I’m sure you all remember the controversy that was stirred up across the nation in response to Islamo-Fascism Awareness week, or Terrorism Awareness Week as it was politically correctly re-dubbed here at Penn.

The president of the Muslim Student’s Association had it out with Bill O’Reilly, Santorum once again humiliated himself despite repeated attempts to sound like a legitimate politician, and we all were reminded of just how myopic some people’s world views really are.

At Dartmouth, this week is “Islam-Fashion Awareness Week.” It’s hard to believe that Al-Nur, the student group sponsoring the week, claims they don’t want “the event to be seen as a response to Islamo-Fascism week.”

After the jump: Hijabs, abayas and niqabs hit the runway.

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As if I already didn’t love Amy Gutmann enough, she’s now going to be honored in Glamour magazine as one of the “Women of the Year,” alongside the female presidents of Brown, Harvard and Princeton.

Though Gutmann claimed she’s totally stoked to be included in the mag, she stated in the DP article that she doesn’t “have much time to read magazines like Glamour.”

Ouch! I mean, I know Glamour is no New Yorker, but Gutmann could have at least said that she occasionally peruses the “150 Easy Ways to Cut Calories!!” section when she’s not busy running things in West Philly.

True to form, IvyGate has used this opportunity to re-humiliate Gutmann with last year’s favorite Halloween picture. But hey, who else could make terrorism look that hot?

I bet the writers over at Glamour could have helped her out with an idea for a decent costume this year (sexy Ben Franklin?). “Casual Penn President” sounds more like a name for a Gutmann Barbie doll than a costume.

I know Amy’s going to look Glamour-licious in her spread November 13th - much better than Shirley, Ruth and Drew. We’re the “social Ivy” after all, and everyone knows that’s just another way of saying we’re hotter. And that goes for our Prez, too.

We have media conglomerate Clear Channel to thank for taking Howard Stern off the air, blacklisting the Dixie Chicks, policing the air with a “zero tolerance” indecency policy and now, for not playing The Boss’s new album on the nearly 1,200 radio stations it owns.

That’s right, folks. Rock and roll legend Bruce Springsteen’s “Magic” has been banned. The album, which has garnered critical acclaim (five stars from Rolling Stone) and continues to climb the charts, has been deemed inappropriate.

After the jump: Racy lyrics from the banned songs.

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So we all know that Penn students stick out in West Philly, but does that mean we deserve to be the victims of crime?

Crime has increased on the northern outskirts of campus, and, according to Philadelphia Police Lt. John Walker, Penn students are to blame.
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The Biology major offers enticing perks. I received this email today from the major’s listserv:

“Are you tired of studying alone in your room? Sick of the library? Tomorrow, Tuesday, Oct. 30 beginning at 7:00 pm, join Board members Felina and Lauren for a study session. Since everyone has to study (all the time!), why not have some company? Come to Goddard 102 anytime after 7:00 - bring your books and notes, we’ll supply some snacks. This is a great way to meet other majors and you might just find someone studying for the same course as you. Lauren and Felina plan to stay until 9 or 10 so come late, stay for a short time or spend hours!”

Woohoo! Party time!

To me, this just says: “Oh you poor Bio majors, we know you can’t make friends or participate in normal social activities, so we’re going to make a social activity out of the only thing you know how to do properly: studying.”

Would anyone seriously consider going to this? If you are “tired of studying alone in your room” I suggest you take a study break, because you need one. This event might just push you over the edge. Perhaps they should hand out CAPS brochures along with the “snacks.”

I wanted to puke when I read the “rants and raves” section in the latest edition of The WALK, Penn’s only (thank God) fashion magazine. I didn’t think “cool” could be used so many times in one piece of writing. Please, buy a thesaurus!

“Rainbow flip-flops: you all own them and you may think they’re cool now, but flip-flops … are not real footwear — no one wears them after college so please be the one step ahead, and just stop now”

“The typical Penn student has a going out look that can improve as well. When you see girls in the same outfit, it is boring and quite frankly unattractive.”

Pure gems of wisdom.

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It’s your worst nightmare.

Think you can’t stand the embarrassment of your friends looking over your shoulder and seeing you can only get the 7’s on Tuesday’s Sudoku? Imagine completing a beyond-level-4 puzzle in front of hundreds of onlookers in like, five minutes.

That’s what happened in the electrifying final round at this weekend’s Sudoku National Championship, right here in Philadelphia, the “highlights” of which you can watch for yourself here.

My favorite part is the ridiculous head-gear the contestants must wear. As if they didn’t already look like nerds.

The winner received $10k and a trip to compete in the World Championship in India. I bet there’ll be some insane after-parties. Body Sudoku? Drinking-game Sudoku? Oh yes.

When asked this past Friday at an event in Carnegie Hall whether the beloved Headmaster Dumbledore had ever fallen in love, J.K. Rowling astounded her audience by announcing that he was, in fact, gay.

Rowling sees the Harry Potter series as a “prolonged argument for tolerance,” which will, of course, only further enrage the Christians who already hate her books. She encourages her readers to “question authority.”

I did always think that Dumbledore’s powder-blue robes and his propensity for using girlish pass-codes for his office seemed a little odd (Lemon Drop? Seriously?). And then there’s the pet Phoenix. What heterosexual man keeps a bird as a pet?

With so many phallic objects — swords, snakes, wands, broomsticks — playing key parts in the narrative, the possibilities for innuendo are endless:

Harry: Headmaster, I simply cannot control my broomstick.
Dumbledore: Let me show you - first, you grip it tightly, then, you take off…

Apparently fan-fiction sites have already had lots of fun with stories in which Draco and Harry go at it on the Quidditch field. And I do not mean chasing the Golden Snitch.

John Fitzgerald Page is no longer anonymous here at his alma mater.

Infamous now for his e-mail exchanges on Match.com, which you must read for yourself, Page has set the bar for douche-bag behavior rather high.

No, I won’t rail on him for touting his “98th percentile SAT scores,” or his foray into the “fame game” (P.S. He knows LeAnn Rimes…woah) on his ridiculous website. It’s already been done and, honestly, it’s too easy.

Instead, ponder this: Think of all those assholes you know with their own www.myname.com’s, where they post amazing photos from exotic trips abroad, and offer beautiful little glimpses into the mind of the strikingly handsome, ridiculously wealthy, already-the-CEO-of-my-own-dot-com Penn man.*

News flash: No one fucking cares.

I can see Page’s fate in the stars of many of my peers. Quick, boys! Dump your shitty dot-com and grow a real personality before it’s too late!

When you’re over the hill, balding and single, the freshman you banged during NSO will be but a lewd pipe dream as you sit in your thankless Wall Street job, scratching your ass, wondering where all the time went.

So put down the goddamn Blackberry already and open your eyes. You are not a product to be marketed and sold, but a human that might a have a few thoughts and emotions left inside to offer. Salvage what you can, and then maybe someone will actually love and respect you for who you are–not because you were rated an 8.9 on HotorNot.com.

*Disclaimer: does not apply to Jason Toff. He is awesome.

It’s the week before Fall Break and you know what that means.

Midterms.

And so begins the eternal struggle of finding a place to study in Van Pelt. This weekend, on the 5th floor, I was kicked out of my study carrel by a graduate student.

“This is my carrel, and um, I need to use it, um, I’m a graduate student,” said the haughty, bespectacled, and unshaven 20-something, looking down at me as if I were some sort of fungus growing on his glistening shrine to knowledge. I probably offended his sense of self with my very large and important-looking Organic Chemistry text–be impressed, be very, very impressed.

I silently (but begrudgingly) gathered up my piles of notes and books and tried to find another carrel–of course, none were to be found–pondering the things I could have done: thrown my $200 book at him, promised my firstborn in return for use of said carrel, offered a sexual rendezvous in the Asian Studies Seminar Room…

At least the UA is somewhat relevant, which is more than one can say about GAPSA.

These days, the library is a sort of passive-aggressive battleground. Amidst a backdrop of too-high-AC, not-enough-TP, and way-too-much-PDA, we search for a decent spot to study; not just any spot–one with a functional power outlet, a wireless signal, and a comfortable chair.

After we finally find such a place, there are aloof, loud freshmen and people with iPods turned up too high to contend with. And, of course, the social awkwardness potential is second to none. It’s a wonder we ever get anything productive done.

Sure, we might be mad at the kid who got Allegro’s delivery for stinking up the place, but what we’re all really thinking is, “Shit, I should have gone to state school.”