The Carl Online

Friday Feb 13 Carl by carlmagazine



02 EDITORS’ NOTE Prescience and struggle in the face of meaninglessness
03 DOORMAT Words for the trustees • More stuff freshmen like • Vagina dialogues
05 SOCIETY Long distance relationships: stories and strategies • How to have an alternative Valentines Day
09 ARTS & LIT Just in time for your lonely Saturday, some scintillating romance novel reviews
10 FEATURE Graffiti at Carleton: a comprehensive history
14 PERFORMANCES Talking with the cast and grew of The House of Seven Gables
16 MUSIC Franz Ferdinand’s latest: what’s the Scottish word for misstep? • What does a film prof listen to? • Aaron Kaufman looks into a dark mirror
18 CINEMA He’s Just Not That Into You: it’s not a chick flick if it’s got Affleck, bro • Andrew Tatge on noise and movie trailers
20 CARTOONS We make Winsor McCay look like a stupid jerk
22 FUN & GAMES You choose the next Vinayak!
23 COUNTDOWN Chun-Li, local hip-hop, and avoiding sterility

From the Archives: Exit 69 Competition Review by carlmagazine
October 9, 2008, 6:23 pm
Filed under: PDF Posts | Tags: ,

Exit 69 Doesn’t Sell Out by Ann Busiek

The weekend of February 11, Exit 69, Carleton’s most schizophrenic co-ed a cappella group, sang at the International Championship of College A Cappella (ICCA, to those in the know) Midwest Divisional in romantic, enchantic Decatur, Illinois. We sent in audition tapes last spring, scrounged up money for the entrance fee, and spent most of this term rehearsing three songs for ICCA. This is not an article about that performance. It is about Exit 69, the open road, and why we are really better than all the groups that beat us.

On February 10, the fact that we had neglected to reserve any campus vans made itself known to us in the following fashion:

Someone: Did we reserve campus vans?

Someone else: No.

Because the Carleton administration is very kind and because Sue and Beth can be very persuasive, we  enanaged to get three last-minute rental cars and then all 13 of us piled into them on Friday afternoon after class.

I happily set my books and pillow in the passenger seat next to the driver, my dear friend Scott, and went into the snack bar to purchase malted milk balls for the journey. When I returned to the car, I was dismayed to find that my seat was being occupied and my pillow enjoyed by all six-foot-however-many-inches of Derek Zimmerman and his blond hair. There was, apparently, a perfectly good spot for me in the middle of the back seat, which consisted mostly of an uncomfortable raised-up bump of fabric. “No no,” I said. “But I have these long … Read more of Ann’s adventure