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With just over two minutes left in regulation Annie Pankowski streaked down the ice, sized up Ohio State goaltender Andrea Braendli with a quick hesitation and went left, opening up a lane to the goal.
Chocolates, stuffed animals, roses, and candlelit dinners. All the things that everyone is planning, getting or receiving in anticipation for V-day. Everyone seems to be in love, besides you, or at least that’s what you think.
On Monday, Fox News viewers were introduced to “Trumpy Bear,” a stuffed bear resembling the president in attire and hairstyle. The toy even shares Donald’s shark eyes, which appear devoid of any sense of judgement or morality.
Evanston, ILL — Spirits were high on the Wisconsin sideline after an Evan Bondoc interception set up an Alec Ingold 4-yard touchdown with eight minutes and four seconds left to play in the first quarter to give Wisconsin (3-2 Big Ten, 5-3 overall) a 7-0 lead.
IOWA CITY – Coming off a shocking upset at the hands of the BYU Cougars, the Wisconsin Badgers had to bounce back and focus on a pivotal early season rivalry game against the Iowa Hawkeyes.
For many LGBT individuals, the month of June means more than just another summer month. June is Pride Month, a month-long celebration of the LGBT community and its impact locally and globally. The month will invariably be highlighted by Pride parades in every major city across the country, with rainbow flags waving in the streets and on the buildings. But for some, the month serves as a stark reminder of the barriers that LGBT individuals still face in America.
Last Friday, the staff of the magazine Our Lives, a Madison-based publication focusing on the city’s LGBTQ+ community, arrived at their office to discover a rock had been thrown through the glass door.
With the Big Ten conference tournament just around the corner, teams will be jockeying for seeding, seniors will celebrate and participate in their last home games and as for those sitting on the bubble, every game counts.
As the final buzzer sounded in Lincoln and the Wisconsin men’s basketball team (2-3 Big Ten, 9-9 overall) dropped to .500 nearly 20 games into the season, the situation felt unprecedented.
Ethan Happ, per usual, stuffed the stat sheet, but Wisconsin fell 63-59 to Nebraska.
Can your stomach explode from eating too much?
Wisconsin head coach Greg Gard knows his team is young and learning. And after an extensive preseason slate, the Badgers’ early non-conference schedule presents no shortage of tests, a schedule he said is meant to put the newcomers through a trial by fire.
Contrary to Starbucks’ updated menu and the premature release of the holiday coffee cups, the next holiday to look forward to is not Christmas. Thanksgiving is sandwiched between the two highly-celebrated holidays of Halloween and Christmas, and therefore, is overlooked tremendously. However, Thanksgiving might be the holiday we all need the most.
Last year, “Stranger Things” was the unexpected frontrunner of the entire TV industry. Relying mostly on word-of-mouth and Netflix’s algorithm, it catapulted into fame without much of a marketing push, which is a true testament to just how good it was. It also meant the showrunners, the Duffer Brothers, had a mountain of expectations to meet the second time around. Along with everyone else in the world, I was a huge fan of the first season, so when I sat down to binge the second season this weekend, I couldn’t help but have this feeling of dread. Though not without its flaws, “Stranger Things 2” is magnificent.
“Words and pictures are yin and yang. Married, they produce a progeny more interesting than either parent.” ? Dr. Seuss
Speedy Ortiz frontwoman Sadie Dupuis effused flower power on center stage Tuesday night. She wore a floral print top, a skirt and a flower pin in her hair, distancing her look from the dreary Madison weather. Her bright blue, bejeweled guitar stood out as it was fretted by Dupuis’s highlighter-orange and yellow nails. To her left, the black-and-blue-haired bassist wore black clothes and strummed with black nails, providing a stark contrast to the lead vocalist. A second guitarist and a drummer who provided backing vocals rounded out the indie quartet.
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.”
Happ goes off at the Garden:
During a scheduled military rally in Pyongyang Friday, an unexpected turn of events resulted in a live ballistic missile falling off a trailer in the middle of the street, halting the parade and sending Kim Jong-Un into a frenzy. Unsanctioned photos from the event show the Supreme Leader stamping his feet, throwing his hat and engaging in a belligerent, world-class temper tantrum.“Considering the structural flimsiness of the defense program in general, it’s not surprising that the missile fell off the carrier,” a leading physicist for the U.S. Department of Defense, said. “After some video analysis, we determined that the ballistic thrusters were fabricated from spray-painted Legos, and the chassis of the rocket was stuffed with newspaper.”North Korean science programs have faltered in recent years, as one-third of the education of every North Korean student goes toward absorbing the achievements, accomplishments and made-up propaganda regarding their Supreme Leader.The missile rolled off the trailer at approximately 1:49 p.m. (UTC+08:30), and broke in half, stopping the entire mile-long convoy of North Korean troops, vehicles and propaganda banners. The ensuing traffic jam was reported to have taken six hours to clear, as soldiers tried unsuccessfully to confiscate a tide of forbidden smartphones snapchatting the bedlam.“The missile fell off the trailer, and just kind of broke open,” an American observer witnessed. “There were newspapers flying all over the place, and people were going crazy, trying to catch them and read them … Kim Jong-Un was throwing chairs.”Reports have confirmed that the rocket was stuffed with copies of The Onion, The Daily Cardinal and The Wall Street Journal. The Cardinal seeks to pursue improper use charges against the nation-state of North Korea for misuse of its periodical.“The Supreme Leader was really upset about the attendance at his latest inauguration,” a North Korean press envoy said in an address to the press. “We will get our numbers up and show the world the strength of North Korea.”
A long time ago, there was a small mystical creature, named Cupid. He flew around the world with his fairy wings, and used his magic arrows to cause humans to fall in love. He was content with his simple and fulfilling life.One day, Cupid was feeling particularly energetic and determined, and his hard day’s work singlehandedly caused the population explosion in the Indian subcontinent. Feeling exhausted from the effort, he decided to stop in at the Mythical Creatures Pub on his way home for a relaxing beer.This pub was nothing special to look at, just a small brick building in a field in Northern Ireland, but it was frequented by all sorts of beings considered fictional by humans. The tooth fairy was a regular, leprechauns stopped by from time to time (though they were required to pay ahead of time, they were notorious binge drinkers), and even Santa made an occasional appearance, when the “old ball and chain” let him have some fun (his words).On that particular day Cupid found a spot between one of Snow White’s seven dwarves and a deeply inebriated centaur, and as they began to converse, the bar tab grew longer and longer. By the time the MC Pub was almost empty, the unlikely trio were trying their hand at deciphering the key to happiness. Not an easy task at the best of times, made even more difficult by the fact that they had drank their way through just about every drink on the menu (saving of course anything with the word “spritzer” in the name, they still had their dignity). As the barkeep started attempting to shuffle them out, they decided to give up and leave the thinking stuff to someone else.The next day, Cupid woke up with an earsplitting headache and a startling revelation. The key to happiness, he realized, was money! While attempting not to throw up, he pondered how to make his new realization into a reality. Time was on his side; an immortal being learns to appreciate the luxury of patience. He continued to go about his daily routine for a few decades, all the while thinking of ways to become independently wealthy. Then one day, it hit him like an arrow to the knee (which was ironic, because the thought was so distracting that an arrow meant for a passerby on his way to a dance class accidentally hit a tree, which immediately became deeply infatuated with a nearby oak, and was destined to the misery of not being able to communicate his romantic feelings). Cupid immediately gave up on match-making for the day, and began to draw up plans to start a company that preyed upon the very emotion that he distributed among the people.A few weeks later, doors opened at a brand new company: Hallmark. They immediately began producing tacky cards, candles and other things no person ever needed. Upon the initial success, they began churning out even tackier and cheaper products. This continued for many years, and Cupid became very rich, and true to his prediction, very happy. Every time he got dangerously close to thinking about what really mattered in life, he bought a pile of chocolate and attempted to eat his way through it. No one has ever been unhappy while eating chocolate; his life was blissful.Time went on, and Cupid slowly became as fat as a pregnant panda bear, although not as cuddly. His initially successful company, however, began to become less and less lucrative. It seemed that people had completely filled their homes with tacky, emotionally pandering items, and could not buy more, and due to Cupid’s focus on eating rather than love-spreading, not enough new people were being made to support the company. It seemed that one good idea was not enough to continuously bolster Cupid financially, and that he would have to be ingenious again if he wanted to continue the lifestyle he had grown accustomed to.The very next day, while chasing away an existential crisis on one of his three speed boats, Cupid formed the plan that would ensure his wealth for the foreseeable future. Instead of forming a new company, or changing the existing one, he would change culture itself to benefit him the most. He decided that he would use Hallmark’s “terrible movie division” to start the idea of a new holiday, dedicated entirely to spending money under the pretext of romanticism. Instead of showing romantic affection through nice gestures, or—god forbid—spending time together, couples could now just spend money on useless junk for each other!It was the perfect plan. A suggestible, media-obsessed culture drank up the idea of being able to spend less time and effort on their significant others, as well as getting things bought for them. As years went on, the made-up holiday pervaded society completely, and after a number of years, no one even realized that is was simply invented to sell greeting cards and cheap stuffed animals.And so, Valentine’s Day was born… Legend has it, every Feb. 14, Cupid gets together with his mythical friends at the pub where it all began and buys everyone a round as they have a good laugh.
Solutions by The State News
