Independent Student Newspaper Since 1969

The Badger Herald

Independent Student Newspaper Since 1969

The Badger Herald

Independent Student Newspaper Since 1969

The Badger Herald

Advertisements
Advertisements

Electric Mayhem: Rodbard’s last hurrah

I started writing for this fine rag on a whim, a whim that would change my life forever.


After choking down one of many tedious J201 lectures by a certain athletic booster turned prof., a student shouted to the restless pack that there was a Badger Herald writers’ meeting that day at the Union.


Now, at the time, I was stuck in a rut. As a member of the freshmen rowing team, I had endured hour after hour of water time primarily for the love of camaraderie and competition. What I loathed was the monotony of rowing (or coxing in my case — I’m no giant). With all due respect to the students who sacrifice their lives for the endurance sport, the training was just bland.


So with this as a backdrop, I attended that meeting after a long practice where I met my first editor, Kaya Richmond. I thought the girl was weird on first contact, but soon realized, after free pizza back at the Gorham Street offices, that this writing thing has its perks and that the punk-rock editor was willing to give me a crack just for showing up.


My first assignment? The Phunk Junkeez ’98 masterpiece Fear of a Whack Planet. With nu-metal peeking its grubby head on the horizon, the album’s prophetic white, suburban rap/rock sensibility made me gag. I tore the record a new rectum, to the editor’s cynical glee. And so the dance began.


The point in this li’l Rodbography is to present you with a challenge. No, not from me (my arse is out of here soon), but from yourself. Ask yourself if you like to think. OK, that’s obvious. Now ask yourself if you like to talk about movies when drinking or curse bloody MTV instead of paging through that chem homework. Yeah, we’re ringing bells. Now the kicker. Ask yourself if you like to write. Red lights, red lights.

OK, that was a knee-jerk reaction embedded in your DNA code, caused by the generations and generations of term papers your tortured ancestors had to punch out. So let’s rephrase the question. Ask yourself if you like to write notes in class during painful a lecture. Yeah, I know you’ve recently handwritten your distaste for Andrew WK going corporate because your teacher has his hearing aid on max. The practice is common and takes place from Humanities to Goodnight Hall.


So the way I see it, the masters of these thousands of suppressed (verbal) expressions make compromises every single day the bells ring on Bascom by shifting toward the (written) forum — which, come to think, is the essence of a solid record review. Now ask yourself if you can write critically for one of your two daily student publications. The answer should be obvious.


I have grown up while working for the newspaper. My tastes in food, music, sport and women have all changed, but one thing has remained stable for the three-and-a-half years my name has been splashed in black and white before you: I have allowed my voice to be heard for mass consumption. That should be enough for you.


And the goodbyes begin.

The Madison spots I will hold close for life …


The Plaza: Where it all started. Nick’s: Greasy vegetarian fare makes me smile. Genna’s: Downtown sensibility in the shadow of the Capitol = hot. The ‘Dise: Tuesday night attitude. The White Horse: Thursday night chill. Marigolds/Ian’s: Three years too late. Big Mike’s: Skinny cheese with mayo. The Casbah: I feel like you’ve grown up before my eyes.

And the music spots …


The Rath: The German motif makes it all the better. Club 770: Rocking in a cafeteria never felt so real. The Annex: Worth the walk (never on Tuesday either). O’Cayz: R.I.P. 10 South: So much history. Electric Earth: The perfect space.

Advertisements

The people who keep me sharp …


The parents: Thank God you read to me — I will always love you for that. Julia ma soeur: Your pencil is sharp, I so know you can use it. Melly Mel: I’ll see you in the NY. My half-sisters: Memories for life, ya’ll the best. Mikey: My assignment for life. The Bedford crew: I can’t believe we charged $8. FDF kids: Turn down that amp, now! Chuck: Our publications will rival again. Mikey V: Politically correct to the bone. Profs D’Acci, Draine, Fowler, King, Knowles, Stiling, Werner and many others: You truly are the reason we go to class still drunk on a Friday morning.

And then there’s the Herald cats …


Alex: Brought out the C-SPAN junkie in all of us; I’ll see you on it one fair 3 a.m. Hoekstra: My favorite boss. Whiting/Daly/Kaduk: Taking the bro out of sports journalism. Lars: Sucker. Harbath: So underrated. Micah: Too nice for L.A. Henry: Too nice for the Herald. Famous Dave: More than mid-’80s clip art; get this guy on TV. Scharf: You will make millions. Tennant: I’ll see you at Radar’s launch party (at the Cock, you say?) The Boz: I’ll see you at a White House correspondent’s dinner (your table will be closer to the front, of course). Kaya: You gave this young ska fan a shot; I know you’re holding it down tall in Whales. Jake: Your writing is far from whack; can’t wait to read the manuscript. Haydn: So much game waiting to explode. Nina: Injecting class into the E network. Kate: Anxious for the first film. Anna: The future of Madison arts criticism. Colin: Always Maintaining an honest sensibility — never change.

If I forgot you, you’ll probably hear from me in the flesh. It’s been real, kids. Now go start a Blog. (Hehe, a joke.)

Advertisements
Leave a Comment
Donate to The Badger Herald

Your donation will support the student journalists of University of Wisconsin-Madison. Your contribution will allow us to purchase equipment and cover our annual website hosting costs.

More to Discover
Donate to The Badger Herald

Comments (0)

All The Badger Herald Picks Reader Picks Sort: Newest

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *