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12B - The Michigan Daily - Thursday, October 21, 2004
The Michiga
this week in crunkj w I t h
Evan McGarvey
THE CRUNKALATION EPICENTER
The cinderblock, the rank smells,
the dissonance of voices all cry-
ing out for food, water and rest.
Nah, it's not the slums of a newly
freed eastern European nation-state:
it's your favorite residence hall! For
those of us unprepared to enter the
big-boy world of off-campus liv-
ing or for those of us unable to find
roommates (read: mouth-breathers),
the dorms are, too often, the site of
makeshift and delightfully torrid
parties.
It's sort of like having your own
club except for the omnipresent pho-
tos of your family (who are very, very
disappointed in your choice to crunk
away) and the convenience of a bed
I
mere inches from the party zone I
often like to refer to as the "crunka-
lation epicenter."
Okay so for those of you that aren't
squealing, "Oh, but whatever will
my roommate say! He/She is such a
diligent student, they shan't like the
rowdy dirty South atmosphere of the
celebration," I remind you that unless
your roommate is totally abject to
partying, this plan is a go. If they
really don't like having a good time
I suggest making up a religion with
elaborate ceremonies that force your
roomie out for extended periods of
time. Or you can just take to dancing
to ABBA in the nude like I ... I mean
my dad's friend did once ... I think.
Anyway, dancing Swedes aside,
when a dorm party goes well, you get
everybody involved. Trust me, your
dorm has more potential crunka-
teers than you could have imagined.
The smelly kid, the hot girl from
Bio, your RA, your dad, Kofi Anan,
Enrico Fermi, that one dude with the
trucker hat, the three snobby girls
who always wear flip-flops, and the
sweet-natured but goofy interna-
tional student from Russia, Uri. Play
your cards right and soon enough that
totally fit guy/girl of your choice will
be cold lampin' in your crib to the
sweet strains of D'Angelo or possibly
Young Buck. Lights off, game on.
Yeah!
YEAAAAAAAAAAAH! !!!!!
Mind yourself though, as unwieldy
use of crunk juice and related party
items can tarnish your reputation.
You don't want to be the only one on
your loft blissfully singing along to
"Everybody" (Backstreet's Back).
Dorm parties can serve as a won-
derful aperitif to a partying career
in the comfort of your own space.
Unfortunately, if you're a boarding
school veteran like me, then you've
undoubtedly seen the immeasurable
damage a prolonged party life can
inflict. As a nice change of pace, I'd
advise the always refreshing progres-
sive parties thrown by the trumpet
section. Save the ultimate blowout
dorm party for the end of the term
or any other climax you've observed
in a college gross-out comedy ("Van
Wilder," "Old School," or "Danger-
ous Minds").
So dear crunkateers, best of luck on
planning that next exuberant shindig
and may the crunk be with you. Now
if you'll excuse me, there are some
matters of wildin' out that demand
my attention.
Uri, pass the crunk juice.
RADICALS
continued from page 4B
saw this as a possibility and took it."
Carol and Marie are from Sisters Empow-
ered and the Sweetwater Alliance. Marie is
planning to do a public housing takeover.
"We're going to break down the doors, scout
it out, make sure it's livable, and move peo-
ple in who have no housing." This is for peo-
ple who have no heat or water, after Detroit
Edison and the water department cut off at
least 40,000 households last year. A similar
takeover was staged in 1992, in which locks
were changed and new tenants were hustled
in. She convinced 267 ex-offenders to get
on board yesterday. She wonders if the anti-
authoritarian groups would like to help, too.
"We need people who are willing to use a
crowbar."
Phil is from the Industrial Workers of the
World's Detroit general membership bureau.
"We believe that workers are entitled to all
they produce." He has a hefty voice. "We
also cook." He's part of the wobbly kitchen,
which cooks for striking workers, for people
trying to raise strike funds, and so on.
Then there are the Nader crusaders, Law-
rence and John. They've come from Ohio,
where Ralph offered to stick them in a bus
everyday and a Motel 6 every night, and
they said yes. All night, they've been sitting
at a table with their literature laid out and
their bumper stickers that say "Vote for the
Arab." They want to let everyone here know
that there's an option besides the two-party
system.
A couple dozen other people introduce
themselves, and there are discussions. By
the end of the meeting some things have
been agreed upon: that there should be an
anti-war protest on Nov. 3, called "The Day
After"; that another meeting will be held in
two weeks; and that people should sign an
e-mail list.
By this point, everyone is tired. Many
leave as discussions peter out, but at least
a dozen stay to hear the music and poetry
of Blair, a big-chested black man with a
mohawk. He doesn't ask anyone to break
down doors for him. He just talks and sings.
One of his poems relates the confusion of a
mixed identity: "I liked boys, and that made
me gay and white. But I beat boys up who
called me nigger, and that made me black
and straight" When he sings, he strums
his guitar like Richie Havens. He performs
the Clash's "'m So Bored With the USA."
Blair is a teacher at a Detroit public high
school. He says it's revolutionary to be able
to express yourself well. Rain begins to fall
outside as he goes into a slow ballad, and the
sound makes the room pregnant and soft.
All the people who have come here, from all
their groups, are silent together.
Lee comes out with four other girls once
the music is over. They are all slightly modi-
fied versions of each other, wearing all black
and green, with black boots, miniskirts, and
purple pom-poms in hand. One girl has an
AK Press sweatshirt on. Bandannas and
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FOREST CASEY/Daily
ABOVE: Just off Woodward Avenue,
dozens of buildings were destroyed
by fires in the riots of the 1960s.
RIGHT: At the anarchists' con-
ference, free political pam-
phlets were distributed.
barrettes hold their hair in place. There is
still a little crowd left to watch.
A girl with short blond hair speaks up:
"This one's called 'Resist,' because this is
the culture of resistance festival ...
"Squad Set?"
You bet.
R ... is for revolution
E ... is for everybody
S ... subvert the system
I ... ignite debate
S ... we're gonna smash the state
T ... we're gonna tear it down
Resist. Resist.
Raise up your fist
Resist. Resist.
We know you are pissed
Resist. Resist.
Fight the capitalist
Resist. Resist.
Show 'em what they can kiss
(They turn and slap their butts)
Show 'em what they can kiss (slap)
Show 'em what they can
Show 'em what they can
Show 'em what they can kiss.
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