What’s Left: Wellstone’s Vision Shines at Smith

By Daniel May

"We can do a sit down right here!" a fiery Senator Paul Wellstone exuberantly yelled from the center of the large group of students who had crammed into President Stanley’s well-furnished living room. The reception in Stanley’s home was the final event in a very busy Friday for the senator from Minnesota; he had participated in a panel discussion on juvenile punishment, excitedly socialized his way through a fine Aramark dinner in the Smith Center, bellowed a speech, and was concluding the day amidst a giant circle of students, asking what issues students were involved in and bestowing words of activist wisdom. And loving every minute of it. [con't]

Drew woke up Saturday morning and said, "Dur." Then he drooled on himself, all over his pegged, acid-washed jeans. Richard, alerted by the piercing sounds of ineptitude from the next room, got down from his keg stand, wiped his face, and shook his head.

"It looks like my fellow Emperor has caught dumb," he thought, as he entered the next room to find Drew trying to get his head out of a plastic bag. "Drew, what’s wrong? You haven’t caught dumb now, have you?" [con't]

Cool Editor Brings Her Bitch to Campus

By Elise Nussbaum

"How many of you remember the old Sassy?" Lisa Miya-Jervis asked the room full of girls (and three or four guys) on Tuesday evening. Miya-Jervis, the editor of Bitch magazine, had come to speak on publishing one’s own magazine: a how-to speech on writing what you think people need to read and publishing what you think people need to write, while losing tons of money. Miya-Jervis herself has a copy editing job at a corporation, she warned anyone who might have looked upon self-publishing as a money-making enterprise. [con't]

Twain’s Acid Voice Reawakened

By David Roth

"If you want to see it, you should see it," Tim Morrison said to me over his shoulder. "It" was Mark Twain Tonight, a one-man show performed at Bridges Auditorium last Saturday evening; "it" had also started about five minutes earlier. Morrison, the director of Bridges, had met me all of two minutes ago. "Where can we stick him," he asked the woman behind the ticket window. [con't]

Student Opera Sings the Divine

By Ariane M. Balizet

Last Monday night my freshman-year roommate and I reminisced about our time in the side hall of Mudd-Blaisdell and the mysterious and achingly beautiful voice practicing scales that would drift into our room once and a while. The night before I had finally put a face to that voice in what was arguably the most polished and genuinely moving display of Pomona talent I’ve been fortunate to see in the past three and a half years. [con't]

Dogma Adam Graham-Silverman Staff Writer "Dogma: Because of anti-religious buffoonery, intense violence, sexual references, substance abuse, assorted vulgarities, profanity and recurring rough language, the classification is O — morally offensive. Dogma is a sophomoric religious satire…. The unfunny proceedings rely on a mindless mix of irreverence and absurdity in poking fun at biblical characters and Christian stereotypes." — U.S. Catholic Conference [con't] Student Film Fest, Rose Hills Theater Aiden Doherty A&F Associate Some rather scandalous sounds of female pleasure echoed through Rose Hills Theatre last Thursday as Studio 47’s "Barely Legal: A Mediocre Film Festival," began. It was hard to imagine what to expect, as the event’s publicity gave no inkling of the nature of the films to be shown. The "Barely Legal" title screen, and attendant sensual moanings, quickly gave way to the classic film countdown sequence, 5…4...3…2...1 — and the first film began. I leaned forward in my seat, a look of intense concentration on my face (or so I was told). What was to follow I could not begin to guess, but I was beginning to suspect, given the orgasmic grunts, it might be quite interesting indeed. [con't]

Lady & the Tramp Go Head to Head: Oral Lovin’s Lasting Lessons

Dining Around Town With Epi-Curious

A new addition to the Claremont restaurant scene is the Cabo Wabo Mexican Grill, located just north of Rhino Records in the Village. This renovated coffee shop seats only 20 and relies on a heavy take-out trade for business. The décor appears unfinished with remnants of former tenants combined with tacky "south of the border" decorations. The television playing a tape of a Kurt Gibson killing movie and the sound system playing Barry Manilow seemed the perfect metaphor for a restaurant that hasn’t decided what it wants to be. The emptiness of the facility (we were the only diners through most of the dinner hour) added to the surrealism. [con't]