Autism is such a prevalent disorder in our country, and yet there is almost no dialogue about it in our daily discourse. I have spent four years on this campus, among thousands of people and a countless number of cloth-draped special interest fundraiser booths, and have never heard a single word spoken to me about autism.

Sid Vicious, the Sex Pistols front man known for his frequent public diatribes against the government and establishment, once said, "Undermine their pompous authority, reject their moral standards, make anarchy and disorder your trademarks. Cause as much chaos and disruption as possible but don't let them take you alive.

We live in a time of unprecedented data gathering capabilities. The Internet has immensely bolstered the digital age by providing people all over the world with the means to disseminate information and inexpensively communicate with each other. With gargantuan Web sites like MySpace becoming Internet juggernauts because of their ability to attract a wide range of people from every age and ethnic demographic, our level of freedom seems almost utopian.

I picked up an issue of the Daily Breeze this weekend and fell back into the sinking seat cushion of a plush maroon armchair to enjoy an afternoon coffee with my news. Scanning the front page, I came upon an article that was more bitter to me than the drink in my other hand.

Our campus is a place of political free speech, much like other universities throughout the nation. We allow the voices of both competing sides of the political spectrum to establish themselves in this place of open thought-provoking debate. Most of these political organizations are moderate and sound in their claims, while others are provocative and extreme.

Reuters, Associated Press, CBS and some other major news outlets have reported that Michael Penkala, 21, was shot and almost killed outside of a Wal-Mart in Putnam, Conn. He was camping outside of the store just before the release of Sony's Playstation 3, with a handful of other customers around 3 a.

Is it wrong to desperately want to give the Spice Girls crabs? Well, if as the result of extreme neglect or bad parenting, you grew up listening to Guttermouth since early childhood, then you would find the notion acceptable, encouraged even. If you have heard the song then you know what I am talking about; if not, just take my word for it.

It was Friday, Oct. 20, and the Key Club on the Sunset Strip was alive and kicking following the loud and spirited performance of Calabrese. They had just finished playing their set and amid the crazy mohawks from hell, I could vaguely make out a packed room full of greased up psycho punks and their red lipstick-laden arm candy accomplices.

Growing up around the South Bay, I knew a guy who would pay me $20 to clean his CD collection. He was a part-time doctor and a full-time rocker; every so often he would set up his keyboard next to an open glass door overlooking Hermosa Beach and play the blues with some local buddies.

The institution of college was implemented to develop students' minds and further enhance their skills in their fields of study. But, on rare occasion, students come across what is known to be called as an "easy class," which forces the college to re-examine its curriculum.

Are students at the dorms willing to pay higher rent for the comfort and well-being of future residents? Well, regardless of their feelings, that is just what they are doing. For the past few years, the dorm rent has been steadily increasing in order to fund a planned construction project.

It was 45 minutes into "Ole for Hollywood," and I sat in the back of Nordhoff Hall's Little Theatre appreciating the vibrant simplicity of the show. I realized that skipping the complete practice run-through last weekend was the right choice to make. Seeing the cast in their day clothes performing the entire play without its wacky visual and audio effects and then actually going to see the finished product on opening night would have been terrifyingly similar to the time I saw the "The Sixth Sense" with my mom, and halfway through she correctly guessed the ending (vocally).