The Science of Getting Paid

Fifty-six years ago, a flyer around downtown New Haven sought subjects for a social psychology study. Volunteers found themselves in the basement of Linsly-Chittenden Hall, in Professor Stanley Milgram’s lab. Milgram, who was investigating obedience to authority, commanded his subjects to shock someone else with increasing voltages of electricity until they refused. Before they were … Continue reading The Science of Getting Paid

Fifty-six years ago, a flyer around downtown New Haven sought subjects for a social psychology study. Volunteers found themselves in the basement of Linsly-Chittenden Hall, in Professor Stanley Milgram’s lab. Milgram, who was investigating obedience to authority, commanded his subjects to shock someone else with increasing voltages of electricity until they refused. Before they were debriefed, volunteers thought they had actually caused another human being intense pain, and, perhaps, depending on how far they went, death. For their hour of service, Milgram paid his volunteers. . . Read more
Marc Shkurovich
The Science of Getting Paid

Fifty-six years ago, a flyer around downtown New Haven sought subjects for a social psychology study. Volunteers found themselves in the basement of Linsly-Chittenden Hall, in Professor Stanley Milgram’s lab. Milgram, who was investigating obedience to authority, commanded his subjects to shock someone else with increasing voltages of electricity until they refused. Before they were … Continue reading The Science of Getting Paid

Fifty-six years ago, a flyer around downtown New Haven sought subjects for a social psychology study. Volunteers found themselves in the basement of Linsly-Chittenden Hall, in Professor Stanley Milgram’s lab. Milgram, who was investigating obedience to authority, commanded his subjects to shock someone else with increasing voltages of electricity until they refused. Before they were debriefed, volunteers thought they had actually caused another human being intense pain, and, perhaps, depending on how far they went, death. For their hour of service, Milgram paid his volunteers. . . Read more
Marc Shkurovich
Whine and Dine

Making a dignified entrance You’ve made your first mistake: entering a dining hall without an eating partner. How did it end up like this? Just today, ten acquaintances inquired about grabbing a meal and catching up, but when you asked what time worked, they started sweating and fled. Weird. You don’t want to look like … Continue reading Whine and Dine

Making a dignified entrance You’ve made your first mistake: entering a dining hall without an eating partner. How did it end up like this? Just today, ten acquaintances inquired about grabbing a meal and catching up, but when you asked what time worked, they started sweating and fled. Weird. You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard to find somebody, but if you don’t put in enough effort, you’ll end up sitting alone. You see Jimmy from Orgo. His notebook of chemical reactions. . . Read more
Jacob Sweet
Dispatches from the Toad’s Bathroom

What I heard during an hour in the stall.

Situated beneath a dance floor coated in liquor and pheromones, the Toad’s men’s bathroom lacks the sterility of other men’s bathrooms on campus. I’ve only spent a few moments in there, and whether by chemical aid or brute force alone, I’ve successfully repressed most of them. The access I have to the Toad’s men’s bathroom because I’m cis-ish and have a dick (score!) is a privilege that I must wield responsibly. And so, on November 2, I descend into the bathroom corridor in the basement,. . . Read more
Charlie Bardey
I Am The Man You Killed In the War, Back To Haunt You Forever In Panlist Form

It begins with an email. It’s from mailman.yale.edu, so it misses the spam filter and goes straight to your inbox. You get the notification during seminar, and you’re sitting right next to the professor, so for the next hour it sits there, unopened, unanswered. You hope that it might be your Lit professor getting back … Continue reading I Am The Man You Killed In the War, Back To Haunt You Forever In Panlist Form

It begins with an email. It’s from mailman.yale.edu, so it misses the spam filter and goes straight to your inbox. You get the notification during seminar, and you’re sitting right next to the professor, so for the next hour it sits there, unopened, unanswered. You hope that it might be your Lit professor getting back to you about her office hours, or maybe word on that internship you applied to last month. Out of class, you pull out your phone and open it. “Welcome Newbies!!”. . . Read more
Micah Osler
Snack To the Future

Thirty days of liquid calories

I began consuming Soylent 2.0 this April, three months after I learned about it online. Soylent 2.0 is a meal replacement beverage created by Rob Rhinehart, who marketed his product in 2013 by eating nothing but Soylent for 30 days and blogging about the experience. The idea of a liquid diet fascinated me. It was almost unbelievable that Soylent had all the nutrients my body needed. I’d be able to throw a few bottles in my backpack and forget about the dining halls. I would. . . Read more
Harry Gray
What’s In a Game

Finding New Haven in BORDERLANDS, pistol in hand.

Early on in BORDERLANDS, I pick up a pink gun called the “Lady Finger” from behind a grave. It’s a curvy, single-barreled pistol, and I grip it in my right hand’s fingerless glove. When I press “tab” to look at its specs, the words “Omnia vincit amor” (“Love conquers all”) pop up in red. I, Lilith—a Human Siren from the planet Dionysus—store it in my backpack, next to my submachine gun, and continue towards New Haven. The Lady Finger quickly becomes my favorite weapon, mostly. . . Read more
Elena Saavedra Buckley
#SpiritSquad

On psychic fairs, the tarot, and millennial angst.

I am a twenty-year-old college junior and terrible at making decisions—the sort of person who agonizes for an hour about which pack of white socks to buy on Amazon. I have a handle on my immediate future; the rainbow tiles of my Google Calendar are a warm, constant presence in my life. But beyond tomorrow or next week or next month, I am at a loss as to how to make Decisions about The Future. People say follow your dreams, but I am not destined. . . Read more
Azeezat Adeleke
Home Movies

Since I started working at the Film Study Center last September, I’ve walked past Pedalphiles hundreds of times. It’s shelved right by the entrance to the film library, below Pan’s Labyrinth and a few rows above Pulp Fiction. The title is written in orange Comic Sans, which tends to catch the eye. Last week, after … Continue reading Home Movies

Since I started working at the Film Study Center last September, I’ve walked past Pedalphiles hundreds of times. It’s shelved right by the entrance to the film library, below Pan’s Labyrinth and a few rows above Pulp Fiction. The title is written in orange Comic Sans, which tends to catch the eye. Last week, after fourteen months of intrigue, I checked out the DVD, carried it several blocks up Wall Street, and pushed it into my disk drive. Here is what happens in Pedalphiles: a. . . Read more
Madeline Kaplan
The Case of the Missing Adirondacks

You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s lawn.

It is cold more often than it is warm in the courtyard of Silliman College. A rectangular plot of grass divided by stone paths and lined on four sides by Georgian, French Renaissance, and Gothic residential buildings, it is a house-and-field setup. It’s a function of the college’s expansive structure, dating from a time when people believed that sod and sun would make you moral. Last year, seventeen Adirondack chairs (eight in chili pepper red and nine in chili pepper green) were placed in the. . . Read more
Olivia Klevorn