Nyle, who's graduating from NYU this spring, told NYU Local that he made the video cover of Lil' Wayne with a $2,000 grant from the school and it took 30 takes to get right. His plans for after graduation: continue to pay rent by throwing parties in his Bushwick party loft and try to make it as a rapper. Or, from the song: "I ain't stressin' this recession if it leads to a depression / It won't be in my mind, I'll be all right / As long as I'm surviving off of beats and rhyming / Then I don't mind surviving off of eating no ramen." Ah, youth.

Extra Credit [NYT]

On seeing the preview, I thought I could relate, a bit, to our heroine Hannah. (That's the idea, right? She's supposed to represent a generation.) And she's my age, and her job seems to basically consist of sitting around cracking jokes with her coworkers all day in a fake office, and she's bad at relationships. She can't break up with her going-nowhere musician boyfriend so he has to break up with her by saying "I'm just going to make this easier on you. I'm breaking up with you because you're breaking up with me." She then immediately starts dating a coworker, who seduces her by telling her how "bright" she is (though there's very little empirical evidence of this in the film). He finishes his spiel about how great she is by saying, "and that's why I go to work every day." Awww! EWWW.

This is when the movie started to strain credulity. For starters, the actress who plays Hannah, Greta Gurwig, is megahot, like a 9.5 at least, with fantastic tits, too. And the guy who plays her coworker-seducer, filmmaker Andrew Bujalski, is so irretrievably fug. Seriously, there's a scene where he's in boxers during which I was basically cowering under my seat. The moles on his back, my God! His man-teats! His TEETH! The notes I took during this scene read, in toto, "Omg dude is so fug. Omg his JEANS. I wish I had gone to see the Bourne Supremacy Ultimatum."

What strains credulity even more is that this repellently ugly dude eventually starts ignoring Hannah. He's, theoretically, distracted because a "New York agent" is a "fan of the blog."

"Oh my god, your blog's gonna be a book!" shrieks Hanna upon hearing this news. Ha, as if. This scene made the movie seem at least two years old. Anyway, maybe he's really ignoring Hannah because she's fucking annoying? There's nothing worse than when actresses try to convey "quirky and neurotic" by basically acting drunk or stoned all the time and trying to convey "incredibly naturalistic" by just taking forever to spit out a sentence. Here's a tip, indie filmmakers: sometimes, in real life, people are quite articulate! Maybe write a movie about those type of people.

Also I just think that the fetishization of "neurotic hottie" as a lady-type should be banned. Seriously, guys, Annie Hall was great but get over it.

At the hour and a half mark, the audience began to fidget as one as a predictable love triangle emerged. Eventually, an overlong set piece where people play the trumpet badly in a bathtub finally ended the film (of course, right?). There was one good speech Hannah has at the end, though—it's excerpted in the trailer that made me think I might like this movie. It's about how "Do you think having crushes on people is kind of manic? And after it becomes real it stops being thrilling." On the one hand, some people can't hear this often enough. On the other hand: Duh.

Dear Choire/Balk/Doree or whichever intern checks the emails—[Ed. Note: Actually, we all do!]

As a total fucking cliche who attented both Trinity School (gasp!) and Oberlin College (where I majored in art history! And cinema studies! Oh no!) and who now lives in... wait for it... a bougie Williamsburg loft (for which my parents pay the rent, naturally), I must insist that you cease making fun of Oberlin immediately.

Just because we're a bunch of pretentious, entitled, politically-correct, self-satisfied, bleeding-heart, postmodern burlesque and street art enthusiast douchenozzley fags doesn't mean we don't have feelings. If anything, we have far too many feelings. Feelings we have learned to express thanks to four years of professors who humored us when we raised our hands to start a sentence with "I kinda feel like..."

But really. If you cut us, do we not bleed?* If you insult us, do we not cry ourselves to sleep while gently caressing our diplomas and our limited-edition Supreme hoodies? ** I cannot bear this abuse any longer. n fact, I demand that you extend an olive branch to me (and by proxy, all Oberlin alumni, since I am their mascot) by making me a commenter.

Cheers,
Sam

*actually, we don't. "Feelings" aside, we are empty on the inside.
**actually, when you insult us we secretly get off on it.
P.S. Since you knew this was coming anyway... I have a blog. Feel free to read it. But please try to refrain from tearing me a new asshole on your website since this email is, believe it or not, not my audition to the be next Yara Flinn.

But what we did realize—after looking at Sam's blog, in which he discusses a little term he calls "Nostalgie de la boue," which is "One (1) serving of limousine liberalism, One (1) serving of cultural appropriation, One (1) serving of bourgeois bohemianism," and relates an anecdote about running into a girl he knows from both high school and college, and how they discussed "street art," and it was all so predictable and ironic that between the two of them there is $1 million worth of education, and there was a bodega with real Hispanic people outside, because as you recall, Sam lives in Williamsburg—was that people like Sam continue to make us sad, and we know we should get over the fact that everyone has a trust fund and is able to list their occupation on Facebook as "a carpenter, an east village radio dj, cory arcangel's assistant, possibly a contemporary art auction house slave and soon to be a street art exhibition curator," and live in a "bougie loft in Williamsburg."

It makes us sad because are old enough to know that life isn't fair, and that some people would in fact be jealous of the life that we have (if only because we have cable T.V.), just as we are jealous, on some level, of Sam's life and the fact that the most difficult thing it seems he's had to deal with in his 22 years is perhaps a B+in one of his cinema studies classes. On the other hand. We also find it annoying that these people are so hyper-conscious of their own privilege that they peremptorily bring it up in the most ironic way possible, which of course deflects any criticism or, really, analysis of said privilege.

It's kind of similar to the way Sam is a member of a number of Facebook groups. They include: "BITCH/ NIGGA I LOOKS GOOD DON'T TRY & FUCKIN SIN ME," "WAL- MART IS DAT DEAL.... HELL YEAH," "MY name MUST taste GOOD,cuz its ALWAYS in SOMEBODYS MOUTH," "Fuck 2 Steppin Bitch I Gets Loose," "I fuks wit Ramen Noodles," "I'll Aways Love My Momma," "For Every 1,000 People Who Join, I'll Have a Threesome in Darfur," "I Get High and Watch Don't Be a Menace to South Central," "Lindsay Lohan: American Hero," "Legalize Abstinence-Only Gay Marriage for Men," and "Sam Rauch: Not a Cokehead."

Let's all appropriate hip-hop culture together now! Does he also wear iced grillz?

Anyway. All of this is our way of saying that no, Sam, we will not stop making fun of Oberlin grads. At least not until Oberlin grads get a little fucking perspective.