Binghamton has always flown under the radar. A good school, yes, a great value, obviously, but this University has rarely garnered national attention. We’re a state school, and a young one at that, but in my estimation, the two main reasons for our anonymity are as follows: (1) we’re not a sports school and (2) we seem to have always done the right thing. Our situation, though, has changed. Our pursuit to reverse the former has also sadly shattered the latter. And the world, now, is watching. From The New York Times to The Huffington Post to ESPN, Binghamton University…

Now I come to you all as a muse, Who would share his award-winning views, On a subject so great, On a night, on a date, That to miss it would give you the blues. So sit back, have a drink, don’t delay, For my words, you shan’t have to pay. Though mayhaps you should, My advice, it is good, And you’ll need it this Valentine’s Day. Betrothed or no, damsel or knight, I seek to ease all of your plight, For the men will be ready, And the women, rock-steady, I swear there’ll be no need for fright. To…

I used to think Binghamton University was a big school. With green behind my ears and hope in my heart, I came to school excited for a fresh dose of anonymity — a nice clean slate where I knew no one, and no one knew me. I liked the idea of sitting down in a lecture, safely unrecognized, with no social obligation to anyone in a crowd of hundreds. School felt huge, excitingly intimidating, full of mysterious promise, like my final frontier. But Binghamton has shrunk on me, like a new sweater that wasn’t dried right. What was once comfortably…

As fall term comes to a close and finals week looms, it is difficult, and likely unproductive, to take time to reflect. With papers due and exams upon us, to look back is to waste time. But as my first full calendar year at Binghamton University nears its end, I can’t help but consider the year that it was. 2009. For BU, the final year in a decade of growth and progress will be remembered for scandal and tragedy. There was controversy; there were deaths. There were more scathing editorials than favorable headlines. There are few positive reports and more…

Taxes are my religion. Yup, taxes. Income tax, property tax, tobacco tax and toll booths especially. These are all things I believe in quite passionately, even spiritually. Not in the classic theological sense, though. I don’t worship IRS agents, or consider the income tax deadline a religious holiday. Still, I’d like to think that my belief in taxation is comparable to many contemporary faiths. Similar to, say, Christianity, taxation requires personal sacrifice in the name of an intangible, distant authority. Taxes take from the individual and give to the many, they compel the privileged to provide for the disadvantaged. A…

Well gang, I suppose it’s time to start this column. One hour until deadline. But forgive me if I have a little fun with this. I have a book to read, an essay to write and some sort of portfolio to put together, all immediately following the completion of whatever this turns out to be. So. Yeah. Column. Right. Haven’t been following the news much recently. Heard we have a black president now; that’s pretty cool. Great weather today. What’s that? You’re reading this on Friday? It’s raining? The one-sided conversation has never been very conducive to small talk. You,…

“Do you play basketball?” I am approximately 6 feet 8 inches tall. I am asked this question, and others like it, multiple times a day. I am still coming to terms with it, but any one of my friends can attest to my general discomfort with my height, and has heard me rant many times about the random passersby that feel inclined to talk to me about it. So, when I picked up Tuesday’s edition of Pipe Dream, glanced down to the bottom left of the front page, and saw: “The Binghamton University men’s basketball team is set to hold…

My Intro to Macroeconomics TA sighed as he said, “I know you all know this, but the professor told me to run through it anyways.” He went on to halfheartedly explain a seemingly simple process, skipping some steps, performing others with what looked very much like a hint of sarcasm. Graphing a line. In his words, “sixth grade stuff.” I had my notebook out. I’m not a math guy. Never have been, probably never will be. I’m not especially handicapped in the subject but, simply put, it’s not my thing. I’d probably rather read a textbook and complete an accompanying…

As you read this, I may already be dead. This is likely the final entry in my survival journal. I write with fingers cramping, sight wavering, strength failing. This is my message in a bottle, a desperate attempt to contact the civilized world. You see, I am stranded, lost — not on a desert island or the African wild, but in a featureless wasteland all the same. I call it Binghamton. I fear not the fang or claw of a lion or puma but, instead, the toothless hobo and manicured sorority girl. The native population is aggressive, yes, but not…

Welcome new Bearcats! I’ve chosen to dedicate my first column of the year to you bright-eyed squirts. For all I know, this could be the first and last time you pick up a copy of Pipe Dream this year, so I decided to capitalize on your soon-to-be-forgotten sense of Binghamton University community spirit. So set aside that MacBook, Johnny Green-Behind-The-Ears, because soon that laptop will lose its freshly-shipped-from-China smell, and you’ll still be here. You see, I was once like you, as hard as it is to believe. I was a freshman too, in the age of slightly lower-definition television.…

By any measure, my freshman year at Binghamton University was far from perfect. I was depressed more often than I was contented. I took more time to ponder attending another university than I did to plan which parties to attend on a given weekend. My fluctuations in mood weren’t as much from good to bad, as they were bad to worse. That being said, I cannot think of a better place for me than Binghamton University. Allow me to explain. My best friend Seth and I both attended private, largely homogeneous high schools. Both are considered elite institutions in their…

There are girls giggling bubbly, conversing in the falsest of whispers about their pride in their heterosexual selves. “I wish I was still a virgin,” one announces proudly. I am in a library. I think to myself: One more giggle, and I will lose it. I say nothing. I never will. Nothing changes. My vaguely written, uncared-for paper, lies half written, as I listen to a half dozen girls buzz over just how interesting they all really are. I am aiming for the cookie-cutter answer, that one direction those same giggling girls are all searching for, that due-north line that…

I begin this column anew, exactly 68 minutes from its deadline. This was supposed to be my work of art, my masterpiece. I had big plans for this column; I had the best of intentions. But, many hours of assembling portfolios and nights of studying have left me with little in my intellectual tank. I have survived on caffeine and nicotine (and if anyone’s keeping score, with what I’ve written about this semester, I have yet to quit smoking), and the idea that, soon, it would all be over. So, here goes. The following is addressed to all freshmen: We…

We few, we unhappy few, we band of smokers. We smoke cigarettes for different reasons, knowingly poisoning our bodies, the variety of toxins matched only by the array of explanations for our habit. Some smoke when they drink, others after they eat. Some smoke when they’re bored, some smoke when they’re stressed. Some smoke to be cool, to be different, to be contrary. Few smoke because they enjoy it, many more because they’re addicted. I personally have never explored the origins of my habit; I, like many, find it unpleasant. I think it’s somewhere between trying to be different and…

Eight years later. Eight years later and the Democrats have everything they could wish for. A liberal in the White House, majorities in both the Senate and the House of Representatives and a “mandate for change.” Eight years after George W. Bush came to power. Eight years since a president entered the White House for whom everything has gone wrong. Eight years of war, of scandal, of natural disaster, of economic crisis. These problems faced by America — some solved, some unresolved, some made entirely worse — left Democrats in an interesting position. Don’t look at me. It wasn’t us.…

A change is coming. In all likelihood, every Democrat’s dream is soon to be realized. It appears that Barack Obama will be the next president of the United States. Democrats are in position to exponentially increase their majority in both houses of Congress. In the next four years, it is likely that two new Supreme Court Justices will be appointed. Seemingly, all three branches of the federal government will soon be in the hands of liberals. After eight years of failed executive leadership, six with a conservative congressional majority, the Republican brand is dead. What was once the party of…

Sarah Palin, commander in chief of the United States of America. It’s a beautiful picture, isn’t it? Men and women walking their be-lipsticked pit bulls down quiet streets, passing hockey rinks on every second corner, pausing only to occasionally gun down wildlife with their now mandatory M-16s. Pregnant teenagers roam hungrily, expertly field dressing the freshly slaughtered squirrels, bemoaning the Supreme Court’s newest justices’, Karl Rove and Rush Limbaugh, decision to overturn Roe v. Wade. At night, the streets are lit by the glow of burning books, and whispering circles of dissidents remove their flag pins from their national uniforms,…

McCain the Maverick. It was a term thrown around frequently in the 2000 presidential campaign, when McCain sought to distinguish himself from George W. Bush, and the tag line stuck. Eight years later, it’s high time to review whether or not McCain has earned the convenient reputation. McCain has, in the past, broken from the remarkably rigid Republican Party line on issues having to do with global warming, immigration, the Christian right, Bush’s tax policy and campaign finance. Considering that impressive list, McCain has seemingly earned the valuable label of maverick. As a liberal, I don’t think it would be…

Over the last year, young Democrats have been led to believe in the infallibility of Barack Obama. We have listened to the inspiring speeches, watched the almost ludicrously thorough coverage of his campaign, made excuses for him after debates and defended him against the Clintonistas. He could do no wrong! He’s young, he’s black, his wife kicks ass, he’s got two little kids, he just payed off his college loans! The man’s story was enough for me, and for many of my fellow Baby Dems, enough to secure him the nomination as well as the chance to choose his running…