The Tribune

If I regret any of my columns from this year, it would be February’s “Middle-class guilt.” My regret isn’t so much over the views I tried to express, but over the fact that I haven’t yet negotiated a comfortable balance between the nuanced views I try to maintain and my emotional writing style, which tends to be excessive and – as my mother complains – angry.

From the time I arrived on campus in August 2008 to the U.S. presidential election that November, I didn’t meet a single John McCain supporter. I don’t think this was because I had a disproportionately Obamaniacal group of friends. Nor was it because we viewed him as somehow the lesser of two evils – the tone of his supporters during the campaign was hardly reflective of that kind of aw-shucks-he’s-the-best-we-have mentality that you get with someone like Michael Ignatieff.

What the hell was that? My first General Assembly is, of course, today’s topic. But don’t go! I understand your weariness – the front page article, the editorial, and all the guest commentary pieces from student politicians with an overestimation of their own importance, as if we the constituents waited impatiently all weekend for their straight-talk account of things.

Social organization, for all its clumsiness and evil, has accomplished far more and embodies more good than I do, for at least it sometimes gives justice. I am a mess, and talk about justice. I owe the powers that created me a human life. And where is it! Where is that human life which is my only excuse for surviving! – Saul Bellow, Herzog I live in the Global North.

You may recall many professors, in the last days of the fall semester, prostrating themselves before Canada Goose-clad undergraduates, begging shamelessly for feedback – any feedback – via Minerva-submitted course evaluations. A philosophy professor offered to bring in cookies of indisputable quality should at least 60 per cent of students submit evaluations.