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In This Issue

• Letter From the Editor
• They Watch
• Alcohol.edu Valedictorian Gets Schwasty
• Student Spots Celeb and Doesn’t Flip a Shit; Friends Doubt Her Sanity
• Columbia College First-Year Picks Worst Chair in Classroom
• Columbiascopes
• Class Clown’s Unexpectedly Well-Conceived Joke Falls Flat in LitHum Class
• Tweets of the Week
• Black Friday: A Nocturnal Dad In The AM
• The First Danksgiving Miracle
• Santa Claus is actually Jewish
• What Do You Think?
• “A Rugrats Chanukah” Cures Anti-Semitism
• The Yellow Term Paper
• #ivyleagueproblems
• If You Tweet in the Forest, Does it Make a Sound?
• New Elder Scrolls Game Released “For Nefarious Pro-Capitalist Agenda,” Crackpot Says
• Dance for me, Millie
• How to Increase the Utility of Your Bathroom When You're Shitfaced
• Adventures on DateMySchool.com
• Decoded
• Ask Mark
• Heart2Heart “Facebook Official”
• Reviews of Movies We Haven't Seen Yet: Jack and Jill
• “American Horror Story” is Actually Crazy
• “Dance Moms”: Small Girls, Big Hair

Let us begin with a brief list of topics covered on the first few episodes of American Horror Story: adultery, abortion, rape, undead homosexual interior decorators, Frankenstein, ageless nymphomaniacs, mute latex covered undead rapists, a broken home, a first love, home invasion, and alien fetus. In less than half a season, the folks at AHS have subjected viewers to the emotional trauma of several seasons of Grey’s Anatomy, the gore and sex of True Blood, and the never-ending stream of “what the fuck”s of shows like Lost or Fringe.

The show stars Dylan McDermott (The Practice, the dad in Miracle on 34th St) and Connie Britton (Friday Night Lights) as an all-American couple, looking to start over after a miscarriage and affair rock the family. They make the move to sunny California, find a great old Victorian, and think that things are finally on track. Little do they know that they have taken up residence in what is essentially the gateway to hell. Undead spirits roam the halls and haunt the basement (for god’s sake don’t go in the fucking basement). The housekeeper, Moira, who appears different ages to different people and a friendly/terrifying neighbor played by Jessica Lange do nothing to relieve the overwhelming feeling of terror one feels while watching the show.

American Horror Story is exactly that: a classic American horror story. The storylines and visual style pay homage to films like Psycho, Rosemary’s Baby, and The Exorcist while also referencing slightly more low-brow slasher movies like Halloween and Nightmare on Elm Street. Fast steadicam work, mysterious phone calls, and a basement full of creepy medical experiments (seriously, why do people go in basements) are all par for the course in horror movies, but I can’t think of a TV show that has attempted to bring the genre to the small screen with the fervor of AHS.

Critics have attacked the show for being too obvious and all over the place with storylines and characters, but I think it’s all in good fun, a naughty little treat that’s as fun as sneaking into an R rated movie or shoplifting a pack of gum. Creator Ryan Murphy is clearly trying to work out some personal issues jumping between this and his other current project, Glee. I can him imagine him spending his days on set trying to figure out who’s going to get the solo at sectionals and then going home and being like “and I want a Frankenstein fetus and some BDSM and a school shooting and damnit I think I’ll throw in an enigmatic burn victim for some comedic relief.” One can only write about a glee club for so long. 

My one concern about the show is whether they can maintain this magnificent level of bat shit insanity. They are asking and answering questions, introducing and killing off characters at a dizzying pace but if I’ve learned anything from AHS it’s that it’s hard to kill crazy and so this crazy show just might stick around.  

American Horror Story airs Wednesdays at 10 on FX.