping and then a low resonant groan. “It sounds like the Titanic going down.”“It must be the ice heaving apart, you know,” Levi says.“Like the bigger pieces breaking and settling,” I add. Cade kneels and brushes the loose snow from the ice. He plants his hands squarely, heavy on the smooth surface. “I wonder if I could feel that, the ice breaking.” The sound comes booming again, reaching us distantly from the far part of the lake. I watch a smile grow slowly across Cade’s face. “As long as it’s not breaking under us,” Levi says. Cade laughs, balling his hands into fists, and pounds on the thick ice underneath us.Something pounds back. “Cade?” I say. He pounds on the ice again. The response from the underside is frantic, quickening, terrified. “There’s something under the ice. I can’t see,” says Cade. I pull up the flashlight on my phone and shine it on the ice, but it’s too thick and too white to make out anything beyond it. Levi, looking a little confused, does the same. The underside goes into a frenzy; there’s a blinding flash that lights the ice beneath us. We run for shore. Levi sprints ahead; I follow him, and Cade a short distance behind. Then I hear a cracking sound—thin ice. Cade yells, then goes silent. I turn around and make out the dark glare of open water. I inch beside the edge of the break. I see him; his face upturned, eyes wide and terrified, fists clenched against the cold and his body slowly marbling a waterlogged blue as he sinks gently. I grab his hood and then the back of his jacket and pull at him. He reaches, grasping for the edge of the thicker ice. He pulls himself onto the ice and lies coughing. “Cade, get up,” I plead. “We have to get off the ice.” He stands and stumbles with the cold working its way up against his wet skin. When we get back to shore he slumps against the rocks, lit with the soft glow of the lights of the union. Levi stands, shaking on the concrete above us. He pulls at the collar of his coat and yells down at us. “What was that?!”I try to take off my wet coat but the soaking sleeves cling and bunch at my wrists. My heart is racing. I’m shaking. I cough because I can’t catch my breath. Cade is even worse. “Hannah!” Levi says.“I don’t know, Levi! Alright! I don’t know.” I look up at him standing above me; he looks small with his arms drawn into his chest. He’s shaking too. “I just want to go home,” I say. He’s quiet for a long moment, “Do you want me to walk you home?”I shake my head. Levi hesitates, like he’s going to say something, then just nods. “OK,” he says. He turns back toward State Street, synching his arms tighter to his chest, he wavers as he walks away.I look at Cade, lying against the cold rocks, coughing. I pull at his arm. “Can you stand?” He does. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” He stumbles and grabs onto my arms. He looks at me with wild eyes. “I don’t want to be here,” he says. “I don’t want to stay in the lake.”“I’ll get you home, Cade. I promise.”The night goes dark and loses all detail on the walk home. The empty streets echo the rumble of empty busses. The streetlights flare and flicker as we pass under them. We stop as the train crossing flashes across Union South. A night train looms in the dark coming toward us. “I’ve been here before,” Cade says suddenly while shaking badly.“Yeah, Cade, you live down the street.” I say. “No, Hannah. I’ve been here so many times, and you’ll be here again too,” he says. His head whips wildly back-and-forth and his breathing quickens. He brushes his damp hair from his forehead and starts hyperventilating. “Cade,” I say. I don’t really know what to say. “In the water, di-did you, like hit your head?” Really I was pleading that this is not what I think it is. That this won’t be one of the nights Cade locks himself in and sits in the middle of a dark room too terrified to move and calls me at 2 a.m., to say it’s bad again. “Cade?” It’s me pleading that this isn’t that. Not here, not out in the street in the dark while he is drenched and half-frozen and shaking so hard I can feel it in my bones. He looks to his left and right and over his shoulder. The train blows its whistle and his shoulders jerk up suddenly as his shaking becomes more violent.“Hannah.” He means he’s scared. Unflinchingly honest—at least he is with me. “Hold on,” I say. The muscles around his mouth pull tight; he’s really trying not to lose it. He balls the fabric of my jacket in his hands and a thin layer of ice flakes off. “I don’t want to be here,” he says again. “Not the nowhere. The white wall, not here,” he stutters. I get him in his apartment. I bundle towels from the bathroom in my arms and give them to him, like they are mine to give. I’m bad at taking care of people. He’s gone white and stares off vacantly. I leave his keys and phone on the counter. I help him take off his coat and drape a towel over his shoulders. After that I just kind of watch him for a while. I lean against the front door frame.“Cade?” He turns to me and his brow furrows together.“Hannah,” he says. He means it’s OK if I go. He nods lightly. We’ve always been like that, strangely attuned to meanings, understanding the odd familiarities of each other’s voice in the recital of our own names. All the conversations I remember best are only our soft-spoken names repeated back-and-forth between us. The next morning, walking to College Library, the sun is unseasonally bright. When I turn from University Street onto Park Street, I see the yellow police tape coloring the far end along the lake. Then I see Levi’s stiff, narrow shoulders under the weight of his peacoat; the collar still hiked around his neck. I come up beside him, shuffling between the others that stand in the sun that feels too bright and stare out at the lake. The water just beyond the union is open and police boats and campus rescue troll the confined free water. Men in thick navy coats, emboldened with the large, white letters of POLICE, hang over the sides of the boats with poles and pickaxes breaking the still-standing ice into chunks that fall and rise beside them in the water. “What’s going on?” I ask.One of the policemen nearby answers, “There was a call that someone went through the ice last night.” He pauses. “We’re looking for them.” The pounding on the ice—what if there was someone underneath us? What if they needed help and we just ran away to leave them there, trapped under the ice, alone? I grab Levi’s sleeve and pull him back. “Do you think that had something to do with last night?” I say in sharp, hushed tones. He looks at me, confused. “Whatever that sound was.” He looks at me like he doesn’t understand what I’m saying. I try again, “When Cade was beating on the ice…”His face draws itself tight in a succession of indecipherable micro-expressions. He stares at me a long, ugly moment; then his lips break into words as he speaks through a tight frown. “Cade wasn’t there.”What do you think happened to Cade? Who or what was the pounding that was under the ice? Have any cool theories about the story so far? Send any questions, comments or theories to almanac@dailycardinal.com.
Researchers at the UW-Madison recently found that listeriosis, the infection caused by the foodborne bacteria called Listeria, damages the placenta and results in miscarriages during the early stages of pregnancy in non-human primates.
Solutions by The State News
