Whether you’re hosting a Halloween party, watching a football game with friends, or just want to enjoy a fall-themed drink, from coffee to cocktails, you’ll be sure to feel the fall vibes with these recipes. 

Pumpkin butter latte – Abby Olear, video editor 

Ingredients:

• 2 shots of espresso
• 1 tablespoon pumpkin butter 
• Cinnamon 
• Milk of choice

Directions:

Coffee drinkers, this one’s for you. Olear recommends a pumpkin butter latte, putting a unique twist on the pumpkin spice classic. This latte is the perfect way to start a day, especially while walking to class in cooler weather and under changing leaves. 

Begin by brewing two shots of espresso and pouring them over a heaping tablespoon of Trader Joe’s pumpkin butter. In a separate cup, pour however much milk you prefer over ice before adding in the espresso and pumpkin butter mix. Stir and top with cinnamon. The pumpkin butter is a smooth, rich addition to your typical fall latte. 

[For some UMD students, trick-or-treating remains an essential Halloween tradition]

Apple cider spritz – Caroline Pecora, search engine optimization editor 

Ingredients:

• 6 ounces apple cider
• 2 ounces vodka 
• 4 ounces prosecco 
• Splash of vanilla extract 
• Splash of aperol (optional)
• Cinnamon stick (optional)

Directions:

This combination of sweetness of apple cider with the classic taste of an aperol spritz is a must-make from Pecora. You can serve it at a Halloween party or a Thanksgiving dinner. 

To make this drink, pour apple cider, vodka and prosecco (if over 21) over ice. Top it off with a splash of vanilla extract and an optional splash of aperol if you have it. Pecora recommends garnishing it with a cinnamon stick to add an extra fall touch. 

Apple cider mimosa – Caroline Pecora

Ingredients:

• One part apple cider
• One part prosecco

Directions:

If you’re looking for an easy cocktail with a fall twist, this drink is for you. This apple cider mimosa is perfect for a fall or Halloween-themed breakfast or brunch. 

Instead of a typical mimosa with orange juice, use apple cider and top it with an equal amount of prosecco. Feel free to serve it with or without ice. 

[Renowned chef Peter Chang brings Szechuan restaurant to College Park]

Lemon drop of horrors – Stella Garner, tabloids editor 

Ingredients:

• One part lemonade
• One part sprite 
• Lavender or rose syrup 

Directions:

Throwing a Halloween party this weekend? This “lemon drop of horrors” is the perfect spooky mocktail to serve. 

Garner’s drink is served with equal parts lemonade and sprite and topped with either lavender or rose syrup. Use rose syrup for a sweeter flavor, lavender for floral notes. After trying it with rose syrup, the final mocktail was the perfect mix of sweet and tart.

“Lithonia” – Childish Gambino

“Lithonia’s” pensive synths and driving guitars teeter between liberation and devastation, exemplified by a simple declaration in the chorus — “Nobody gives a fuck.” Is Gambino condemning this mentality or inspiring self-determination? It’s up to listeners to decide.

Glover’s roaring vocals amplify the song’s gravitas as they hammer away. While the Childish Gambino project is over, Donald Glover ensured that he went out with a powerful punch, delivering one of his best songs. – Joe Wicke, Diversions reporter 

[Maryland Filmmakers’ fall film festival spotlights UMD student talent]

“Satellite Business 2.0” – Sampha and Little Simz

Talk about a glow-up. Sampha transformed an unassuming, minute-long interlude from his 2023 album Lahai into a full-fledged cosmic banger. His signature euphonic vocals sail across a relaxed instrumental colored by beeps and pings, serenading listeners about the wonders of the vast universe.

Rapper Little Simz guides us back to Earth as she breezes through her guest feature — a confident rejection of any of her naysayers. “Satellite Business 2.0” is a blissful respite from a demanding world and fully realizes the original’s untapped potential.  – Joe Wicke, Diversions reporter 

“What Love Is” – Zimmer90, What Love Is 

Disguised as a one-hit wonder — transformed into a non-skip anthem. This track is 2024 for me. My first listen hit at midnight Dec. 31 under the roaring planes at Gravelly Point, Virginia.

The electrifying, taser-like beat doesn’t ask gently: “Do you know what love is?” But I let myself drown in that incessant question, hypnotic and relentless, as Zimmer90 pulls me to a New York rooftop bar, arms loose, flailing like nothing else matters. – Jade Tran, Diversions Editor 

“Girl, so confusing featuring lorde” – Charli XCX and Lorde, Brat

It’s already confusing enough to be a girl, but hearing Charli hammer that into my brain over a choppy beat? Unreal. The remix takes it up 10 notches — a raging, chaotic sound that radiates pure club energy.

Now, this is girlhood and the confusing chaos it comes with compressed into a three-minute anthem. Hello? I’m too busy strutting my apartment hallway, two icons blasting through my AirPods, proving they definitely worked it out on the remix. What started as a speculated diss track quickly morphed into a non-negotiable banger with the help of the great Lorde. – Jade Tran, Diversions editor 

“Drums of Death” – FKA Twigs, Eusexua

Eusexua as an album might center on the ephemerality of connection, but its third single — the Y2K futuristic vision of “Drums of Death” — is a demand to put your own pleasure first. Twigs’ ode to escapism morphs the sounds of corporate life into something supernatural.

Glitchy synths, silvery layered vocals and technological defects become marching percussion. In a world demanding no days off, Twigs’ request to “relax and ease your mind” is needed now more than ever. – Sofia Appolonio, Diversions editor 

Midnight Cowboy – JADE 

It can be agonizing to shed a girl group label. Little Mix pioneered a generation of bubblegum UK radio candy. Its members have struggled to establish themselves independently (to a more tragic extent than others), but JADE’s sultry trip-hop single “Midnight Cowboy” dismisses fears she can’t stand on her own.

Electronic pulses behind Thirlwall’s early Destiny’s Child-esque cadence craft a hazy, twilight image of a late-night club rendezvous. A stark contrast from the pounding EDM of “Angel of my Dreams,” it’s exciting to see where JADE will take her upcoming album sonically. – Sofia Appolonio, Diversions editor 

“Holy, Holy” – Geordie Greep

The guitars in “Holy, Holy” drill away like a wild machine. Walking while listening to the song, your gait quickens to the disorienting rhythm. The flimsy concrete world around you twists, contorts and deflates.

“Do you know my name? Of course you know my name!” Greep is wailing. Bongos. Saxophone. The chorus returns and the frenzy reaches a mad peak. You’re sprinting now. Which way is home? Who cares? – Cameron Lee, Diversions reporter 

“Wristwatch” – MJ Lenderman

I remember where I was when I first heard “Wristwatch.” There was a book sale in front of the Art-Sociology Building and I went to go hunt the racks for treasure. Soon I found a major score: Bob Dylan’s The Philosophy of Modern Song. My discovery marked an interesting coincidence — Lenderman’s deft, humorous imagery featured throughout “Wristwatch” and other Manning Fireworks tracks carries much resemblance to Dylan’s mid-’60s amphetamine-fueled output.

The song throbs with down-home muscle, complemented nicely by Lenderman’s delicate, Neil Young-ish squall. A true humdinger. “Himbo dome” indeed. – Cameron Lee, Diversions reporter 

“Muñekita” – Kali Uchis, El Alfa, JT

A blend of reggaeton and dembow, “Muñekita” is the Spanglish banger we didn’t know we needed. Each singer’s contrasting flows add a unique twist to the song — especially El Alfa’s weird but catchy bridge that reminds you of being on the dance floor when a DJ changes songs.

Though the tempo changes quite a bit, the song makes up for it with fun, hot energy. It’s definitely a summer anthem. – Emely Miranda-Aguilar, Diversions reporter 

“APT.” – Rosé ft. Bruno Mars

Playing a drinking game is fun, but writing a song about a drinking game is even more fun. The only thing that could make it better is if it sat at the top of the Billboard Global 200 chart for six weeks. Oh wait — it did. For Rosé’s first single as an independent artist, that’s not bad.

Bruno Mars also killed it in the song, and it overall reminds me of his Unorthodox Jukebox days with meshed genres, a funky beat and a comical music video. The song especially hits differently, knowing Rosé almost didn’t release it and even deleted it. – Emely Miranda-Aguilar, Diversions reporter 

“Igual Que un Ángel” – Kali Uchis ft. Peso Pluma

In the first half of her second Spanish-language album “Orquideas,” Kali Uchis dives head first into dreamy pop. Catchy lyrics layered over groovy bass and angelic synths make “Igual Que Un Ángel” a stand-out track. Peso Pluma’s voice, usually raspy and gravelly in songs like “Ella Baila Sola,” is lightened up to match Uchis’ silky vocals. Just like the song says, it was, “sent from heaven down to earth.” – Abigail Olear, Video reporter 

“Bodyguard” – Beyoncé

Just when we thought Beyoncé had run out of genres to defy, in comes “Bodyguard.” From Cowboy Carter, Beyoncé’s country album, the track feels like it could have been ripped out of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours. Not quite country, folk or indie, “Bodyguard” is Beyoncé continuing to prove that she can’t be pinholed into one genre. While some may have been shocked by the track’s Grammy nomination for “Best Pop Solo Performance,” I knew exactly why. – Abigail Olear, Video reporter 

“In the Living Room” – Maggie Rogers

Maggie Rogers released “In the Living Room” in October, capping off a landmark year that saw the Easton-born singer-songwriter release her third studio album and embark on multiple globe-spanning tours.

The track leaps, jumps and swoons through the echoes of a failing relationship, blending some of Rogers’ smoothest songwriting to date with an irresistibly catchy production, capping the local artist’s impressive year on a high note. – Adam Hudacek, Tabloid editor

“Punish” – Ethel Cain

Ghostly voices drone behind a trembling piano on Ethel Cain’s single “Punish,” a glimpse of her upcoming album Perverts. The track is another haunting, experimental track for the Florida-based artist who gained notoriety for her Southern gothic-inspired album, Preacher’s Daughter, in 2022.

Themes of religious trauma, personal repression and desperate longing punctuate the song, a nearly seven-minute preview of Cain’s latest sonic evolution. – Adam Hudacek, Tabloid editor

“reincarnated” – Kendrick Lamar

On his surprise November album, Lamar blends the west-coast hype with a haunting and deep lyrical track on “Reincarnated.” The Compton rapper takes listeners through the stories of several musicians throughout history that “sold their soul” before narrating a conversation purported to be between God and the Devil, punctuated with his innate ability to alter his vocal delivery to fit his themes.

It’s an immensely enjoyable listen that leaves fans shocked and contemplative as they listen to its final verse. – Matt Kauffman, Diversions reporter

[4 stories ready to power the next wave of movie musicals]

“i scream this in the mirror before interacting with anyone” – JPEGMAFIA

“50 beat switches a minute, they gon’ put me in a Guinness” — it certainly does feel like the beat changes that much throughout this not even 2-minute long, explosive opener to rapper-producer JPEGMAFIA’s 2024 album SIN MIEDO.

Set to an ever-shifting instrumental of rock drum fills and a distorted, riffing guitar, Peggy proves that he simply can’t stop innovating, cementing himself as one of the most creative and experimental names in the game. – Matt Kauffman, Diversions reporter

“Otonoke” – Creepy Nuts

This is the opening for the new anime Dandadan! It tickles my brain in a very fun way and makes me wonder how anyone could possibly speak that fast. Japanese is already a really hard language and they are fully speed rapping. All that and the beat is phenomenal. – Reina Baker, Copy editor

“Insomnia” – Eve

Another lovely Japanese song. I would call this one more in the vein of indie rock. Fun fact, this artist has music videos attached to his songs that literally could make their own cinematic universe. Look them up. They’re great. – Reina Baker, Copy editor

“I Told You Things” – Gracie Abrams

In the deluxe version of her album The Secret of Us, Gracie Abrams explores vulnerability and heartbreak in the song “I Told You Things.” The lyrics feel like a diary entry with a flare of poetry. Abrams’ tone develops throughout the song, deepening her message of emotional fallout.

The simplicity of the tune’s piano and electronic arrangements let listeners fully absorb the emotion in the lyrics. This reflective and regretful song contains quite the build-up to its powerful bridge — which I would argue is one of the best she has produced — and one I often catch myself singing. – Talia Macchi, News reporter

“WILDFLOWER” – Billie Eilish 

“WILDFLOWER” serves as a powerful metaphor for living authentically, free from the pressure to conform. Featured as track five on Billie Eilish’s HIT ME HARD AND SOFT album, released in May, the song stands out with its lighter energy, sharing a refreshing contrast to the many base-heavy tracks in the record. Eilish’s vocals are pure and idyllic, and the subtle background sounds of wind and birds help to paint the song’s nature-like theme. “WILDFLOWER” is the perfect song to listen to when the weather is just warm enough to roll down your windows while driving.  – Talia Macchi, News reporter

Click HERE to flip through the 2023 Orientation Guide.

Dear reader,

This orientation guide serves as a lens into life at The University of Maryland as new students roll on campus.

We hope you enjoy,

Nur Yavuz, Tabloid editor

Selena Gomez’s documentary, released earlier this month, follows a turbulent six-year period marred by debilitating physical and mental health struggles. Filmed in the wake of Gomez’s diagnosis with lupus and bipolar disorder, the film shows the singer and actress learning how to love herself and understand her relationship with her diagnosis to inspire self-love in others.

The film is directed by Alek Keshishian, the creative mind behind the 1991 documentary Madonna: Truth or Dare and a previous Gomez collaborator for the singer’s “Hands to Myself” music video, The film is a compilation of the moments we heard through rumors and saw on tabloids but never really understood in their truth.

Promising to share only her darkest secrets, the film begins in 2016 with then-24-year-old Gomez struggling to feel womanly in her young body as she prepares to perform in her second solo tour, the Revival Tour. “Who Says,” a song that empowered a generation of young listeners to love themselves, plays throughout Gomez’s bouts of uncertainty.

“I get the voice that comes in my head that says, ‘You missed this, that sucked,’” Gomez said with tears gliding down her face. “It sucks the life out of me, and I don’t want to perform. The pressure is just overwhelming.”

[Review: ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’ is the perfect mix of comedy, gore and beauty]

Plucked from Texas to join Disney’s star-studded lineup of young, influential pop stars, Gomez fell into a rabbit hole of fame.

Struggling to separate from her Disney roots, Gomez wants nothing more than to not be her past. But as she’s pushed into press-sparked misconceptions and probed for answers about jealousy over her ex-boyfriend Justin Bieber’s new relationship, the pressure to be someone else continues to mount.

Through an anxiety-inducing lens, the film shows glimpses of the social bombardment Gomez faces every day. It quickly becomes understandable how after 55 performances, the Revival Tour was canceled. Her physical illness became a complete emotional breakdown, leading to an episode of psychosis in 2018. 

Gomez sought help to understand her ongoing spells of anxiety and depression. In 2019, she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She began to understand her mind in an effort to escape it.

Some may see her as a diva, retreating from meetings because of anxiety or leaving an interview pissed off because of the ridiculous questions, but the energy to keep going on — to perform on top of simply socializing — is no easy task.

[Review: Netflix’s ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’ is a true anti-war film]

The physical exhaustion itself would make anyone irritable. Compounded with bipolar disorder, the film excellently shows the sides of Gomez that aren’t as polite or nice as we’d expect — but they’re honest.

I know how the pounding of my heart can quickly turn into the shaking of hands and uncontrollable stuttering of words. I know how I can lose my breath from the fear that a panic attack is coming, even when I’m happily talking about how I feel and why I feel that way. For Gomez to speak so candidly and to bravely reveal her truth to the world took pure strength.

She took social bullets for us, so we’re inspired to seek help and love ourselves. Whether relishing in the joy of relief or struggling to breathe from her own thoughts suffocating her, this film gives Gomez a medallion in emotional and mental health advocacy.

The film also addresses how people around the world and across cultures deal with mental and emotional health in a unique divergence from focusing solely on the film’s star. During a trip to Kenya to visit a school she helped fund, Gomez met a college student who related eerily well to her struggles with pressure and self-harm. 

It’s not just you, it’s not just me, it’s not just Gomez and it’s not just our society. Emotional pain and mental health challenges affect everyone, everywhere. Through one person’s story, we’re shown why destigmatizing and talking about it is crucial. It helps people understand their thoughts. It makes them feel less alone. It saves lives.

“The whole family is saddened to learn the full extent of how challenging the last few years have been for Harry and Meghan. The issues raised, particularly that of race, are concerning. While some recollections may vary, they are taken very seriously and will be addressed by the family privately. Harry, Meghan and Archie will always be much loved family members.”

For starters, there’s no denying Markle was victim to racist press coverage. For the royals to not instantly and unilaterally denounce that, regardless of their fear of the press or whatever “invisible contract” might exist, makes them complicit in that racism. That’s like, day one shit.  

You’ll notice the official response to the interview lacks the same motivation or indigence as another statement released last week that said the Palace was opening up an investigation into 3-year-old reports of bullying against Markle — widely considered a weak attempt to preempt what was coming during the couple’s tell-all. As a reminder, Prince Andrew, who was accused of being involved with Jeffrey Epstein’s sex-trafficking ring, didn’t even get a Palace investigation. 

When I was in sixth grade, a girl at my school called another girl a slut, and we had to attend assemblies every day for a week on bullying and mental health. I highly doubt that Buckingham Palace will be engaging in the same level of reflection as my middle school. 

One of the most striking parts of Markle’s conversation with Oprah was the obvious parallels with the words of the late Princess Diana, who gave a similar interview before her death caused by a paparazzi chase. Both spoke of extreme isolation, thoughts of suicide and self-harm, and being unprepared for the magnitude of media attention they would receive from British tabloids. Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. 

A structure that repeatedly drives its inhabitants to believe the only way out is killing themselves — and then demonstrates no honest acknowledgment of the factors that led them there — is irrevocably broken. 

[‘A lasting impact’: UMD alum explores Filipinx and queer identities in new fantasy novel]

What’s even more ridiculous is the hypocrisy behind the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, William and Kate, creating an initiative called Heads Together, which states in its mission statement that, “Too often, people feel afraid to admit that they are struggling with their mental health. This fear of prejudice and judgment stops people from getting help and can destroy families and end lives.” All the while, they apparently did nothing to remedy an environment that denied Markle any support after experiencing thoughts of suicide she described as “real” and “methodical.” 

The royalty, known as The Firm, is one big pretense. Beyond not getting political or ever voicing any personal opinions, they want to pretend everything is fine all the time. I generally have little tolerance for that sort of incredibly manicured, inauthentic, tight-lipped stoicism, but especially during this pandemic which, for all the tragedy it’s caused, has at least given us license to be honest about how we’re really doing. 

I understand that isn’t a universal belief; values of emotional vulnerability, individualism and openness about mental health are distinctly American and of my generation. And those values can sometimes be mutually exclusive with the tenants of duty, procedure and stability the royalty has operated on for 1200 years. But if there’s one establishment in the entire world that doesn’t deserve the magnanimity of cultural relativism, it’s the one that colonized 171 countries out of the nearly 200 that exist today. 

In pre-bombshell interview times, no part of me — whether it’s my apathy as an American or contempt as an Indian with grandparents who were alive to lose everything during India and Pakistan’s partition in 1947 — has ever held an ounce of reverence for the British monarchy. It’s simultaneously archaic and dystopian; both a cosmetic vestige of an empire that has sustained its power through the horrors of colonialism and an establishment with the ethos of basically every evil government from any popular young adult fiction.

But what I find particularly insidious and especially damning is that it is an institution convinced that the key to its longevity is to repress or sacrifice any instinct of individuality, humanity or vulnerability. Meghan Markle threatened that game plan by not fulfilling her part as a cold, unfeeling automaton in the face of relentlessly cruel, baseless — and of course, racist and misogynistic — public evisceration from the tabloids, and Prince Harry threatened it by refusing to “be bullied into playing a game that killed [his] mum.” 

In the interview, Markle denounced the narrative of a “hero and a villain.” She’s wrong, though. There is a very clear villain here: The British tabloid press. 

In America, we’ve gone through our own recent reckoning over the brutal and unfair press coverage of Britney Spears, among other young women. Whether it’s a princess or a pop star, it’s a familiar story. This rhetoric has followed women for ages. 

[The war between Gen Z and millennials is nothing new]

The media-public consumption industrial complex will scrutinize everything they do and crucify them, as Markle noted, just for “breathing,” The tabloids will create scandal where it doesn’t exist, manipulate and dehumanize their image, deprive them of their voice and diminish their intelligence, and then somehow call them attention seekers — pointing to their celebrity status and piles of money — when they try to defend themselves.

Many on the conservative right have also criticized Markle for supposedly victimizing herself and stirring attention when she just wanted to be left alone, as if she wrote a book and frequented the talk-show circuit. This ignores two key points. First, Oprah operates on higher journalistic standards than the so-called “royal experts” and anonymous sources and insiders that fuel most tabloid hit pieces; second, there is nothing convenient or comfortable about taking on massive, powerful structures. 

The reality of living in a culture that so easily dehumanizes women is that you lose all control of how you’re perceived. And for all the people who support you, there will be many who absolutely despise you. 

Among much of the sexist tabloid coverage Markle has received is her portrayal as the classic stereotype of a toxic wife, creating a rift between her husband and his family. Perhaps this is because the media wants to ignore that they’ve been the object of Prince Harry’s disdain long before Markle entered the picture. They’re likely the biggest perpetrator of the “toxic environment” Prince Harry said he was trapped in — one he asserts his father and brother are still stuck in. 

The symbiotic relationship between the tabloid press and The Firm has caused too much collateral damage for a business model parading as journalism — while manufacturing most of its news for an institution that’s essentially obsolete and uninterested in reform. At this point, #AbolishTheMonarchy.

Playing a larger-than-life character like Wendy Williams is daunting. So many of her viewers love her because of her quirks, catchphrases and never-ending, sometimes unhinged energy. Naturally, you would need an actor capable of portraying this media icon’s distinct personality; unfortunately, Ciera Payton fell more than flat in the role.

[Transgender representation on TV is evolving for the better]

The first jarring error in her performance is the complete lack of the “Wendy-isms” we have come to know and love: her New-Jersey-pretending-to-be-New-York accent, her unusual inflection that includes random pauses and weird emphasis on words that don’t make sense, even her rigid posture that somehow gives off a nonchalant vibe. These traits all contribute to Williams’ charm, the very moxie that allows her to get away with being so blunt most of the time. And none of that was there.

To put it simply, Payton struggled, falling in and out of character at times. It didn’t help that Payton barely looked like the titular character. The biopic could have been salvageable if the look had been spot on, at least to distract from the flawed performance. Tragically, Payton was unable to deliver on the physical and emotional aspects of playing Williams.

Performance aside, we also barely learn anything about Williams’ life. The only taste we get of her childhood is when she attends a birthday party and is laughed at for being Black and overweight. She then goes to a corner store and stares at the tabloids, where we learn through a voiceover that she wants to work in the industry of gossip and celebrity news. 

Suddenly, the audience is shown an adult Williams working in Washington, D.C., at a radio station. This scattered storytelling leaves out large chunks of important details, which only compounds as the film goes on.

A bulk of the screen time elaborates on difficulties within her second marriage rather than her career and work as a broadcaster. I wanted to know more about Wendy as a host, celebrity interviewer and notorious gossip. What kind of relationships did she have with her guests? What crazy things had she learned? Instead of exploring Williams’ strengths, we are forced to witness bickering within a relationship that ultimately ends in divorce.

[Review: JPEGMAFIA finds balance on his latest single ‘FIX URSELF!’]

The film’s structure was also overly dependent on voiceovers by Payton. Compared with other biopics, such as Rocketman or Bohemian Rhapsody, there was no real narrative or story. What we were presented felt more like a lecture on the life of Williams, with few visual aids to explain or elaborate. 

The end result is something that you may get a kick out of if you are already a fan of Williams and have some time to kill. However, if you are interested in the career origins and life of an ultimately inspiring woman, I suggest looking elsewhere.

The show, co-created by Lucy Prebble and Billie Piper, is a close-up view of a celebrity’s breakdown. Fans of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag will find much to like in this series, which shares its main archetype (unhinging woman as antihero) and its biting wit with that other English import. 

But what I Hate Suzie possesses that Fleabag doesn’t is a certain clinical naturalism that intersperses moments of surreality and a sense of anxiety that permeates each scene. And it’s one of the most precisely written shows I’ve seen all year.

The premise of I Hate Suzie will be familiar to anyone who has ever — even peripherally — read a celebrity tabloid. Suzie (Billie Piper) is a former teen pop star-turned-actress who suddenly finds her career and personal life upended when a hacker leaks explicit photos from her phone. Pictured in those photos are Suzie and the unsuspecting genitalia of a man who is not her husband. 

But perhaps unsuspecting is the wrong word. After all, a penis doesn’t just fall into a photo of its own volition. But as Suzie learns throughout the period following her unwilling public exposure, she will bear the brunt of the burden of her infidelity. 

[Review: The newest episode of ‘Euphoria’ is a jarring look into Rue’s mind]

The double standard associated with nude photo leaks isn’t a new phenomenon and has been discussed better by other writers, including diversions writer Kanika Mehra, who wrote in September about the banality of Chris Evans’ nude photo leak, a scandal which lasted, in total, about three seconds. 

I Hate Suzie dissects this double standard, demonstrating the deteriorative effect the scandal has on Suzie’s mental health and perception of the world. 

It also goes far beyond that inciting incident. I Hate Suzie takes its time exploring its protagonist’s psyche, demonstrating how Suzie’s upbringing and experiences have left her suspended in animation, like so many stars who burned very bright very young. Suzie snorts coke off the screen of a phone and wears pajamas to drop off her child at school. She’s a child herself — a drugged-up whirling dervish of a woman, constantly putting her foot in her mouth. Piper magnificently plays a person slowly unraveling in the public eye, anxious and angry and frenzied and charismatic, sometimes all at once, with vivid, manic ferocity. 

[‘Big Brother Maryland’ offers UMD students belonging during an isolating virtual semester]

But it’s Suzie’s relationships — with her husband Cob (Daniel Ings) and her agent Naomi (Leila Farzad), who is also her best friend — that make the show spark to a glittering life. 

Take, for example, a scene in the fifth episode titled “Bargaining” (each episode is named after a different stage of the grief cycle). Suzie and Cob argue about the contents of the photo leak. The scandal has deepened an already-present fracture in their marriage. Cob tells Suzie that if she doesn’t understand what he’s going through, “then I genuinely don’t think that this can work.” As the two stand and absorb the shock of Cob’s statement, their young son, who is deaf, enters the room and asks his mother to play music. “Yes sir, music for dancing,” signs Suzie to her son.

Suzie’s son turns on the nearby radio, which hisses sports broadcast static. She looks at Cob, and they dance awkwardly in the near silence, continuing their fight behind cupped hands, so that their son cannot lipread. It’s a wonderful moment of physical comedy and a strange soup of both bitterness and love — this sweet, tender accommodation, mixed up with an argument that can only cause further pain. 

The absurdity of this moment is on par with the rest of the series, which finds its footing in the fourth episode, a surreal and hilarious exploration of Suzie’s problematic habits of attraction. But every episode is a gem and a stylistically diverse piece of filmmaking — Prebble and Piper employ different tones for each installment in the eight-part series. The result is a piece of messy, lived-in brilliance. I Hate Suzie is worth your time. 

CORRECTION: Due to a reporting error, a previous version of this review and its headline mistakenly said HBO Max’s one-week free trial is still available. HBO Max ended the free trial earlier this month. This story has been updated.

“THIS ONE ACTUALLY MADE IT TO PRINT! :D”

That’s what my eager little thumbs tapped out, probably as soon as I got my hands on that day’s issue of The Diamondback. It felt like summiting Everest.

No one is eager like a fresh journalist with their first print byline. I was no different. I’m sure anyone who saw me on Sept. 24, 2013 nearly called campus police. I was that jazzed. Just over the moon. Bursting. Tweeting.

Journalists all like to act like we’re in it for the civic duty. Sure, we get to yank a politician back to earth every now and again. We right wrongs. We ask the questions you wish you could. That’s part of it, absolutely.

Really though, we’re as vain as anyone else. Probably moreso. And there is absolutely nothing like seeing your name in print for the first time. Nothing beats knowing you’re one of the privileged few who gets to become indelible.

It was absolutely a privilege. I was even lucky enough to go from squealing about a measly general assignment story to running the whole damn Diamondback. Being a part of it — a bona fide print paper that people picked up and read in Bagel Place — made me feel like more than some anonymous college kid.

The print paper meant something. I could see it every day on campus and know we did good.

It was the honor of my life to stay up until 2 a.m., blowing the print deadline to get breaking news onto the front page. I made my closest friends in the world sitting in our newsroom, arguing about front page design. Some of the best drinks I ever had were after putting a particularly solid paper to bed (sorry, Arnie).

I feel sad knowing there will be future DBKers who won’t get that.

Of course, I understand. The stacks got thinner as we cut circulation. Print editions languished, unloved anachronisms waiting for recycling bins. We shuffled racks, trying to trick students with smartphones into carrying clunky sheafs of paper. We considered an ill-fated pivot to tabloid.

I don’t fault the current staff for ending the print edition. They’re brave for doing what the rest of us pushed off. The writing was (literally, in the ed office) on the wall.

The funny thing about newspapers, though, is that they might be the last thing that really lasts. As a professional journalist, I regularly rely on archives of dead papers to tell me what happened before. I relish seeing those names and thinking about the other people who got to be as lucky as I am.

As we tried to upgrade our online presence, we lost things. Links started to break. The spiffy multimedia spreads and 3,000 word features we slaved over no longer exist. That first print byline of mine? I have no idea what it was. The article linked in my tweet redirects to an error page. It’s probably for the best; I’m sure it’s God-awful.

I’ve been assured the actual article does exist somewhere on The Diamondback website. That’s probably true. But it doesn’t have my name on it.

So long, old friend. I’ll miss you.

Danielle Ohl worked at The Diamondback from 2013 to 2017 and was the editor in chief for the 2016-17 academic year. Ohl is now a reporter for the Capital Gazette and part of ProPublica’s Local Reporting Network, in addition to being chair of the Chesapeake News Guild.

Directed by Mark Landsman, the documentary follows the National Enquirer in its journey from mafia-funded gore rag to multimillion dollar publication.

The trailer is fast-paced and jam-packed, promising “Sex! Gossip! Scandal!” and an authentic look into one of the most corrupt and “perfectly placed” pieces of propaganda. It had me expecting salacious details about the magazine’s coverage of big names and faces: Oprah, O.J., Princess Diana, Elvis. But the documentary itself is far tamer.

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It’s well-produced, with animated clips of old issues of the Enquirer, footage of the journalistic beehive that was its newsroom and even interviews with some of the biggest names in journalism — Enquirer-affiliated and nonaffiliated alike. But the whole time I was watching, I was craving just a bit more — more details, more drama, more scandal. Scandalous had all the ingredients for a fascinating watch, but it just missed the mark.

For one, the shock factor of the National Enquirer hinges on its corrupt newsgathering practices. The revelation that its reporters were constantly using illegal methods — rifling through mailboxes, bugging phones and paying for sources — was supposed to surprise viewers. Maybe I have a cynical view of the news industry or had too high of expectations for juicy gossip, but that just wasn’t that shocking to me.

And, when the documentary did have a more interesting story to tell — such as the fact that the Enquirer was sent anthrax during the 2001 anthrax attacks, leading to a photo editor’s death — it sort of glossed over the story for the sake of keeping the timeline moving.

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There were, however, two standout anecdotes. The way the Enquirer linked O.J. Simpson to the infamous “ugly ass” Bruno Magli shoes (paying every sports photographer it could to look through their negatives to find a shot of him wearing them) was a side of the well-known story I had never heard. And learning about the lengths the Enquirer had to go to get a picture of Elvis in his coffin (paying a random old man to dress up as a priest, hide a camera under his robes and return to pay his respects as many times as it took to get the shot) was simply just funny.

Also notable was how much time Scandalous dedicated to Donald Trump’s connection to the publication. From early days when Trump would call in “anonymous” tips about himself, the tabloid had a good relationship with the president. And in 2016, the Enquirer killed a story about Trump’s affair with a Playboy model — an act that was found to have undue influence on that year’s presidential election. It’s stories like this that remind viewers that, as Carl Bernstein — yes, that Carl Bernstein — puts it at the beginning of the film, the National Enquirer should be seen as pop culture, not as news.

The documentary does provide a pretty insightful look into the tabloid’s constant influence on American life, but it just didn’t captivate me the way something literally called Scandalous should.

Seventh-grade me was among the 23 million Americans tuning into the royal wedding and one of countless viewers worldwide, spanning an estimated 180 countries. Like so many others, I’ve been a loyal follower of the drama that surrounds the British royal family.

While American pop culture tends to focus on modern famous families like the Kardashians, royal family drama has been plastered on the front of British tabloids and newspapers for generations.

William and Kate’s wedding was just one example of the power the royal family holds over international media. But now our focus — or at least mine — turns to William’s younger brother, Prince Harry, and his wife Meghan Markle, a former actress from Los Angeles.

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The Duke and Duchess of Sussex are expecting their first child in the coming days, and naturally, the British media are dedicating much of their coverage to the soon-to-be parents. Royal family enthusiasts like myself are searching for any sort of sign that “Baby Sussex” is coming, but Harry and Meghan are notorious for shielding themselves from the relentless media.

In fact, the two have already canceled the traditional royal family photo-op outside the maternity ward. Personally, those photos always troubled me. Kate Middleton has walked out of the hospital after giving birth to each of her children, looking prim and proper in a new dress, exposing her newborn baby to the vulture-like paparazzi.

Despite this, I’ve always watched the whole spectacle online, because no matter how many ethical issues surround the coverage of the royal family, I keep coming back for more.

Meghan has been affected by offensive comments — mostly racist or sexist — on social media since her relationship with the prince went public. During wedding preparations, numerous outlets claimed that she was a bridezilla, and the comments have only continued since Kensington Palace announced her pregnancy.

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The media conditions were, and continue to be, so bad for the couple that the Palace has issued multiple statements about their personal matters — a rarity for the royal family — to limit the constant berating.

Harry undoubtedly holds a skewed view of the media, as his mother Princess Diana suffered similar criticism while married to Prince Charles — she died in a car crash while being chased by paparazzi.

I completely understand where Harry and Meghan are coming from in trying to keep this important and personal moment to themselves — but I can’t help but look at this from the media’s perspective as well. Newspapers, blogs and other outlets have been banking on covering this baby’s birth since the pregnancy announcement came in October, but now, they are left empty-handed.

Even though the royal newborn will be shielded from the flashing cameras at first, it won’t last for long. Growing up in the spotlight comes with the royal territory. Sooner or later, this baby’s life will be plastered on the front of tabloids across the world, and you can bet I’ll be picking up my copy straight off the press.