Michael Dickson


Michael Dickson

Column: Repent, heed the end of days

The trees are breeding, the tour groups are in full swarm and the academic end times are upon us. I don’t have my cap and gown yet, but I already feel that sickly mix of dread and apathy that means our time has come. And sure enough, there’s less than a month until roughly a quarter of us ride off in the hellish chariot of post-graduate life, pulled by a hairy mutant beast out of Revelations and sponsored by University Career Services.

A Lenten festivus for the rest of us

For anyone unaware, we’re currently making our way through the Christian season of Lent, a period commonly associated in the popular imagination with affluent suburbanites who nobly commit themselves to exorcising Oreos from their diet for about 40 days each spring.

Michael Dickson

In defense of just faking it

So you don’t care about basketball. You don’t pray toward the Smith Center five times daily, you don’t get a sense of humble reverence in your heart from reciting the names of UNC point guards into antiquity — and maybe you don’t feel anything toward Duke but a vague antipathy.

Michael Dickson

Obama makes it to the end zone

Making sports analogies is like being political on Facebook. It gets you a lot of attention, and you can be saying intelligent things, but it’s nothing some blogger hasn’t already beaten to death, and unless you’re astoundingly subtle you’ll alienate half of your audience right off the bat — but we keep doing it.

Of pride, mollusks and sex jokes

Well seniors, this is it: the point of no return. For those of us eligible to graduate — whether you’re a headstrong, dedicated junior or a boring, credit-conscious senior — something fundamental is changing.