Early this morning, Bwog traveled toward Butler to begin a miserable Sunday of studying. And lo, Hawkma, our star of the sky, appeared. Hawkma wasn’t alone, however. She was joined by another avian friend who shortly flew over to John Jay (was it Hawkpa? Hawkma II? We aren’t sure of Hawkma’s sexual preferences) as he/she […]

We protest, tenaciously. (NYT) We plan for the future, bureaucratically. (Scribd) We lose connections, digitially. (Atlantic) We see ourselves in animals, irrationally. (NY Mag) We ink ourselves, unwisely. (Slate)   Sick Tat, Bro via Flickr