Word: final
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Dates: during 2000-2000
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...throbbing 4/4 rhythms (Maas had promised earlier that evening that his set would be "a bit rougher" than his in-store performance at Allston's Sound Factory), but he threw in some overt nods to trance and breakbeat came as the set wound down. In fact, some of his final offerings seemed more like indications of the imminent end than attempts to close with a bang. But by the time 2 a.m. rolled around, his continued good reputation was already beyond secured...
...reticent superstar hammed it up as the needle lifted for the final time, drawing hoarse cheers and chants of his name with outstretched arms, a playful I-told-you-I'd-make-you-dance wink, and a devilish grin. It had been quite a workout for the Axis crowd, but one sure to result in many happy returns to Maasachusetts...
...suite of bizarre events Elizabeth traces the drug set-up back to Dian Black, the cop played by Kate Agresta '02. Agresta's high-pitched, edgy performance seems at times exaggerated, yet it is the only way to reconcile the initial Dian Black, who exudes sleek professionalism, with the final Dian Black who reveals herself as the looniest character...
...that were hoisted by overly intoxicated initiates this week. (Yeah, and it was offensive and misogynistic too.) Not since last year's chicken scandal (when Phoenix Club hopefuls were required to keep live chickens in their dorm rooms for a week) have we had such vivid reminders of why final clubs are the most intellectually challenged organizations on campus. Not since last year's final club punch season have we seen our normally nice Harvard guys act using so few brain cells...
That's really the problem, isn't it? I call it the "nice guy syndrome," and I'm convinced its what has kept final clubs alive against all odds. The guys in final clubs aren't horned monsters concealing cloven hooves in their wing-tipped shoes. In section, on dates and in general, they're the kind of guys who are quick to share a laugh, help out a friend or hold open the door. Lest this column be relegated to the dusty collection of feminist anti-final club diatribes, I hasten to assure the reading public that some...