The Freshman Class Council has finally resolved its T-shirt troubles, substituting a generic anti-Harvard logo for a problematic F. Scott Fitzgerald line calling Harvard men sissies.

A pair of recent News pieces begin to outline the tensions plaguing post-9/11 American-Muslim relations.

I am Connecticut Limo — the incompetent taxi service familiar to all Nutmeggers and Yalies who travel. Transporting people is my vocation; it’s all I am asked to do and yet I fail miserably.

I do not know Jen Ivers ’10, still less do I bear her any ill-will, and I am comfortably committed to the principle that the sexual lives of others are none of my business. There’s nothing remarkable about a woman who flouts traditional notions of gender on a campus where masculine women and effeminate men are too common for comment. This is Yale, after all; the gender-transgressive we will always have with us.

America has a storied history of fighting for right and freedom “from the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli.” We have shed blood and spent treasure to ensure that people around the world could be free. As a nation, we are especially concerned with ensuring the safety and prosperity of those who have been oppressed by their governments.

Behind the verbal dexterity and endearing moderateness that have earned him 30-plus-comment praise on the News’ Web site, Matthew Shaffer (“Going rogue,” Nov. 16) is secretly a tool of the vast right wing conspiracy — and so are we.

As a nation, we find ourselves lost in a stormy sea of doubt. As our troubles grow, we search for a captain capable of taking the helm to lead us clear of our troubles, into the clear skies and promised glory of yesteryear.

At 8:15 on Sunday morning, the Party of the Left concluded its inaugural 12-hour charity debate-a-thon. For me, the appeal of the event was obvious — besides the average sleep-deprived revelry that you’d expect, ample donations were collected for Shelter Now, an organization for which I served as co-director and whose work, I believe, is critical to the homeless of New Haven.

Last Tuesday, New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg won an important victory, and no, I’m not referring to his narrow reelection for a third term over Democrat William Thompson. Rather, Bloomberg proved to the nation that mayoral control of schools works — not only is it effective, but it also provides accountability to voters. If only New Haven and its mayor understood this lesson.

An elite cadre of withered, wizened greats walks among us here at Yale. Few have access to them, and most have never even met them.

I hosted a Yalie-to-be two years ago during Bulldog Days. I wasn’t a very good host — I neither showed him around nor took him out to lunch — but my little guest didn’t seem to mind. He came back to my room at five each morning and slept through the rest of the day. I thought that he’d for sure enroll here.

All night, my eyes were downcast, tethered to books and papers and the computer screen. Enervating flatness. By the time my work was done, the night sky was hinting at daylight, and I knew I’d reached the point of no return. I turned to Thoreau.

Today marks the 404th anniversary of Guy Fawkes Night, perhaps the most perverse of all the holidays.

When anyone asks me what baseball team I root for, I tell that that the most accurate answer is that I root against the Yankees.

Imagine you’ve got a lot of family heirlooms — old furniture, photos, and files — you want to keep but have no way to store yourself.

This is the first year I am old enough to watch baseball games at a bar. Wings and dollar drafts and televisions and mirrors are strategically positioned to allow you to see the game regardless of where you stand are unique to the bar scene.

In Periclean Athens, most public officials were selected by lot; the chosen men would then gather on a hill called the Pnyx to debate the issues of the day. Under Pericles’ influence, public offices became paid positions, for the first time opening up the government to even the poorest of Athenian citizens.

It was around midnight, and I was finishing some work in the Pierson dining hall, when I looked up from my laptop to see a skeleton tangled in one of the chandeliers. And the thought suddenly struck me: so much of what we do around the end of October is really, really strange.

Say what you want about Mayor John DeStefano Jr., but the man knows how to make his school system look good. Following the teachers’ union’s overwhelming approval of their new contract, you’d think the mayor himself had found the balloon boy.

By now, the news that our hometown senator, Joe Lieberman ’64 LAW ’67 of the Connecticut for Lieberman Party (seriously, that is the name of the party whose ticket he was re-elected on) is threatening to filibuster a bill that includes the public option has completed its spin through the 24-hour news cycle.