The screech and thump of Lady GaGa. The testosterone-heavy air. The animalistic stench. The male grunts. The female chat¬tering. Everything in Archbold Gymnasium screams carnal. It’s a jungle of college mating rituals — even better for a field study than frat row on Thursday night.

If you need an acoustic/ambient/rock fix, local group The Icon And The Axe is dropping their debut album on April 18. For those who haven’t heard of the act, its MySpace page says Propaganda offers a sound that conveys the passionate search for truth paired with the melodies of a bygone era. And they ain’t playin’ either.

It was the first time his rose-colored penis entered a brown vagina. And it was the first time I learned that I was supposed to possess an arsenal of wild sexual skills, all because of my mahogany skin.

I am looking at an image of a man/beast-like creature hunched over as drool oozes out of his teeth. His hands are hovering over his head and his fingertips slightly scratch the surface of his skull. Planted on top of this zombie-looking beast are sev¬eral transmission line towers.

The first day I visited Ben, he never looked me in the eye, never acknowledged that I was in his home or photographing him. I was not invisible, and he made space for me, but he seemed miles away. This distance is just one of several traits that reveal the struggles Ben and his adoptive family, the Lehrs, have en¬dured for the past 30 years. Ben is autistic.

Comrads embrace destiny.

The lowdown on the get down with Sandy Johnson.

Become a Youtube sensation.