We don’t get out much. This isn’t to say we live like recluses, keeping a thick wall of musty tomes, dirty coffee mugs and crunchy underwear between ourselves and the outside world. We "party," we attend "sports events," we have carried our share of red cups, but all this we’ve done only within the confines of the Pomona College micro-cosmos–and isn’t there a whole universe out there to explore?

A bet is a living entity which cannot be controlled once called into existence. The longer it lasts, the more momentum it gains, and the harder it is to end. Still, as long as the river Testosterone flows through the valley of the Young Adult, bets will be made, and good people will suffer. Such was the case in November, when a trio of seemingly capable young Sagehens made a vow that would cripple their boyish/hulking good looks throughout the twilight of their college careers.

Besides the academics and Harwood Halloween, there is only one other thing that is consistently mentioned in every college guide’s description of Pomona College. That thing is Ski and Beach Day, an event that has quickly become a tradition. This year’s Ski and Beach ay is happening tomorrow.

To celebrate the creative spirit of Claremont in memory of Dick Barnes, the lobby of Big Bridges Auditorium played host to a unique evening of music last Thursday evening. The concert, funded jointly by CCLA, the Alumni House, the North Campus dorms, and the English and Music Departments, was the brainchild of Nicholas Snow ’01. After a successful jazz concert two years ago in front of Big Bridges, and performances by Joel Harrison at the Coop for several years, Snow contacted Harrison and Bobby Bradford with hopes of organizing a night of music to honor the late Professor of English Dick Barnes. Thanks to help from Richard Caperton ’01, Snow was able to assemble a group of three bands, each of which had a connection with the late Barnes.

Weird things start happening in Claremont any time it rains. Everyone drives really slowly, dogs start wearing sweaters, classes mysteriously function at about half their normal capacity, and there’s more North Face on campus than you could possibly shake a stick at.

We students are a pathetic bunch during downpours. We bitch, moan, whine, and gripe when the weather is anything but 70 degrees and sunny. Some of us, though, see the rain as an opportunity. Those amongst us who are nerds consider rainfall a great excuse to catch up, or get ahead, on schoolwork.

For those of us who are spoiled bastards, rain gives us time to watch DVDs or play fancy video games. Also, rain eliminates the guilt that can accompany daytime drinking for those of us who are drunks. There’s nothing wrong with vodka at three in the afternoon as long as it’s dark outside.

‘Course Sammy Smoove likes to keep his skillz tight so every now and again I gotta grab the heater, go to the gun range and get my blast on. The Inland Empire is just the place for this sorta ish, ’cause there’s a mob of shady places with questionable licenses that are quick to overlook some of the lesser felonies that would usually keep a stunna from busting off. I’m pretty tight with the ballas down at the Magnum Range and Family Shooting Center, so last weekend, me and my homegirl Thuggish Ruggish rode over there to grip on the nina and put out some shells.

One need only reference Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, Addams Family Values, or The Two Jakes to express the idea that sequels don’t always measure up to the original. Sometimes, the quality is so poor that enjoyment of the original movie is retroactively diminished. Fortunately, Hannibal is not this kind of movie. It is so awful, so exploitative, so obviously made to cash in on the commercial, critical, and Oscar-related success of The Silence of the Lambs, that there is not even a family resemblance between the two movies.

Never mind love, this Friday night the Booty Party is coming to town. A chance to get with all those secret obsessions that you’ve been lusting after. If you don’t have the courage to approach them, you can let a computer mediate your passion. If the object of your affection has the same idea in mind, you’ll get a match, and be able to awkwardly deal with it from there.

One student claims that "every night is booty night," but on this lonely Pomona campus, such dreams are not often a reality. The point of the Booty Party is to get as many horny kids into a room as possible, give them a list of all the people who have crushes on them, and see what happens.

If you missed the 2001 Grammy Awards, then you missed one of the most thrilling nationally televised awards ceremonies since the 1961 Oscars, when Marilyn Monroe took off all her clothes and ran around onstage flapping her arms until she was carried off by a team of Los Angeles County paramedics. Remember that? And remember how you owe me 50 million dollars? I do, and I am the world’s most faaaamous historian. I can also count to 49 in French.