Fair warning: if you’re the type of person that reads the last chapter of mystery novels first, you will be sorely disappointed in King’s story. This is not a mystery tale that wraps everything up in a nice bow for the reader, but instead King offers only more questions.

While relatively short, the serialized novel allows the reader to explore the process by which truth can be found. The story also explains the nature of rumor and story that most people are willing to accept. There are conclusions, but King ultimately is interested in the murder and resulting investigation from a journalistic standpoint, not necessarily the conclusion of the case.

The story is short and the payoff might be insufficient for those who can’t see King’s purpose, but the journey is worth taking to understand the mentality that so fascinated the author. King includes an explanation at the end to assuage his readers’ issues with the purpose of the story’s construction, and I hope you take the time to read it. While the novel is rare enough to garner a higher than average price on Amazon and other book dealers, we are lucky enough to have a copy in the campus library. Happy reading.

This was so in line with my thoughts on food, as well as my own experiences with younger cousins (though they are significantly older than Tracy’s niece), that I found myself having to share this with you.  It is understandable that people have aversions to vegetables, foods that look or sound strange, or are just unappealing to the senses.  After all, much of the food that is native to our state is derived from German, Dutch, Russian, and Native American heritage.  While these foods are delicious, they are not known for their variety, and usually have a heavy starch focus, due to that shortened growing season and relative availability of grains versus greens.

But this does not mean that you cannot revel in authentic, exotic food experiences when given the opportunity.  For example, last week The Cousin  and I went to Hemmer Brothers in Sioux Falls, where for the first time I enjoyed the delicacy known as the Squealer Burger.  It was ethereal, 6 oz. of hand ground beef and bacon in a patty.  I had never eaten nor heard of such a thing outside of South Dakota, but it was a simple and delicious example of eating what is good, where it’s good.

The same applies when you go outside our area on vacation.  If you find yourself in Mexico or one of the Caribbean countries, don’t just eat at McDonald’s or the hotel bar, wander down a side street looking for Jerked Chicken grilled in a drum, or a friendly wet taco vendor.  You’ll be exposed to a new community of food, as well as perhaps experiencing tastes beyond your wildest expectations.  While you may not always be able to drink the water everywhere, remember one thing, everyone has to eat the food.  After all, how long do restaurants stay in business that poison their own customers?

Finally, I just want to encourage you to expect more from your food than gross poundage, or how much cheese, grease, and crunch someone can inject into your meal.  If you’re on the coast, don’t go to Red Lobster, try the local fish shack.  If you’re in Chicago, go to a local pizza place.  Eat what’s good and authentic wherever you happen to find yourself, and I assure you that your culinary adventures will be fruitful.

Lindsay’s writing style is always laced with alliteration focusing on Dexter’s name and internal thoughts with this Dark Passenger, and this tenet remains. However, Dexter is placed in much different settings this time, from a perverted, sadistic rave to an unexpectedly racy scene trapped in a trailer in the Everglades, to a final psychopathic barbeque aboard a boat. Dexter is out of place in these scenarios, and the reader is infected with his uncomfortable surroundings and powerlessness.

Like Lindsay’s previous four novels, this is not a book for the faint of heart. However, if you can get past the grisly descriptions of crime scenes, murders, Dexter’s sister Deb’s foul language and the idea that you may in fact be rooting for a serial killer by the end. You’ll find an excellent crime/mystery novel that leaves you smiling and horrified.

World War Z cover

If you have an aversion to gore and realism, this book will not be for you.  Max Brook’s World War Z is a graphic peek into the world rebuilding after mankind’s war against the zombie outbreak.
You may recognize Brook’s name both from his highly acclaimed Zombie Survival Guide, as well as his famous father, Mel Brooks. While the comedic styling between father and son could not be more different, Max established himself not only in the realms or dark comedy, but in the realms of historical fiction as well.
World War Z shows a varied perspective on the worldwide zombie outbreak, from former infantry soldiers to survivalist civilians. The story of the war is told through the collective memories of the survivors. The survivors paint a horrifying picture of life after the war, and, despite the genre, the accounts could not feel more real.
Brook’s novel is not for the faint of heart; there are many scenes that shake even the most callous reader. But the realism, despite the gore, adds to the story’s punch as a warrior survival epic.
The novel is a few years old, however, after viewing screen shots from the coming movie starring Brad Pitt, I felt that this novel was worth exploring. Although, I initially envisioned a series similar to The Walking Dead following my first read.
While shocking, and often horrifying, World War Z is an intriguing read that should challenge the limits of what many readers are accustomed to. I recommend that you push through the more gruesome sections to capture the overall message.
Suggested Reading: The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks and Fallen Angels by Walter Myers.

I thought we were better than this, I really did. I gave us enough credit as a species to assume that by the age of 18, we could make appropriate use of crosswalks and parking lots. I want to address each of these areas separately, but first I want to remind everyone to always look both ways when driving or walking, because next time I am not stopping.

First of all, regarding our often obscured crosswalks all over campus, but mostly near the UPD/Wecota/Dairy-Micro area of Medary. Notice to all pedestrians: when you walk behind the snow piled up beside the crosswalks that happens to be taller than you are, drivers can’t see you. I know this seems like a crazy concept, but we have to be able to see you to avoid you or know when to stop.

I have had to slam on brakes half a dozen times in the last week just to avoid bodily injury to some careless pedestrian. Just because walkers have the right of way does not mean that they can take the chance of serious bodily injury by ignoring their surroundings. Some of our fellow students protect their iPhones better than they protect themselves from two ton machines that can break them in half. And I swear to all that is holy, the next person I see walking into the road without looking while surfing on an iPad, I’m accelerating.

I know a lot of people have tried to come up with ways for our university to cut the 10 percent from the budget that the governor has asked for, and I believe I have a starting point that will save some academic funds from the axe. Get rid of UPD parking lot officers. I have no idea how much they make, but their ineffectiveness and random enforcement ensure that they could be a fiduciary starting point that no one would miss. They seem to ticket when they want, who they want, and we as students have little recourse for appeal. While little order is enforced on snow blanketed crammed lots, attention is seemingly lavished upon easily accessible, mostly deserted lots that are simpler to patrol.

Speaking of parking lots, I need to express something to a few of our fellow drivers on campus. Just because the snow is covering the parking lot does not mean that it becomes a one-lane road. I am so sick of people barreling through a parking lot because they’re one minute late to a class that won’t even notice they’re not there. I’m not saying you have to creep silently as church mice, but at least look when turning into a new row, don’t treat the entrance to parking lots like a freeway off-ramp, and stay on your side on the road/lane. I’ve seen a dozen near fender benders this week alone, and one day soon, if I see someone driving stupidly toward me, I am not stopping. After all, I have great insurance.

Jonathan is a graduate student studying English. Reach him at jonathan.willett@sdstate.edu

I am a fan of food, in case the picture of me is misleading. The tastier, the more bizarre, the better.

Growing up and working in the food industry in a variety of jobs, I became acquainted with some truly delicious and some truly horrifying culinary concoctions by restaurants, crazy chefs, and lunatic foodie friends.

Because of these self-chosen, abusive relationships with food, I’ve been lucky enough to try most kinds of ethnic foods (Ethiopian to Sushi), a heart-stopping variety of fried fair snacks (fried Coke, fried twinkies), and some of the more disgusting fast food constructed in the last two decades (KFC Double Downs and Pizza Hut Cheesy Bites Pizza anyone?)

I have tried some truly disgusting things in my life, but they usually had one redeeming quality, even if that is only that drowning it in ketchup can save it, or it’s greasy or crunchy. But the menu item that I procured at the snack stand in Briggs Library last week has become the most disgusting thing that I have ever eaten.

First, I want two things cleared up. Yes, I realize that a library is probably not the place to procure quality nourishment. I also in no way mean to disparage any of the employees of the snack stand or the construction technician of the sandwich, unless they invented this culinary atrocity. Friends, I speak of the noxious 4-cheese wrap.

I honestly don’t know what I was thinking; it was a moment of weakness. I had never purchased anything there before, but the weather outside killed any desire for a journey for food that could not be accomplished within 30 seconds. The employee at the stand could not have been more kind and helpful to me as I stupidly asked, “Um, do you guys accept debit?” I’m sure she hears this at least three times a day.

While I did not expect manna from the gods was contained inside my plastic container, I was at least anticipating something neutral that would fill my stomach (5 inches of wrap for the low price of $5, what was I thinking?) I was sorely mistaken. I was not to have my hunger abated.

Let’s look at the wrap like the old Big Mac commercials from McDonald’s. First, you start with a dry, crusty tortilla that tastes stale and robs your mouth of moisture. Then you slather on a salty tasting cheese mush impersonating pimento cheese. Sprinkle some strong and old-tasting parmesan as cheese #2, and you’re halfway there. Next, a few slices of terribly powerful Swiss, and finish it off with American-ish, yellow, plastic-tasting, waxy cheese with a withered lettuce leaf for color? Texture?

I have to ask: does that sound like a proper combination of 4-cheeses to you? For me, 4-cheese has always been a pleasurable experience, but then again, all four of the cheeses were cheese, not just maybe two (I have my doubts about the parmesan too). It was horrible. So horrible that not even separating the base components of the wrap, nor applying ketchup could save its potential tastiness.

Finally, I just need to comment that despite this bad experience, if I am desperate again I will not hesitate to give the snack stand my business. I will not ever get one of the wraps again, though, because the tortilla wasn’t good, or fresh-tasting, and how many sandwich places do you go back to where you hate the bread? My purpose in this was not to show anger, but to warn people of the potential dietary disaster that can come from this much exposure to apocalyptic “cheese” combination wraps.

Jonathan is a graduate student studying English. Reach him at jonathan.willett@sdstate.edu

The other night I was unfortunate enough to be sitting in front of the television with The Roommate’s 18-year-old girlfriend. I say unfortunate due to the fact that MTV was broadcasting its latest example of self-aggrandizing voyeurism.

Teen Mom 2 is a despicable display of what is worst with us as entertainment consumers, namely that we salivate for others’ misfortune and failure on an almost primal level. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been victimizing the “useful idiots” of reality shows as long as anyone, in fact, I grew up with The Real World and Road Rules before the reality explosion of the new millennium. But the problem exists because these young adults seem to be oblivious to peoples’ reactions about their portrayal, whereas Richard Hatch probably had an idea of what his nudity would reflect about him onscreen.

While watching a rerun with The Roommate’s girlfriend later last week, I asked her what she felt when she was watching the show and how she related to the teen mothers that were about her age.

“Well, honestly I think they’re kind of stupid. I don’t really care about them that much at all.”

And why should she? The mothers on this show seem to be the kind of people that are always whining, never offering hard work as a solution to a problem. Their reckless and immature behavior that probably had much to do with the pregnancies in the first place has not dissipated, even with the appearance of a child.

Even Kim Kardashian, not usually known for logic and higher thinking, came to this conclusion on Twitter: “Does the show “Teen Mom’ disturb anyone else?… This should NOT be trendy!”

One of the “moms” is from my adopted hometown of Oak Island, N.C., and she is implied to be actively using illegal drugs after giving birth, physically arguing with her mother that she still lives with, and being actively confused by trivial things like money and custody hearings. Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that she was recently arrested for possession and breaking and entering, and her mother is actively taking her child from her.

The one from West Virginia allowed a child with obvious health problems go untreated far too long. With legs that looked like cooked shrimp unable to support any weight, and a mark on her head that rivals Harry Potter, the mom simply cries and frets about the baby to friends and families, but not medical professionals until a significant amount of time has passed.

The other two simply fret about guys all the time. One is still living with the baby daddy while dating a new mongoloid and the one from Vermillion wants to be Bristol Palin. While they do not ignore their children for their former boyfriends, much of the show is dedicated to their relationship drama, and not necessarily their relationship with their babies.

Another commonality you can immediately discern on the show is between the fathers of the babies. Every one of them is essentially the same guy. Remember the mouth-breathing O-lineman or smoking wall burnout that got the girl pregnant in your high school? You bet you do. And now you can see a facsimile of him every week on MTV with the low IQ, poor verbal and vocabulary skills, never making eye contact, all while wearing his best douche costume. Trust me, it comes as no surprise these guys couldn’t figure out how a condom works.

While many of the moms seem to be happy and comfortable on camera, the dads all act as though their life is over and that they would rather be anywhere else, when they’re present that is. Many friends of the dads have been quoted as saying that the dads only “do the show for the money,” and it’s because they’re all broke. When you find out that the couple’s can make $60,000-65,000 for one season, can you blame them for taking the money and then checking out?

Many people are quick to condemn this show for seeming to glorify and reward irresponsible adolescent behavior, and I am somewhat among them as I laughed at their idiocy until tears nearly ran down my face, but some reactions have been shocking, to say the least. MTV was quick to claim credit for a declining teenage pregnancy rate in 2008-2009 when the figure dropped 6 percent in the U.S., and surprising as this is, they may have a point. When people are exposed to the reality of formerly hypothetical situations, they often gain a more global, rational perspective, and I believe we may be seeing the effect of, “I don’t want to be that girl.”

Jonathan is pursuing a master’s degree in English. Reach him at jonathan.willett@sdstate.edu.

Driving home from Brookings after finals last month, I was traveling down Interstate 29 when I found myself being mocked by a succession of SDSU billboards. While I realize that our school’s motto was officially changed last semester, I never really noticed how terribly our university is represented by the new motto.

First of all, let me say that I was not a fan of the old motto either. “You can go anywhere from here,” with its double meaning and University of Phoenix/ECPI sound does not perpetuate the idea of elevated thought and learning, but rather that college is simply a means to an end, rather than a means of personal growth and academic study that not all people have access to.

However, “Be great. Start here,” simply sounds like the tagline for a Honey Nut Cheerios commercial. Could we have asked for anything more generic sounding? I don’t see how we could. Our slogan may as well be, “SDSU, We’re a College.” How can we as students take any pride in our school when it seems so clear that administration is trying to remove or quash what individually defines us as an institute of higher learning?

Just comparing us to a few other universities that should be regarded as our peers shows a discrepancy in representation. USD has the motto of “Veritas,” (truth), while my undergraduate alma mater uses “lux, libertas” (light and liberty). University of Minnesota’s motto is “Commune vinculum omnibus artibus” (A common bond for all the arts). Even Northern State University has a more descriptive, unifying motto in “Be you, be us, be Northern,” or their old objectives printed on their seal, “Teaching Research Service.”

We should have a motto that is historic and meaningful to get behind as a student body full of pride for our institution, but until we represent ourselves as an individual university we won’t be able to have the same pride as other schools. There are so many aspects of SDSU that are unique and meaningful that I find it hard to believe that “Be great. Start here” is the most representative central idea for our community.

So as not to complain without providing solutions, I would suggest looking to our past as a land-grant university and agricultural innovator, our present as the largest and fastest growing university in the state, and our future that we can literally see being built around us. All of these images and ideals can be called upon to generate a truly representative motto that we as a student body can take pride in.

By no means am I suggesting that to be a respected institute of higher learning one must represent themselves with Greek or Latin phrases. However, I feel that it would only serve to benefit us as an academic community to have a meaningful motto that represents the individual university we are.

Jonathan is an English graduate student. Contact him at jonathan.willett@sdstate.edu.