i tend to think of the university of chicago as this gothic haven of hipsterness. i know it's also a stuffy, dusty old institution nicknamed "the place where fun goes to die," but for me, the u of c was about dave mac's wine tastings and concerts with dougO and public intellectualizing with croft and the haze of smoke at the cove and gramsci and zoolander and neutral milk hotel. and those things are pretty damn near perfectly lovely. which is why a tiny piece of me dies every other month with the arrival of the alumni magazine. because it is so not my u of c.
for real, people. i got a $40,000 degree and my reward is an eternal subscription to a magazine featuring cover art popularized by AARP and the united undertakers of america. i may be admitting my density here, but i don't know who the hell martha roth is. the fact that she has completed the chicago assyrian dictionary doesn't exactly have me on the edge of my seat and the pun in the headline is unforgivably and Biblically lame. but in the end, it is the editorial decision to stand her alongside what appears to be the doorway to a frank lloyd wright igloo that is most appalling. for shame, u of c. for shame. croftie and i could do so much better.