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Tuesday, October 14, 2025

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Doctor greating patient
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Hordes of optimistic pre-med freshmen strain expectations, consistently disappoint everyone

By Michael Kowalski | Sep. 6, 2017

The number of students choosing the pre-med track has skyrocketed this September thanks to ball-busting pressure from parents and the false, fantasized day in a doctor’s life portrayed by Grey’s Anatomy (which was originally an anatomical textbook). However, this influx is misleading; the number of doctors who attended UW-Madison for their undergraduate education has little to no correlation to the number of students who are currently claiming they will be doctors.

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College is...

By Emma Allmann | Aug. 14, 2017

A buffer before you have to deal with “the real world” ? Three jobs and a full class load ? Vitally important to your future ? Somehow still a privilege not a right ? Easier than it used to be, so stop complaining ? Constructed by people who used to “have it hard” ? Too P.C. ? Not the place to talk about race, sex, or culture ? Pointless if you’re an English major ? Failing to teach people to write ? Pointless if you’re an arts major ? Failing to teach people to creatively solve problems ? Pointless if you’re a philosophy major ? Failing to teach students to think of the big picture ? A place to take risks, don’t be afraid of mistakes ? Hugely important, so don’t screw it up ? An opportunity to network for your career ? An opportunity for employers to get unpaid interns ? A good time to travel ? An unpaid internship and tuition of at least $10,488 a year ? A good time to start saving money ? An unpaid internship and tuition of at least $10,488 a year ? A good time to follow your passions ? An unpaid internship and tuition of at least $10,488 a year ? A place to make new interesting friends ? But don’t fall in with the wrong crowd ? A good time to figure what you want to do with your life ? Only supposed to last four years so hurry up and decide ? A good time to listen ? A good time to learn who, exactly, is worth listening to.

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Cleopatra Girl

By Matthew Stokdyk | Aug. 14, 2017

My Cleopatra girl, who dies and dies again, with flesh as white as pearls, who under death will always strain. And who am I, your love, clown as fool as the rest, a raven to a dove, who yet is asp upon your breast

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meditation

Aug. 14, 2017

the ethereal sounds again as i am crosslegged on the top bunk back leaned against the concrete wall painted white in the fifties, now an ivory cream. there is a bourdon in the back solid, firm, like the cheap mattress on which i am perched, freshman. and above it undulates a great many unplaceable sounds: a woman’s voice (not yours, though faint and trembling like when you first sang for me) not the wind but an echo of the wind and the sound i imagine stars make; and in the room, the sound of lake ice and fever. trying to meditate but really half-asleep never one for it before, but you brought a reality i couldn’t process in my endless processing, the spiraling that leads me wash my hands that leads me count the breaths count the lights in the rooms where i sit and scribble an A test but think only of what it is you’re feeling for him, in love with you and you with me and me with him and you with him and you with death and me with all of it.

James Comey stares vacantly towards a crowd of onlookers as he’s forced to relive the most harrowing 139 days of his life.
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James Comey: I thought I was done with this job

By Patrick Hoeppner | Jun. 12, 2017

The exasperation was palpable across fired FBI director James Comey’s face on Thursday morning as he traipsed through the ordeal of sitting in a government building for reasons other than obtaining a boating license. “To be honest, I’d rather eat radioactive waste by myself  than dine with President Trump,” Comey said, clearing his throat into the microphone.

Incoming junior Nick Rinaldi contemptuously looks over his underdressed classmates, many of whom sport sneakers.
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Guy wearing suit at orientation already halfway to business degree

By Dylan Anderson | Jun. 12, 2017

Prospective business major Nick Rinaldi arrived at freshmen orientation sporting a two-piece suit, enabling him to meet roughly half of the Wisconsin School of Business’ graduation requirements. In accordance with School of Business bylaws, Rinaldi was immediately sent to meet with Dean François Ortalo-Magné by his SOAR advisor upon checking in. “When I received word about [Rinaldi’s] appearance, I knew I had to have him come to my office right away,” Ortalo-Magné said. While the majority of SOAR attendees donned shorts and other typical summer garb, Rinaldi stood out in his outfit which featured black Cole Haan dress shoes and a shiny blue tie.

Ray Blando, local bar owner, staring at his rows of alcohol and listening to something that’s not hip-hop.
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Madison bar owner slips up, calls hip-hop ‘black people music’

By Marc Tost and Patrick Hoeppner | Apr. 27, 2017

In a story that continues to develop amid controversy, local bar owner Ray Blando has been overheard referring to popular hip-hop tracks as “black people music.” Students on the scene report that he continued to say, “Future and Migos bring an atmosphere that, while lit, could bring a far more inclusive party environment to our establishment, and that’s something we are not yet comfortable with.” These reports have contributed to significant backlash from students and Madison residents alike.

An image of Peter Pan in 2017. Pan and six of his gang, the Lost Boys, were arrested and charged with criminal trespassing Saturday.
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Peter Pan arrested by police, charged with criminal trespassing

By Noah Mack | Apr. 27, 2017

Peter Pan, permanently age 10, was picked up by police around 3:30 a.m. Saturday outside a U.S. Naval facility in Maryland and charged with first degree criminal trespassing. Pan, notorious for his agelessness and care-free attitude, has racked up an astounding number of charges in the 32 years since he left Neverland.

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Flashing Lights

By Eliza Weisberg | Apr. 24, 2017

Your lips were the color of lilacs when you told me we met in the summer I dont remember when you said we fell in love        -those were the next lyrics in the song But i pretended that you said right away Now i cant look at lilacs anymore Because all i see is your lips

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Nowhere

By Alexandra Pleasant | Apr. 24, 2017

This the third and final installment of our ongoing mystery series. In the second installment of “Nowhere,” Hannah runs to Cade’s apartment after Levi says that Cade was not with them when they walked on the lake the night before.

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respiration

By Eliza Weisberg | Apr. 24, 2017

The thing is- a really awful thing happened, but listening to the way air moves through your lungs as I lay on your chest makes everything still for a moment. I would rather listen to the blood move through your veins than do most things. My time is yours even when it’s not. -maybe that’s tragedy; I don’t know. Maybe it’s tragedy to think that I don’t want to think about what happened; but I do want to remember your lips. And the way they felt on mine before they were bruised.

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Tangled headphone cable proves minor annoyance for Madison resident

By Noah Mack | Apr. 13, 2017

In a slightly annoyed state Monday night, area-man Luke Bauer reached into his pocket and discovered that, yet again, his Bose earbuds had twisted themselves into an intricate knot. The incident—which really wasn’t a big deal—caused Bauer to sigh heavily and yank on random parts of the wire. “The entire sight was pretty relatable,” said local witness George Hartin.

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A Love Letter to Helga Pataki

By Mariam Coker | Apr. 10, 2017

You shine so bright, they force you into a shadow, growing into a sunflower without the sun to turn to, girl, you got the magic You are surrounded by skeptics who weren’t present witness to your blossom, they doubt it’s occurrence, they doubt you. I feel your anger, the nonchalant way of going about expecting nothing from the people that interact with the day. No one will let you down without your permission. I get why you write, why you obsess, why you get mad, that you love so hard and so much, it drags you down like a responsibility. So you stopped carrying your heart in your hands. I know most times you leave it at home, perhaps in your closet, so no one will know you have one, too. You hide your soft so no one try to shape you into something you are not. You don’t want anyone to accidentally step on it and then feel bad for not accepting their “sorry.” To you that word is flimsy, can’t even take being thrown in a trashcan. Helga, I know how bad waking up can be, when no one is there to say good morning, or there when you get back home, or there when your world is screaming novels at you. And I get that sometimes loneliness is not a choice, it’s the only option when no one chooses you back. Please write until everything you have to say is able to be read and I’ll read it. Helga you are so beautiful, and loving yourself is only half the battle, sometimes it’s the full war. Thank you for the Saturday mornings, for those 20 minutes it wasn’t so bad to be alone.

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