by Chris
Before I start, I want to make a few things clear. One: I was never a fan of Miley Cyrus and never watched a single episode of Hannah Montana. Two: I actually abhor most rap music and the hip hop industry in general. Three: The proceeding words are utterly biased and were written without any consideration given to alternative viewpoints. Good, now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk about Miley Cyrus!
No, no, not VMA Cyrus, not rapper Cyrus, let’s talk about “clean” Cyrus. Long before she was twerkin’ (Wow, autocorrect removed the “g;” I’m not even kidding) on middle-aged men and smoking marijuana on stage, Miley Cyrus was the idol of millions of prepubescent girls. She was clean, couth, compassionate, and just a bit country. And to top it all off, she was the star of her very own show on Disney. Now as I said before, I never watched Hannah Montana, but surely I can deduce a few things about it: the lead character was a blonde girl; the plot revolved around trivial conflicts; the settings were horrendously artificial; the saddest episodes involved one of the many static “friends” of the protagonist moving away. All of these things sound about right, but I forgot one thing: the star of the show (read: Miley Cyrus) had to embody her character constantly.
It wasn’t enough for Miley to play Hannah Montana; she had to become Hannah Montana. Prepubescent girls simply aren’t mature enough to distinguish between what’s real and what’s manufactured. Sure, they know that movies aren’t real, but they don’t understand that characters like Hannah Montana are played by real human beings like Miley Cyrus who often have completely different personalities. So while Miley Cyrus appeared clean, couth, compassionate, and country on TV, she was probably anything but in reality. She was simply marketed. Is it any wonder that the recurring idea of “We Can’t Stop” is “I can do what I want?” I can do what I want? Clearly this implies that at one point in time she couldn’t do what she wanted. Why? Because her success depended on conforming to the expectations of millions of naïve girls. What we’re seeing with Miley today is the reaction to years of restriction. She was never allowed to truly express herself; her world was artificial and superficial. Playing Hannah Montana meant being marketed as a product for Miley Cyrus, her individuality forsaken in the face of profit.
This is perhaps the greatest tragedy; Miley Cyrus was forced to conform to the expectations of little girls and their parents, to be a “role model.” Why can’t parents be role models to their own children? Why are they so reliant on the media to raise their children, to teach their children right from wrong? Could it be that life in a commercialized world of consumerism and materialism, which holds money above human life, inhibits the ability of parents to interact with their children and thus leaves said children at the mercy of an advertising apparatus so sophisticated and so pervasive that it indoctrinates the children into the world of consumerism and wage labor that originally robbed them of parental guidance? Then, continuing the tradition of indoctrination, the children grow up and chase false dreams in a fast-paced world, leaving their children before the onslaught of that very advertising and sensationalism, thus reducing human existence in America to nothing more than consumption.
Whoops, my Orwell is showing. But what’s curious is the public outcry against Miley Cyrus. Doesn’t she represent our modern age? She’s young, white, rich, sensational, bereft of morals, and ostentatiously (yet awkwardly) sexual. Any impartial observer would say she complements our society perfectly. Why, then, is she discussed in the most scathing, vehement terms our language can muster? I feel she is a scared little girl navigating the turbulent waters of adulthood. She’s searching for her true identity, and she is throwing off the shackles of that artificial world that once held her. She embodies the totality of the American spirit. And yet, America spits on her for daring to defy expectations, for divorcing herself from the Disney doll Hannah Montana. That’s the tragedy of it all: we are so wrapped in the tentacles of consumerism and sensationalism that we cannot see the glory in Miley Cyrus twerking.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Maximum Ride
by Daisy
Maximum Ride. No this isn’t a ride at an amusement park; this is a girl, Max, and she and her friends all have a gift - a very special gift. They have wings. And if you’re thinking chicken wings and barbeque sauce, then go get a snack and come back because you’re hungry, and that’s not what this article is about. They have wings coming out of their bodies. They can fly. Of course, this isn’t real. No one has wings, and if they did my mind would be blown. But this is a book series, eight books total by James Patterson, that follows the adventures and antics of Maximum Ride and her friends, Iggy, Fang, Nudge, Angel, and The Gasman (or Gazzy).
Their backstory is quite simple, really. They’re a group of minors, ranging from the ages of 6-14, that escaped from an institution called The School, with the help of scientist Jeb Batchelder, who experiments with genetic mutations. Once escaped, Jeb Batchelder takes them, The Flock, deep into the mountains, teaching them basic survival skills and how to defend themselves. Eventually Jeb disappears after two years, and The Flock are then on their own, thinking he’s dead, leading to where the first book of the series begins.
Personally I recommend the series to those who enjoy adventure, intricate twists and turns, and even a little bit of romance. I haven’t had much experience with said books, except for Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment a few years back, but I recall the novel being quite intricate and unique, and I would love to continue reading about The Flock’s adventures.
Maximum Ride. No this isn’t a ride at an amusement park; this is a girl, Max, and she and her friends all have a gift - a very special gift. They have wings. And if you’re thinking chicken wings and barbeque sauce, then go get a snack and come back because you’re hungry, and that’s not what this article is about. They have wings coming out of their bodies. They can fly. Of course, this isn’t real. No one has wings, and if they did my mind would be blown. But this is a book series, eight books total by James Patterson, that follows the adventures and antics of Maximum Ride and her friends, Iggy, Fang, Nudge, Angel, and The Gasman (or Gazzy).
Their backstory is quite simple, really. They’re a group of minors, ranging from the ages of 6-14, that escaped from an institution called The School, with the help of scientist Jeb Batchelder, who experiments with genetic mutations. Once escaped, Jeb Batchelder takes them, The Flock, deep into the mountains, teaching them basic survival skills and how to defend themselves. Eventually Jeb disappears after two years, and The Flock are then on their own, thinking he’s dead, leading to where the first book of the series begins.
Personally I recommend the series to those who enjoy adventure, intricate twists and turns, and even a little bit of romance. I haven’t had much experience with said books, except for Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment a few years back, but I recall the novel being quite intricate and unique, and I would love to continue reading about The Flock’s adventures.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Famous Fashion
by Rose
What’s considered fashion differs from person to person. Fashion is a broad topic compared to the numerous styles that exist. It’s hard to label yourself as what you look like and how you dress; you might consider yourself a ‘hipster’ while everyone and their mother think you’re a ‘prep’, or you might consider your style unique while the next guy might say you look basic.
There are a great deal of styles: Goth, Hipster, Sporty, Preppy, Skater, Chic, Scene, Tomboy, Nerdy, Punk, Thug, Boho, Girly, and sometimes the groups run together or even have sub-groups within the style. The three styles I’m going to talk about are the ones I see most and can differentiate clearly, for there’s no mixing up Scene and Sporty.
Sporty: An athletic look is desired amongst the Sporty ones. The look can be categorized as sweatpants, basketball shorts, or T-shirts with a sport team logo. Sporty girls normally wear little to no makeup, and their hair is usually pulled back into a ponytail with maybe a headband. The boys wear tennis shoes or Nikes and sometimes muscle shirts.
The Sporty look is common in high school, obviously most frequently seen with the kids who play on sports teams. It’s not one of my favorite fashion styles, but it’s not one of my least favorites either; I admire those who take pride in staying in top physical condition.
Hipster: I’ve noticed that Hipsters have been getting quite a bit of attention lately, and it seems to be, ironically, the new ‘in’ thing, despite the whole point of being a hipster being to be as far away from mainstream society as possible. Hipsters are usually seen wearing beanies, skinny jeans, glasses, or T-shirts with bands on them that ‘you’ve probably never heard of.’
Hipsters are greatly common in teens and young adults. I used to really enjoy Hipster style, but over time I have grown away from it.
Scene: Scene and Emo get mixed up easily. Now, don’t make the mistake of telling one they’re the other. Scene is categorized as straight, layered hair (sometimes colored to an unnatural color) with black makeup around the eyes and dark clothes and skinny jeans tighter than my liking.
Fashion, like many things, is what you make it. It doesn’t matter what style you fall under. As long as you enjoy the way you look and are confident in what you wear, you’ll look good in anything.
What’s considered fashion differs from person to person. Fashion is a broad topic compared to the numerous styles that exist. It’s hard to label yourself as what you look like and how you dress; you might consider yourself a ‘hipster’ while everyone and their mother think you’re a ‘prep’, or you might consider your style unique while the next guy might say you look basic.
There are a great deal of styles: Goth, Hipster, Sporty, Preppy, Skater, Chic, Scene, Tomboy, Nerdy, Punk, Thug, Boho, Girly, and sometimes the groups run together or even have sub-groups within the style. The three styles I’m going to talk about are the ones I see most and can differentiate clearly, for there’s no mixing up Scene and Sporty.
Sporty: An athletic look is desired amongst the Sporty ones. The look can be categorized as sweatpants, basketball shorts, or T-shirts with a sport team logo. Sporty girls normally wear little to no makeup, and their hair is usually pulled back into a ponytail with maybe a headband. The boys wear tennis shoes or Nikes and sometimes muscle shirts.
The Sporty look is common in high school, obviously most frequently seen with the kids who play on sports teams. It’s not one of my favorite fashion styles, but it’s not one of my least favorites either; I admire those who take pride in staying in top physical condition.
Hipster: I’ve noticed that Hipsters have been getting quite a bit of attention lately, and it seems to be, ironically, the new ‘in’ thing, despite the whole point of being a hipster being to be as far away from mainstream society as possible. Hipsters are usually seen wearing beanies, skinny jeans, glasses, or T-shirts with bands on them that ‘you’ve probably never heard of.’
Hipsters are greatly common in teens and young adults. I used to really enjoy Hipster style, but over time I have grown away from it.
Scene: Scene and Emo get mixed up easily. Now, don’t make the mistake of telling one they’re the other. Scene is categorized as straight, layered hair (sometimes colored to an unnatural color) with black makeup around the eyes and dark clothes and skinny jeans tighter than my liking.
Fashion, like many things, is what you make it. It doesn’t matter what style you fall under. As long as you enjoy the way you look and are confident in what you wear, you’ll look good in anything.
Creatures of the Sun
by Chris
"Concerning the generation of animals akin to them, as hornets and wasps, the facts in all cases are similar to a certain extent, but are devoid of the extraordinary features which characterize bees; this we should expect, for they have nothing divine about them as the bees have."
~ Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC)
Nothing is so beautiful, so majestic as the relationship flowers and bees share. They have evolved together over millions of years, and every spring we see their courtship played out all over the world. We see the countless worker bees toiling in the sun, buzzing from flower to flower collecting nectar and depositing pollen. This dance had occurred for hundreds of millions of years, and today it is a vital part of our ecosystem. The flowers and the crops that are pollinated by bees produce food for our consumption; the bees return to their hives with the nectar to make honey and wax. All of this we take without gratitude. In ancient times, honey was considered sacred. It was said that honey was the nectar of the gods; the bees themselves were held in similar esteem. Today, however, there is no such reverence for bees, only fear.
But why do we fear honeybees? Sure, we humans have many, many irrational phobias, but why is it that we all seem to share a horror of the humble honey bee? Cartoons depict them as vicious swarms waiting to engulf innocent passersby. The buzzing of a bee evokes dread; the sight pandemonium. The reason for this fear, of course, is the sting of the bee. People seem to have this ridiculous notion that bees want to sting them. Our culture has conditioned us to believe that bees are hell-bent on causing us immense pain. This couldn’t bee further from the truth.
The vast majority of bee stings occur when they are forced to defend their hive, wherein their queen, their larvae, their home, and their honey lie. Furthermore, bees sting only once. Their stingers are barbed and get logged in whatever they sings, so when they try to fly away, the lower part of their abdomen is ripped off. The act of stinging must be inconceivably excruciating for a bee, but they must do it in order to defend their colony. Most of us would aggressively defend our home if our children, parents, and wealth lied inside. Is a gun not a stinger of greater destructiveness? But on a much deeper level, bees are justified in stinging any human they want, considering what we’ve done to them. What, exactly, have we done to them?
The answer to that question is actually quite simple: we’ve reduced them to machines. The demand for produce and crops has necessitated new methods of pollination. Sure, allowing bees to freely pollinate crops may have worked long ago, but in this modern era, when orchards span hundreds of thousands of acres, when hundreds of millions of people depend upon fresh produce, and when the growing season has not grown with demand, the natural way is no longer viable. Yet, because no one wants to or is able to physically pollinate billions of plants, bees must still be used. So we cram them into wooden crates and ship them around the world to pollinate massive orchards. And while they are being transported in boxes, we feed them a watery solution of high-fructose corn syrup. How could high-fructose corn syrup possibly compare to honey, the nectar of the gods? It can’t. All this, however, cannot compare to the worst of it.
No bee colony can exist without a queen. The ritualistic mating between a queen bee and her male suitors that results in baby queen bees seldom occurs. Yet we need many colonies of bees to pollinate our crops; therefore, we need many queen bees. The solution to this problem? Artificial insemination. Indeed, as crazy as it sounds, we sedate queen bees and fill them will sperm from the strongest male bees we find. Besides being an absolute disgrace to the queen bee, this process hurts all bees: because only a few males are used, the genetic diversity of the queen’s offspring is greatly reduced. This results in a colony more susceptible to disease and pathogens. Moreover, the resulting queen bees are weaker than their natural counterparts.
But why do we fear honeybees? Sure, we humans have many, many irrational phobias, but why is it that we all seem to share a horror of the humble honey bee? Cartoons depict them as vicious swarms waiting to engulf innocent passersby. The buzzing of a bee evokes dread; the sight pandemonium. The reason for this fear, of course, is the sting of the bee. People seem to have this ridiculous notion that bees want to sting them. Our culture has conditioned us to believe that bees are hell-bent on causing us immense pain. This couldn’t bee further from the truth.
The vast majority of bee stings occur when they are forced to defend their hive, wherein their queen, their larvae, their home, and their honey lie. Furthermore, bees sting only once. Their stingers are barbed and get logged in whatever they sings, so when they try to fly away, the lower part of their abdomen is ripped off. The act of stinging must be inconceivably excruciating for a bee, but they must do it in order to defend their colony. Most of us would aggressively defend our home if our children, parents, and wealth lied inside. Is a gun not a stinger of greater destructiveness? But on a much deeper level, bees are justified in stinging any human they want, considering what we’ve done to them. What, exactly, have we done to them?
The answer to that question is actually quite simple: we’ve reduced them to machines. The demand for produce and crops has necessitated new methods of pollination. Sure, allowing bees to freely pollinate crops may have worked long ago, but in this modern era, when orchards span hundreds of thousands of acres, when hundreds of millions of people depend upon fresh produce, and when the growing season has not grown with demand, the natural way is no longer viable. Yet, because no one wants to or is able to physically pollinate billions of plants, bees must still be used. So we cram them into wooden crates and ship them around the world to pollinate massive orchards. And while they are being transported in boxes, we feed them a watery solution of high-fructose corn syrup. How could high-fructose corn syrup possibly compare to honey, the nectar of the gods? It can’t. All this, however, cannot compare to the worst of it.
No bee colony can exist without a queen. The ritualistic mating between a queen bee and her male suitors that results in baby queen bees seldom occurs. Yet we need many colonies of bees to pollinate our crops; therefore, we need many queen bees. The solution to this problem? Artificial insemination. Indeed, as crazy as it sounds, we sedate queen bees and fill them will sperm from the strongest male bees we find. Besides being an absolute disgrace to the queen bee, this process hurts all bees: because only a few males are used, the genetic diversity of the queen’s offspring is greatly reduced. This results in a colony more susceptible to disease and pathogens. Moreover, the resulting queen bees are weaker than their natural counterparts.
Then there are the fungicides and systemic pesticides. We, being the industrious race that we are, use fungicides in an attempt to protect our crops from fungi. Systemic pesticides? Think inserting pesticides directly into the DNA of a plant. Now, any logical person would agree that this could have adverse health effects on humans. For bees it has proven absolutely devastating. It affects their nervous system; they become disoriented and unable to function. Entire colonies of bees have simply vanished. And we’re not talking about a few disparate hives here; we’re talking about half of all commercial beehives in the United States: billions of bees. We even have a term for this phenomenon: Colony Collapse Disorder.
Our actions have caused Colony Collapse Disorder. We have treated the worker bee as a drone, fed them artificial sugar solutions, violated their queens, and exposed them to the worst toxins we have. And still, they only sting us when they feel threatened. So ask yourself, who is the true menace? Anyone who enjoys fruits, flowers, or nuts are profiting from the pain of bees. We shouldn’t fear honeybees: we should be grateful to them for everything they do for this planet, for us. Instead of swatting them with rolled-up newspapers and destroying their hives, we should be doing everything possible to help honeybees; for the simple fact of the matter is, honeybees are dying. They are dying, and we are killing them.
Contained within the the nectar of every flower is the energy of the sun. Bees have been granted access to this precious substance, and they carry it with them to the darkness of their hive. Yet there is no darkness there: the nectar itself is the light of the sun captured in material form. Honey is but a purified form the nectar, a purified form of light guiding the order of the hive, making each bee a creature of the sun. Perhaps Aristotle was on to something when he proclaimed the divinity of bees, a divinity we have perverted with our strange apparatuses and toxic chemicals. So let us end with another quote by Aristotle, something to alter our opinion of bees, something to put things in perspective:
Our actions have caused Colony Collapse Disorder. We have treated the worker bee as a drone, fed them artificial sugar solutions, violated their queens, and exposed them to the worst toxins we have. And still, they only sting us when they feel threatened. So ask yourself, who is the true menace? Anyone who enjoys fruits, flowers, or nuts are profiting from the pain of bees. We shouldn’t fear honeybees: we should be grateful to them for everything they do for this planet, for us. Instead of swatting them with rolled-up newspapers and destroying their hives, we should be doing everything possible to help honeybees; for the simple fact of the matter is, honeybees are dying. They are dying, and we are killing them.
Contained within the the nectar of every flower is the energy of the sun. Bees have been granted access to this precious substance, and they carry it with them to the darkness of their hive. Yet there is no darkness there: the nectar itself is the light of the sun captured in material form. Honey is but a purified form the nectar, a purified form of light guiding the order of the hive, making each bee a creature of the sun. Perhaps Aristotle was on to something when he proclaimed the divinity of bees, a divinity we have perverted with our strange apparatuses and toxic chemicals. So let us end with another quote by Aristotle, something to alter our opinion of bees, something to put things in perspective:
''Honey falls from the air, principally about the rising of the stars, and when a rainbow rests upon the earth.''
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