I fail to understand how anyone can claim that the nearest election, which occurs every two years, is the most important of our life with a straight face. It’s a horrible cliché repeated by the chronically unoriginal. This particular midterm seems, to me, to be especially distant from the most important of anyone’s lifetime. The biggest possible change is switching a deadlocked and divided congress for another deadlocked congress; quelle horreur! The President’s veto power ensures that even the biggest of red waves cannot overpower legislative policy. Congressional productivity might go from bad to worse, but that does not seem like a momentous development for democracy™. That is not to say you shouldn’t vote, as suffrage is an unalienable right; but, no matter who wins Tuesday, we, like Gloria Gaynor, will survive.

Ennui has no sufficient English translation. The best I can do is a bourgeoise disaffection or malaise. That definition is a copout, though; bourgeoise, disaffection, and malaise are all French words. 

No Republicans deserve to represent New Hampshire at the federal level. Neither Leavitt, Burns, nor Bolduc has the character necessary for New Hampshirites to trust them. All three are unrepentant election deniers and, therefore, liars. They lie about who won the 2020 election and lie about voter fraud when they ought to beg voters’ forgiveness for their past misjudgments. There are far too many two-faced politicians. Let us not elect more. 

I do not doubt that these three are fit for office in other ways, and I would love to see a Saint Anselm College alumna in Washington D.C., but don’t piss on my shoes and tell me it’s raining. New Hampshire is perfectly capable of producing honorable Republicans. I have nothing bad to say about Governor Sununu, and there are dozens of hardworking local officials in this state. But neither the virtues of other Republicans nor the vices of Democrats can rehabilitate a liar.

I got to pet a fennec fox. CAB held an event two weeks ago with Animal Adventures, an organization that cares for mistreated and abandoned exotic animals. Students had the chance to interact with a kangaroo, constrictor, snapping turtle, pixie toad, hissing cockroaches, an alligator, and, of course, a fennec fox. Fennecs have dark skin underneath their sandy coat, much like polar bears. Their natural habitat stretches from the Sinai to the Mahgreb, and they are nocturnal. The canids burrow vast dens with greater square footage than an NYC apartment. They are phenomenal animals, and I am glad I saw one.

In the first hockey game I ever went to, the Bruins played the Sabres and beat the New Yorkers quite handily. It was a CAB-sponsored trip, meaning that, yes, the first hockey game I’d ever seen, professional or not, televised or in-person, was as a college sophomore. I am not a New Englander, and the fifteen inches of snow Delaware gets each year doesn’t inspire a robust winter sports culture. Since that first game, I’ve caught a few on TV and been to a half-dozen club hockey games in Sullivan. Hockey’s a great sport to watch. There is the speed and violence of football without the esoteric rules of the NFL; it has the fluidity of the beautiful game of soccer without descending into theatrics. Thus, I would recommend it for any of you, New Englanders or not, who have not yet gone to see one of Saint Anselm’s several hockey teams play.

L.S. Dunes is hyping up its premier album, and I am pumped. The new punk-rock group got me to break down and pre-order a vinyl of their upcoming album, Past Lives. The band is made up of prog/punk/hardcore legends like MCR’s own Frank Iero, Travis Stever (Coheed and Cambria), and Tim Payne (Thursday). I’ve seen Iero and Payne perform live with their respective bands, and I am confident that whatever the skilled musicians are putting together will be technically stunning. That being said, historically, supergroups have had a mixed record. Sure, some like ABBA and Five Finger Death Punch have found greater success together than in their original bands, but most produce just a single, well-marketed but mediocre album.