Author Archives: Alex Klein

“Where the heck is global warming? The fact is that we can’t account for the lack of warming at the moment, and it is a travesty that we can’t.” Surely this must be a Glenn Beck rant or more debauchery from the corporate fat cats. A fringe, nutcase conspiracy-theorist, perhaps? Upon first reading these words, »

An elite cadre of withered, wizened greats walks among us here at Yale. Few have access to them, and most have never even met them. Their undergraduate classes? Few and far between. Their seminars? By 1000-word application only. Yet, their collegiate repute is unparalleled. Chipper, over-qualified graduate students climb over one another to research minutiae, »

We’re going to make a place where only the things you want to happen, happen!” shouts the young Max, his smile awash in exuberant, bittersweet innocence. The eyes of his ploddingly adorable, furry — yet somehow vicious — guardian, Carol, light up. The monster’s king has made the only promise that matters, a sweet assurance »

The essay prompt was simple enough: “If you had been an Enron executive during the months preceding the company’s bankruptcy, what course of action would you have taken?” My job was clear: to analyze the corrupt, over-valued company’s crimes and then explain how I, the noble corporate white-knight, would have taken ethical action, either by »

A shimmering flurry of sequins, leopard print, and cha-cha-chas launches itself onto the illuminated stage. The crowd gasps, horrified and enthralled. Out of this pandemonium, a grinning, graying man emerges, hips gyrating, air-guitar shredding, lips syncing. Suddenly arrives the realization, shocking, cathartic, hysterical: the dancing man is Tom DeLay, former House Majority leader, onetime accused »

The other day I told a friend that I would be working as a staff columnist for the News this year. She responded: “Just please don’t start your columns with some cliché anecdote about what happened the other day. I hate that.” I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist, and I hope you’ll forgive the meta-ing (as »

Welcome, and congratulations. Allow me to introduce myself. I am a typical, atypical Yale student. In addition, I happen to be “that guy,” addressing you directly in a News column, for which I apologize. I’m just extraordinarily happy you’re here. Over Bulldog Days, your sanguine swarming will enliven and excite our campus with that special »

This year’s tremendously successful Senior Class Gift project may be over, but the discussion it sparked remains relevant. Now is the time to change how we conceive of donating to Yale. No longer the restricted purview of alumni, departing seniors and parents desperate for their child’s admission, contributing to Yale should be, if not an »

President Levin stands smiling in front of a blue-gradient backdrop. Emblazoned above him, in all-caps white Gotham font, is an all-too-familiar buzzword: “CHANGE.” Below, the slogan continues in light blue, not with “WE CAN BELIEVE IN,” as you might expect, but rather with “NEW HAVEN.” It’s a Facebook ad for the President’s Public Service Fellowship, »

Hipsters: Chances are you know one. In fact, here at Yale, chances are you know many. As a New Yorker — and as a white person — I’ve become familiar with the esoteric eccentricities and affectations of this peculiar class of cool-hunters during the twilight years of my adolescence. But even here at Yale, where »

Samuel Johnson once said of London, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.” Yale’s New Yorkers praise their hometown with similar enthusiasm, though others make their disdain for the city clear. With Yale so close to a place as magnetic »