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The West Wing + The Onion headlines
My name is Lily. I am 21 years old and have recently accepted a place at the University of Edinburgh to study for an MSc in Medieval Literatures & Cultures. There's just one problem. I can't afford it because I am disabled. [Here is a video of me discussing my disability .] I was born premat...
My name is Lily. I am 21 years old and have recently accepted a place at the University of Edinburgh to study for an MSc in Medieval Literatures & Cultures.
Thereâs just one problem. I canât afford it because I am disabled.
[Here is a video of me discussing my disability .]
I was born prematurely and suffered a stroke at birth, resulting in left-sided hemiplegia, a form of cerebral palsy. This renders my left side smaller, weaker and more easily tired than my right. It is incurable and I wouldnât want it to be - however it makes working very hard. I also suffer from depression and anxiety as a result of my disability which also hinders my ability to work. As such, I cannot work during term time, simply because it is too exhausting to focus on both a job and university simultaneously. Â
Iâve worked out that even with a postgraduate loan and a summer job I will still be short of money for even the most basic of things. So I am asking for your help, lovely people. Iâm not one to usually ask for aid, but this is so important to me and I am so desperate to go to Edinburgh this September to study the things I love.
Please donate if you can, and if not, please share this; Iâd be so grateful. Â
Thank you!
- Lily x
[PS: If youâd like a little poem in return for your donation, I will happily do so - examples of my creative writing are here !]
Why the fuck do people go to Baseball games? An explanation to Americaâs greatest mystery.
Well itâs that time of year again. The most insufferable of tech start up statistics bros are rubbing their hands together in anticipation. The northbound red line in Chicago is stuffed full of college frat boys pre-gaming. You randomly hear some old dude complaining about how the Designated Hitter is literally the worst thing to ever happen ever. Yes folks, itâs baseball season.
Baseball is my favorite sport, much to the confusion of pretty much everyone who knows me and isnât a baseball fan. Sure I like hockey, and can even muster up interest in basketball, tennis, and soccer. But baseball is my favorite, by far. Given the description it might be a little confusing as to why I love this sport. After all, the most common charge leveled at baseball is that itâs boring which, yeah sure I can see that. Itâs also one of the bro-ier sports. White dudes wearing muscle tanks and downing beer after beer are among the most common breed of baseball fans. Baseball was pretty much invented for the enjoyment of bored rich people, designed to create a socialization space that could fill long, lazy, summer nights. Â
So the question is what on earth continues to make baseball an enjoyable stadium experience? If itâs just a boring, drawn out space for rich frat boys to congregate like a pack of snap back wearing jackals why, Emma, do you continue to frequent the ballpark? Well, here is my justification for why baseball is actually an amazing experience.
Itâs the cheapest live sporting experience you can find. Ok so cheap is a relative term here. If you go to a baseball game expenses like parking, food, drinks, etc. are all going to mount up like nobodyâs business. But I also just looked up ticket prices on StubHub for tomorrowâs Cubs game and you know how much the cheapest were? $8. And thatâs for a major league first place team, in one of the most historic ball parks in the country. Thatâs a pittance compared to what tickets cost for any other major league sport. Now of course thereâs a reason for that. After all there are 162 games in a baseball season, and ballparks are big so thereâs a lot of seats to fill. Hell, I remember back when the Orioles were shitty they gave me free nosebleed seats for having perfect attendance. But it still means that baseball is the only major league sport thatâs still (sort of) financially accessible.
Itâs one of the easiest sports to watch live. Thereâs a special charm that comes with watching live sports regardless of what the sport is. But sometimes, without the aid of close up camera angles and a constant moving frame to call your attention to the object of play, they can be really hard to follow live. Which can be frustrating if youâve spent upwards of fifty dollars to see your team play. With baseball on the other hand everything is elegantly spread out so plays donât get lost.
  Baseball is a lot less intense and intimidating than most other sports venues. I feel itâs necessary to put a qualifier on this one, since it probably doesnât hold true for some of the moreâŠrabid fanbases out there (looking at you Boston and Philly.) But remember how I said that baseball was invented for long lazy summer nights? Yeah that pretty much holds true still. Because baseball games are a much more common occurrence than football or hockey games, fans tend to get a lot less hyped up for them. Now you might read that as a bad thing, but for someone typically uncomfortable in most sporting environments that can be a positive. Youâre a lot less likely to encounter someone screaming in your face or just generally being a dick.Â
Baseball park food is literally better than any other sporting event food. Again, maybe itâs because teams feel the need to keep interest up over 162 games but ballpark food is by far the most creative of the major league food groups. Expensive? Yes. But Iâm much more willing to shell out a little extra over, for instance, crab on freshly made kettle chips (as can be found at Camden Yards) than I would be for Aramark catering available at the last hockey game I went to. (I asked for a polish sausage and they gave me a hot dog. THIS WAS IN CHICAGO OF ALL PLACES. CHICAGO.) Now of course you can make the argument that fancy ball park food just makes the food more expensive but honestly if your choice is between fancy ball park food and a 6$ under boiled hot dog which are you going to pick? (Also bonus points for baseball stadiums being the only stadiums where Iâve found kosher food stands.)
Baseball parks are designed to be pleasant and social. I canât speak to football stadiums because I have never willingly set foot in a football stadium, but basketball and hockey arenas are designed to be loud, cold, intimidating palaces of darkness. Baseball stadiums in contrast are designed to be pleasant and relaxed, places where you can keep up a conversation as the game is going on. Again, this depends on what you like in an arena. But I really prefer coming home hoarse from a game because Iâve been cheering for my team as opposed to because Iâve been shouting to get the attention of the person sitting next to me. Again, to each their own. Except that baseball stadiums are the best.
Baseball is a sport of great suspense. Â Baseball, in my experience, is kind of like beer: you need to taste a lot of it before you learn to appreciate it. Also white hipsters are obsessed with it. Â But once you get a feel for the game you also get a feel for how suspenseful it is. There are any number of outcomes that could occur when a batter steps to the plate, all of which could alter the course of a game in an instant. A key strikeout could help a pitcher escape an insane jam or a timely homer could tie a game previously thought lost. This past opening day I streamed a Mets game with one of my friends who had never actively watched baseball before. By the end of the game, with the Mets down to their final out, with the tying run at the plate she said âOh! I get why people watch this now!â That suspense is only heightened at a ballpark, where you can feel the tension filling an entire building.
Itâs full on kitsch American in the most beautiful way. Baseball inspires the sort of blind patriotism in me that I really only feel making fun of England on the fourth of July. But I mean really, baseball has everything that you could want out of a stereotypically American experience outside of apple pie. Fireworks! Fried food! Twangly guitar pop songs! Hot men in tight pants! To show you just how beautifully American baseball games are hereâs the cast of Hamilton singing the national anthem at a Mets game.Â
You donât see that shit at a football game!
Baseball is Americaâs past time for a reason. Thereâs nothing quite like the experience of lazing about at a baseball stadium on a summer night. Itâs this weird mix of tranquility and excitement Iâve never found anywhere else. So I hope, even if youâre not a huge fan, that youâll find an excuse to get to the ballpark this summer.
All right, letâs try this, your line, just say it as I say it, say your line exactly as Iâm about to.
The finals countdown wall has begun and the summer of baseball is just over the horizon. Iâm comin for ya, Hyannis Harbor Hawks. (at Regentâs Park College)
Our winning Easter Bonnet Presentation, sung to the tune of âAlexander Hamilton.â Proud of our company, who raised an insane $516,029 for BCEFA. And grateful to you, who dropped Hamiltons in our buckets for people who need it to live. Thank you. *greatjob*
Thoughts on Worcester College?
I like Worcester! Itâs very pretty indeed, and Iâve sung in their chapel and that is nice, and used their sports facilities, which are great (itâs a massive advantage to have sports facilities onsite rather than miles down the Woodstock or Cowley Road or wherever). Donât know many people there, but those I do know seem lovely.
i found the Hamiltome at Barnes & Noble the other day (part 2)
me on the first day of college vs me now
0-100 real quick
Last-ever set of collections. Thank the Lord.
The Coffee Order of J. Alfred Prufrock
Let us order then, you and I,
When the morning is spread out against the sky
Like a coffee spilled across a counter;
Let us order, in certain half-deserted shops
The muttering stops
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster shells:
Shops that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming questionâŠ
Oh, do not ask âWhat is it?â
Let us go and make our visit.
In the shop the women come and go
Talking of americano.
The white steam that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The white steam that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the morning,
Lingered upon the pools of coffee in the machines,
Let fall upon its back the grounds that fall from bags,
Slipped on the counter, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a cold April morning,
Curled once about the espresso maker, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the white steam that slides along the walls,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the baristas that you meet;
There will be time to order and drink,
And time for all the drinks and days of hands
That lift and drop a muffin on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred orders and reorders,
Before the taking of a scone and tea.
In the shop the women come and go
Talking of americano.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, âShould I?â and âShould I?â
Time to turn back and leave the store
With gaping yawn and weary eyeâ
(They will say: âHow tired he looks today!â)
My morning coat, pulled up and colored gray,
My necktie rich and modest, but tucked awayâ
(They will say: âBut how early he is up today!â)
Should I
Order coffee for myself?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them allâ
Have known the mornings, evenings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
  So what shall I order?
And I have known them all already, known them allâ
The drinks that wake you up, and flood your veins,
And when I am woken, shaking in my coat,
When I am jumpy and wriggling all the day,
Then how shall I begin
To spit out all the caffeine of my days and ways?
  And what shall I order then?
And I have known the drinks already, known them allâ
Drinks that are shook and whipped and iced
(But in the fluorescent light, sprinkled with light brown spice!)
Is it aroma from a mocha
That puts me in a coma?
Drinks that line the wooden counter, for those who are called,
  And should I then order?
  And how should I begin?
Shall I say, I have gone at dawn through narrow streets
And watched the glass doors pushed open
By lonely baristas in aprons, leaning into the morning?âŠ
I should have been a three-for-one petite vanilla scone deal
Shuffled into paper bags across silent counters.
And the afternoon, the evening, passes so restlessly!
Smoothed by long sips,
Asleep⊠no, awake⊠or in between,
Stretched across the day, here between you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my drinks (cooled slightly off) brought in upon a platter,
I am no baristaâ and hereâs no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my order flicker,
And I have seen the head Manager print my receipt, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the coffee, the tea,
Among the recyclables, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed my order onto one line,
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: âI am T.S. Eliot, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you allââ
If one, drumming her fingers on the counter
   Should say: âThat is not what I said at all;
   That is not it, at all.â
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunrises and the doorways and the sprinkled whip,
After the screenplays, after the laptops, after the bags that trail along the floorâ
After this, and so much more?â
It is impossible to say just what I want!
But as if an overhead lamp threw the nerves in patterns on the wall:
Would it have been worth while
If one, drumming her fingers on the counter or pouring sugar into her cup,
And turning toward the window, should say:
   âThat is not it at all,
   That is not what I meant, at all.â
No! I am not a Manager, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant barista, one that will do
To brew a batch, start a cup or two,
Advise the manager, no doubt; an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of quick wit, but a bit caffeinated,
At times, indeed, almost hyperâ
Almost, at times, the Customer.
I grow tired⊠I grow tiredâŠ
I shall order a cup to go.
Shall I order from the secret menu? Do I dare it come with whip?
I shall wear red flannel shirts, and work at the table near the outlet.
I have heard the mermaids ordering, each to each.
I do not think that they will order for me.
I have seen them adorning cups in peopleâs hands,
Combing their green hair against the white,
When the wind seems to blow their hair apart.
We have lingered in the shops long past the dawn
With mermaids wreathed in logos, white and green
Till we tip our steaming mugs back, and we drown.
The West Wing + The Onion headlines, 1/?
Prime ministers wisely apply the crude but apposite principal enunciated by US President Lyndon B Johnson, namely keeping potential leadership rivals 'inside the tent pissing out' rather than 'outside the tent pissing in'. Prime ministers also have the benefit of having many colleagues who have no wish to piss anywhere a prime minister would not want them to. And indeed a number of ministers are extremely eager to piss wherever (or over whomever) the prime minister should so instruct.
Richard Heffernan, âPrime ministerial predominance? Core executive relations in the UKâ, British Journal of Politics and International Relations, vol. 5 no. 3, August 2003
Zeus: Can't keep my hands to myself!
Zeus: I mean I could but why would I want to