Author Archives: Zachary Fuhrer

Saturday, Nov. 22. Since the beginning of the year, most Yalies have marked their Moleskines with clever ways to wreak havoc on those dirty Cantabs on this glorious day. Given that I’ve always, Bulldog that I am, seen urination as a highway to possession, my concept of pwning Harvard is simply peeing on anything and »

The Yale Dramat, with its production of “The Full Monty,” once again asserts that no matter how much money goes into a bad play, the play will still be bad. Given the controversy surrounding the firing of director Holly-Anne Ruggiero, one might say that the Dramat encountered their second miserable director of the season — »

A cardboard box sits on top of a beat-up Ikea coffee table in a freshman common room. Franzia — ambrosia of the gods to some, slightly more elegant than a 30-rack of keystone light to others. This box of “the world’s most famous wine,” paired with a slim selection of Polly-O string cheese, enables Yalies »

The YCC was given $140,000 dollars for Spring Fling; Wesleyan was given $56,000 for theirs. But Wesleyan is getting a lot more with their dirty liberal arts dollar. Instead of trying to check a whole lot of boxes – like our mix of pop-punk bullshit (Jimmy Eat World), legitimate hip-hop (The Roots), and unattractive/untalented crooning »

“Money doesn’t make us happy.” We’ve all heard it from parents who drive Mercedes, innovative musicians who sell out to big labels, and Yale grads in their third year at Goldman Sachs. The mass consumerism that drives our economy — encouraging you to buy that new cell phone with the built in PDA and GPS »

With all of this talk about new residential colleges, I began thinking of more useful ways to spend Yale’s money. Sure, it would be nice to give a lot more kids the opportunity to get in on our great shit, but first why don’t Pres Lev and the ’Stache pay a little more attention to »

Bowery Ballroom’s aggressive bouncers could learn a thing or two from Annie Clark. The pale, wispy-haired performer, better known as St. Vincent, manages to grasp an audience’s attention without ever raising her voice or marauding in condescending fashion. We get “Thank you” instead of “Open up that backpack, that better not fucking be alcohol.” With »

Gary Coleman was recently and secretly married in Nevada to a woman 18 years his junior and 12 inches his senior. Good for Gary. Not only has he proven that little old people can marry hot tall young’ns, but he has convinced us we were on his every move — not that his love life »

“110 percent at least. A lot of it. All of it. We wouldn’t be sounding like we’re sounding without the Dirty Jerz,” says Benevento/Russo Duo’s Marco Benevento, the two arms and two feet behind an arsenal of keyboards. The prolific merger of two former middle-school-jazz-band mates came out of several sweaty nights of free-flowing improv »

Well into their pre-teen years, many children wonder what exactly causes the buildup of fuzzy stuff in pockets and belly buttons. The discovery that this is just lint is fairly unsatisfying, and frankly demystifies the magical substance. Luckily, Medeski, Martin, and Wood, a jazz trio that charts the territory from back-beat funk to acid jazz »

At the beginning of the song “How Long Has This Been Going On,” on Rufus Wainwright’s “Rufus Does Judy At Carnegie Hall,” Wainwright remarks that he “Feels like Judy Garland’s secretary.” He has to remember set lists, lyrics and sheet music that he didn’t write — awkward tasks for a traditional songwriter. But though this »