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Two UW-Madison student organizations representing marginalized communities are suing the Student Services Finance Committee after they were denied eligibility for General Student Services Funding.
Radric Davis, better known by his stage name Gucci Mane, has dropped his 11th studio album titled Mr. Davis by GUWOP Enterprises and Atlantic Records. The Atlanta trap-rap pioneer has been in stride since his 2016 release from prison. Noteworthy albums like Everybody Looking and The Return of East Atlanta Santa marked a more mature — and thankfully sober — Gucci, and now, every aspect of the rapper's music has improved.
Recently, Matt Server, a guest columnist from The Daily Nebraskan, wrote that athletes are not justified in protesting during the national anthem. I disagree with his opinion.
Marilyn Manson rings in his 10th studio album, Heaven Upside Down, with all of the showmanship, attention grabbing theatrics and occasional nihilistic ballads those familiar with Manson's past work can come to expect from the self-proclaimed “Antichrist Superstar.”
You know how some people have an album they can put on whenever they need a good cry? The album just somehow digs deep inside of you and the tears just start flowing? The television equivalent for me is “This Is Us,” and I know I’m not alone. Whenever I talk about this show with other people — and by other people, I mostly mean my mom — we all agree it’s a guaranteed cry by the end of the episode. Well, the Pearsons are back for season two and it looks like nothing has changed. I thought I was going to make it through the episode with just tears welled up, but by the end of it, I was crying into my duvet cover, just like last season.
Take one look at the BYU (1-2) roster, and you’ll notice something slightly different than most other schools. While the Cougars’ website lists all the usual statistics of a student-athlete such as height, weight, position, eligibility and hometown, there is a column on the far right side of their roster page listing “roster seasons” as well. With some players having been on BYU’s roster as early as 2011, one has to wonder about the program’s unique situation pertaining to the return of missionary athletes and its affects on their play.
With summer coming to an end, the days are getting shorter—as is the time spent mooching off your friend’s air conditioning. What’s only getting larger, though, is the amount of great TV headed your way. Just in time for a new semester of classes, networks and streaming services alike are bringing forward a new season of shows as the perfect distraction. I could write an entire novel about this year’s fall TV lineup, but I have narrowed it down to the six I’m most excited for:
A week after the Associated Students of Madison passed controversial divestment legislation, a mix of local and student organizations held signs and chanted outside four different “destructive banks” on Capitol Square Friday in a denunciation of their dealings with private prisons and the recent pipeline projects.
One of Hari Kondabolu’s earliest live stand-up comedy shows was at the UW-Madison, where he made a baby cry.
Kendrick Lamar’s discography is nothing short of extraordinary. Section.80 told the story of a generation that grew up in a crack era. Good Kid, m.A.A.d city was a fascinating case study of a young man’s shenanigans in Compton. To Pimp a Butterfly exposed the world’s exploitation of black artists in American society.
April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, or SAAM. The National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC) has a goal during the month “to raise public awareness about sexual violence and to educate communities on how to prevent it” and they recognize that this is only possible with help from others. As a part of the group PAVE, it is our hope to get students on our campus to know what sexual assault is.
I found an article the other day about a situation in Melbourne last year on how the city had identified all trees with a different number and email address, so that citizens could send emails to city officials about complaints, a way to improve the city life. It turned into people of the city sending love letters to their favorite trees:To: Golden Elm, Tree ID 103714821 May 2015I’m so sorry you’re going to die soon. It makes me sad when trucks damage your low hanging branches. Are you as tired of all this construction work as we are?To: Green Leaf Elm, Tree ID 1022165 29 May 2015Dear Green Leaf Elm,I hope you like living at St. Mary’s. Most of the time I like it too. I have exams coming up and I should be busy studying. You do not have exams because you are a tree. I don’t think that there is much more to talk about as we don’t have a lot in common, you being a tree and such. But I’m glad we’re in this together.“The email interactions reveal the love Melburnians have for our trees,” the article said. Why then, did the article make me want to cry? I’m sorry you’re going to die soon, are you tired? I’m glad we’re in this together. Something about these professions strikes me as lonely, and the lonely life of a city tree, their myth contained in a square of wood chips at the base, their fate marked with orange spray paint. I think about my mom desperately trying to raise the trees in our previously barren backyard, disappointed when, as the seasons pass, she sees they’re not going to make it. Something about the fickle Minnesotan weather and our soil not being conducive to life. A city is no place for trees, I think, but it’s where they’re needed most. There is a tree on the lake my parents live near, Lake Harriet, that hosts a small wooden door at its base. The door is about four inches tall, painted wood, covering a hole in the tree through which people stuff notes. I can’t remember if it was supposed to be for fairies or for goblins or whatever mythical creature, but whatever it was, children (and some adults) would address it letters and leave them there. According to my parents, someone who lived on the lake would answer them. I don’t remember if I ever left a note in the tree, or how anyone would be able to answer the notes, or how old I was when my parents told me that it was a human who answered the notes and not fairies. I just remember walking around the lake, leaves ripely green in the belly of summer, noting the unassuming door in the tree at that point in our walk.The birch tree in my front yard also had a magical quality to it. Tall and withered, it hung over the front porch like a benevolent giant watching the house. I got sad when my parents expressed fear that a branch would fall off during a storm and damage the house—my tree wouldn’t do that. The birch, massive and looming in shady lemonade days of summer and spindly in the snow-capped winter, had an enormous rut in the base. A large circle, the shape of an oval, that looked like someone has burned it there sacrificially. I made fairy houses in the rut, setting sticks into a tiny fort, adding feathers and nice rocks, a little piece of fruit. The birch was a constant growing up, a calming presence. My mom and I would sit in the porch, reading together, or playing gin rummy, as it stood sturdily overhead. I never had a sense of what would become of the both of them when I left for college, but you don’t notice these things until you’re gone.I had a relationship with the trees surrounding my family’s cabin as a child, but there it was even more magical. I would build fairy houses in the wilderness of northern Minnesota, placing springy moss beds in rock crevices on the stream outside the cabin, collecting forest trinkets, shells, flowers, leaves, forming a perfect haven for some unseen creature. Lake Superior is one of the places I’m overcome by trees, and where I feel they’re meant to be; there’s no threat they’ll be felled, since the forest is protected. If city trees have lives and emails, the trees of the North Shore of Lake Superior have a mythology to them. Their myth is captured in the construction of the cabin itself: fallen lumber stacked sturdily, the cracks stuffed with fur and other grimy materials, makeshift glue. It was built generations ago, by an ancestor who helped found the forest and died there, in a chair the cabin still has, an enormous wooden frame covered in scratchy red wool cushions. There are old tobacco pipes on the walls, hidden canes and leather bags in the closets. I am imbued with the scent of pine when I go there. It overwhelms me, hiking up up up to where we can see the massive lake through breaks in the trees. I don’t realize that I’m starved for trees until I’m around them again after being away from them for so long. I returned from my first semester at college to find an embarrassingly bare front yard: the birch tree had been cut down. My parents had told me that they were going to cut it down, but in person, the emptiness was palpable. “It was sick,” my mom told me. That’s what the burnt-out rut in the tree was, a sickness. Still, it’s hard to watch something go when you’ve grown so accustomed to its presence. I see this on her face as I board the Megabus again, promising to call. “‘Dear 1037148,’ wrote one admirer to a golden elm in May. “You deserve to be known by more than a number. I love you. Always and forever.”
Rather than crying over spilled milk, state legislators decided to take action to address the steady price decline of Wisconsin’s dairy industry by writing UW System President Ray Cross urging university researchers to find alternative uses for the dairy product.
ST. CHARLES, Mo.—A year after rewriting the NCAA record books, Wisconsin’s senior goaltender Ann-Renée Desbiens became the third netminder to win women’s collegiate hockey’s most prestigious award.
Fresh off the successes of “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story,” director Gareth Edwards gave a SXSW keynote to discuss how he got his start in filmmaking.
Lee Daniels, producer of “Monster’s Ball,” director of “Precious” and “The Butler” as well as co-creator of Fox’s hit television series, ”Empire,” gave an inspiring and personal keynote on Sunday. At first, an unprepared Daniels admitted he had not planned for this event at all, clutching chicken-scratch notes his assistant wrote for him. He then tossed the paper aside and gave one of the most powerful, unfiltered talks at SXSW this year.
Excitement rose Monday as snow fell with the announcement that the annual Battle for Bascom would be taking place. The tradition, now in its sixth year, calls all students that currently or previously lived in the Lakeshore and Southeast neighborhoods to face off in a snowball fight on Bascom Hill.
Walking down State Street, it is easy to become distracted by the many flashing signs, cries from the street corners or the stunning view of the Capitol in the distance. Amidst all the clutter, tucked between the Asian Kitchen and Pita Pit, is Four-Star Video Cooperative.
For UW-Madison junior Nour Saeed, the past three years have been unsettling to say the least. What started as a habit of watching the news turned into anger and confusion as events such as the Syrian Civil War and, most recently, the 2016 presidential election commanded headlines.
A power outage at the Super Bowl. The death of Flappy Bird. Pharrell’s unnecessarily large hat. Michelle Obama’s bangs. The Supreme Court decision on same-sex marriage. Hamilton. North West, for goodness sake.
Solutions by The State News
