To hear some girls talk, you’d think that every guy on the face of the planet is a conniving, black-hearted, candy-stealing blaggard who doesn’t brake for furry woodland creatures. I’d point out that they’re probably barking up the wrong trees, but people tend to not like hearing that they indirectly screw themselves over.

Where the single ladies often cross the line is when they go so far as to declare they’re gonna swear off boys. We’ve all overheard a girl say, “Fuck guys! They’re all assholes.” I was gonna use the term boy-cott, but it would look like I’m trying too hard. As a wise man told me, “That only reinforces the stereotype of the crazy bitch.” It brings to light a phenomenon I’d like to dub “angry chick syndrome” (ACS). No amount of cowbell seems to cure this business.

Some girls naturally have more severe cases of ACS. Others don’t seem to possess it much at all. Obviously, everyone’s got their breaking points. If you ever find your boyfriend making out with your best friend’s cousin’s family friend, then by all means make all the jokes in the world about throwing rocks at boys. But if it’s something insignificant and not worth getting pissed over, subscribe to Theresa-ism No. 23.

Theresa is my friend. She’s awesome. She ranks pretty low on the ACS chart. I know she’s awesome because you have to be awesome to have your own set of isms. Theresa-ism No. 23 is based on an incident in which she once said, “Ugh, he never texted me.” Shrug. “Oh, well. Maybe he died.” And then she got the fuck on with her life and never looked back. I know these things are easier said than done, but check yourselves, ladies.

Many a time have I been dragged out of a party by a friend because some villainous fella was present. Many a time have I been forced to listen to tangents that contain the phrase “I hate that asshole” so frequently that I could turn it into a drinking game. A source for the other side informed me that guys just jerk it more after a break-up, but womankind clearly prefers to get really angry instead.

The thing is females often forget that they’re not perfect and they do lousy things, too. In fact, they can be downright cruel to guys as well as each other. Just about every girl has strung a guy along who she never had any real interest in, to fuel her own ego, or just to take advantage. I’ll admit I once extorted a bunch of Jack in the Box from a dude and bounced. Girls verbally tear guys apart in ways they would never want to be spoken about. They’re often picky as hell, whether it’s over looks, status, or materials.

You can’t abandon the entire species just because a few of them don’t know what the hell they’re doing. A three-day hiatus is perfectly acceptable, but a holdout will never succeed – no one wants to hear about it.

First and foremost, there should be the obvious. You’re biologically hardwired to crave their sperm on an unconscious level. One of my friends craves it on a conscious level, actually – she has a poster of babies on her bedroom door. Luckily, she’s extremely hot, so it’s never really deterred anyone. Anyway, sperm should be handled with caution. It’s dangerous and has been known to contain babies. But without it, the human race would die out and the planet would be overtaken by robots and apes that would battle it out to the tune of a Hans Zimmer (who’s awesome, for the record) soundtrack in a Bruckheimer film. No one needs to see another one of those.

Secondly, some of them are actually really nice people. They’re good for holding onto your keys when you get kicked out of bars, lifting heavy things and explaining to you what a carburetor is. Some of them even write songs for girls they like, and if your name is Pattie Boyd, then shitloads of songs were written about you. The lesson here being that you should marry a rock star – two, if you can swing it. I doubt models who get their own songs spend a lot of time suffering from ACS.

Thirdly, somewhere out there is a guy who will do his best to ensure that your ACS only kicks in sparingly. He has all the best qualities of Zach Morris, Cappie, Ferris Bueller, Westley, Seth Cohen, Ari Gold, Jack Dawson – hell, maybe even a little Spiccoli, because I like funny guys who are smart but don’t always act like it. It’s too bad that none of the aforementioned exist. Balls.

MICHELLE RICK awaits your angry chick e-mail to marick@ucdavis.edu.

A particularly odd thing happened to me this weekend at Whole Earth. I was strolling along Sunday afternoon, headed toward Voorhies Hall to see if my bike was where I had left it the night prior. As I strolled, I heard the rustling of newspaper and looked down to see page two of last Thursday’s Aggie blow right past me in the pre-storm breeze. It was kind of eerie, watching myself drift in effigy off campus and into A Street.

I know Whole Earth is all about zero waste and whatnot, but I was in one of those contemplative hangovers and I thought it was oddly poetic to see myself disappear into a gutter. Plus, during one of those half-hour speeches between sets, some emcee clown admitted the festival was only 98 percent waste-free anyway.

But back to the wine that was flowing off my mind-grapes. I’ve been thinking a lot recently about disappearing.

As I must have mentioned before, this is my fifth and final year here at UC Davis. Thank God, too, because I wouldn’t have been able to afford it now. The recently celebrated Whole Earth Festival is one of my favorite aspects of being a student in Davis. (Holla at Sea-Moose, or however they spell it). I had a great time this year, and I’m glad I remembered what happened on Saturday night.

And just as I watched myself get blown away, it dawned on me that I probably won’t be coming back up to Davis for Whole Earth – or for anything else, seeing as in only a month’s time I am going to disappear from campus into the figurative gutter of Los Angeles.

I’ve been tripping out about it. I’ve lived in Davis for about three-and-a-half years straight, and ever since the beginning of this quarter, I’ve been looking forward to getting out of this flat town.

This past week, however, the imminent threat of relocating back into my high school room has terrified me. In Davis, I can get totally plastered and walk home at four in the morning. While I’m at it, I can pretty much walk anywhere in Davis from anywhere else. I don’t think that’s going to be the case in LA.

Back to Whole Earth. I had a blast because I got to see a bunch of my good friends who graduated last year. They told me I’m really gonna miss Davis when I move out, which didn’t help the general feeling of dismay, but I told them that the Davis they remember had left with them.

When the friends I was talking to left last June, about 80 percent of the people we all knew did too. The Davis I’ve been living in this year is a decayed shell of the good times they remember having. Don’t get me wrong – I still have a lot of great friends up here (except for you, and you know who you are), but it isn’t the same as it used to be.

Take Funk Night at G Street, for example. Last year, I would go every week and I’d know maybe 30 people dancin’ or drinkin’ or shootin’ pool. Sure ain’t the fact no mo’.

I’ve gotten used to it, though. Now I go to G Street and, well, I don’t even get in on Funk Night because that line gets way too fucking long. I’ve outgrown the need to wait in lines to get into dive bars.

As I’m not stressed about missing out on Funk Night anymore, I’m sure I’ll be able to adapt to not missing out on the rest of Davis. I’m just caught in that transitional shit, sitting on the precipice of the next chapter, afraid to step forward and unwilling to step back.

Maybe I’m tripping because I’ve been super bummed out about missing things this whole week. One of my favorite painters died on Monday from a stroke. So to honor the great man that was Frank Frazetta, I bought a sixer of fantastic beer and toasted his name as the last sun he ever saw set. It was a pretty great sunset, too.

That’s how I’ll part with Davis. I’ll drink to the last sunset of my collegiate career, and the next day’s sun will see me driving down The Five in a U-Haul. Goddamn, now that I think about how hellish the drive back to L.A. is going to be, maybe I’ll fail my classes and try for another quarter. I haven’t been to class once this Spring anyway.

WILL LONG was into Iron Man II. Scarlett Johnasson comes in red? One, please. It comes as no surprise that pretty redheads are my weakness. And it’s no coincidence that pelirroja and peligrosa are such similar sounding words. The Spanish know what’s up. Holler at Will at wclong@ucdavis.edu.

A mere three months ago, several UC Davis students lost a close friend in a drunk driving accident. Avi Schaefer was a 21-year-old freshman at Brown University, his life filled with such rare passion that his story has been filtered through various forms of media.

After graduating from high school, Avi and his twin brother, Yoav, moved to Israel and joined the Israel Defense Force. Experiencing the Middle East through his direct involvement in the Israeli Army taught Avi that the only path to peace in that region of the world is through dialogue and education. Avi always said that “the continual cycle of violence will cease only when both sides realize and understand the needs and aspirations of the other.”

During Avi’s short five months at Brown, he formed an unlikely friendship with a Palestinian student – a bond so rare, and one that they cherished dearly. They worked toward fostering a dialogue between Israelis and Palestinians on campus, and a curriculum of dialogue to teach in schools throughout Israel, the West Bank and Gaza

There are many valuable lessons that can be taken from Avi’s life – ones that are especially applicable here in Davis, and that directly affect thousands of people, most of whom are on college campuses. The obvious lesson that should never have to be taught is of the destructive force of drunk driving. The fact that a person who served for three years as a soldier in the Special Forces could be struck down by someone making a reckless decision should be a lesson to us all. There is never a time or reason to choose getting behind the wheel of a car while intoxicated; the life you would be risking is more than just your own. It goes without saying – use Tipsy Taxi.

Avi believed in the expression, “An enemy is someone whose story you have not yet heard.” This is a maxim that needs to be heeded here at UC Davis. In a period where our chancellor is writing guest opinion pieces, calling for peace and tolerance on campus, in the wake of severe acts of intolerance – swastikas carved on doors, racist parties, hate crimes to the LGBTQ community, and students being called Nazis because of their religion – this is an expression that should be taken to heart. We may not all agree with each other, and that’s okay, but what we need to achieve is the ability and willingness to listen to one another, find a common openness to our views and respect the fact that we are all simply human beings with varying opinions.

We all have one common goal: to live in peace. “Seek peace, and pursue it” was a favorite psalm of Avi’s, which speaks of what we all hope to see one day. Avi lived his life taking each step with this very thought, constantly aware of the ability we all have to create peace.

In honor of Avi’s tireless devotion to peace in the Middle East, several friends of his are seeking to continue his work here in Davis. Through the founding of an organization on campus seeking to foster dialogue between groups of Israeli and Jewish students and our Palestinian, Arab and Muslim counterparts (and all those interested in the age old conflict), we want to carry on Avi’s dream of peace.

You might have noticed a demonstration the other day on the quad. SJP put up an exhibit and pro-Israel students responded with their own materials. While there were those on both sides with passionate convictions, many of us on both sides were engaged in dialogue. To those that were willing to have meaningful and honest dialogue about our two peoples and our futures, I say thank you. It is not about convincing each other of anything or picking apart who did what to whom in history – that does not help us move forward. Both sides have their flaws, and the only thing we can do now is talk about what is next and how we can live together in peace.

For those of you who want a peaceful future for both sides, without bombs or checkpoints, curfews or terrorist attacks, I ask you to please seek out the other side and engage in dialogue. We need to follow in Avi’s footsteps and truly seek peace and pursue it.

The Student Farmworker Alliance protested last week to put pressure on Sodexo, the campus dining service, to support farmworkers’ rights. The alliance is urging Sodexo to work with the Coalition of Immokalee Workers (CIW) in order to agree on a payment increase.

The alliance is pushing to provide farmworkers with an additional one cent per pound of tomatoes, while they currently make approximately 45 cents for every 32-pound bucket. An agreement will bump up the current amount to roughly 70 cents per bucket.

Sodexo has already agreed to the increase but has not finalized a contract. Once Sodexo examines the feasibility of the increase according to its budget, it should actively work with the coalition to come up with contract terms – and sign it.

The tomatoes purchased under UC Davis Sodexo do not come from Florida. The tomatoes at the UC Davis dining commons come from California and Mexico, while tomatoes used in the ASUCD Coffee House may or may not be from Florida. Until the situation is resolved, Sodexo does not want to purchase Florida tomatoes, said Brenan Connolly, Sodexo general manager of resident dining.

Though the issue is not relevant for our campus, the push for Sodexo to sign the agreement will be stronger if it comes from efforts here.

Sometime in the future, Sodexo may have to make a decision concerning whether or not it should restart its purchase of Florida tomatoes. If it does, they should without a doubt be tomatoes farmed fairly. If Sodexo comes to an agreement, UC Davis won’t have to wonder whether the workers are paid enough money.

Student organizations, such as SFA, should remain in support of farmworker rights. In order to protect farmworker rights countrywide, Sodexo and the CIW are looking to work together to come to an agreement although there has been no new progress.

The U.S. Supreme Court signaled last month that there may be a future for California’s overturned law banning the sale of violent video games to minors.

In 2005, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger signed into law a bill that would allow the state to prohibit sales of violent video games to minors. The law defines a violent video game as one in which “the range of options available to a player includes killing, maiming, dismembering or sexually assaulting an image of a human being.”

The law was immediately challenged in court by video game developers, who claimed that it violated their First Amendment right to free speech. Federal judges agreed with the developers and overturned the law.

The Supreme Court is right to review this decision. The court’s final opinion will set an important precedent in an area of the law that is murky, according to legal scholars.

Though the proceedings won’t begin until later this fall, the arguments against California’s ban are worth revisiting.

According to statistics from the Entertainment Software Association, 92 percent of game purchases are made in the presence of a parent. Moreover, almost every major retailer – including GameStop, Target, Wal-Mart and Best Buy – already has a policy in place to prevent the sale of violent video games to minors. In light of this information the ban seems rather superfluous; kids aren’t buying these games for themselves anyway.

There certainly is a body of evidence showing a causal link between violent video game exposure and increased aggressive behavior among school children. A two-year study showed that elementary school boys who regularly play violent video games are more likely to get in trouble for fighting and other aggressive behavior at school. This evidence has not, however, sought to explain other causes of youth violence, which are more likely to be factors such as poverty, family instability and exposure to actual, real life violence.

In short, this law is the wrong approach to resolving the issue of youth violence. While the state has an interest in finding ways to reduce violence, the link between violent video games and youth violence is nowhere near strong enough to merit a breach of one of our most precious constitutional protections. The U.S. Supreme Court will have an opportunity to make that definitive in its decision next fall.

I’ve written before about how differences of opinion between my father and I can sometimes make our political discussions … tumultuous.

He is a lifelong Christian and I’m an atheist; he believes in restricting sex to marriage, and I identify as a sex-positive feminist who doesn’t think marriage or monogamy are requirements for having it; he thinks gay marriage shouldn’t be legal for religious reasons, and I think that all consenting adults, regardless of sexual orientation, should have the option of marriage. These differences of opinion are more easily defined with comfy ideological terminology by saying that my dad is very conservative and I am very liberal.

This major difference makes it understandably difficult for us to discuss my political writing, especially if he wants to give me advice. While visiting this weekend, he asked me if I had ever considered toning down my acerbity because of its potential to alienate readers who aren’t as liberal as I am.

“I’m worried that if people think that you’re just another far-left writer from the start, they won’t even finish the column,” my dad explained. “If you call someone a shithead -“

“I’ve never called anyone a shithead in my column!” I argued.

He gave me the look I’ve been getting since I was a little kid, the look reserved for when you’re caught prevaricating, like when you say you drank all your milk when you didn’t, or say that you don’t really like Star Wars just to piss him off. It’s a look that says I recognize your bullshit, and will patiently wait until you admit you’re not being exactly truthful.

It was a look well earned. No, I haven’t actually called someone a “shithead” in any of my columns (I don’t think …), but I have definitely used sarcasm to imply it. In situations where it would probably have been more persuasive or professional to explore and condemn the facts and not the person, I have chosen instead to be dismissive or inflammatory.

Although he didn’t invoke her name, my dad’s suggestion brought to mind my beloved Rachel Maddow, who manages to dominate her political opponents politely, clearly and without resulting to ad hominem attacks – you know, like “shithead.”

We went on to discuss just how inoffensive you have to be if you want to encourage people to rethink their opinions, while still maintaining your convictions. I was, and still am, conflicted about the line between speaking truth to power – calling the proponents of Arizona’s SB 1070 “racist” isn’t inaccurate because that’s exactly what they are, for example – and giving readers a spoonful of sugar along with an opposing viewpoint. I pointed out to my dad that being nice or rolling over or not calling out the authorities on human rights offenses only gives them license to carry on.

I was reminded, however, of how many times I’d come across a conservative article or interview and immediately hardened my feelings against them because of preconceptions. I’ve definitely switched the channel if I’m accidentally exposed to Bill O’Reilly or Rush Limbaugh (not Michael Savage, though. He goes beyond partisanship with his ridiculous ideas). But jabs aside, how many people have I alienated with this kind of attitude? How many opportunities to learn, and to teach, have I missed out on because of the ease of partisan mudslinging?

My dad and I didn’t resolve our debate – we never do, when it comes to politics – but it did convince me that I should make more attempts at diplomacy. Not because I want more people to like me (I have no illusions, based on some of the mail I get) and not because I don’t want to stir up debate, but because real debate takes place at a deeper level than name-calling and accusations given without solution.

HALEY DAVIS fulfilled her I-love-my-dad column quota for this year. She can be reached at hrdavis@ucdavis.edu.