Write It All

Books I Read in 2011

2012-01-11T21:11:00.000-08:00

Chronologically, first to last:

Elizabeth Costello by J.M. Coetzee
The Pleasure of My Company by Steve Martin
Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Oblivion: Stories by David Foster Wallace
Quasi-Rational Economics by Richard Thaler
Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman by Richard Feynman
Shoplifting from American Apparel by Tao Lin
The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell
Made in America: An Informal History of the English Language by Bill Bryson
Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon
Black Noise by Tricia Rose
Waiting for the Barbarians by J.M. Coetzee
Investing in Kids by Timothy J. Bartik
Border Songs by Jim Lynch
The Piano Teacher by Elfriede Jelinek
Great Jones Street by Don Delillo
The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas S. Kuhn
The Age of the Economist by Daniel Fusfeld
The Pirate's Dilemma by Matt Mason
No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai
Exile and the Kingdom by Albert Camus
Siddhartha by Herman Hesse
1001 Facts that Will Scare the Shit Out of You by Cary McNeal
The Almost Moon by Alice Sebold
A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking
Why Choose This Book by Read Montague
That Old Ace in the Hole by Annie Proulx
Intellectuals and Society by Thomas Sowell
Candide, Zadig, and Selected Stories by Voltaire
Decisions, Uncertainty, and the Brain by Paul Glimcher
The Puzzle of Modern Economics by Roger Backhouse
The Natural History of the Rich by Richard COnniff
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
England's Dreaming by Jon Savage
Mostly Harmless Econometrics by Joshua Angrist and Jorn-Steffen Pischke
A Not-So-Dismal Science by Mancur Olsen
The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon
The Upside of Irrationality by Dan Ariely
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Foraging Theory by David Stephens and John Krebs
You Better Work! by Kai Fikentscher
Risk, Uncertainty, and Profit by Frank Knight
Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco
The Great Stagnation by Tyler Cowen
Evolutionary Ecology and Human Behavior by Bruce Winterhalder and Eric Smith
Death on the Installment Plan by Louis-Ferdinand Celine
Greed by Elfriede Jelinek
The Price is Wrong by Sarah Maxwell
College Choices ed. Caroline Hoxby
The Winner's Curse by Richard THaler
Qualitative Research by Sharan B. Merriam
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon
The Canon by Natalie Angier
From the Diary of a Snail by Gunter Grass
Neuroeconomics: Decision Making and the Brain ed. Paul Glimcher
Mathematical Circus by Martin Gardner
Identity Economics by George Akerlof & Rachel Kranton
The Fall by Albert Camus
The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano
Economics and the Public Purpose by James Galbraith
Foundations of Neuroeconomic Analysis by Paul Glimcher
L'Aventure Ambigue by Cheikh Hamidou Kane
Six Unsolved Ciphers by Richard Belfield
Methods Matter by Richard Murnane and Tyler Willett
A Short History of Financial Euphoria by James Galbraith
Retail Anarchy by Sam Pocker
Blunder by Zachary Shore
Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison
The Rational Optimist by Matt Ridley
The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell

Books I read in 2010

2011-01-01T21:37:00.000-08:00

Chronologically:

Last Night a DJ Saved My Life
Gravity's Rainbow
DUB
Geek Love
My Life in Orange
Damned Lies and Statistics
High Fidelity
How to Dunk a Donut
The Areas of My Expertise
In Defense of Food
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Existentialism and Human Emotions
How I Became a Famous Novelist
Off the Books
The Complete Stories of Flannery O'Connor
Asterios Polyp
Objectivity
The Road
A Power Stronger Than Itself
The Left Hand of Darkness
Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions
Infinite Jest
Mortified
Love in the Time of Cholera
A Treatise on the Family
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Anti-Gravity
Identity Economics
The Bonfire of the Vanities
The Black Swan
Humboldt's Gift
How to Lie with Statistics
Foe
Global Outrage
Crime and Punishment
Mason & Dixon
Beyond Freedom and Dignity
Your Mouth is Lovely
Techno Rebels
As I Lay Dying
Foundations of Rational Choice Under Risk
Sabbath's Theater
The Thin Place
Reflection Without Rules
2666
We Never Learn

Intangible Craigslist

2009-04-05T16:35:00.002-07:00

FOR SALE: One Identity, Slightly Used: Ran into a little existential trouble, willing to part with it for cheap, still runs fine. Comes with two credit card numbers.

M4W: Want to meet up and stare at eachother while we imagine fucking eachother's brains out, then go home? sound s hot 2 me call me

STRICTLY PLATONIC: Building a theoretical Republic, anybody who wants to help come by, 5-6:30pm TONIGHT!

LOST: One virginity, please return. Will reward.

FREE: Come n get it!! got a fledgling democracy in my bkyard, freedom 4 all

MISSED CONNECTIONS: I was signifier, u were signified, but sumthin came btween us please call

I Google Me

2009-04-05T16:35:00.001-07:00

- Found that paper I wrote on trains in the third grade! Wow!
- Oh good, that nonprofit I worked for lists my name on their website. That'll be good for my resume.
- My ex put me on her Facebook "25 Things I Hate" list?! That's kinda petty.
- Oh wow, I'd forgotten all about that beer drinking contest I won in Reno.
- Why is my name on this racial hate site? They have a picture of me, too! I don't remember this at all!
- This editorial is totally wrong! I am definitely not a serial killer.
- I'm on the front page of CNN! "Wanted fugitive??"
- Oh look, the Amazon review I wrote on the candy-making kit. That kit was... Hey, what's that knock on the door? Are those sirens?

Pizza Disagreements

2009-04-05T16:34:00.002-07:00

To Gerald Ferradoxine, esq.
WHEREAS, there was a pie of pizza to be ordered from a local practitioner of the FOOD to be delivered forthwith and with speed to the location in which both parties were residing,
and WHEREAS, the author of this letter did insist that he would be unwilling to consume or, indeed, to pay for any pizza unless it were to contain a reasonable trace of cheese, specifically of the mozzarella variety, as originated in the great land of ITALY,
and WHEREAS, the addressee did whine like a little six year old CHILD about wanting a vegan pizza, defined as one without a reasonable trace of CHEESE and therefore totally lame,
and WHEREAS, you forced the author of this letter to pay for the pizza because you "forgot your wallet," and further forced the author to view the film "Moulin Rouge" despite being informed that it was totally not the author's thing,
and WHEREAS, you were later seen eating a god damn chicken wing and aren't even vegan anyway and don't give me that "thought it was tofu" bull you tried last time,
it is THEREFORE DETERMINED that you a douche.

Time-Savrs

2009-04-05T16:34:00.001-07:00

- No time to watch movies? Just read the plot summary on Wikipedia! Just as good!
- Like music, but it's cutting into your study time? Play it at double speed!
- Cut your food shopping time in half by eating nothing but cured cabbage. It's the manna!
- Getting dressed in the morning? Just pick one pant leg! It's all you need.
- Internet too slow? Print out the whole thing beforehand for easy access!
- Takes too long to chew your cured cabbage? Just swallow it whole, then drink some extra stomach acid to help digest. Mmm-mm!
- Boyfriend/girlfriend wants all your time? Get them to cheat on you. Then you only have to deal with them half the time!
- Too much homework? Don't do it!

I Hate My Mac

2009-04-05T16:33:00.001-07:00

Now, I'm no 'computer person,' or anything like that, but I know a lemon when I see one, and darn if that lemon ain't the brand new MacBook sitting on my desk.

Viruses and trojan horses, and heck! Even an ad-ware or two. I can tell they're just peeking at my hard-earned credit card numbers. Those little lights flash up and I know that another doggone hacker done broke in my computer!

"Sure," you may say, "maybe you got some of them viruses there, but why can't that spyware checker you got find it then?" Well I'll tell ya! Those good-for-nothing anti-viruses software don't know enough to catch true hackers! These guys got connections! Maybe even connections to the anti-virus software company. A little money out the back door so I have to have a dang lemon computer what needs fixed.

Giant hacker compounds is what they have. Yep. Underground! Thirty windowless stories dug in the ground of young men with wasted potential, just sittin' there n' hacking away. I can tell. When I get close to their underground lair, the shift key starts to feel sticky.

Tech support ain't help to noone neither. "Genius Squad?" Ha! Call up those little assholes, they tell me "No, sir, sorry, but Safari was not programmed by the Freemasons." Sure it wasn't. That's why the logo's a compass.

I need to find a way to fight back against these forces conspiring to make my computer nothing but a dang ol' lemon! But I just can't. It's too big for me. Bigger than all of us, really.

And to top it all off, the dang word processor takes way too long to start up! Like thirty seconds, I ain't kiddin'!

Newsetry

2009-04-05T16:30:00.000-07:00

Wide arms on a stimulating package
From where comes the money?
To where does it go?
And will the road it drives on finally be fixed?

---

There once was a home in Pakistan
That was hit by a bomb (not the plan)
Nine innocents died
And the pilot, he sighed
'Cause he heard about Britney's new tan

---

Dark eyes gaze at the jar of peanut butter
The last bite was safe, do I dare another?
Were I to die, who would tell my poor mother
to sue that fuck Planters, and get lawsuit butter?

---

The state? of the union
Words trickle down me like a
cat
on
a
bed
sleeping
serenely
I stare at the light peeking through my window, haranguing my thoughts and distracting my date with Obama.
"Wait," it says,
"Cars were invented in Germany, not America."
Impeach-
the-
asshole.

Online Tech Reviews by SDK1125

2009-02-22T16:52:00.001-08:00

A Computer:
GOT HARD DRIVE, FLOOPY DISK DRIVE, GOT SCREEN YOU CAN PLAY VID GAMES ON. A+

An iPod:
CHECK OUT YOU PUT YOUR PIC ON HEER YOU LK AT THE PIC ALL THE TIME. SOME PEPLE PLUG HEDFONES IN IT BUT YOU CANT HEAR A PIC SO WHATEVER. B-

An Alarm Clock:
GOT SOME CRAZY RED LINES ON HEEER. YOU LOOK THEM ALL DAY BUT THEY DONT MKE NO FUKIN SENSE F- SUX!!

A Toaster:
PUT IN SM BREAD WORKS PRETTY GOOD M

Crazy 8 Ball:
GOT SYKIK POWERS NOW, THANX. MADE GF DO LAUNDRY. B

A Mouse:
PET SNAKE CHOKED FUCK YOU F-!!!!!!!!!!!

Cute Sweaters

2009-02-22T16:51:00.000-08:00

How long has it been since you put on a cute, cuddly-wuddly little sweater? Maybe with some cats on it, or a Christmas tree? However long it's been, it's been too long! That is, unless you're wearing one right now. Who wants ice cream?

Have you been wearing the sweater I got you for Christmas? The one with Santa riding on a sleigh with children, pulled along by good old Rudolph, dropping presents from the sky? I know it's not Christmas anymore, I just love that sweater on you. Won't you put it on? Please? Oh please just put it on. Put it on or I'll cry.

Thank you. You make me so happy. Let me just pinch your cheek. Oh look, there's a piece of lint on your sweater. Let me just get that for you. There you go. All better!

Some people just don't appreciate my sweater collection. It's full of dancing teddy bears and children's drawings, and the details are outlined in sequins! That's just plain classy! People have told me that my sweaters are too boring, but that's just not true! If I ever need a little excitement, I can just go "crazy" with my Taz sweater. He's such a kooky character!

I hope you appreciate all these sweaters. You know, when I'm gone they're going to be all yours. Can you imagine that? All I left to your cousins is this dumb old house and my vast fortune. You get the best part of all: the sweaters! Just imagine jumping into that pile of sweaters and swimming around. That's what I do!

Now just come here and give your old 'na a hug. Ahh, yes, that's better. Just you and me, sweater to sweater, forever and ever. Isn't that great? You'll have plenty of sweaters and even though I'll be dead and rotting in the ground, you'll be wearing them every single day! Isn't that right? Tell me that I'm right. Tell me now.

Open Source Tech Review

2009-02-22T16:49:00.000-08:00

Today we will be reviewing IBM's brand new Pile of Junk [changed "DVD drive" to "Pile of Junk" since that's pretty much what it is - SamsungLova]. Released in the past few weeks [Not sure about this--- creation science has debunked carbon dating, so how do you really know? - JerryAndrews], this drive is compatible with Pile of Junk, Pile of Junk, Pile of Junk, and even Linux [just checking in - gotta go for accuracy - SamsungLova]. We will be testing the drive's capabilities and strengths in an unbiased way [Unbiased? HA HA. write this in Esperanto. English is tainted with the blood of thousands, murderer - RazeurFists].

First we set up the Pile of Junk [sup - SamsungLova] on a nice flat surface [are you sure it was ABSOLUTELY TOTALLY flat? did you use a protractor? This is very important. Please get back to me. - _____] and plugged it in [please change this sexist wording - AmeeLily] to the computer [changed this back. please leave, SamsungLova, or i will alert the moderators - LilSnitcha]. The results were amazing [Changed "astounding" to "amazing." please be careful not to violate copyright law, the magician's lobby is very strong. - JacktheAstounding].

The Pile of Junk [can't stop me, assholes - SamsungLova] was created [changed from "has evolved," please don't fall for the secularist lies - JerryAndrews] from its initial status as a lame goose [changed from "duck." fuck you buddy. i didn't work all my life at the pond eating breadcrumbs just to get called names - MarkMallard] product. The reading speed [changed back from "shitting speed," SamsungLova I am warning you the consequences will be DIRE - LilSnitcha] was faster than expected, and the Butt Cord [hahahaha - SamsungLova] was strong, unlike the last one [oh please, the last one was TOTALLY FINE. who wants to watch a dvd all at once anyway? movies are too fast these days. KIDS. - Sinatra1930].

Overall, this is a purchase we'd [changed from "I'd." please don't get cocky - NarutoBuff] recommend [changed from "shit on," SamsungLova your posts are childish and immature. i am calling in the moderator. i hope you're happy - LilSnitcha]. The price is about right [maybe change title to reflect sorrow over the retiring of the one god bob barker. rest in peace (because you are retired) - LoveCats], and it should be available at any major retailer. Don't miss your chance to get one now [You know who never got a chance? aborted fetuses. ENd ROW V WAID - GunsnButter] [Come off it. you have no right to my body - AmeeLily] [Do you want to send those little babies to hell? Why do that? Please save them. - Jerry Andrews] [Hey Hitler, do you just want to control everything? Go Goering yourself - 1984EVA] [BUTTS COCKS SHIT MAYA IS A DONKEY - SamsungLova] [Hey racists, leave your hands off black womens' bodies. And who's Maya? - PrincessUnicorn] [YOU are the real racist!! Affirmative action is racist!! Racists!! - GunsnButter] [EVERYONE IS BANNED - Moderator] or you'll miss out on a great product!

Bringing Technology to History

2009-02-22T16:48:00.004-08:00

* 1970 - Brought them a CD. They thanked me for the "Beatles-Themed Frisbee." I stopped them from throwing it but they called me a "bummer."

* 1945 - Showed up with a cell phone. "So you can go everywhere with a phone, can you?" they said. "But can you kill some fucking Nazis?" I could not. Also couldn't get any reception.

* 1800 - Gave a pair of Crocs to a woman. Ended up tied to a stake for three days for encouraging lewd behavior.

* 1500 - Found Leonardo da Vinci, gave him a toy helicopter. He tied a paintbrush to it and thanked me for this far simpler method of painting on the ceiling. "No way that Michaelangelo fuck is getting the contract now!"

* 1000 - Gave a peasant a Macbook Air. "Oh good," he said, "another thing we can use to shovel our shit."

* 30 - Gave Jesus a sleep number bed. He couldn't decide which side he liked best so he laid in the middle with arms outstretched.

* 2600 BC - Handed a video camera to the Egyptian pharaoh's court. They immediately started vlogging the pyramids.

* 10000 BC - Gave them a gun. They shot my time machine and now I'm still here.

Funding Circus Minutes

2009-02-22T16:48:00.003-08:00

10:00AM Spaghetti and wine in Vollum. Some vegan complained about the meat sauce. The student government now has no more vegans.

10:10AM Escorted by armed guard to the mediation room. An assassin from the Clark family is found, taken to 28 West for "questioning."

10:20AM Don Judge-Lord gives opening statements: "We are honored to be blessed by the presence of all the people in need of our assistance. Let the ceremonies begin." He removes his cape and sits down.

10:30AM Renn Fayre representatives enter the room, offering tribute.

Don Judge-Lord: "Ah yes. What a lovely stock of... ice cold coca cola. You are truly blessed. You may have your funds. Do not disappoint me." After kissing his ring, the czars leave the room, sweating.

10:40AM The Quest Board enters the office. Don Judge-Lord faces the window, hands held behind his back.

Don Judge-Lord: "You come in here to ask me for money? After offering such... disrespect? I love the bylaws like I love my own daughter, and you treat them like they are nothing."

Quest Board: "But Don, please, we went to your daughter's wedding! Do you remember? We paid our respects!"

Don Judge-Lord: "You are no family to me."

10:50AM: Bathroom break.

Door to Door Safety

2009-02-22T16:48:00.001-08:00

Hello, ma'am. How are you doing today? No, wait, please don't slam the door. Did you know that slamming the door is a leading cause of my nose being broken? It's true. Yes, I will come inside. Thank you.

Ma'am, it is imperative that you pay attention. Look around you. See that lamp? If it were ever to be turned off, you might stub your toe in the dark. And that kitchen table? This may come as a bit of a shock to you, ma'am, but wood is flammable. Let me demonstrate. See those scorch marks? That could have been your hair. The table has to go.

Yes, ma'am, you're right to be frightened. There are dangers all around us every day. Have you ever considered the possibility that in an emergency, a thread of your clothing will get caught, preventing your escape from a deadly situation like a computer crash? This is why, as you may have noticed, I wear only saran wrap.

Physical dangers are not the only threat to worry about, ma'am. Identity theft is a growing problem. For example, by simply paying off your neighbors and rooting through your trash, I was able to charge thousands of dollars to your credit card. Don't worry, I spent it all on very safe things. Although for next time, I would be appreciative if you were to sanitize your trash a little better.

I can see you're worried. This is understandable, ma'am. However, you must try hard to stay calm. Worried people themselves are a source of danger. Ma'am, calm down or I will have to call my associates to remove your children from this dangerous home. No, ma'am, I said calm down, not scream. I'm sorry, ma'am, but your children will now be taken to a much safer location. I hope the well-being of your children relieves you a little.

I can see that you're upset. I was upset too, the first time I learned about all the dangers in the world. Please don't cry. Tears are a common vector of contagious diseases. I will have to protect myself by getting away from you. Please be kind enough to dump this bucket of sunscreen on my head and I'll be off. Ma'am? Ma'am, please.

Why you, you ask? You see, ma'am, I found your name and address on a list of people who did not pay attention to the airplane safety briefing. Yes, ma'am, they do keep track of that.

Valentines for Plants

2009-02-22T16:47:00.001-08:00

(FRONT) I want to buy you diamond rings.
(INSIDE) But you already have so many regular ones.

(FRONT) I wish I could give you the sun, the moon, and the stars.
(INSIDE) Especially the sun, I know you really like that one.

(FRONT) I'm stuck on you.
(INSIDE) What a sap!

(FRONT) You're growing on me.
(INSIDE) 'Cause you're such a fungi.

(FRONT) You'd better not leaf me!
(INSIDE) I made this card out of the pulp of my exes.

(FRONT) We really have something special.
(INSIDE) The others are green with envy.

(FRONT) I am irreversibly emotionally damaged from having previous lovers treat me poorly.
(INSIDE) I'm glad you're inanimate.

Sarah Snub Sparks Scandal

2009-02-22T16:45:00.000-08:00

Controversy erupted this Friday at Alameda Elementary when seven-year old Sarah Henderson refused to bring a Valentine for fellow classmate Corey Parker.

"I don't like him!" Sarah reported. "He's a poop!" She then giggled.

This snub is the latest in the long history of coldness between Sarah and Corey, which famously began last March when Corey pushed Sarah down during recess. Sarah told reporters that she did not feel the twenty minute time out was a sufficient punishment.

"It was a miscarriage of justice, and I'm not getting him a Valentine, so there!" Sarah then stuck out her tongue.

"Obviously, I'm disappointed. I made it very clear that students were not to bring Valentines unless they brought one for each student. That's why I gave her a detention," said Mrs. Swanson, the students' teacher. "What he did was wrong, but we won't accept vigilante justice."

A small group of radicals had planned to protest the detention, but they forgot and played kickball instead.

Caricature Artist Speaks Out

2009-02-22T16:38:00.000-08:00

The quickest way to a person's heart may be through their stomach, but the quickest way to their soul is through their face! Too many people don't really appreciate the services we caricature artists provide. We sit outside all day, taking on all comers. It's a grueling job, but a rewarding one.

Look at a caricature. What do you see? I see honesty. The giant nose I draw on a child is the nose they feel on the inside. The nose whose nostrils, until now, have been unable to breathe free the air of the world. Perhaps each of us has their own special nose, tucked away in some secret place. Show me your nose, and I will show you yourself.

It's truly an art. I mean, duh, it's an art. I'm drawing. But I mean it's really an art. It searches our ideals and pulls out the commandments that make us who we are. It's like double-art. I wonder how many arts it is if you make a caricature that goes really really deep into the soul? Probably like five. I'm operating at a three-art level, myself, personally (me).

But back to the point. Who are you truly, beneath that three-dimensional veneer? I bet you don't even know. I only need to take one look. You. You're a spaceship type of personality. And you, you, you're in front of a chalkboard. And you? Oh my god. You're a dune buggy. Get out of my sight.

I'm not going to say that caricature drawing is the most perfect thing you could do ever. That would be taking it too far. Let's just say it's the most perfect thing you can do as a human being and leave it at that. I don't want to come off as self-important. Because it's your self that's important.

People ask me, sometimes, if I can draw them a certain way. No, no I can't. I can't lie to you, lie to your whole family, lie to everyone who might ever see the caricature which I will give you and you will then hang on your wall. So stop whining when I give you buck teeth. It just means you're insightful.

Caricatures, caricatures, caricatures. I am the moving artist of the night, although I work exclusively during the day, on the pier. I caricature the squirrels, the sun. I caricatured a bowl of fruit. I didn't call it still life. I called it real life. The secrets of your mind will be revealed to me and my pen as you sit in my chair. So beware, meek denizen of the boardwalk. Do you really want to know thyself? I do. I am born into the life I was meant to lead. So approach me slowly, that I might put pen to paper and give you the gift of yourself.

This Week in Calculator Words

2009-02-22T16:37:00.000-08:00

When the communist presence on the internet is surprisingly okay with pollution:
36718 361780 56078 3145708 ,4506

What the last president did on January 20th, 2009:
.0.4.8 53760 ,54615 ,5306 .8.6

Pigs knew about global warming all along:
8176 5604 ",45008" 5306 ,57108 38016

Santa's best gift idea ever:
58008 5807 461375

Why ear doctors are so rich:
3215-607 53704 !218 618 53807

How Hitler gets a cab:
57134 34

The Mission of the Pamphlette

2009-02-22T16:35:00.000-08:00

10-4, good buddy. Check the rear view mirrors. Rearrange the convoy. Leave no man behind. Batten down the hatches. Don't for one second look up, look around you, waver from your mission for even a moment, or you may lose grip of the spirit of Reed, the Reed indomitable spirit, enmeshed in our holy vision of a weekly student newspaper. For we are the light, the guide, the pioneer to the heart of the Reedie. For we are The Pamphlette.

Our prophecy is to sanctify the campus with the word, The Truth. "Pamphlette" is derived from its latin root "Pamph" which means "truth" in Sanskrit. And we will work tirelessly to bring that prophecy to life, such that Nicolas Kristopolous, the holy founder, might return to bring back with him all the Pamphlette readers to the kingdom of paradise. Amen.

And in that holy hour, when the light is dim but the spirit is bright, we will emerge from the depths of the Reed Library and we will call to the Doyle Owl: "FREE US, FREE US FROM OUR SINS!" And we will masturbate to The Iliad and we will complain about our thesis, and cum will flow like wine in a Dionysian festival of cum.

We are one. We are Reed. We are PAMPHLETTE.

Remember that slogan, that piece of linguistic harmony, as you wander through your day, waiting for those hallowed Mondays (or sometimes Tuesdays) when the writ falls into your hands. We work hard to bring this to you. The ink is mixed well with our blood and our tears, and stirred with our fingers, worn down by our labors.

And so we are, standing strong. The weight and eyes of the world are upon us. We glimmer with vaseline and the hope of a campus.

We plant our flag of editorial control on the tip of the highest mountain. And you watch, attention rapt as the world turns around us. We hope that you are paying attention, because nothing is more important than the administration of the local school newspaper.

Well SOMEBODY Sucks

2009-02-22T16:34:00.000-08:00

YOU SUCK

Hey jackoff, why don't you come down to my house and I'll show you where you can stuff my mailbox: up your asshole. I'm trying to find a place that's big enough to store it, and I'm thinking your cavernous butt is a great location. It works out perfectly: your head is always stuck up there anyway, so you can read my mail.

Your face is so ugly, I'm almost thankful for your fashion sense. After all, nothing can draw the eye away from an open sewer like a car wreck, and believe me, that shirt definitely qualifies. Where do you get your clothes, anyway? Do you shop at goodwill right after tourist season is over?

Hey, at least you've made one person proud! Your mom must be so grateful that you've never tried to impress anybody else in your life. It just means you're close to her.

NO, YOU SUCK
Hey buddy, nice little diatribe there. Your third grade English teacher must be so pleased that you finally learned how to read and write! And let's not forget all the people whose lives you've made better with your patronage: the porn dealers, the authors of Marmaduke, and the barons of the grease industry.

Anyway, don't worry about it. I'm sure someday you'll find someone willing to sleep with you. And by the time you do I'm sure Universal Health Care will be in place, so when you have to cure yourself of every STD at once it will be free.

Who could resist loving a little scamp like you? Besides the haircut straight out of a Michael Jackson music video, the aversion to bathing, and the inability to do anything worthwhile with your life, you're just a bundle of fun. Speaking of which, give my regards to that one kid in middle school who was willing to talk to you, if he hasn't killed himself yet.

An Admission from the Desk of Carter Brighton

2009-02-22T16:32:00.001-08:00

Americans, when you elected me I assured you of one thing, one thing above all others: honesty. My contract with the people is to peel back the layers of Washington obfuscation to reveal my acts like a stripper releasing herself from the confines of her ever-so-tightly fit unmentionables.

On that note, we will begin. As some of you may have heard, it is indeed true that my daughter has been seen frequenting strip clubs recently. It is imperative that I point out that she is an employee of these strip clubs - my daughter has never been nor will she ever be a lesbian; I've seen to that. The criticism she and I have received for this I find reprehensible. Since when do we disparage our young citizens for getting a job and contributing to society? I, for one, support my daughter in any endeavor she chooses to take up, one dollar at a time.

Another issue I fear I must address is the accusation, made with a disturbingly increasing frequency, that I used state funds to line my own pockets. It appears that political discourse in this country never moved past 19th century 'fat cat' caricatures, so pathetic is this allegation. I hold, and believe that my constituency will agree, that the purchase of knick knacks from my home for multiple times their value is simply a service I provide! Where else is the state going to find things to put in the museum of me that I'm having them build?

Of course, there is still the lingering issue of my vote on the Passover Bill. While I have been criticized for my support of this measure, I stand strong in my convictions. And really, isn't that what you should want in a politician? You know where I stand. Anyway, I only voted for it because I didn't think it would actually pass. My sincere apologies to anyone who lost their first born child. However, I still contend that we need to find some way to reduce college overcrowding in this country, and you can't say I haven't tried.

And so I've bared my soul to you, the American people. I hope you value honesty and integrity in your politicians, for I think that in this I have proven myself a paragon of both. In closing, I count on your support as a member of my constituency. That's why I'm happy to announce a new campaign tax, funds from which will ensure that the incumbent senator who is the most loved by the people (as determined by me) gets just a little help with their election campaigns. Just another way to fight those slimy government insiders in Washington!

TV Listings

2009-01-27T19:35:00.000-08:00

8:00PM Two and a Half Men
Charlie and Allen go on a photo taking tour of the Louvre. Jake begins a sincere discussion on the status of photographs of art as art. Jimmy Fallon guest stars.

8:30PM The Office
Dwight quits his job and builds a home for himself on a beach where he can be alone. His beachside shack is found only after vigorous detective work by Jim. Dwight’s remains are inside, his hand clutching a diorama of himself as a Christ figure, revealing the squalor of broken dreams and loneliness.

9:00PM House MD
House begins writing a novel, a deconstructionist analysis of his own anger and pain. Upon completion of his masterwork, he finds international fame on the writing circuit but discovers he has lost his ability to cure people. We are all warned never to question the miraculous gifts we receive from almighty God. Plus, House acts like an asshole.

10:00PM The Biggest Loser
Blaine and Gregory consider the possibility that weight issues are not as important as reconnecting with their children who have refused to speak to them for ten years. Despite their offers of graciousness and kindness, their children refuse, reciting to the secret camera a monologue about bridges best left burnt. Blaine cuts out a section of her stomach, crying, and lays it at her son’s feet.

10:30PM The Simpsons
Homer displays through communicative dance his discouragement at being the eternally bumbling drunk father figure, relaying to Lisa the futility of any attempts at escape from the life which is so beneath her. Distraught, she detaches fully from the world and wastes away to nothing in a misguided attempt to free herself from earthly necessities. Her final words are spoken as she lays in her mother’s arms: “Kill yourself.”

Global Warming Debunked Due to Cold Weather

2009-01-27T19:34:00.000-08:00

Fears over global warming came to an end last week as people around the world uniformly noticed the cold weather.

"Yeah, right," said global warming denial expert Flatts Terrace. "Global WARMing my ass. It was thirty degrees today!"

Well-known propagandist and inventor of global warming Al Gore reported feeling humbled.

"I just never thought people would piece it together. How was I supposed to know that winter was going to happen and just ruin everything! You'd have thought I would have accounted for that in the theory. I rue the day I trusted those climatologists!"

The revelation has spurred a relaxation of environmental law. A press release from Coal Solutions, inc. expressed relief that they were not warming the planet and laid out a schedule for dumping more carbon dioxide into the air than ever before.

"I can just imagine that fat sack of shit Gore building a snowman right now. How's that for just desserts! Next time you try some fancy scientific 'theory,' make sure your global prediction doesn't contradict my personal, anecdotal, and momentary experience! I'm Flatts Terrace, dammit! And there ain't no scientist knows better than me!"

Flatts Terrace is well known for his recent book, Global Warming? In My Day We Called it Summer!

Joke Stolen

2009-01-08T15:34:00.001-08:00

Please help someone. Oh my god I woke up this morning and I couldn't find it. There's a thief somewhere. I'm just going a LITTLE off the HINGES here because I can't find my JOKE.

It was such a good joke. It started out with "hey there's something or other walking into a bar" and ended up being really funny. Where is my joke? I want my joke back. I can't imagine life any more without my joke. Please bring it back to me.

I called up my friend, who is a comedian. I asked him about my joke. "Oh, you lost your joke, huh? You know what that reminds me of? Octopuses. Why do they need eight legs? I got two and sometimes I trip up over that! I can't even imagine - eight legs! Ain't it crazy, folks? But no, seriously folks, I didn't take your joke I swear."

My friend said he didn't have my joke but I don't know what to do. I looked all over my house. I looked in the fridge. Under the couch. Inside the washing machine. There is just NO JOKE ANYWHERE please tell me where my joke is PLEASE I can't take it any more.

I went outside looking for my joke. I asked everybody on the street. EVERY SINGLE PERSON! But nobody knew about my joke. Someone tried to give me a new joke but it's not the same! I want my old joke back! Why is this happening to me?

I called up my comedian friend again. "Look, I'm tellin' you I don't have your joke. But you know what I do have? Not enough money! Always with money, you know, you never have enough! Isn't that crazy? I know I feel that way. But really, don't call me again today, I'm busy."

I shut off my phone and collapsed on the steps of city hall. I called to the sky, "WHY?" Why can't I have my joke any more? Where is my joke? I just want my joke back, please! That's all I'm asking for!

The mayor came out of city hall, and he looked at me. I looked back at him with watery eyes, wretched and jokeless on the ground. He shook his head at me. No! No, Mr. Mayor! Mr. Mayor I had a joke to tell you. "Well, where is the joke?" he asked. But I did not know where the joke was. He shook his head at me. "I'm very disappointed in you," he said.

The mayor got into a limousine. As he opened the door I noticed someone else in the car - it was my comedian friend! And he was holding my joke! "NO!" I yelled, and ran after the limousine. "Don't pay any attention to him," said my comedian friend, "or to tabloids! What is up with them anyway, it's like they make all those stories up!"

I leapt after the limousine, but it was driving away. It suddenly started raining and I fell on the ground in a puddle of mud. I could hear laughing... laughing at MY JOKE in the car as they sped away. I cried out to the world "WHY ME?" but it was too late.

Ever since then I have sat in my room, writing joke, after joke, after joke. But none of them are the same. None of them are quite as good. Why, oh why did you have to take my joke away?

Short Articles

2009-01-08T15:32:00.002-08:00

TIME RUNNING OUT
Prominent experts released a unified statement yesterday warning citizens that time was, indeed, running out.
"Be aware that you continually have less time than you used to. By the time you finish reading this message you will have even less. Sucks to be you!"
The message was prompted by the experts' invention of a machine that preserves the amount of time they have indefinitely. They do not plan on sharing.

CELL PHONES SAVE ANOTHER LIFE
Sheila Anderson ran out of gas in the middle of the desert last Tuesday. It was 110 degrees in the shade, and she had no water. Things looked bleak for the desert-hopper.
"I wasn't sure what to do! The Desert Patrol would have a hard time finding me, and wouldn't know where I was!"
In a stroke of luck, she had her cell phone with her. She was able to eat the phone, which gave her enough energy to wait for rescuers.

LITTLE BABIES ARE CUTE
Aww, did you see that little ol' baby over there? I just thought he was the cutiest, pootiest, little darling I have ever did see. I just wanted to go over to it and say "pookie poo! pookie poo!" but I have a restraining order. Still a cute baby!

BABY FILES FOR RESTRAINING ORDER
Yesterday millions of babies rejoiced at the first piece of legislation putting an automatic restraining order on anybody found guilty of pinching cheeks.
"It's a twavesty dat anybuddy is awwowed to degwade us in dis fassiun!" said Tyler Johansen, a prominent baby lawyer who took the case pwo bono.

DILL WEED
I don't care what those kids call me! So what? Maybe I wear four pairs of glasses and have no exposed skin due to my acne problems. I don't care! Let them call me a 'dill weed'! As a matter of fact, dill weed is a popular herb used in cooking, and is a part of such cherished delicacies as dill pickles, so maybe being a dill weed isn't so bad after all! Did you think of THAT, stupid bullies? Don't you like dill pickles? Maybe you should like me too! Please like me!

SNOW
Yesterday snow fell from the sky. Snow is a substance that used to be water but it got too cold! Then the little water droplets got kissed by God and fell from the sky so that we can play in it. What is your favorite snowflake? Mine too! Remember, don't throw snowballs at your mom or she will get mad.

SNOWBALL ASSAULT
CSO's are still investigating a mysterious snowballing incident which took place outside the Health Center yesterday. An unidentified assailant emerged from the bushes, threw a snowball, and managed to escape. The victim is now being treated for a really stingy cheek.

VEGETARIAN FOOD RECIPE
1. Take all your food and put it together.
2. Take out all the meat.
3. Cook it (slowly).

(The Last) Major Joke of the Week

2009-01-08T15:32:00.001-08:00

Economics major A: Have you seen Damon recently?

Economics major B: No, haven't you heard? He got addicted to opiates! He's been in the hospital for weeks!

Economics major A: But I talked to his boss at Lowe's recently, and she said he'd been coming into work every day!

Economics major B: She was probably just trying to save face.

Economics major A: Well, that explains why he's so hard to find. High Damon, and Lowe's up 'n lies!

Last Minute Spring/Fall Thesis

2009-01-08T15:29:00.000-08:00

Gender Inequality in Financing
by Lisa Gallows

Money issues continually plague woman at a higher rate then men (Lisa Gallows Bank Statement, US Bank 2008). This is bad. Sometimes women spent to much on thinks they could get cheaper (Safeway Coupon Book 2008). Sometims banks make loans (Banks.com 2008) but sometimes it is hard to get them. This is an important issue between men and women. "loan equality" has a 2,460,000 hits on Google (Google.com 2008). Similarly, "men women" has a G-rating of 57,900,000 (Google.com 2008). This paper will look at that.

Men have an easyer time getting money sometimes. "I do okay with money," some men say (personal conversation, Jared Darden 2008). Sometimes women go through other hardships as well, such as breaking up with your boyfriend or loosing a movie role (People Magazine 2008). Loans could help but banks will not give you a loan just bcause you broke up with your boyfriend or are running behind on your thesis (personal conversation, US Bank Loan Manager 2008).

Women earn les than men for the same job (Wal-Mart Employee Handbook 2007) and this can make it hard for loan. It should be easyer for women to be fiscally autonomous (Westlie Ford/Mercury Advertisement 2008). This is expressed in the fllowing behavior model:

$ = (Male + Job + Loan)/Inequality

Clearly you can see that this means things.

One of hte things it means is that there should be less inequality because thne there is more money ($). More money can be spent on things like McDonald's Dollar Menu (TV 2008). My conclusion is that therefore there should be less inequlity for men and women. If this were true it would be good (The Office 2007). The end.

Major Joke of the Week

2009-01-08T15:27:00.000-08:00

PHYSICS MAJOR A: So I've got this centipede tied by a string to a stake. Look! He's walking in circles.

PHYSICS MAJOR B: Wow! That's kind of cool. He's getting pulled inward, but he keeps trying to walk straight. Why is that?

PHYSICS MAJOR A: Centipedal force.

Places to Travel To

2008-12-01T22:49:00.000-08:00

LONDON
Where it is: ENGLAND
What it is: A CITY
Why you should go there: SEE A BIG CITY. LISTEN TO A FUNNY ACCENT. WEIGH YOURSELF IN STONES.

THE OCEAN:
Where it is: OFF THE SHORE
What it is: A BODY OF WATER
Why you should go there: SWIM AROUND. MAYBE SEE A SHARK. SHARK PETTING.

THE SUN
Where it is: IN THE SKY
What it is: A BALL OF GAS
Why you should go there: GET A TAN. BRING THE KIDS. DOGS LOVE IT TOO.

DUBAI
Where it is: SAUDI ARABIA
What it is: A CITY
Why you should go there: DUBAI IS A PRETTY FUNNY NAME. YOU CAN SAY YOU WENT TO DUBAI AND PEOPLE LAUGH.

A HOLE
Where it is: YOUR BACKYARD
What it is: A HOLE
Why yo should go there: SO YOU CAN BE IN A BIG HOLE. AWESOME.

Christmas Gifts

2008-12-01T22:48:00.002-08:00

HOT GIFTS TO BUY! Buy a blender! Blend up some shit! They'll love it. Turn around! Look in a store, you can buy more things, hot damn! Buying all over the place. Take your blender, throw it in the air! Wherever it lands, buy that too!

Got a cousin? Got two cousins? Maybe you have three cousins! Buy them all some chocolate. Buy them more chocolate! They'll be eating chocolate all the time! Fat cousins are good cousins for sitting on! Buy buy buy!

Your mom would love a loofah! Buy her a loofah! Showering moms all over the country want to lather up with a thing! Buy her a thing and also another thing! Do it again! Keep buying for God's sake.

Speaking of which, buy a Gift For God this holiday season! Fall down upon your knees in aisle three and burn a goat, letting the heavenly scent of consumerism waft up to His benevolent nose! Also buy him a universal remote!

Please buy. Oh for the love of everything please buy. I just want to feed my family. They already tried eating the decorative pillows in aisle six. Please. Buy my hair. I already sold my organs. Just buy. Buy yourself a pocket. Buy more things to put in it. Kill me.

Travelling Your Feelings

2008-12-01T22:48:00.001-08:00

Sit down. Were you sitting when you picked up this article? Please, take a seat. Take a breather. Take some time. Read my words, and embrace them, and understand.

Do you sometimes feel things? I bet you do. You probably feel things a lot. And that's okay. Just breathe deeply. Feel those feelings. Let them rise up to the outside of your body and discolor your skin. Green is for envy. Orange is for love. Blue is for suffocation.

Stand up. You were sitting, right? Well, now stand. Turn around. Look around you and swing your arms like there is nothing about you but air. Walk to a wall. Do you see how far you have traveled? I bet it is a pretty long way. Most people don't just have walls hanging around. Be thankful for that.

Talk to me. Talk to the article that I am writing to you. Tell it your feelings. Listen, I wrote a song about feelings.

When you open up yourself
To vulnerability
Then you put on the shelf
Your indignity

Does the song make you feel better? Sing it with a guitar nearby. Let the guitarist know how much you appreciate hearing their music. Write them a song of their very own. Title it To My Guitarist. Swim through your emotions. Buy a frequent flier pass, because you will be coming back here all the time. Come back to feel your emotions.

Now everybody sit in a circle. Everybody. If you can, sit in a circle with the whole world. If you can't, that's okay. There's always next time.

Imagine that you are a train, riding through the valley of your emotions on rails made of rational thought and slave labor. Look out upon the grassy fields of yourself. Make a snow angel if it is snowing. If it is not snowing, then don't.

If you feel that you have not traveled your emotions enough yet, then sit down on some stairs and think about it some more. Then some more. Once you have it, keep thinking for a while. You wouldn't want to stop cold turkey. Listen, I wrote another song about feelings.

Bring your baby through the train
The train of your emotions
And the baby of your rain
And the rain of your explosions

I am always writing songs about feelings. Sing it with me. I can hear you not singing. Don't try me. I know your feelings.

Major Joke of the Week

2008-12-01T22:46:00.000-08:00

JUMBO Theater Major Edition!

Tom: All right Jim, I've got all the planning done for the big theater festival. I just need you to okay everything.
Jim: Sounds good! Which plays have you chosen?
Tom: Well, I was thinking Anything Goes on stage one, The Comedy of Errors goes on stage two, and there would be Rumors on stage three.
Jim: What? I thought you had this all planned out.
Tom: I do! Didn't you hear me?
Jim: I expect to hear specifics from you!
Tom: Look, this is very easy. I'll start from the beginning. First, Anything Goes on stage one.
Jim: That seems a bit permissive. Shouldn't there be a play there?
Tom: There is!
Jim: But you're just saying that anything goes on stage one!
Tom: Exactly!
Jim: Now I'm confused. Just move on to stage two.
Tom: Well, The Comedy of Errors goes on stage two.
Jim: That's a good plan, but which one?
Tom: Which what?
Jim: Which comedy of errors?
Tom: The Comedy of Errors.
Jim: Yes! Which one should we put on stage two?
Tom: Um, The Comedy of Errors?
Jim: Yes! Don't ask me! You're the organizer! Don't tell me you haven't picked a play for the stage yet!
Tom: But I've already told you that stage two will have The Comedy of Errors!
Jim: But there are so many of them! If you don't pick one, stage two will just be anything goes!
Tom: No, that's stage one!
Jim: Augh!
Tom: Do you not like The Comedy of Errors going on stage two?
Jim: You know, people were telling me you didn't have anything planned for this festival, but I didn't believe the rumors on stage two!
Tom: Oh, that's because we've got Rumors on stage three!
Jim: What? What have you heard?
Tom: Just that we've got Rumors on stage three!
Jim: Not very interesting rumors.
Tom: Nonsense! We've got a good cast lined up.
Jim: So what play is on stage three?
Tom: I told you! We've got Rumors on stage three!
Jim: But you picked the play, shouldn't you know what it is?
Tom: I've told you Rumors!
Jim: So you're just leaving it up to hearsay? This is crazy! This is anything goes!
Both: Stage one!

Reviewing All Songs

2008-12-01T22:45:00.000-08:00

Welcome back! It's week number 4,327 and we're still working our way through EVERY SONG EVER. Those A's are over and done with! Time for the B's to take it OVER! It's alphabetical, rockers!

B - John Luther Adams
This song is slow, so I didn't really have time to listen to it! I got a lot of songs to get through, here. Sorry!

Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa - Cocteau Twins
This unreleased song has been sitting on a shelf since it was cut due to just being three minutes of setting up the microphones and someone playing 'Johnny B Goode' on the guitar. But it was titled, so it's probably a song! I'm not sure, though, since I didn't really have time to listen to this one, either.

Baba - Bunky
This song sure looked good and all, but to be honest I have this list of songs to review and it's like super long so I can't really dedicate the time I'd like to each one. The first two notes were great, though.

Babaa - Bunky
I'm not actually sure this song exists, it's probably a typo on the list. But that's convenient, since I can move right on to the next song.

Baba O'Riley - The Who
Okay, I'm going to apologize here. I actually had the time to listen to this one, but I totally forgot to do it. My bad. No, really, my bad.

Baba O'Rileyaaaaaaaa - The Who
This one is a typo too. Definitely sorry about that. I was kinda crunched for time when I wrote the list, so I maybe made a few mistakes.

Zurvan - Sir Richard Bishop
And here's the last song on the list! Is that right? You'd think there would be some songs that start with C, or maybe even H. To be honest, I'm not really sure how you alphabetize things. Anyway, this song is pretty good. It's got guitar, or something.

Well, guess that's it for "Reviewing All Songs"! Come back next week for my new column "Counting Numbers!" I'll be starting at one!

Nick Bradish Scandalwatch

2008-11-30T03:14:00.001-08:00

Tick tock, tick tock. That's the sound of the clock running out on Mr. Bradish's legendarily incompetent run as Student Body Vice President, one which rivals only Darth Vader act-alike Dick Cheney. At the very least we are relieved to know that you only have control of Reed College, rather than the country at large. The fact that this man is still in office betrays the apathetic nature of the school's impeachment board. Not only has Mr. Bradish shown unrepentant, endless contempt for even the notion of coherent and intelligible public service, but the scandals in which he has been embroiled display an arrogance towards the student body as a whole. How dare you, Mr. Bradish? How dare you?

Mr. Bradish's downward spiral began at the moment of his birth. Truly he is God's own mistake. But we were not able to truly realize the depths of his cowardice until the first scandal that erupted concerning the locks on the Student Union. The SU is the embodiment of everything noble and righteous about the democratic force of the student body. And you, Mr. Bradish, you locked the doors during scheduled events, ensuring that nobody would be able to get inside unless they were willing to lick your feet like a dog. You like holding the leash, don't you, Mr. Bradish? But I'm afraid slavery has long been outlawed, and your nefarious style of whatever you're doing that you call "leadership" is no such thing indeed. For shame.

But "lockgate," as it is known, only begins to plumb the depths of your infernal reign. And it is deep, Mr. Bradish. One could begin to dig through the human excrement of your administration in January and not finish until the last of the thesis notes are burning in a heap outside the library doors. One small sample of the feces that you call authority is the hundreds of dollars that you skimmed off the top of the student fund. "Quad cleanup," Mr. Bradish? The only thing you cleaned up was the student body bank account. While our beloved Quad still lies in ruins, discarded litter thrown everywhere, you sit like a king on your throne of inflated budgets and no-bid cleaning contracts for your buddies. Who could possibly argue that you even know what the word "fairness" means?

And this is only the beginning of the list that I could expound describing your indecencies, the indescrepencies you have committed while in office. Renting out the canyon to the homeless. Selling art theses for scrap. Silently taking control of the Quest board and forcing out all criticism of your tenure, pushing reasonable discourse to up-the-dial publications like The Pamphlette. In the sense of good decency and the only possible scrap of rational discourse in your tiny little brain, you must resign. Do you have any option left, Mr. Bradish? Can you make any argument for your continued eminence? I submit that you cannot. So resign, Mr. Bradish. After so long, so so long, finally execute the one propitous action that you can and must take. The honor of the school demands it.

Putting it In Context

2008-11-30T03:12:00.001-08:00

The country has been rocked by news reports of inflammatory statements yelled by McCain/Palin supporters outside of campaign rallies. Racist statements, threats of violence, and accusations of terrorism are common in these situations. Both McCain and Palin have denied the bloodthirsty nature of their supporters, and many of the rally-goers have come forward claiming that the mainstream media has misquoted them in order to fabricate a story. Today we'll be talking with some of these supporters.

"It's horrible," says Amanda Cavers of Columbus, Ohio. "Ever since I showed up on television, all my Democrat friends are callin' me a racist! I was misquoted!" Breaking into tears, Amanda explained herself. "When I said, 'ain't gonna be no darky president of mine!' I went on to say that I was talking about the dark times ahead if Obama was elected. The liberal media is so unfair!"

James Forrester of Raleigh, North Carolina, tells a similar story. "All I said was 'He's a muslim! He's a muslim! Blast the sand demon!' Now those liberal elites in New York City can spin it any way they want, but I meant to blast him with votes, not violence." When asked if he thought Obama was a muslim, he replied, "Um, well, duh. Everybody knows that." He quickly added, "Now lemme make it clear, I don't hate muslims. I just don't want them worshipping their moon god in the White House."

Allegations of racism aren't the only thing surrounding these Palin supporters, though. Many times the mobs outside the convention centers have threatened violence upon Democratic protesters. According to Mike Keller, however, they didn't mean it. Keller started an organization called "We Meant It Figuratively, Stupid Liberal Media," which is circulating a petition to show how figurative all these threats have been. Keller could not be reached for comment, but his answering machine message told us to "figuratively chop off the figurative heads of any figurative Democrats [we] see."

Possibly the most lasting image of these rallies is from Carrie Atwood of Savannah, Georgia, who stood for ten full minutes screaming "terrorist!" at protesters. We got a chance to sit down with her. "Now look, I was just taken a bit out of context. All I was saying at the time is that those protesters were just bein' a little bit terrorist, you know? All standing out there with their signs. It's a terrorist thing to do. Now I'm not a racist, I just don't want a black man to be president! Is that so bad? Not only is he black, he has black friends, too! Now how terrorist is that? See? It's all perfectly reasonable once you get to talk to me more."

Slow Burn

2008-11-30T03:11:00.001-08:00

I came home with the groceries on Friday to find that my house was on fire. My neighbor, a volunteer fireman on the weekends, was excitedly rummaging in the bushes near the burning corner. He noticed me, and grinned as he held up a cigarette butt.

“Yep, looks like this was your problem,” he said, and handed it to me.

“Thank you, Phil.” It was a Marlboro Red, the kind that I smoked.

“No problem at all!” He put his hands in his pockets and squinted at the blaze. “Looks like you’ll need someone to clear that up for you. Just give us a call tomorrow or Sunday. Be glad to come on out.”

“Thank you, Phil.” I walked up the steps to my door and went inside.

The groceries went in the kitchen and I lay down on the couch, in the living room, where I could see the fire. It had taken over the tall plant in the corner. The room was warm. I laid my arm over my eyes and took a nap.

I woke up several hours later to see that the fire had advanced a few inches into the room. Small flames licked at my overstuffed chair near the window. I pulled on the chair and slid it further away from the flame. Some of the fringe was blackened. I could have called the weekday firemen, but Phil was always so excited when the weekend volunteers got a chance. I could wait.

I unpacked the groceries in the kitchen. Brownie mix this week, for my sister, who had called me up and asked me to get it. She was coming over in remembrance of mom’s birthday. She always got so choked up over that sort of thing. Microwave popcorn in the top cupboard, cans of soup in the bottom. I opened my new box of cereal and took the milk out of the fridge. I always had a bowl of cereal before bed.

Saturday I woke up to the low roar of the flames in the other room. I got dressed and lit a Marlboro Red on the living room, taking it outside to smoke. The parts of the lawn nearest the house had turned black, and hints of brown fanned out towards the sidewalk. The corner of the house where the whole thing started had sunk a bit, the burned wood falling apart. If a hole opened, bugs would be able to get in.

From the porch I looked down the street as far as I could. There was Phil, dressed in his fireman gear along with a few of his buddies and the old minivan they had converted into a fire truck. He had a mobile in his hand, and he paced back and forth staring at the unringing phone as the rest of the crew sat by. I needed to remember to call him. My sister pulled up in her silver midsize sedan. I dropped the cigarette and crushed it with my foot.

She got out of the car with her large purse and was distracted by the flames dancing up against the front window.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“The house is on fire, Stacey.”

“Oh,” she said, “have you called the firemen?”

“I’m going to, today, Stacey.”

I motioned her towards the house. She switched her big purse from one shoulder to another and began rummaging as she walked. The doorknob was hot, and I put my sleeve over my hand to open it.

Inside there was only a slim walkway of unburnt floor leading through the living room. My overstuffed chair looked unsalvageable. I probably should have moved it further. Stacey followed behind me, sorting through the things in her bag and giving worried glances around the house.

“Um, did you already make the brownies? It smells like chocolate.”

I looked in the kitchen, and the entire room was up in flames.

“Looks like the brownies are gone, Stacey. Why don’t you put your things in the guest room?”
Stacey looked unhappy, but she carried her purse towards the extra bedroom. She called from the back, “This room is on fire! The bed is on fire! I can’t sleep in this room! What is going on here?”

I sighed. I hadn’t checked the back room. Stacey emerged.

“This is ridiculous. Why haven’t you called the firemen yet? Why is the guest room on fire? Why is the house on fire? This doesn’t make any sense. You don’t have any food, you didn’t get the brownies…”

“I got the brownies.”

“You let the brownies get burned up, what is wrong with you?”

She looked disappointed. She shook her head at me with her mouth gawking. She was going to get choked up like she always does. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I kept silent.

“This weekend was important.” She had the voice that she gets whenever she’s about to cry. I prepared myself for it to come. She reached into her purse again. “Here are some pictures, some new pictures I found in the attic at my place. I think that’s the last of mom’s pictures.” I reached for the pictures and didn’t say anything. She pulled them away.

“I’m not sure I can leave these here with you. I definitely can’t stay here with you.”
She walked towards the front door, pausing by the dining table.

“You’ve left the milk out,” she said, and finally her voice cracked and she began sobbing lightly. She reached for the door handle and recoiled. She used the fabric of her purse to guard her from the heat and opened the door. I heard the sound of her car starting up.

Sunday was uneventful.

On Monday I woke up to the sound of my alarm and the sense that I had forgotten to do something. The walls of my room were covered in small, licking flames. The place was unbearably hot. I had left the door of my room open, and so I looked down the hallway, which was entirely ablaze. I sighed.

Slowly opening the window next to my bed and unlatching the bug screen, I crawled out onto my dry, crunchy lawn. Across the street was Phil, sitting with crossed legs on the sidewalk, staring at my house with a look of betrayal on his face. I crossed the street in bare feet and pyjamas and sat down with him.

“Guess you forgot to give us a call,” said Phil. “That’s… that’s all right. Happens to the best of us.”

“Thank you, Phil.”

My house crackled. Sparks flew up, and smoke covered the street. We could feel the heat from where we were sitting. There was a great yawning sound, and at the same time the front window shattered, leaving bits of glass around the lawn.

“You know, I guess if you need a place to stay,” said Phil, “You can be at my place for a few days. I got an extra room, and, you know, until you’ve got a new place and all.”

“Thank you, Phil.”

The yawning sound repeated, and the main beam holding up the front door collapsed inward. The walls around it followed. One by one the beams fell, and soon, the whole building lay on the ground in a pile. Three days later, the fire ran out of things to burn, and died out.

World of Warcraft Boss Apprehended

2008-11-30T03:06:00.000-08:00

World of Warcraft boss Azergoth was apprehended yesterday following a helpful tip from an intrepid adventurer. For ages, players of the popular online game have tried fighting the world dragon using street violence. Night Elf Warrior xXxDarkSHAdowxXx was the first player who, upon seeing the towering monster, had the forethought to call the police, who showed up on the scene ten minutes later to arrest Azergoth on charges of being a dragon.

We were able to sit down with xXxDarkSHAdowxXx recently. "Some people get into the whole vigilante violence thing. Not me. I believe in law and order. So I saw him and I was like 'holy shit' and pulled out my cell. My friends got pretty pissed at me afterwards because they wanted to fight him. You just gotta leave that stuff to the authorities."

"We've been trying to bag this asshole for years," said sheriff Donald Highland. "He's really been causing a lot of trouble in the area. Check out the list we have on him. Blowing fire on stuff, sixteen charges. Crushing things, two hundred and four charges. Not dropping good loot, five thousand and six charges. A real menace."

The sheriff's office was thankful for the tip. "For some reason we never really thought of arresting him. It makes a lot of sense, you know? We gave the guy who called a medal or something."

According to trusted sources, the medal did not give any particularly interesting bonuses.

This is not xXxDarkSHAdowxXx's first time assisting in bringing villains to justice. "I was the one who got Bowser brought in on kidnapping charges. Turns out he's more afraid of SWAT teams than he is of being jumped on. Oh, also Sephiroth. Turns out he hadn't been paying taxes. Bet he wasn't too happy about that summons!"

Azergoth was not available for comment, but his trial will be in the next month. Without a boss, World of Warcraft is scheduled to shut down by the end of the year.

Major Joke of the Week

2008-11-30T03:05:00.001-08:00

MUSIC MAJOR A: Did you hear about the guy who heard a melody so beautiful he killed himself?
MUSIC MAJOR B: No! How awful!
MUSIC MAJOR A: The newspaper said he was a suicide Brahmer.

Video Games Not Nerdy Enough

2008-11-30T03:03:00.000-08:00

Video games once ranked with Dungeons & Dragons, computer programming, and stalking as activities which embodied the soul of nerd culture. However, recent developments in the gaming industry have shown the medium moving away from its roots. Games like The Sims and Mary Kate & Ashley's Sweet 16 have experienced runaway success while being targeted to a wider audience, and many in the geek community feel left behind.

"I just feel like my culture is being taken away from me," said local dweeb Tyler Grokfin. Pushing up his horn rim glasses, he continued, "The Wii came out and I was all excited for light saber battles and casting awesome spells with a magic wand. What do we get? Babies Party. It's a game where you babysit a baby. It has minigames. This is just insulting." Tyler was interrupted when a passing bully pushed him down.

Not all dorks are resigned to disappointment. Spazlord Jared Thorpe began the organization Gamers For Games For Gamers from his living room. "This is an injustice! Those jocks and preps are horning in on what used to be mine! Now I know how poor people feel about gentrification." He continued, "What our organization does is we post on the internet about how nobody should buy these new games with fancy things like '3D graphics' and 'animation'! This is a war of information! Drive out all but the true believers!"

To see if there was a chance that the industry would double back on itself and begin targeting the pizzaface demographic again, we sat down with Electronic Arts CEO John Riccitiello. Electronic Arts has released many of the most popular mainstream games in recent memory, including the Madden series, Battlefield 2, and Caveman Ugh-Lympics. "Oh my god we have so much fucking money," said John. "Like hooooooly shit. Hahahahaha. We have so much god damn money I can't... I just can't fucking believe it. Hahahaha! HA! Look at me! Look, I'm laughing! Oh my god there is just so much money I don't even know what to do with it. I fed Chad yesterday. Not a guy named Chad, I mean the country! Filet-o-Fish all around! Would you like a car?"

After getting up off the ground, Tyler Grokfin expressed further worries. "Not only are non-nerds getting in on video games, now adults are doing it too! My mom just sits around playing Bejeweled now. She said to me yesterday, 'now we can play video games together! I want to try out that Fallout 3 game you were talking about. Isn't postapocalyptica fun? We can play together!' It's weird! I'm a nerd. I was playing video games to escape the world, but now everybody talks to me because they want Team Fortress 2 tips. Being a social outcast just keeps getting harder and harder."

The times ahead don't look good for the lameos who clamor for the old days when video games were relegated to dark basements. Indeed, it looks like the popularity of video games is only set to grow. What this means for greasegoblin culture is yet to be determined. All we know for sure is that somewhere out there, right now, a World War II veteran is levelling up in World of Warcraft.

Major Joke of the Week

2008-11-30T03:02:00.001-08:00

A traveling salesman's car breaks down and he walks to a nearby barn to spend the night. The barn is owned by a psychologist, who says, "You can stay the night, but whatever you do, don't stick your dick in those three holes in the wall!"

The salesman agrees and lays down on a bale of hay. Soon enough, temptation gets the better of him. He sticks his dick in the first hole, and it feels wonderful! He moves on to the second hole and it feels even better! Excited, he sticks his dick in the third hole and suddenly his body seizes up in pain. He blacks out.

The next morning, the psychologist finds the salesman, his dick still in the third hole.

"What the hell is in these holes?" asks the salesman.

"Absolutely nothing!" says the psychologist. "But you've heard this joke before, haven't you?"

How to Cook

2008-11-30T03:01:00.002-08:00

This is about cooking, all you people always want to eat and I'm like "Hey!!! Eat something you doofus! Just a little old doofus, that is what you are, doofus!" Eating! You do it.

You all always are asking me for food. It's people on the street, sometimes, asking me. I give them a cracker and say that they should learn to cook. And then I write an article so that they can learn to cook. I have written one thousand articles about how to cook. You'd think they'd learn sometime. What a doofus if you're not reading this. What a doofus!

If you want to cook, start out with some leeks. You go to the store and you buy some leeks. They're in the section with all the apples and oranges. Apples and oranges are the things that are red and green, and also the things that are orange. Then you put the leeks in a pot. Just try putting them in a pot while you're in the store, just to test it out. Does that work? You're on your way to cooking. Superstar!

Then you take the pot and you put it on a stove. Put it on the stove with your hands. Turn on the stove, doofus! It gets pretty hot. Learn about how hot it is. Go to school. Stay in school. Don't smoke cigarettes, either. Those are hot too.

When you have eaten the leeks, they are done. Then you have cooked. Try something else! Cook a souffle. Try it! Do it! Try cooking it! Make a souffle. You're a superstar! Everyone is always calling me on the phone, saying thanks for cooking! You bet I have cooked. You can bet your house!

Major Joke of the Week

2008-11-30T03:01:00.001-08:00

Biology Major A: Oh man, I saw the best show on Metabolic TV last night!
Biology Major B: What was it about?
Biology Major A: It really went "behind the scenes" on how my favorite citric acids kick it!
Biology Major B: That's awesome! What was it called?
Biology Major A: MTV Krebs.

Why Being Sick Sucks: An Experiment

2008-11-30T03:00:00.000-08:00

STIMULUS: "Hi, I have brought you some cookies!"
HEALTHY RESPONSE: "Thanks!"
SICK RESPONSE: "Aughhhghh"

STIMULUS: "Would you like to have sex? I am very attractive!"
HEALTHY RESPONSE: "Sure! Climb on top."
SICK RESPONSE: "Awuuuoghhhhoahhh"

STIMULUS: "We're going to Las Vegas for some questionable adventures. Want to come?"
HEALTHY RESPONSE: "Wow! And I just finished saving up my gambling nest egg!"
SICK RESPONSE: "Ohhwoooohhaughhhhuhhh"

STIMULUS: "Oh man, you look flush. Are you sick?"
HEALTHY RESPONSE: "Nope! I have just done some awesome drugs!"
SICK RESPONSE: "Ugghhhawwwoooooahhooowoowohhahhhaaaaaupphhhhhhag"

CONCLUSION: Being sick sucks.

Major Joke of the Week

2008-11-30T02:59:00.002-08:00

PHILOSOPHY MAJOR A: I am lactose intolerant, and therefore if I drink this milk, I will die!
PHILOSOPHY MAJOR B: That's a valid argument, but... NO, DON'T DO IT! STOP!
PHILOSOPHY MAJOR A: Agggghhh!
PHILOSOPHY MAJOR B: He's gone! At least know we know that his "die o' lactic" argument was true.

One-Issue Voters

2008-11-30T02:59:00.001-08:00

Greg, from Pennsylvania:
HIS ISSUE: "Personally I'm waiting for one of the candidates to come out in favor of digital clocks where you can, you know, subtract time when you set them so you don't have to go all the way around to set it back one minute."
WHO HE'S VOTING FOR: "McCain, I guess. I get the feeling he's a secret digital clock guy. He just can't bring it up with the general public because it's too unpopular."

Sheila, from Ohio:
HER ISSUE: "I can't bring myself to vote for a candidate who sets taxes too high, or too low. That's just wrong."
WHO SHE'S VOTING FOR: "Until I hear something about their proposed tax policies, I'm staying home election day. Why aren't they making this an issue?"

Thomas, from Florida:
HIS ISSUE: "I AM A VIDEO GAME PLAYER, A 'GAMER.' I WAKE UP AND PLAY VIDEO GAMES. I LIVE THEM. I BREATHE THEM. I VOTE THEM. THE DAY MY FINGERS STOP MOVING IS THE DAY I DIE. I HAVE HAD SEVEN HEART ATTACKS."
WHO HE'S VOTING FOR: "Ron Paul '08!"

Cheng, from Colorado:
HIS ISSUE: "Dams. More of them. We need more dams. Stop the water! Fuck the god damn water! How do you like those dams, water? Not so FREE now, are you?"
WHO HE'S VOTING FOR: "Reverend Wright. He's the only one who had it right. God dam America."

Candy, from Arizona:
HER ISSUE: "The only thing that drives me to vote is if the candidate is John McCain. It's immoral to vote for anybody else."
WHO SHE'S VOTING FOR: "Usually John McCain doesn't run, and so I don't vote. This year I was going to vote for McCain until one of my friends told me about this Obama guy. I guess I can bend the rules just this once!"

I'm the Barack

2008-11-30T02:58:00.000-08:00

Kill the girls and break the world,
For I'm the Barack, I am!
Grind their bones with jagged stones,
For I'm the Barack, I am!

And now the fools elected me
To office of the pres'dency
Set them afloat to sink at sea,
For I'm the Barack, I am!

They thought I was kind, and gentle, and sweet
They thought I could walk without moving my feet
They thought I brought change, but what a surprise,
When I take off my mask and change 'fore their eyes!

"Muslim," they said, but they missed by a mile
So don't try to guess, it might take you a while
John McCain's bad, he campaigns kind of rough,
But he ain't got shit on the billy goats gruff!

And so this old, forgotten troll
Who sat upon the grassy knoll
Who rigged all of the Diebold polls
Who deadened Joseph Stalin's soul
Who melted down the northern pole
Who gave Glenn Beck his TV role
Who funded Mr. Uve Boll
Is ready to enact his toll;
I've risen up to take control,
And turn you all into "clean coal,"
For I'm the Barack, I AM!

Major Joke of the Week

2008-11-02T01:32:00.000-07:00

ENGLISH MAJOR A: So somehow my favorite hen laid her egg right on the edge of the nest.

ENGLISH MAJOR B: Hm? Can you say that again? I didn't hear it.

ENGLISH MAJOR A: And when the egg fell, I was just in time to dive and save it!

ENGLISH MAJOR B: What? Why was the egg falling?

ENGLISH MAJOR A: Oh, let me start over with the egg's position.

To All Inferior Men: Real Sex

2008-11-02T01:31:00.000-07:00

Missionary. Doggy style. Stand and deliver. Ugh, don't make me vomit. You may impress your tight-lipped string-haired liquored up floozy of that slab of mush you call a girlfriend, but don't come bragging to me on a Friday night just because you got her off the meth long enough to orgasm. No style. No style at all. It takes a man's man to submit to such tepid monotony, slathering your turgid pole with WD-40 and slipping it between two flaps of tresca - that's rotten cod if you aren't familiar with the social and cultural advances of the Russians. Then again, it takes a woman's man to just put in a little effort, to produce the sweet smells of dripping romance, delectable and aromatic enough that you might collect it to make a stock for soup tomorrow. In case you weren't paying attention, by the way, two sentences ago I just called you gay.

Because you have the reading comprehension of someone who watched Fight Club and then formed one, I'll tell you plainly: I'm a master of the sexual arts. With the daring-do of an acrobat and the dusky, masculine voice of a thousand hummingbirds flapping their wings to produce the English language, I sweep women off their feet and have them begging for more years after I've finished. They cry out - they want to call my name but all is in vain, for they do not know it. Instead they say "Oh God, oh God," and I find this very fitting. I am the lover who disappears when they turn away for even a second, leaving only a sense of longing. I leave an exhausted woman with the tired smile of satisfaction. I have thirty-seven children whom I have never met. All of them grew up to be kings.

And you wish to know my secrets? Of course you do. Such an oaf you are, to think that you can even lick my sweat off of the floor, to think that your penis is anything more than a primitive tool of reproduction, to think that your balls are worth even as much as the sack of pennies they resemble, to think that your seed is more than the rank poison, carried through the generations by pickpockets, con men, and cowards who would faint at the thought of defending a woman's honor. You disgust me. I am surprised that you manage to speak, as mangled and careless as your diction may be.

And so I will not help you. I will not help you because it pleases me to see you try so hard and to fail eternally, and I will not help you for I am a kind man, and maybe by my actions the world may be blessed by a lack of your offspring. So return, return to your hovel, that shanty that you call a home, hung low with dry rot and almost as many cobwebs as there are in your skull. Return to your girlfriend, and she will open her mouth to say hello, revealing her yellowing teeth and blackened gums so that you might lick off the collected bacteria like a proper parasite should. Return to your life, your day-to-day drudgery, sneaking out with other women so that you can be educated in all the varieties of diseased garbage, pretending that you have enough brain cells remaining for one more swig of cat's piss at the bar, knowing that your greatest contribution in life will be your gravestone, which will mark that any vegetables that grow nearby are not worthy of eating. Return, and return quickly, for I have fucking to do elsewhere.

Difficult Positions

2008-11-02T01:30:00.001-07:00

FRENCH CENTRIFUGE: Partner A picks up Partner B under the arms and swings Partner B quickly in a circle. The force of the swinging will force Partner A's tongue into Partner B's mouth.

OLYMPIC DIVE: Partner A lays back with legs splayed. Partner B uses a trampoline or diving board to jump, and aims his/her mouth for Partner A's genital area. The impact is highly pleasurable.

SWISS ROLL: Partner A bakes a giant cake with him/herself inside of it. Partner B attempts to save the life of Partner A, who has just been baked in an oven. If Partner A is still alive, A and B have sex on top of the cake. Variation: Partner A is not alive. This is called a "California Roll"

PAREY-SAINT-CESAIRE: Partners A, B, and C hold hands and jump into a pool together. Partner A remains above the water, taking breaths of air and transferring them, by mouth, to Partner B, who then shares the air with Partner C with passionate open mouth kisses.

WINDY CITY: Partner A sits on top of a ping-pong ball which is situated inside a tube. Partner B blows into the tube as hard as possible, lifting Partner A up in a VERY arousing way.

TELEPHONE SEX: Partners A through G lay on top of each other, with A on top. Partner A humps Partner B in a precise pattern. B then humps C in the same pattern, and so on. When it gets to Partner G, he/she gets on top of the pile and continues.

THE KATHLEEN BEELER: Partner A acts like a HUGE SLUT FUCK YOU KATHLEEN.

Never Too Busy for Exercise

2008-11-02T01:29:00.000-07:00

Microwaving a burrito! Okay! Ten jumping jacks!
Writing a paper! Type a letter, run a lap! Type a letter, run a lap!
Doing your taxes! Lift a barbell for every social program you fund!
Drinking coffee! Work those throat muscles!
Spending time with your family! Bench press them!
Committing fraud! Go skating while you go skimming!
Taking your children to school! Carry them halfway and make them run the rest!
Running on a treadmill! Do pushups on top of it! More exercise! More!
Reading a book! Fuck the book! Time for extreme BMX! Never a moment's rest!
Sleeping! Never sleep! Midnight is time for squats!
Physical exhaustion! Work through it! You are never fit enough!
Crying! No time for crying, loser! You're crying because you're not exercising! Keep going!
Abandoning your family and friends to exercise! Do a chest press!
The power is yours! The exercise gives you life! You are a God...

The author was unable to finish this article due to death by dehydration while completing a marathon between each sentence. Our condolences go to his family, who will be too busy running hurdles to attend the funeral.

MAN DOG GETS YOU FIT

2008-11-02T01:28:00.002-07:00

WOOF WOOF check it out. Saw this wussy, tryin' to step all over my muscles bein' all "hey I bet your muscles are even not the biggest muscles" but I was like "hey have you seen a muscle bigger than this" and flexed one right in his face and he was like "damn stop flexing that all in my face, it is too big for my face." SMACK DOWN. Some people maybe don't know what it is like to have muscles like a god fucking SHIT shit DAMN man DOG MAN DOG LIFTIN' UP CARS shit DOG and that is too bad. You ain't gotta be a little wussy all the time. Time to sit down for SCHOOL.

One way to get some muscles is to go around liftin' up things. Just be all "hey lady can I lift up your cat a few times, I need to be doin' some liftin'" and she is all "I don't know, my cat is pretty heavy" but then you lift up the cat and she is all "hot damn you are lifting my totally heavy cat, please put it down so I can take off my clothes" but then you keep lifting the cat anyway because there is some CAT LADY MAN DOG FLOOR BUFFERIN' GOIN' ON.

If you want muscles really quick you gotta be goin' around just punching things everywhere. Sometimes you see a police officer and the police officer is all "hey stop punching things" but then you're just liftin' one eyebrow at him, to get him all scared, and then you keep punchin' a building. Just punch that building. Punch the fucking god DAMN holy SHIT fucking BUILDING like a MAN DOG and the police officer is getting all scared some more even, even more scared than he was before, and then you just start yellin' and you keep punchin' the building and the police officer is all "wow hot damn you are punching that building" and then you keep punching the building until he takes off his badge and gives it to you. Another good way to get muscles is to be a police officer.

If you want even more muscles you just gotta stand on your head, then people come by and they say "look at that fool he is standing on his head" but then you are all "I am not standing on my head, pay attention I am holding up the world" then they are all "damn the world is heavy" but you are okay 'cause of your muscles. Just keep doin' that for a while and then your muscles get HUGE. People standin' around, singin' songs about THE DUDE HOLDIN' UP THE EARTH. They go all "oh the dude, the dude holdin' up the Earth, let's all be crazy on him" in tunes and then it is time for some CRAZY POUNDING and you are like "hell yeah."

That is pretty much all the ways you can get motherFUCKING super GOD fucking HUGE crazy DAMN FUCK MUSCLES so you can be all fit and be kicking men in the ass and they are scared because you have so many muscles and because you kicked them. Just don't try to have muscles as big as me because I will flex one right in your EYE and you can't handle that. STEP OFF WOOF WOOF.

Major Joke of the Week

2008-11-02T01:28:00.001-07:00

LINGUIST A: The stress is on the first syllable.

LINGUIST B: No, the second!

LINGUIST A: I'm telling you it's the first!

LINGUIST B: No! "I think," therefore iamb!

Pullin' Fire Alarms

2008-11-02T01:27:00.000-07:00

Welcome back! It's been a whole week and a whole lot of fire alarms so let's get goin'!

Started out Monday by walkin' down the street and dang if there weren't no twitterin', glitterin' fire alarm sittin' unpulled on the side of an office building. And may God call me a liar if I didn't lick my lips, roll up my sleeves, and slowly and seductively pull that li'l ol' lever down.

Mmm-mm! See those in-dus-try workers filin' out of that buildin'. Definitely recommend it!

Wednesday got another chance at a li'l ol' elementary school by the name a' Washington. Saw a chil'ren standin' there, suckin' on his tiny li'l thumb, jus' starin' at that big red throbbing fire alarm. What a pree-cocious tyke if I do declare. I leaned down to that boy n' whispered right in his ear,

"Hey there li'l boy, you wanna pull that lever over there, huh? Now why don't you jus' go ahead an' do it. Jesus loves a boy who pulls a fire alarm all nice n' smooth."

And what do you know, before you could say "mulberry bush" those halls were filled with screamin' munchkin tykes filin' their li'l ol' way to the exits. I ain't never seen such a sight in my blessed ol' life.

It's been a good week, 'cause the lord will provide doncha know. Now don't you readers worry 'bout me, I'm sittin' here with a cigarette in my hand right under the smoke detector and just havin' a grand ol' time. What a blessed ol' life I lead. I sure do love settin' off them fire alarms, maybe next time I won't even set the fires what go along with it!

Environment in Trouble AGAIN

2008-09-29T00:12:00.002-07:00

Recent developments deep in the heart of the Amazon reveal that the environment is once again in jeopardy. That's right, again.

"Ugh," said prominent environmental activist Warren Thaid. "Again? I just replaced all my lightbulbs with flourescent. What does the environment want? A fucking kiss on the head and a tuck-in goodnight?"

Recent Gallup polls reveal that only Americans are less worried about the more recent environmental jeopardies.

"The environment is just so gol-darn needy," said local business owner Sheila Craven. "Oh, the environment needs this. The environment needs that. It's like those annoying kids who come around every week trying to sell magazine subscriptions. And I'll tell the environment what I tell them: I don't care if you're constantly in need of aid; I'm only interested if Paul Newman is on the cover." Paul Newman was not available for comment.

"The first time someone told me the environment was in trouble, I quit my job and traveled the country planting trees," said random bystander Jimmy Treepleseed. "But the last time? I bought a Hummer and ran them over with it. I'm tired of this shit."

This reflects a growing trend of apathy among Americans who just want to be able to strip the Earth of its resources and be done with it. Philosopher David Hachoo, author of the book "But Mom I Don't Want to Clean My Room," writes:

"Everything is just too much effort nowadays: recycling your paper, not leaving the car running overnight, turning off the television when you're done watching it. Who wants to deal with all that inconvenience? All this caring is boring. Just kill the planet already and get it over with. Come onnnnnn."

Thousands turned out last Friday in Washington for their "Let the Environment Die Already, Geez" march. Chanting "Where do we want to drive? Everywhere! When do we want it? All the time!" they swarmed the White House and forced the president to sign into law a bill making sure that people don't feel guilty for not helping the environment more.

"It's just common sense," said President Bush. "All that environment stuff just takes up too much of our time. That concludes this press conference, I'll now be taking Air Force I to the 7-11 down the street. Hot dogs."

Surviving the Economy

2008-09-29T00:12:00.001-07:00

There's toothpaste in the lead and dead children in the streets. Decaying bastions of industry run wild, picking up cars and tossing them against buildings as they let loose their dying wails. So we all ask the most pressing question: what does this all mean for my bank account?

Thankfully, there are solutions. Professional analyses finds that the most secure and growing industry in the country is theft. Invest in a piece of businessman's garroting wire, wander the streets, and take down the guy who looks like he has the biggest wallet. A good way to spot them is if they're wearing big pants. BIG MONEY TIP #1: BIG PANTS -> ROOM FOR BIG MONEY.

Don't count out the service sector. There's always someone looking for top-notch service. Any of your orifices is pretty much an ATM and some random guy's dick is the bank card. BIG MONEY TIP #2: DICK IN -> CASH OUT. Remember, you're in the free market, and the solution to anything is deregulation, so don't demand condoms! Worker safety is for communists.

Despite financial insecurity, one area remains as strong as ever. That's right, it's time to book it to a third world country and just start oppressing the HELL out of those people. BIG MONEY TIP #3: POOR PEOPLE -> MAKE THEM POORER. You see, money functions on the concept of scarcity. So if you make other people more miserable, your net value goes up! Don't ask why, it's economics!

There's no excuse for being poor, not even "but I'm dead!" Which is what you will be if you're poor. And you'll deserve it. Fucking poor people.

The State of Axiomatics

2008-09-15T13:30:00.000-07:00

IN THE DARK you see a fire. A fire in the darkness? But doesn't the fire make it light? Not this fire. This fire BETRAYS you. This fire makes you backwards. Let me introduce you to a little word I call "phlox." Phlox is the entirety of the way. The way of the fire and the way to REBEL against THE fire. You know it's time. Let me endure you for a little while longer. I will do so. You have a very pretty dress.

Axiom. Aziom? Axiom... atics. Red fire burning on the soles of the feet of your soul. Let me show you. There is a clock. That clock turns around every twenty four hours and controls the world. How else do you think the world turns? Trick question. The world doesn't turn at all. Scientists burrow into your mind at night and lay eggs. Descartes was the product of a violent Serbian uprising. You think you've heard it all but you've heard NOTHING. Do you love me? Not yet. You can't. They say you shouldn't. But you will.

The phlox axiom. You haven't heard it before. Nobody would let you hear it. But now you have. And now that you have you must never forget it, but you can't forget it, even if you try. Your head is knocking against my head. Stop. Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting myself.

You must understand that I have to explain. Let me explain. Underneath every person's skin is a demon lurking to get out. We are only our skin. Everything else is an organ playing the song of the church. March to the beat of the church's drum which is your heart. Beating. Beating. I have tried to teach my message everywhere. But do they understand? Do you?

And let me say another axiom: the paper axiom. Understand that it is paper, and that is all that it can be. Paper cannot be anything else, anything else at all. That is why it is special. When you have a piece of paper you must never, ever throw it away. For you will be throwing away yourself. Do you see yourself on a piece of paper? You were a slave to the paper the first time you signed your name. Now it is too late. They say I wrote this article and it must have a joke in it. Okay.

Do you know what happened to the axiom? The axiom drowned. The axiom was me. Do you see?

LOLCats So Funny

2008-09-14T12:43:00.002-07:00

"Oh my god," said Sophomore Casey Phriden, "I love those cats, they are so funny!"

Casey is simply on the verge of a new phenomenon, the "Lol Cats," popular in college dorm rooms and college posters everywhere.

"It's pretty simple," explained Junior Corey Spalding, "there are these cats, and they can't quite speak correctly. 'I can has'... anything! It's hilarious. It's the kind of joke you wait all your life for. It's the kind of joke that you wake up to find sleeping next to you, and even though it's pretty ugly by your own standards and maybe two years past its prime you lean over and you kiss it. You don't really know why. It's that kind of joke."

The LOLCats are the latest in a long line of jokes that never, ever get old no matter how many times they are told. Joke museum curator Caley Johnson weighed in.

"There are only so many jokes which survive past the first telling. This... this will be the swan song of the generation. Very nice! My name-a Borat! When people born in the late 80's and early 90's need something to unite themselves and prove to the younger generation that they are no longer hip, this will be it. But, there is one thing I must ask you," said Johnson. "And that is... do you know the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

Caley Johnson interrupted our interview by laughing for seven hours straight.

There is no shortage of appreciation for this iconic laugh factory. At the recent Reed alumni convention, many groups could be overheard: the 1980s graduates chuckling over "Where's the Beef?" the 1996 graduates finding new and incredible ways to signal "wazaaaaaaap" to each other, and the 1999 graduates gyrating their hips and beckoning "yeah, baby, yeah!" Finally, the 2007 graduates celebrated in their own small corner squeaking out "alumni cat is watching you drink" and smirking knowingly to themselves.

"I think it's clear," reprised Caley Johnson, "there's no end to this joke. It will just keep going on and on and on and keep being fresh and original every time! There may be a doubt about how long longcat is, but there's no doubt about this." Caley Johnson then stretched his mouth into a horrible reminiscence of its former self and proceeded to eat his own head. A haunting laughing sound emenated from what was once his lips. Two onlookers mumbled "cats" to each other and giggled.

Postcard from Thesis Hell

2008-09-14T12:43:00.001-07:00

"Oh man," I say, buckling into my thesis safety seat. "What a bonerkiller."

That's right. Through all the hysteria, panic, and late-night naked thesis meetings with my advisor, one thing has remained constant: my thesis is a fucking bonerkiller. I'm sitting in a sauna with a bunch of other dudes, a boner comes out of NOWHERE and all I have to do is think "fall break deadlines" and BAM that boner goes the hell down. I try. I do what I can to maintain that boner, but there's no greater bonerkiller in the universe than my thesis and that is a tool to be wielded wisely and precisely.

You can't just drag your thesis into any sort of bonerkilling situation. You're talking with your grandmother and you get a boner? You're out of god damn luck, man. Kill your boner however you want, but don't include my thesis. My thesis has a bonerkilling power all its own. I won't have that being co-opted by any sort of hot-grandma action. The thesis is specific and well-defined, and none of that definition includes ANYTHING about grandmas.

What I'm trying to say is that doing a thesis is lame as hell. However, for all the times you wished you had a bonerkiller you will now have one. Just talk to your advisor and say "hey, I am not really interested in doing a thesis but I wanted a bonerkiller. Please just let me keep that part and never graduate. I promise to stick around the poolhall if that is a requirement." Then, if you ever need a bonerkiller, you are set for life. You could even meet the president. You could even write a book. You could even be a girl.

MAN DOG & WOMAN DOG

2008-09-14T12:41:00.001-07:00

MAN-DOG RETURNS
WOOF WOOF comin’ at you from all sides, bringing a fuckin’ A GAME. You got to be tellin’ them crazy broads trying to show you UP. You ain’t gotta take any of that shit because you a MAN DOG hot shit MAN DOG WOOF WOOF.

Ladies all tryin’ to be all “hey you are not so hot in fact you SUCK” but you gotta put them right. You gotta be all checkin’ into a high price hotel and lookin’ out your window and yellin’ all “HEY YOU AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME WOOF WOOF” then you pull out your DOG SALAMI and be all rubbin it up against the window bein’ all “HEY THIS WINDOW PRETTIER THAN YOU” and then the lady snaps her fingers ‘cuz she just got SHOWN.

Another way to show a crazy broad who be steppin’ on your god damn GAME god shit god DAMN be a MAN DOG is to get a stool and climb up on the table and take off your shirt and flex your crazy big muscles and then she is all “damn I did not know muscles could be that big” and then she gets up on the stool and she is ready to do some CRAZY POUNDING but then you push her off and she falls on the ground and you are like I am a GOD DAMN shit CRAZY fuck HOT damn MAN DOG DON’T STEP and then she is like daaaaang.

So basically you gotta be rememberin’ all this and then people everywhere gonna be all “damn that is the guy who is not afraid to show the ladies who try to be all crazy on him, I am going to go over to him and have some CRAZY POUNDING” and then you be like “hell yeah WOOF WOOF.”

WOMAN-DOG DEBUTS

WOOF WOOF It is time for you to be all stickin’ to your guns HOT CHICAS because it is time for a little lesson on how to keep off those fuckin’ men tryin’ to cop in on your LADY JUSTICE.

First you gotta get up, you gotta get up and you gotta look in the mirror and you say to yourself “GOD DAMN IF I AIN’T THE FINEST CHICA IN THE FUCKING WORLD LOOK AT THOSE CHEEKBONES I GOT CHEEKBONES LIKE A SAMURAI SWORD BECAUSE THEY CUT THINGS AND ARE WELL PLACED” then start rubbin’ your hands all over your cheekbones and men be all breakin’ down your door tryin’ to get at you and they say please and thank you like a nice man HOT DAMN.

NEXT you gotta walk down the street and you see a dollar on the ground and you pick it up and say “hey who left this dollar here” and everybody around you go all “shit this lady be all generous and kind, returning things that do not belong to her” and then you are having sex with them on the street and people pass you by and you say WHAT and they don’t know shit because you are BOBBING WITH A HOT ONE NEAR THE SIDEWALK.

And then sometimes you gotta dole out the LADY JUSTICE so you walk into a place, you walk right in and you go “hey what does a lady have to do around here to get some god damn mother FUCK holy SHIT service?” and when they say to wait a minute you just pull out a stereo and start dancin’ and kick their desk and they are like “stop kicking my desk” but you don’t stop because you are HARD CORE STYLE WOOF WOOF.

How to Reed-ify Your Music

2008-09-14T12:40:00.000-07:00

It's the common state of every freshman on campus - your music sucks and you don't even know it yet! How sad. How can you expect to invite your quirky friends over for quirky tea and quirky crackers if you can't even play the right quirky music on your quirky Macbook? Red Hot Chili Peppers? Coheed and Cambria? High School Musical? You're going to have to do better than that.

1) OBSCURITY
You're coming from a high school where everybody listened to T-Pain and you listened to Pixies because you're such a fucking rebel. Well, now everybody listens to Pixies. What the hell are you going to do? You could listen to Neutral Milk Hotel but that shit got played out while you were still in middle school learning how to smoke. Boris? What the hell are you thinking, do you even WANT any friends who think of you as "the music guy"? And if you think The Mountain Goats are obscure you can just stop right now because you're worthless. You're absolutely worthless. Fuck you. Fuck you and take your little crybaby music and go take a shit in your own brain, because your head is already in the right spot for it (up your ass).
SOLUTION: Turn it back on those fuckers, it's time to break out the T-Pain.

2) IRONY
In high school you could get by maybe attending an 80's party every once in a while, dancing to Hall & Oates and calling it a night. No. Fucking. More. Here at Reed we have a fucking Troy showing every year. This is the Irony: Deluxe Edition. God dammit. You're barely showing your abject contempt for shit. You could hardly wear a trucker's hat without jumping in a big rig to blow the driver. What kind of irony is that? The next time you're standing on the side of the road making that "honk your horn" gesture you'd better take that fist and shove it in the tailpipe, and as you're being dragged along by the truck and your 70's television show t-shirt is being ripped to shreds you think about what a failure your life is before the truck explodes when it can't get rid of it's exhaust because there's a bigger piece of machine shit blocking the way: YOU.
SOLUTION: Nerdcore Hip-Hop. Let poor people know that their culture is without substance and their plight is worthy of ridicule. Get back at those T-Pain assholes.

3) TEPIDITY
In the end the bland shit that people listen to here is the same bland shit that everyone listens to everywhere else. Oh hey Reed College what is the greatest band of all time? Oh it's THE BEATLES. Great, thanks. I love fucking harmonies and three chord songs and lyrics so childish they may as well have been written by the band's average listener. I bet you have sex in the missionary position listening to Barry White and then get prepared for work with the complex melodies of Explosions in the Sky while you clean off your cock (if you are a guy) with the hole of the latest Radiohead disc. If there's any band that deserves to be covered in semen it's them, so it's convenient that they manage to do it all by themselves.
SOLUTION: I give up. Your ears aren't worth saving. God dammit I need a bath. Go listen to some Iron & Wine and then kill yourself.

The Pamphlette Summer Digest

2008-09-14T12:39:00.000-07:00

You probably didn't get a chance to read The Pamphlette over the summer. That's what we call "betrayal." But we forgive you, and that's why we're creating this digest of all the most important stories that you missed this summer.

• The El Paso, Texas police force is under investigation after raiding a meeting of people with shaved heads and flowing robes drinking Kool-Aid. The head of Buddhist Monks Who Think Kool-Aid is Delicious Anti-Defamation League had no comment, insisting that we must be free of all comments if we are truly to understand the subject at hand.
• An obese man in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania sat down on a chair, causing it to break. According to a witness on the scene, “it was really fucking funny.”
• Approximately 13.5 million people all over the world died due to various causes over the course of the summer. When reached for comment, a guy with long hair in a black T-shirt chuckled and said “brutal, man.”
• Barack Obama agreed to play the lead in a new Broadway production of The Who’s Tommy. This move on the part of the candidate comes to many as a surprise.
“I never thought of myself as a performer before,” said Obama, “but I guess I caught the acting bug while pretending to be a liberal during the primary.”
The first run will open in New York this October. Obama’s experience being deaf, dumb, and blind is expected by election analysis to give him a bump among Libertarians this November, as well as pinball enthusiasts.
• Hot on the heels of this spring’s “pregnant man” story, a woman in Seattle, Washington became pregnant in June. She is scheduled for talk show appearances through November.
• Several records were broken at this year's Beijing Olympics, including "most racist analysis of host country," and "most comedians making easy jokes about 'rejected olympic events.'"
• Star of stage and screen Matthew Broderick did nothing of any interest.
“I guess that’s par for the course,” said Broderick, hanging his head and kicking a rock, stubbing his toe. “Aw, shucks.”
• Muncie, Indiana’s annual Opposite Day was a resounding failure.
• White supremacist leader David Duke began a career as a stand up comedian. His act contains five jokes, each one a pun on the phrase “white powder.” No tickets have been sold.
• The art world has been shifting in response to the new "child criticism" movement.
"I liked the Mowa Lisa 'cuz it looks like my mommy," said renowned critic Kimmy.
Not all artists have been appreciative of the new development. "I liked the idea when I thought it was about criticizing children," said painter Dana Lehey.
• Los Angeles high school trigonometry teacher Randall Munroe has found the world's lamest math joke.
"It's an honor to be widely recognized, especially in such a high competition area," said Munroe. "Get it? Widely recognized, high competition area? Height and width in an area? Ha... ha." He then tugged on his sweater vest and grinned nervously. "I've got a million of them."

Orientation Week Activities

2008-08-26T23:57:00.000-07:00

Energizing Your Inner Unpacking Potential: Painting a Sculpture of Interrelational Gadgetry through Exotic Suspense
Everybody wants to find out a little about themselves, right? Come on a trip through your intergenerational mind-factors to find your shimmering inn-core inspiration zone, your "spiral orientation." Learn how you can become comfortable with your personal beauty rate countenance constitution presidency. Pizza provided.

Viral Marketing Class
Learn how to get customers to do your marketing for you! Students will be expected to teach themselves. $20 fee.

FREE FOOD
OH GOD DON'T YOU LOVE FREE FOOD? I SURE DO. COME HERE AND GET FREE FOOD. DID YOU HEAR THAT RIGHT? YES. THERE IS TOTALLY AN OPPORTUNITY FOR FREE FOOD HERE. ARRIVE EARLY SINCE THE ENTIRE SCHOOL IS EXPECTED TO SHOW UP. FREE FUCKING FOOD HOLY SHIT.

Being Yourself (Forever)
Afraid of the world at large? Want to make sure that you never hear an opinion that opposes yours? Come to this conference and we will make sure you never hear somebody else's ideas ever again. Other people have shitty ideas anyway. We guarantee you'll be the exact same person you were as a high school student until the day you die! Earplugs and methamphetamines provided.

Making Jokes About Your Major
Want to fit in at Reed? You'll need some ready-made puns about your major prepared to go at any given time. Available for all expected majors except Sociology, because there's nothing funny about that. Also at this seminar will be tips on how to complain about your workload.

Plays in Parks
Have you ever seen a good play in a park? Seriously? Don't say yes because you know you haven't. This play will be no different. But you're going to see it anyway because it's in a park, and because you feel bad for not watching enough live theater. Tickets are five hundred dollars.

Casual Bragging
You need to let people know how great you are, and part of that is not letting them know you're a braggart. Learn how to work your SAT scores into casual conversation. Maybe Steve Jobs didn't REALLY go here, but dropping that you went to the same school when talking with non-Reedies can gain you some points. Special guest lecturer Michael Phelps.

Learning to Smoke
Did you really expect to make any friends here without going through a pack a day? Sadly, smoking doesn't come as easily to some of us as others. Come to this seminar to learn the basics of lighting up, inhaling, and spending the rest of your life in a trailer wearing a loose Looney Tunes sweater.

Things I Have Seen

2008-04-22T14:56:00.001-07:00

• Green leather
• The sun, from sixteen different angles
• A comfortable apartment under $300 a month – utilities included
• A system of measurement so precise it can count your failures
• A person who knew the meaning of a word I had just made up – that word was eigurfleck
• A comedy about the middle ages with no reference to the present day
• Blue leather
• My worst fear, which I had to confront after years of hiding – that fear was me
• Sixteen men riding horses in perfect unison who were not being filmed
• A little girl doing her algebra homework on top of a giant boulder on the beach – x was equal to five
• Pink leather
• A computer program which destroyed all viruses – and then itself
• An alcoholic grandson
• The clearest water that there ever was – it was air
• A cliff
• One hundred and fifteen movies, four thousand television episodes, and forty-five stage plays without Morgan Freeman in them
• Orange leather
• A candy so sweet that it was literally a pile of sugar
• The kid who was cooler than me in high school – he got married
• The future
• A bed so soft that it invites you to sleep in it ¬– and breaks your heart
• Fruit leather

Portland Man Breaks Laws

2008-04-22T14:55:00.000-07:00

Guinness Book of World Records officials confirmed Thursday that Portland man Gerald Cotter has broken more laws than any other person on record.

“It’s just kind of been a hobby for me,” reports Gerald. “I got into it after taking two newspapers from the box after paying for one. That second paper is mounted on my wall.”

In order to qualify for the record, Cotter was required to provide documentation of all his accomplishments. He was able to produce video tape evidence of over thirty years of misconduct, including over six hundred cases of jaywalking and two hundred cases of trespassing on his neighbor’s lawn.

“But most of all, I like to think of myself as a bank robber,” says Gerald, who has stolen over three hundred pens from sixteen different area banks.

Gerald’s evidence caught the eye of county officials, who arrested him in late March.
“The policeman they sent was very polite. Shook my hand. I shook his hand really really hard – that counts as assault, right?” says Gerald.

Gerald’s interview was given at the Clackamas Jail, where he is currently being held for seven thousand consecutive five minute sentences.

On the Down Low

2008-04-22T14:54:00.000-07:00

Check it, crimenobbaz. It’s crystal clear in the morning and there’s jewelry to lift, dog behinds to sniff, and tourists to grift. Take off that ski mask, that’s just the crime establishment forcing you to conform to THEIR standards of how and when to break the law. This right here is the new shit. The cutting-edge shit. This shit is so underground that half the time you aren’t even sure that if you’re doing is illegal.

•Find a lady with a real nice necklace on. If her neck ain’t shinier than the piping in your house then you need to MOVE THE FUCK ON. Look at her necklace and then go buy one just like it. Pay a bum fifty bucks to wear it around town. People will think the lady turned into a bum. This is slander for a new age, crimenobbaz.

•Floss your teeth really hard until your gums are bleeding. Tell children you got punched in the mouth by politicians then smile really hard. IT IS YOUR DUTY to create the next generation of revolutionaries!

•Hack into the RIAA computers and FORCE them to listen to songs that they don’t own. Break down capitalism at all costs!

•Go to the roof of a tall-ass building. Stay with me, stick with me on this one. Okay. Okay. Now take a yo-yo, that’s right, a yo-yo, dangle it over the side of the building. Let it drop. Be all “Oops! My bad. Looks like my yo-yo slipped!” People down below get hit on the head with a yo-yo. They’ve never seen anything like it. You are the alien force. CONFRONT ALL CONFORMITY.

•Hire a high-priced lawyer and run for public office while starting your own corporation. Use predatory court practices to sue your competitors to the ground. Get married and sleep around on your spouse. Ascend in the political spectrum until you are a cabinet member or a judge on the Supreme Court. When you are ready to retire make a public statement to show that you are really destroying the system from the inside because all along you have been BUYING ALCOHOL FOR MINORS.

God, Satan Choose Reed as Dueling Grounds, Nobody Cares

2008-04-22T14:53:00.000-07:00

Sunday morning, a fire broke out in the Reed Chapel. Many passed it off as simply the result of an old, faulty radiator. However, further investigation reveals that these flames were markings of a breach from hell into the room.

“Yep, it’s definitely hellfire,” reported fire chief Tom Thickguard. “Smells like sulfur, and after it was put out it left behind an AC/DC album. It’s got all the signs.”

It is not uncommon for hellfire to appear in strange places, and the phenomenon usually indicates the appearance of Satan. According to Satan’s publicist, there was to be a public battle between God and the devil at the time. Reed students reported a disinterest in the event.

“Why would they fight there?” said Freshman Dean Carlisle. “Oh, wait, the chapel is a religious thing, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter. Causing damage to public property, such as starting a fire in the chapel, is a clear violation of common decency. Not at all in line with the honor principle. Start a conversation about the honor principle in your dorm.”

Allegations of the fight have been confirmed by representatives from God and Satan, as well as by Conference and Events Planning, who scheduled the event. This is the latest in a long string of failed appearances by the long-time rivals.

“This is unfair. I keep appearing but nobody shows up to watch. It's just like my last birthday. The flames get put out before we can get anywhere, and it's no fun. I wish I knew the name of the guy who invented the fire extinguisher,” said Satan. "I would have a word or two to say to him! Oohhh!"

“I AM ALL-KNOWING AND ALL-POWERFUL,” said God in response to the debacle. “LOOK FOR CONTINUED DEVALUATION OF THE DOLLAR. BRANGELINA WILL NOT LAST. THERE IS A CHILD CRYING IN AUSTRALIA. ALL MUST WORSHIP ME.”

The duo plan to reschedule their event, but are wary about garnering enough interest. This may indicate a downturn in general interest towards Satan and God, but both parties remain resolute that this is a trend that will soon reverse. Both were willing to vent their frustration towards the lack of interest.

“We chose Sunday morning so we could fight in front of a crowd, but your services don’t start at 4:15am. I was misinformed about this and I don't think that's very nice. We’ve tried to schedule several different times, but people always say that they have too much homework and can’t come. It’s frustrating. I sometimes punch a pillow when I'm frustrated” said Satan.

God reported, “GERMANS WILL BE ONE INCH TALLER NEXT YEAR, AND SALMON WILL NO LONGER TASTE GOOD ON BAGELS. JAY Z WILL RECORD THE SMASH HIT JAM OF THE SUMMER. SO I HAVE SPOKEN, AND SO IT SHALL BE.”

Despite the setback, the two remain optimistic. They plan to make individual appearances for a while, with God appearing in a special series of grilled cheese sandwiches and Satan teaching and inspiring children at a summer camp for the disadvantaged. They say they will return to fight for the crowd in 2009 in a world tour.

“I KNOW WHO INVENTED THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER,” said God in preparation for the 2009 world tour, “AND IT IS NOT WHO YOU THINK IT IS.”

Local Moist Towelette Goes a Long Way

2008-04-06T17:45:00.002-07:00

When local Fred Meyer cashier Brenda Williams brought home a “Wet Ones”-brand moist towelette, she didn’t know what she was getting into.

“My husband had been on my ass for years to remove old makeup before putting on new makeup. I figured I’d try it today, and bought one of these,” she said in a recent interview.

After removing three years’ worth of layers of lipstick and eyeliner, Brenda decided the towelette still had some cleaning potential left, and set to work on her house.

“It was pretty amazing, I have to admit,” said Brenda’s husband Mark. “It can do all that cleaning, but it’s just a little towel. That’s what ‘towelette’ means.”
The towelette soon attracted the attention of neighbors, and the Williams family charged for its use.

“It’s a pretty sweet deal for us. We rent out the towelette and they can clean their silverware or their children or whatever. Then it comes back good as new and we rent it out to the next person. It’s all great, except for that one client,” said Brenda.
The Williams are currently being sued by one of their customers for marketing an unsafe product.

“They didn’t adequately warn us,” said neighbor Sheila Brown. “We used to have a dirt road leading up to our house. Now we have nothing. Do you know what it’s like to accidentally back your car up into the void? I’ve gone through three Camaros this week.”

Brenda will not comment on the lawsuit, citing legal issues.

Scientists, interested in how the moist towelette could clean so much, have requested a small sample. So far, they have been refused.

“Those science assholes just want to clean their test tubes and thick glasses and pocket protectors. Nerds,” said Brenda.

There has not been a response from the scientists yet, although one was seen leaving his office on Tuesday with particularly grimy glasses.

YOUR WACKY WEATHER

2008-04-06T17:45:00.001-07:00

With Gene Silverman

What a day it’s shaping up to be! Welcome to my very first weather report as a newspaper columnist. After ten years in the local TV news biz, it’s time to make the switch. I'm wearing my Homer Simpson tie, and I'm all set to tell you what the weather is going to be like today!

I’m looking at the screen and all I can say is that it looks like rain, rain, rain in Portland for the next few days! You can’t see it, but I’m actually wearing a rain coat, and I’m inside! Isn’t that silly? An assistant just splashed me with a bucket of water. I'm sopping wet. It sure is going to be rainy!

But there’s good news for those of you in Eugene. Looks like it might be “heating up” for you very soon after a long winter! When I said “heating up” I struck a match, by the way. Just figured I’d mention that since I thought it was pretty clever. Yep! Pretty soon it’ll be so hot in Eugene that you’ll be playing “Ring” Around the Rosie! When I said that, I just jumped through a "ring..." of fire! Fire is hot, like the weather will be!

Over near the coast it looks like there’s going to be more and more wind. I’m writing this paragraph after jumping off a high cliff. If you look at me sideways it’s like the wind is blowing really hard! Boy, what a lot of wind there will be near the coast! Might be a day to stay “inside!” I brought a doll house with me for the fall off the cliff and now I’m trying to climb inside of it. Get it? Doll houses are supposed to be for dolls, not people!

One last thing, and that's to watch out for earthquakes in your area! Whoa! Earthquakes sure do shake a lot! Make sure you're shaking the newspaper while reading those last two lines. And that’s your weather for today!

Letters to the Editor

2008-04-06T17:44:00.002-07:00

Dear The Pamphlette:
In response to last week’s “How to Cook With Sizzlin’ Drizzlins,” thank you! I tried out this recipe on my husband and he said that it was his best meal in weeks. I tried it on my boss and he gave me a promotion! I tried it on my state’s senator and he said he’d “never had drizzlins more sizzlin’.” I thought that was kinda lame but didn’t want to say anything at the time.
-Angela Frank

Dear The Pamphlette:
That review of the new Owen Wilson film, Drillbit Taylor was way off base. Owen Wilson has never made a bad film before and he certainly hasn’t stopped here. Clearly you’re missing the movie’s inner message about childhood involvement with the world of mercenaries. It’s a real issue, and Owen is a saint for tackling it. If Owen’s film is so bad, then where’s your film, huh? I bet you could never make a movie that good.
-Carl Weber

Dear Occupant:
Interested in BIG SAVINGS? Check out our magazine subscriptions! Time is only five dollars a year, and a year is a lot of Time! Country Living six cents an issue! That's even lower than home prices after the market fell through. Order subscriptions today - you may already be our BIG WINNER! Ten thousand dollars waiting for you! Respond now!
-Publisher

Dear The Pamphlette:
Okay, I admit, the first time I wrote in I hadn’t actually watched Drillbit Taylor. I’ve seen it now and it’s pretty shitty. Sorry about that. It’s sad that the film presented such a skewed portrait of reality. So uncharacteristic for the best actor of our time, Owen Wilson.
-Carl Weber

Dear The Pamphlette:
Your Obama article was a crock of shit! There’s no way that guy is under six feet tall. He’s 6’1”, 6’2” easy. I agree with you that tall people have been running this country for way too god damn long, but don’t let them pull the wool over your eyes! Obama is just another one of THEM. Tall assholes think they can tell me what to do. Here I am, the normal citizen, forced once again to write in Kucinich. It’s a travesty, I tell you.
- Grant Forester

Dear The Pamphlette:
After having watched Drillbit Taylor five more times, I must rescind my previous letter. This movie is the siren song for our generation. This film speaks like no other, and truly our master Owen is the leader for our time. I have already written twenty pages exploring the hidden meanings and references in the film, which is available for free on my website. Please read it, and I have faith that you will hire me as the new film reviewer over the close-minded philistine you have now. Thank you.
-Carl Weber

Donald Schauser: A Profile in Courage

2008-04-06T17:44:00.001-07:00

Beloved local convenience store owner Donald Schauser, 56, died today in his shop. Schauser was known for his time served in Vietnam as a medic and for his “exact change only” policy.
His wife, Elizabeth Schauser, announced that his death was likely a result of complications from being shot several minutes beforehand.

“Oh my God, oh my God, what have you done? What have you done to my husband?” Elizabeth said recently in an interview.

Donald was born in Perryville, a small Missouri town of approximately 8,000. He met his soon-to-be wife Elizabeth and they planned to marry, but he was drafted in 1971. Before leaving, they exchanged promises to always stay together.

“He was so sweet when he was alive,” reported Elizabeth, rocking her dead husband’s head, “Oh, my Donald.”

Schauser returned from Vietnam a changed man. He had seen things that no man should see. He married Elizabeth and moved to Portland, Oregon, where he was forced to steal from local shops to support his wife and his family. Donald lived in shame every day, incredible shame. The kind of shame that attracts people interested in looking at the dregs of humanity. That's when Donald met a friend who would make life far more interesting for him.

“What? How did you know that? We never told anybody about the stealing. Nobody knew!” said Elizabeth in her interview.

Soon Donald realized that he could earn more by actually working at a convenience store than by stealing from them. After getting his conveniencer’s license he applied for a job. His dark past was over. Whitewashed. Everything bad was to be whitewashed for Donald Schauser. Donald's new friend knew that that was no good.

There was an evil little man lurking inside Schauser. One that desperately needed to get out. Only his new friend knew how to get him to do it, and he did. Donald began sneaking out late nights to go to bars, to sleep with other women. He would spend nights in small rooms with strange women in beds next to open windows that just about anybody could look through. His life was debauchery and incredible pain. It was truly the most delicious part of his story.

“Wait, don't I recognize you? Yes! You were the one who he met under the bridge! I always knew you were no good!” cried Elizabeth in exquisite agony.

And so Donald spent his years in drudgery and despondency, truly a prize for the connoisseurs of the human condition. Only recently did he begin to stay in more, to recant for his sins, to sit on his bed and recite to who he must have thought was nobody, “I love my wife; I need to make myself better.”

“Please, let me go. I promise not to tell anybody. Please just let me go, you’ve already taken my Donald,” said Elizabeth in the concluding words of her interview.

Donald’s death by a mystery assailant is likely the result of some admirer who wanted to make sure his life of misery was not tainted by the forces of redemption and regret. Truly Donald's best friend is also his greatest savior.

Ask Abby & Abby!

2008-03-10T00:28:00.000-07:00

Advice for time travellers in the rough, with your hosts present and future Abby McGuile!

Dear Abby & Abby,
I made a small error and sent myself way too far back in time! Everything’s all oozy here and the insects are HUGE. The bug spray I brought doesn’t work on them. As I write this there’s a twelve inch leech sucking on my left leg. Ouch! What do I do, Abby and Abby?
-Bug Bitten, Time Shy

Dear BBTS,
Whatever you do, don’t kill them! That could alter the time stream and change the future. Last time that happened we ended up with Charlie Sheen. Get back in the time machine right now and come home before you mess anything up. Bring the leech with you. Once it falls off it makes a wonderful conversation piece.
-Abby & Abby

Dear Abby & Abby,
I invented the time machine a number of years ago, and ever since then people have been going back in time to steal my plans and invent it earlier than I did. It’s a real pain, and the patent office is so stubborn. What can I do?
-Patently Discouraged

Dear PD,
I’m afraid that we are legally unable to answer this question due to our currently pending patent on the time machine, which we originally invented.
-Abby & Abby

Dear Abby & Abby,
I went back in time and, well, I guess I have to admit it. I fell in love with our common ancestor. She has the most beautiful green eyes and she loves flowers, spareribs, and the copy of House of Leaves I brought with me. I know it’s technically incest, but what can I say? I dig the earthy girls. Is there anything I should be careful of in this relationship?
-Late Into the Eve

Dear LITE,
We’re very glad that you’ve found true love, but honestly the fact that you’re not only sleeping with your mother, but everybody’s mother, is a little creepy. Think long and hard about whether you’re willing to cross this boundary, because once you do there’s no pulling that fig leaf of shame off.
-Abby & Abby

Dear Abby & Abby,
I wanted to see my own death. I know, I know, "time travel tourist," but I was curious, so I went forward seventy years. What do you know, I'm still alive and kicking! So I go ahead another hundred years. I'm still there. I go forward another hundred years, and I'm still alive. What the hell, Abby & Abby? With these new fangled advances in medicine, a regular guy like me can't do a simple little thing like see his own death! Is that too much to ask? This country is going to hell in a handbasket.
-Crotchety and Still Alive, Dammit!

Dear CASAD,
Change is a tough thing to deal with, but the possibility of immortality is the sort of thing you just have to come to terms with eventually. It's tough for all of us, but you have to stop being so egoistic. You want to see yourself die. It's all about you you you! If you can't see yourself die, stop being so selfish and go see other things die. Abraham Lincoln is a popular destination, as is Pompeii, or the extinction of the dinosaurs. Hopefully you will get your fill of death.
-Abby & Abby

Four Days from Now: A Review

2008-03-10T00:27:00.000-07:00

I just got out of my time machine. I just bought it like a week ago, and I have to say that I will be disassembling it very soon. What a bore! I was all excited to see the future, so I went four days from now. Whatever! No flying cars, no utopian societies. Just a bunch of fatasses talking about Ohbomba and Hillary whatever or something. I asked someone about the cure for cancer and they were all "Someday we hope there will be a cure. Scientists are making lots of advances and it seems like the technology is within our grasp." Whatever.

Our future is a failure. I couldn't even get a decent interview because people were like "it's Thursday, I'm busy." They weren't even impressed that I was from the past. I was all "I'm from four days ago, baby" at a bar and the girl just looked at my clothes and said "more like four DECADES." I thought it was a compliment at first but then she left the bar.

I was expecting some crazy technology advances, maybe some phasers or whatever. All they had were tasers. Laaaaame. Cool communication devices? I guess the iPhone was pretty cool but it was all plastic or whatever and it was totally not a robot. I was going to get one to bring back to me, but when I went to the bank to see if my account had gotten billions of dollars in interest while I was gone, like in Futurama, the bank lady was all "your balance is zero just like it was four days ago." What a gyp. I said that to her and she was all "that is a racial slur please do not use it." I guess the PC POLICE don't go out of fashion any time soon. Whatever. That's when I decided to come back to the present.

Before making the return trip, I met a guy who had time traveled from four days in the future to be there. I asked him what it was like eight days in the future and he said it sucked. Whatever. I stole his wallet. I couldn't wait until I got back so I wouldn't have to worry about global warming anymore.

Fun Home Art Projects!

2008-03-09T17:31:00.000-07:00

Hello again! Break out the crayons, dive into the construction paper, and haul out the paint thinner, because it's time for a fun home art project!

This week is a little early for Easter, but the supermarkets don't seem to mind starting the celebration now, so neither do I! This week we're going to paint eggs! Doesn't that sound like fun?

Start out with an egg. Have your parents boil some water and put it in. Make sure that your parents put the egg in the boiling water. I remember my brother when I was young - he put the egg in himself. The egg got too hot in the water and was about to explode. My brother screamed - it was a yell which rocked our house to its foundation as he plunged his young forearm into the boiling water to grab the egg. Flesh dries in water - dries in its slow burn, char creeping over fingers and down to the hand, turning to dead black ash the skin up to the elbow. The pain made him squeeze the egg until it broke. Egg shell and hot yolk flew everywhere, raining down from the air onto his writhing body as the family came to his side just in time to see the last glimmer of his hope of becoming a concert pianist fade away.

Okay!

After the egg is hard boiled, drain the water, let the egg cool, and take it out of the pot. Don't eat it! If you eat it you will feel the shell splinter between your teeth, the gritty crackling sound as you eat that which is not meant to be eaten. Chalky shell coats and lightly cuts at your tongue. You will taste sand for days. One shard is stuck in the back of your throat. You cough. You hack. You can't get it loose as it stays there blocking your windpipe. You knew you weren't supposed to eat it. You knew. You knew but you did anyway and this is the thought that runs through your head as you cease breathing and fall to your knees, your vision beginning to black around the edges like your vision of the world did as you grew up and found nothing in adult life but disappointment.

Well!

Now you're ready to paint. Get some watercolors and a brush. Think of what you'd like your egg to look like and start painting. Keep painting. You must keep painting. Your brushstrokes move the room around you and for once in your life you find something over which you can have control. The brush is abrasive against the egg, and you hear a faint scratching sound. A picture on the egg is taking shape, but NO! The egg is too small for what you see, what you must put on the egg. So you throw the egg against the wall to hear it shatter. There is a dent in your wall from doing this every Easter since you realized that nobody will ever understand exactly what you're trying to say. They will always get it just a little bit wrong. Just a little bit because we are truly all our own island with our own lonely language which nobody else speaks. Take your brush and go to the dent and paint the face of the person who is most responsible for your torture. Here you will have painted the face of God.

And now you're done! Enjoy your egg.

A Tale of Two Bronxes: The Earliest Days of Hip Hop

2008-02-28T23:43:00.000-08:00

The year 1969 is not usually thought of for its association with hip hop music. However, this was the year that Pete DJ Jones, a club DJ playing in downtown Bronx, first played two copies of the same record together and began a revolution. This new technique allowed Jones to isolate the break beat, the short instrumental part of a song with lots of energy, and repeat it. One song could be stretched out for long periods of time. This gave dancers a chance to find grooves and stay there.

The technique caught on quickly. In the South Bronx, Clive Campbell, a very young Jamaican immigrant who went by Kool DJ Herc, was throwing house parties. He began playing two copies of the same funk or reggae album and looping the break to keep the dance floor packed for hours. He termed the technique "merry-go-rounding." These parties were small (in lieu of a strobe light, they had a guy named Mike flip the lights on and off), but Herc began attracting a larger crowd around late 1973.

Herc's side of town is where hip hop culture truly began. Pete Jones played downtown disco clubs with an age limit and a high entry fee. Herc, on the other hand, was playing shows in the park and the aforementioned house parties. Anybody could attend these events, and everybody did. Herc quickly built a reputation as the best DJ in the area, and soon found himself playing to large crowds.

It was at these large parties that break dancing emerged. During these long instrumental breaks, dancers would clear an area and start doing intense dances, writhing around and moving with a new kind of furious athleticism. Herc dubbed these the "break boys," or "B Boys."

Herc's Jamaican childhood gave rise to another popular element of hip hop music - rapping. Herc would go to parties in his home town of Kingston and notice DJs "toasting," or calling out names and making chatter over the music to get the crowd excited. He brought this with him to New York, where it evolved to include the element of rhyming. As Herc's popularity grew, toasting and DJing at the same time grew to be too much, and he brought on Coke la Rock to rap for him, effectively making Coke the first hip hop MC.

Success such as Herc's is likely to bring competitors. In this case some of the notable opponents included founder of the Zulu Nation and ex-gang leader Afrikaa Bambaataa and a young underfunded electronics wizard by the name of Grandmaster Flash. Competition was fierce, and it was common practice to remove record labels and put decoy wires around your speaker setup so nobody else could steal your breaks or get their speakers quite as loud as yours.

Herc was still on top, and would often humiliate the other DJs by calling them out during his set or making fun of their stereo setups. If another DJ would refuse to stop playing when it was Herc's turn, he would simply drown them out with his incredibly loud system, which could be heard from blocks away. Whenever Herc saw Flash on the dance floor, he would turn off his system's highs and lows, leaving just the mids, to make fun of Flash's built-from scratch stereo setup which had no bass.

While Grandmaster Flash found little acceptance or success with his lackluster system against the competitive DJs of the South Bronx, he was able to work with Pete Jones and learn tricks of the trade which were otherwise closely guarded secrets. It was during this time that Flash developed the DJ technique which would thrust hip hop music into its second generation - the backspin, which would soon evolve into cutting and scratching.

The hip hop movement was in full swing by 1975, and a rift was growing. South Bronx partygoers were not fond of the different crowd Pete Jones catered to, nor the fact that he would sometimes play disco music, which was the popular radio music of the day. Herc described Jones' audience as “The bourgeoisie, the ones that graduated from the little house parties, you grown now you out your momma’s house. You puttin’ on Pierre Cardin now, you wearing Halston, you getting’ into the Jordache and Sassoon era.”

The rift came to a head one night in 1977. Pete Jones and Kool Herc were to have a DJ battle at the Executive Playhouse, a club where Herc would play often. Two of Herc's regulars, known as The Nigger Twins, had recently had a fallout with the DJ. They found his playlist for that night's battle and took it to Jones and Flash. Jones, who was set up to play first, played the exact same records which Herc was about to play. Dismayed, Herc was able to think fast and pulled out incredibly rare records and kept his edge.

The battle was going poorly for Jones, until some time during the night Jones stepped aside and let Grandmaster Flash play on his system. Flash used his backspin method in front of a large audience for the first time, and was able to display his magician-like showmanship. The crowd went wild, and Herc wasn't able to keep their attention any more. That night, Grandmaster Flash's name blew up, and he became known as one of the great DJs of the Bronx.

Herc's reputation was badly damaged, and his crowds shrank. Several months later he was stabbed after a fight in the same nightclub where the battle took place, and his career never fully recovered. Pete Jones retired in 1980 to manage his clubs. These two men had been the basis for one of the most important and quickly evolving musical genres of the last forty years. They developed the techniques, they developed the culture, and they got the next generation of DJs and MCs started in the right direction. Nobody since has had as much of an influence on hip hop music as the two original greats from two sides of the same city.

HOW TO BE A FUCKING MAN-DOG

2008-02-11T00:31:00.000-08:00

WOOF WOOF SUCKAS it's me comin' at you with the ways you gotta be if you wanna get them bitches on Valentine's Day- male or female let's not be discriminatory here - into your fuckin' SACK for some CRAZY POUNDING.

You basically gotta be a guy with giant muscles all over your body and face goin WOOF WOOF at the ladies on the screen in a movie theater. People see that, they're all like "hell damn that's a guy I want to do some CRAZY POUNDING on my face. Excuse me my friends I'm going to go get some of that, someone hold my shirt and pants for me" MORE ASS THAN YOU CAN HANDLE.

Another way to be a man-dog is to go on the street and be all WOOF WOOF DAMN FINE at the buildings. People go all "yeah I like a guy who can appreciate some fine architecture, think I'll just go over to that guy for some CRAZY POUNDING." Then we all havin' sex on the side of the building. People look--people look and they give me that look and I'm like WOOF WOOF sucka you just jealous of all this I got right here. Yeah, I'm pretty hung, since you asked. Hung like flourescent lightbulbs: long, thin, white, and when it's goin' good there's a humming sound. CHECK IT.

The best way to be a god damn hot shit man-DOG MAN DOG SUCKA is to get on some sorta boat and go out and hang over the side and go WOOF WOOF LOVIN THE OCEAN then you dip your MAN DOG MAN DONG in that ocean and get some CRAZY POUNDING going on sayin' WOOF WOOF. Ocean be all waves and shit, that's me. I made those fuckin' waves. One time thing. Ocean calls me I don't call back.

So there you go, little suckas. Go be a little fuckin' man-dog and get you some shit on Valentine's Day but don't you ever step to me because I am the ORIGINAL and I fuckin' fucked that Valentine piece of shit and he don't come back round here no more. DON'T STEP.

Mini Articles

2008-02-10T16:53:00.000-08:00

*New Study Finds Discovery
According to a new study by Indiana University Professor Mark Name, the wild wild west may not have actually been that wild.
"Our data shows that giant metal spiders weren't really around in the 19th century," says Name. "Neither was Will Smith. One 'wild'? Maybe. Two? Definitely not."

*New Discovery Finds Study
Bunny Sweetcorn, young trophy wife of 80-year old billionaire Jerry Phillips, was outed last Monday as an intelligent person. She was found reading a book on mitosis. Her defense: "I thought it was about pedicures!"

*New Finds in Discovery Study
The book "Discovery: The Lie That You Believed" by Herman Parker hits shelves Tuesday. The book reveals some troubling things about the way we discover new things. "Discovery never happens," says Parker. "Everything has always been here. I remember when I was a kid. Did we need to discover America? Hell no! We already lived there. Didn't need no discovering. Columbus was a hack."

*Fingernails to lengthen, Says Fed
Fingernail Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke announced yesterday that he will not issue an emergency cutback on fingernail length.
"We're going to continue to see steady growth. It's not time to trim things down quite yet. Americans with shorter fingernails should hang in there and push back their cuticles, because things are looking up."

*Kids Like Video Games
"I like video games," says Gary Guth, a precocious little six-year old, in a recent interview. "So do a lot of my friends."
According to market reports, kids enjoy playing video games. It is often listed as one of their favorite activities, next to spending time with friends. "I like my friends," says Gary. "We play video games sometimes."

*His Three Year Old Can Do That
Nearly four years ago, Mark Brighton visited a modern art museum for the first time and remarked that the abstract pictures looked like something a child could do. He immediately got married, conceived a child, and taught him modern art. Young Charles Brighton's work can now be found in museums across the nation.
"Painting is fun," said Charles. "I'm this many fingers old."

Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger Dead

2008-01-28T13:49:00.001-08:00

On January 22nd, 2008, Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger was found dead. He had died soon before he was found dead. It's in times of great tragedy such as these that we remember the immortal words of the dead Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger: "I take a lot of photos of people."

More than any other place, Hollywood bemoans the loss of Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger. I took a trip to Hollywood to see the how the top Hollywood personalities in the Hollywood movie business were dealing with this horrible Hollywood death.

Johnny Depp sat alone on the patio of his Hollywood mansion, looking towards the setting sun. "Sometimes death takes you," he said, "and sometimes... sometimes you take death." He lowered his sunglasses and took off his flowing button-down shirt. He raised an eyebrow and looked to the sky, dangling his sunglasses between his fingers.

"It's important to remember our brothers. I admire the work you do as a reporter, remembering such a great man." Johnny moved closer to me, his mouth falling down as his head rested on my shoulder, hot breath on my neck. "TIMMY! TIMMY!" he shouted, "bring me some rubbers. I am going to make love to this reporter."

"Yes, Mr. Depp," said Tim Burton, appearing from the shadows, wearing nothing but a dog collar, "of course Mr. Depp."

"You have been good today, Timmy. You may sleep at the foot of the bed tonight. Now go."

And so Johnny Depp took me in his arms and led me to the silk-draped sofa, where he lay me down and whispered in my ear: "Let me be offbeat... and eccentric... to you," punctuating each word with a kiss as passionate as Achilles. We spent the night in the throes of pure love.

My second day in Hollywood I had an interview scheduled with Steven Spielberg. I met him in his downtown office. His tone was serious.

"It's always hard when we lose such a man. You see, there's something about Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger. When we lose a man like Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger..." he began to choke up. "No, Steve, not now. You have to do this interview. For the fans." Spielberg flexed his toned body beneath the restrictive flannel shirt and cleared his throat. The door to his office opened and a somber woman came in.

"This is my casting director, Debra Zane," said Spielberg, "and it's women like her who are hurt the most. You see, sometimes when you're making a movie, you need... you need people to be in the movie."

"And when we lost Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger," said Zane, "it means that..." she looked away, quickly, not wanting to process the truth of the situation. "It means that you can't put him in your movie. You need to put someone else!"

"Oh Debra, hold me," cried Steve. The two fell into each other's arms and began a deep kiss. Hands roaming through hair and over bodies, their clothes fell to the ground one by one. I was unsure of what to do. Spielberg turned to me.

"Please, please stay and watch. I just need someone to watch me right now. Please."

I stayed there to support the director and his casting director in this time of need for us all. They turned from two beings into one, brought together by the throbbing motions of their bodies. Flashes of sweat and skin played against the light of the room as their gasps and cries portrayed two people in the highest orders of ecstasy.

As they collapsed into a heap of flesh on the ground, spent, Steven Spielberg turned to me. His face was strained, his brow furrowed. "Why, Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger? Why did you have to go?" It's the question which haunts us all.

That night found me at Kate Winslet's East Hollywood chalet. I found her despondent, laying supine in her boudoir. She turned to me, tears streaming down her face.

"Hollywood Legend... Heath Ledger..." she moaned. The despair was too much for her and she threw one wrist to her forehead. "Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger!" She cried into the night and I came closer to her to soothe her pain. "Hollywood Legend..." she grabbed me by the shirt, ripping it off with great fury, "... Heath Ledger."

I took her in my arms and assured her that everything would be all right. "Hollywood Legend Heath Ledger," she gasped into my chest. She pulled me on top of her. I could see that she wanted the pain to go away. All the hurt, and all the angst, those same feelings we all feel. For this moment she wanted them all to go away, and there was only one way to do that. She kissed me deeply, her arms wrapped around me. For that night she would escape her personal terror.

The night was magical, and we both felt the magical touch of love. The next morning she asked me to send over Johnny Depp if I saw him again.

All in all, I enjoyed my trip to Hollywood. I can't wait until the next celebrity death.

Five Songs to Get You Through Finals Week

2007-12-02T15:45:00.000-08:00

Picture it: you're sitting in Vollum lecture hall, the tremendous walls towering over you as your pencil shakes and you try to write down the answer to the third question. You panic, your vision blurs, and your heart races like it did when you were presented with Wes Anderson's short film masterpiece The Hotel Chevalier. Finally the answer comes to you. There is a heartbeat in your penis. You are coming knowledge. If you're masturbating alone and like me (and you are masturbating alone like me) you're putting on your headphones and bobbing back and forth like a schizophrenic man first exposed to the freak Dali-world inflected folk stylings of Joanna Newsom.

* Silvercrush: "This Time"
Sometimes I am reminded of my younger years: sitting in my room, pontificating on the greater philosophies of the universe, and listening to the greatest musical revolution of the late 90's: Creed. With radio-friendly guitar riffs and thirteenth-generation Eddie Vedder vocals, Silvercrush transports me back to that incredible time in my life when Wes Anderson's Rushmore played on each movie screen and there was nothing in the world but possibility. The lead singer reaches down into the deeply shallow wells of human experience, singing about Jesus like a medieval poet trudging through the muddy fields of Hastings to deliver one last message to his king: "victory."

* Hard Off: "Snogging Horsies"
Forget about sex with people and get back to your paper by thinking about sex with horses instead. Who can resist the call of bestiality when it's encased in such pseudo-glitchy electronica glory? A veritable sonic landscape of beeps, boops, and stunning audial vision will take you for a sexy ride like the infantile incestuous leanings of Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums if they were on shrooms and listening to Ace of Base. The Nine Inch Nails sample not only wants to "fuck [me] like an animal" but also reminds us of the relative size of horse penises. Don't pass this one up!

* The Olivia Tremor Control: "The Sky is a Harpsichord Canvas"
Between the quiet noises and the loud silences like My Bloody Valentine dropped off the edge of the earth into the void, spinning around for decades and considering the human relation to insects before finally finding a guitar and playing the score of Wes Anderson's The Darjeeling Limited, this is the most complete song I have ever heard. There is absolutely nothing else to say. The stunningly beautiful chorus shocks me like nothing since I saw the Mona Lisa in person and found out that it was seriously tiny and you're not allowed to take photos. The song is so lonely it's as if you are listening to the shadow of a shadow of a shadow. if you can't rock out, mellow out, dance off, or beat off to this song you simply have no appreciation for the medium of music. And it packs all that into a four second track, too.

* Robert Johnson: "Stop Breakin' Down Blues"
You're in over your head. You're not smart enough for this place. You're channelling the longing and loss of professionally amateur auteur Owen Wilson in Wes Anderson's Bottle Rocket. To help you get through the night, put on this song, lean over to the person next to you, and whisper "I'm listening to Robert Johnson, possibly the greatest bluesman ever. What are you listening to? I bet it's not the music that directly influenced the ENTIRE genre of rock and roll. Why not listen to something with a little SOUL? The Decemberists, seriously? Those guys are whiter than a bleached snowball thrown at Pat Boone. You don't belong at Reed." You'll feel much better.

* William S. Burroughs: "Star Me Kitten"
Two words: William Diebold.

To Whom It May Concern

2007-11-25T00:27:00.000-08:00

I am writing in response to your broadcast segment, Look Out!, from your Thursday, July 24^th edition of The Six O’Clock Nightly News. I found the segment tawdry, sensational, and a fine example of just how this nation is heading straight down the toilet.

Know that if you are not willing to issue an apology for the photo shown on the segment in question, I will be forced to mobilize. Angry parents are the strong and the silent majority. It’s not wise to provoke us. Anything you do that isn’t directly in step with your apologizing for this segment and ensuring that it never happens again will be met with nothing but the fiercest wrath: a boycott. Don’t turn your back on your base.

You may not be willing to respond to threats, but appeal to common decency. This nation’s morals have been slipping for years. I’ve seen it. From the decent modesty of the time when I was a child to the corruption and violence of when I was a young adult to the flippant attitudes and lazy demeanor present in children today, it’s clear that the world has lost its grip on what is truly important: family. Family values and quiet, simple people are what we need to truly return to our golden age. What if people spent more time together instead of in front of the television, watching garbage like The Six O’Clock Nightly News, which is clearly offensive and base? We might be living in a kinder world and your program might have decided not to be so offensive and base after all. Think of what you’re doing to the world, to our spirit of nation and our spirit of community.

When you get right down to it, you’re letting down the kids. Won’t you think of the children? Or at least my child? You could have at least edited his head out of the photo or something. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.

New in Education

2007-11-14T01:17:00.000-08:00

Like any field, Education is frequently coming out with new ideas, new science, and new other things. The recent Portland Elementary Education Conference gathered speakers and experts from all over the world. Their slogan: "On The Cutting Edge-ucation."

The event was organized by local first grade teacher Mary Simsworth: "It's great that we're all able to come together for this convention! I'm so happy you all could be here! I'm soooo happy! This is great! Are you kids ready to have a blast learning math? I mean, it's great that we're all able to come together for this convention! Hooray!"

The first organized event was the Teacher Meet and Greet. Response was enthusiastic.

"I don't think I've met and gret this many educators like myself in a long time. I'm learning revolutionary ideas. For example, did you know that kids can use the internet to learn things? I'm going to be incorporating this into my lesson plan," said San Francisco teacher Gary Eaton.

There were a wide array of panels on various topics, the first of which dealt with the touchy topic of religion in schools.

"I feel that it's important to learn about religions objectively, from an anthropological standpoint. I teach my class about world religions by celebrating their holidays. Just last week we all put on robes, shaved our heads, and waited for the big comet to come. Kids brought powdered juice drinks. It was great! And so educational," said panel member Ojaira Moonchild.

"We had a class discussion on each child's religious experience. It was very enlightening, but then one kid turned out to be Muslim. I hid under my desk and didn't come out for a month. I had to piss in pencil holders and my only sustenance was from the apples on my desk. I've since come out as a strong proponent of banning religion in schools," said an educator in response to a question about what his name was. It is still unknown what his name was.

The largest panel at the convention, titled "Fuck you! You suck!" was hosted by controversial educator Jerry Flagg. We got a chance to sit down with the man.

"Kids are little namby-pamby brats these days. We're telling them they're all special. That's not right. My approach is to show them how much smarter than them you, as an educator, are. That way they have someone to look up to. You accomplish this through ridicule."

Jerry brought out a sheet of paper titled "Greatest Hits."

"Oh, this one's great. 'You call this a thesis statement? It's flimsier than the excuses your boyfriend makes to get you into bed. It comes too early, too.' Zing! And who could forget 'I said to write a thousand words! This essay is almost as short as your dick.' Or, my favorite, 'I loved your book report as much as your parents love you. You get an F.' Great stuff."

Flagg currently teaches English to the second grade at Sumner Elementary.

The conference wasn't entirely panels. There were lots of booths selling things like scissors that cut in funny shapes, gold star stickers, and jumbo bags of Tootsie Rolls. One retailer was dedicated entirely to educational wall decorations: "Our biggest seller is the alphabet. You put it on the wall so kids don't forget it exists. Right behind that is the photo of a child failing school and living on the street. Keeps them motivated, you know, really effective stuff."

The event closed off with a showing of The Lion King, chosen for its educational qualities. After the movie had been running for fifty minutes, a bell rang and everybody left the building as quickly as possible. Event organizer Simsworth plans to finish the movie at next year's convention.

Revision

2007-11-14T01:13:00.000-08:00

An Excellent Autobiography
by Max Huxley

It starts when we meet, a long time ago.

Max is eating his lunch on the bench by the tree. Cat is a young boy then, like we all are, and approaches the tree with long wonderful fingernails to strip its bark. Eli Spalding is nowhere yet to be found, and Max and Cat graciously wait there to meet him.

Eli finally walks up to meet us for the first time.

“Max, you’re hitting the keys all wrong,” he says.

“No, no, it’s my lunch that I’m eating all wrong. And you can’t know my name yet. Not when you first get here. Hello, my name is Max, and don’t tell me how to eat my lunch, Eli.”

“Now you’re all confused. You’re simply hitting the keys all wrong. I’m not here yet. ”

“You aren’t? I am confused. And if I’m confused then the reader must be hopeless.”

“Exactly. Not excellent at all. Hello, you’re eating your lunch all wrong.”

“Oh, here you are. Hello, my name is Max, and don’t tell me how to eat my lunch, Eli.”

“It’s too late. It’s all lost. You’re still doing it wrong. I’ll fix it.”

An Excellent Autobiography
by Eli Spalding

It started when we met, a long time ago.

Eli Spalding saw two young boys sitting by and attacking a tree, respectively. The sitting boy was eating a lunch, incorrectly. The attacking boy was likely damaging his fingertips. Fingernails being worn to the nub can be a painful and sometimes humiliating experience. Eli pitied the boy attacking the tree, but nothing would be happening to him that he didn’t bring entirely on himself.

Self-destruction never achieves anything useful except self-empowerment concerning life outlook. In terms of life outlook it may change only details, rather than the categories of outlook: science and God. These are immutable. Where science is the aggregation of similar abstractions, God is the aggregation of many dissimilar abstractions, which makes it the most human.

“Excuse me, but we’re still waiting,” yelled Mark.

“Be quiet. Hello, you’re eating your lunch all wrong,” Eli yelled back.

“No. You were closer at the time. Now you’re all the way over there.”

Eli scowled. Max was interrupting something very important. It would be another ten years before we would learn the true meaning of trees in our lives. Trees are forever symbolic, and they are conveniently versatile symbols, to the lazy. Growth, rebirth, death, seasons changing, ungrowth, cutting down, minor growth, branching out, branch growth, pinecones, birds, slow growth, cherries, hidden desires, and growth of hidden desires are all represented by trees. So, ten years later we learned that trees are only truly the symbols for degeneration, especially in terms of fingertips, as is expertly foreshadowed here.

Ten years later trees are around Max as he prepares to fight. Eli and Cat are backing him up. We are the best of friends, Max and Cat and Eli.

“Max, if you’re going to interrupt, at least do me the favor of taking my name off of this thing and writing in the correct tense for once.”

THE END

“There, now you have to.”

An Excellent Autobiography
by Max Huxley

Ten years after it started when we met, a long time ago, trees are

“Were,” said Eli.

were around Max as he prepared to fight. Eli and Cat are

“Were,” said Eli.

were backing him up. We are

“If you’re not going to do this right, don’t even include me,” said Eli.

are the best of friends, Max and Cat and Brian.

Max has angered the school bully and at three PM at the flagpole they are going to punch each other. His fingers are decaying from the trees all around him.

“My fingers are fine,” Max whispers to his friends, “but someday this will give my life symbolism, to say that my fingers are decaying.”

“I will remember that,” says Brian, “and use that symbolism as my own some day. I have a story about this, actually, in which a boy defeats a bully. He falls in love. I will tell it, and include decomposing fingers, to inspire you.”

“I never said anything like that,” says Eli. “What stilted dialogue.”

“You asked to be taken out of this story. This is Brian, your replacement, talking. Not you.”

“You can’t make up a character in your own life. This is like the time you and I sat in a small white room, the door locked, limiting our movement as human cognition is limited by the immutable categories of outlook, which I will get to later. We were playing chess, when Cat opens the door, carrying groceries.”

“I’ve come back with the milk,” says Cat.

“And a fine time to do so,” says Eli, “you’ve interrupted us right in the middle of adolescence.”

“Don’t tell me you left childhood without me!”

“Our lives can’t wait all day for milk,” says Eli.

“I bet you’ve left me entirely out of it, too. How could you, Eli? Oh, damn, you talked about degenerating fingers, didn’t you?” Cat sets down the groceries and shows Eli his damaged fingertips.

“I was talking about decaying fingers and all their ramifications, but Max,” Eli glares at Max, “cut me off to tell a story, which also had them, yes.”

“Please let me be there for childhood,” says Cat, “I’ll even type.”

“Don’t bother asking, just start if you want to. Please do tell the story, though,” says Max.

“You have my permission,” says Eli, crossing his arms.

An Excellent Autobiography
by Cat Harrington

It started when we met, a long time ago.

Cat was at a tree scraping at the bark with his fingers and risking their destruction.

“Foreshadowing,” said Eli, who had not met Cat yet, or the boy sitting on the bench next to the tree, eating his lunch.

“All wrong,” said Eli.

“What?” said Cat.

“He’s eating his lunch all wrong. Put that in,” said Eli.

“But you haven’t walked over to say it yet.”

“Never mind that. It’s a fact that he’s eating it wrong. It’s true, so just put it.”

“The boy is me, right?” asked Max, who was eating his lunch all wrong.

“Yes,” said Cat, whose fingers hurt. He was talking about all sorts of things, but Max and Eli were not listening; they never did. Cat was afraid to talk to Max. Later there was a boy who he liked very much but was afraid to talk to. Cat wrote stories about not talking to him and about being rejected to come to terms with it. Cat never talked to him because his love would be rejected. In the story he went by

a different name, and so did the boy.

All of the Places Where Alex Tried to Be
by Cat Harrington

Alex groans. He wants five more minutes of sleep, but his desk is uncomfortable. His arm is more asleep than he is, and so he moves awake. He looks up and opens his window. He can see into Max’s room. Max is reading on the chair in front of the crucifix on his wall.

Alex picks up the story he was writing before he fell asleep. It’s a fantasy story about him and Max. He has written it to feel better, but the story is an escape. He can never talk to Max. Pretending that he can will never help him therapeutically. Despite this, he picks up his pen to write, “Tomorrow I will talk to Max” when the wind blasts through the window and steals the paper away. He picks up another piece of paper but the wind takes that too, and all the paper on his desk. All the drawers open and all the paper goes out the window, and all the pencils and all the pens.

Max watches the paper fall to the lawn between his house and Alex’s. He raises one eyebrow at Alex. Alex is going to talk to him, but sees the crucifix again and cringes back into his room. He cannot.

He goes outside to gather his paper.

“The symbolism of the cross combines with the ‘X’ in both names. He was afraid only of himself and of Max. Excellent,” says Max.

“A dues ex machina should never be appreciated. Let’s move on,” says Eli.

“Why was the boy named Max?” asks Max.

“I changed the names,” says Cat,” it wasn’t you.”

“Hello, you’re eating your lunch all wrong,” said Eli.

“Hello, my name is Max, and don’t tell me how to eat my lunch, Eli.”

“What is the correct way to eat a lunch?” asked Cat.

“You know,” said Max, “Your story reminds me of something I wrote about a boy I liked who I was afraid to talk to. I changed the names. It was about the two of

us together being happy. I eventually talked to him and he said he loved me.”

Brad, Graciously, and Cat
by Max Huxley

Brad grips his gun to his chest and looks at Cat, who is asleep. Brad has had Cat’s back since they were enlisted, and is waiting for him to wake up. The world is quiet when it’s nighttime in Vietnam.

Cat is an engineer; he fixes the radio. Brad is there to make sure he can fix the radio. Brad lies down next to Cat in the mud. Trampled plants surround him. They breathe deeply. Brad gathers his coat around him and he is warm. It begins to rain and they are both warm. He strokes Cat’s cheek. Cat wakes up and looks at Brad. He unzips Brad’s jacket and runs a finger down his chest as the two reach for each other and kiss. Brad wraps one leg around Cat and they get as close as they can as their fingers decay due to the trees around them. They are happy forever.

“The part about the fingers you put in just now,” says Eli.

“Well, yeah. This story didn’t have any symbolism, though, so I had to add some.”

“The boy’s name was Cat,” says Cat.

“The names were changed,” says Max. “It wasn’t you.”
“Oh,” says Cat. “Can we continue, Eli? Where were we? Oh, yes, what is the correct way to eat a lunch?”

“No, hold on,” says Max.

An Excellent Autobiography
by Max Huxley

Fifteen years after it started when we met, a long time ago, Max, Cat, and Brian were sharing stories they’d written and coming to terms with them.

“What? I’ve never come to terms with anything in my life,” protested Eli.

“This isn’t you, it’s Brian.”

“Well, put me back in. And don’t begin in the middle, that’s not where it begins.”

“You’re not in this part, anyway,” said Max.

Brian became Eli and left the room.

Max and Cat had written stories about liking people named Cat and Max. These people weren’t each other, but they may as well have been. They had been talking to each other for years.

Cat admitted, “Max, although it’s hard for me to say, may I please have permission to love you?”

Max said, “Yes, you may.”

“I take offense,” said Cat. “I would not ask permission to love somebody.”

“I think it’s very much something you would do,” said Mark.

“Please don’t make me say that,” said Cat.

“Max, although it’s hard for me to say, I love you,” said Cat, “that’s better.”

Max and Cat pulled each other very close and kissed. Their fingers decayed like mad.

“There were no trees there,” said Cat.

“Oh, whoops,” said Max, “I’ve done it wrong.”

Cat sighed and looked at his bloody fingers. “Symbolism. Now we have to begin again.”

In the other room Eli was drinking the milk Cat had brought and writing a story about the future. He was writing it so that he could practice coming to terms

with it, since he wondered what that was like.

A Meaningful Death
by Eli Spalding

When he was six, Eli Spalding wore water wings in the pool. When he was ten, he refused to jump off of rocks. He didn’t get a driver’s license until he was twenty-two. He never took an airplane, and he would visit the doctor for every ailment until that ailment was cancer, which is what puts him in front of James right now, a large tumor in Eli’s neck. Right now is of course the future; Eli does not currently have cancer. Excuse the improper tense, but the future is too tedious to bother with. Clearly inferior.

“I am no longer afraid of death,” he says, and dies. James writes that down.

Now that is something to come to terms with.

James takes this time to consider the nature of worldly outlook. By looking abstractly at a million different deaths, as is his job, a job which so few have, he is able to aggregate into a scientific view. But if he observes many different phenomena abstractly and aggregates them, Cat walks into the room. Eli shakes off his death and considers visiting a doctor right away to set up some foreshadowing.

“Excuse me, Eli, but we’re starting over again,” says Cat.

“Good. Is there finger decay this time?”

Cat hopes not.

An Excellent Autobiography
by Max Huxley

It started when we met, a long time ago.

Max was sitting on the bench next to a tree, and he had not yet met Cat, who was tearing the bark off of a tree. They were waiting to meet Eli, who walked over to them.

“Hello,” said Eli, “you’re eating your lunch all wrong.”

“Hello, my name is Max, and don’t tell me how to eat my lunch, Eli.”

“What is the correct way to eat a lunch?” asked Cat.

“With your mouth,” said Eli.

“Sorry, but my mouth is busy right now,” said Max, who was kissing Cat.

“This isn’t what happened,” said Eli.

“Foreshadowing,” said Max.

The two were busy and left Eli to do the writing by himself. Eli was much better at foreshadowing, anyway. He took Max’s lunch and showed him how to eat it correctly. Eli choked on an olive pit and spit it out, so that he could go to see the doctor.

Op-Ed: Fuck You Mom and Dad

2007-11-14T01:11:00.000-08:00

Jesus, mom and dad, you guys suck. Fuckin all the time trying to call me, like fuckin wantin to talk to me. Whatever. I'm at fuckin college now and you're just fuckin livin in the fuckin past. I'M NOT YOUR LITTLE BABY BOY ANYMORE MA GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD. Fuckin bitch. Sending me those care boxes through the bookstore. Whatever. The guy who gave it to me said nobody had ever bought them before so way to be SO COOL mom. You just don't understand my fuckin generation mom. Ugh

And listen up, DAD. I'm an individual, and so my number fuckin 1 interest on Facebook (that's on the INTERNET, geezers) is "music." You're all the fuckin time tryin to get me to listen to your old fogey shit. Get with the fuckin TIMES. Nobody listens to The Beatles anyBORE, dad. That's anyBORE because they're fuckin BORING. La la la fa fa fa shut the fuckin up Paul McGAYrtney and RinGAYo SHITarr. Stop tryin to teach me the guitar. Just because you played violin in the New York Philharmonic doesn't mean you know shit about music so leave me the fuck alone dad.

WhatEVER mom and dad. Just pay the tuition and leave me the SHIT alone. Shit SHIT.

Food for Thought

2007-10-26T23:09:00.001-07:00

I’m what you might call a “foodie.” There’s nothing better than a rare Porterhouse steak or a lima bean with a special amount of “pop.” I’ve decided to review four vegetables for you today. Hopefully you’ll catch the foodie bug. But don’t eat any bugs, it’s just an expression.

BABY CARROT
I was introduced to baby carrots by a friend of mine. Intrigued, I picked up a bag. I put a package of baby carrots in the bag and took it to the park to try out while I watched the birds. The small, orange bits were crunchy and refreshingly wet. They tasted a lot like carrots, and they resemble smaller, less mature carrots. I can see how they got the idea to name them baby carrots. These were satisfying, although a little pedestrian if I do say so. The true connoisseur would never accept these in lieu of the real deal, a carrot. A nice diversion for the lowest common denominator, but nothing of true greatness. I even arranged the baby carrots into shapes to spell out the word “mediocre” but I didn’t have my camera at the time. Overall, not horrible, but subpar compared to the other options. Three stars out of five.

OKRA
I can see some definite jalapeno influences here. But don’t think of it as a ripoff! The shape and color may be similar, but the taste is essentially a vegetable revolution. I popped it in my mouth and was impressed. Quite a performance for a newcomer. Look for this veggie to make waves in the future. Four stars out of five.

ARTICHOKE
Whoever came up with the artichoke was trying way too hard. I can see how "wacky" it is in its lack of utility, but at the end of the day it's just a gimmick vegetable. A heart in a plant? I don't think so, buddy. Who thought that the artichoke would benefit the world at all? You can only eat six percent of it and at the end of your meal you're left with a pile of junk. Well, needless to say this vegetable tasted pretty much exactly like you would think. All flash and no substance. Big disappointment. Two stars out of five.

POTATO
First impression: a little hard to chew. The stock boy at the supermarket suggested I try boiling, baking, or frying it, as long as I paid for it first. Sounded like a square deal to me. How wrong I was. I got home and boiled, baked, and fried the potato. What a mess! The whole thing basically fell to mush. I tried to eat it, but it burned my mouth. Also, needed salt. Worst vegetable I’ve ever had. One star out of five.

A Day at the Beach

2007-10-22T02:00:00.001-07:00

Eli sat on the sand and immediately remembered not to hug his knees to his chest. He was not a pussy. His friends were jumping off of rocks into the water, and this was very dangerous. That’s why Eli wasn’t with them, it was downright dangerous. He was sure that his parents would agree, but his parents weren’t why he was sitting out. Jumping off of rocks was a bad idea and anybody with sense should leave themselves out of it.

Cat climbed on the tallest rock.

“Guys! Guys, look at this!”

Everyone looked at Cat, and he bent his knees. He was about to jump. Cat leapt as high as he could in the air and breaths were held as he hit the water. Eli swore it must have taken him at least a minute to fall. What a stupid idea. Cat resurfaced, coughing up some water.

“Whoa. Ha ha that was awesome!” said Cat, and swam to the riverside.

“Nice jump,” said Eli. “Real cool.”

“Thanks. You sure you don’t want to come in? It’s a lot of fun.”

“No, I’m sure.”

They were silent. Soon Cat got up and got back in the water. Eli’s friends yelled and jumped off of rocks for hours. Eli ate a sandwich from the cooler they had brought. It was just bread and ham and cheese, and there was an unavoidable crunch of sand hiding in the middle. He grimaced.

Eli looked at his friends and frowned. He got angry, and rightly so. Why couldn’t they do something he wanted to do, too? He had come all the way out there. Now he was just going to sit on the beach? How lame.

It was late, and Eli’s mom came back from her day of biking. She was sweaty and smiling. The boys got in the car, and Eli got to sit in front. It was his mom’s car. Eli looked into the back seat. Cat had a small cut on his shin; he got it from climbing a rock too quickly. It wasn’t bleeding, but it looked like it stung a little. He looked forward again. That’s what they get.

From the Archives

2007-10-22T01:24:00.001-07:00

Take a trip back to the beginning with this article from the very first Pamphlette in 1987.

“Farmre Jones maye be harming mine Cowes wit Whitchcrafte,” quoth Farmre Johnsen yesterdey in an Interview. “I thinke he shud be run out of Towne.”

Hath our Blissid Reed College, a Place where the most Blissed and Pious young Creatures in the World goe to lerne themselves of the Classics and of howe to Marrie well, become a Den for Whitchcrafte and the Work of the Divil himself? It may apeer So, and so we, the most Christian of nashuns, hath no Recours but to collaps to our Nees and Pray to the bountiful Christian God to Rid us of this heathen who plague us.

Some disagree. “I declar that as Shure as my Hat is the colour Blue, ‘twas by that very Whitchcrafte, and by no othre possibl Method, was I able to pass my Biology midturm. Mitochondria, as beutiful as any of God’s Creatures it may be, but to lerne it well is such a Bitche,” quoth Psychology major Goody Tushues. “I muste take wut advantages may I be Allowed, passing is very Difficault when one’s major has yet to be Invinted in this Wunderful year of our Lord 1987.”

The student Movement to Allow the practices of the Heathens and Whitches picks up steame upon the arrival of each dey.

“I finde Whitches to be, of all the Creatures whitch walk the bounteous Earth, quite Acceptable. Why, but Yesterdey we shewed it to the Man by byrning a Pyre, but you see, to this Pyre there was no Whitch attetched! This is Parte of my Studio Arts Thesis, which is to be entitled, ‘Good Heavins, Good Whitches.’ The title is a wonderful Pun, of course, but the Matter of the Thesis I assur you is serius in its entirety,” quoth Whitches rights Campayner Thomas Evergood.

The respons of Honourable Headmastre Colin Gooddiver were mixed: “It is of course Importent to Allowe all of God’s fyne Creatures to dwell upon our skewl. On the othre Hand, a Prominente Englisch professor of great Renown has fallin feverishly Ill lately, and there can be no explination but Whitchcrafte. It is a problem my Administration whishes to Solve.”

The point is moote, of course, as Farmre Jones hath been late yesterday drowned in the rivre for his crymes. May a mercyful God have eternal Forgiveness upon his Soul.

The Pamphlette Apologizes

2007-10-22T01:20:00.000-07:00

Oh God We’re So Sorry

After twenty years of hard-hitting journalism, there have been more than a few times where The Pamphlette has hit just a little too hard. The cries can be heard for miles. People sprawled on hospital beds, moaning “Aughhh I’m offended…” “Hurk! Help me quick! That wasn’t that offensive but it was trying to be and now I’m so bored! Blagh!” The seemingly innocuous newspaper has a mild injury count in the dozens. The reality of this has not settled lightly on the shoulders of the paper’s contributors, and they asked me to write this article so that we could all apologize and make things right.

“It can make a strong man’s knees weak to see what sort of havoc he has wreaked. Hey, that rhymes. I never intended for it to end up like this. Please believe me, you poor victims, you and your families, know that I am doing everything I can to atone for The Pamphlette,” said Pamphlette founder Adrian Chen this week while counting his stacks of student funds money.

Contributor Andrew Michaan got on his knees and bawled when he was asked if he was sorry. “The women jokes started out so innocently. We just wanted an alternative to Everybody Loves Raymond and things like that – where the men are idiots and the women bask in the entrenched power of the Matriarchy. Then it got to be too much. I have never been as regretful about anything as I am about my writing. Please, if it means anything, know that this makes me incredibly sad. I’m also kinda sad that my wife of ten years just died.” Andrew then jumped in his wife’s funeral pyre, sacrificing his life.

Staff writer Alexandra Schmidt gave her testimony from her iron lung, gasping her sorrows between breaths. “The Pamphlette… Oh God… What was… I thinking… it hurt… so many… How could… I be so… naïve as to… think it… wouldn’t… come back to… hurt me… It put me… in here…” We cut her off for the sake of brevity, but be assured, she is super sorry.

Typesetter Tom Fenollosa and newcomer Ariella Thornhill were both found in the Portland Legacy Emanuel Mental Health Facility. Ariella hasn’t stopped crying for ten years and has written “SORRY” on her room walls in crayon. Tom sits all day in a rocking chair mumbling to himself, “The tools… I gave them the tools… The tools…” Tom and Ariella are incapable of normal social function.

Of course, this leaves only me, Nick Chandler-Klein. As author of many Pamphlette articles which no doubt irrevocably harmed many, there is no redemption for me. I took the pills ten minutes ago. My greatest regret is that I’m going out with a suicide joke. I know how tasteless this is because of the pain that anyone who has had a friend or family member commit suicide must feel and I must apologize for it quickly because the pills should be kicking in any secon

The Important Things

2007-10-22T01:17:00.000-07:00

We fucked. We married, we fucked again. We had a kid, I got a job, and I’d had enough of all of that, so I left. I woke up one night and it was three AM and I left. I never thought about them again.

I’d like to say that I had been a badass, a bruiser tough guy twisting the handles on a motorcycle I’d built myself. I’d like to say that I put on goggles and let my long hair flow behind me, running thirty miles above the speed limit, I put on the radio and there’s Muddy Waters and he’s still Hard, damn he’s always been Hard, and just as the radio comes on he pulls one note on the guitar and holds it and yells as loud as he can and I rev the engine and go a little faster and yell as loud as I can into the dusty void lit by the Arizona sun. I’d like to say that, but none of it was true.

I could never build a motorcycle and I didn’t have long hair. I didn’t live in Arizona besides. But I was going to do something about it. I yelled my best blues yell as I climbed up the grass hill towards the highway, going quiet halfway through because it wasn’t very good.

There was no way that someone would pick up a hitchhiker at three AM and so I turned right and started walking. I couldn’t stay.

I walked and looked down and it was dark. I saw the tarred road I was walking on and looked at how black it was and thought how during the day it was just black but now at night with everything around it black as well it shone and reflected and what it shone and reflected was even more black. It stood out and reminded the trees and the road markers what real black was. So drivers could see better, I told myself, it must have been intentional.

The asphalt black didn’t seem so Important anymore and I looked up and it was six AM. I had been walking, I knew, and when the road became just black again it told me that the sun was coming up. A truck pulled over in front of me. I could tell that it was waiting for me to get in.

I climbed up two metal stairs to the door and I opened it and sat down. I said hello to the driver and he grinned at me and said hello and I fell asleep.

There was the sound first and then the smell, which is what you wake up to when you wake up to someone eating food. The driver rattled his empty soda cup, which wasn’t empty but had a lot of ice in it and nothing else. That’s close enough to empty. He had been eating french fries. There was half of a cheap hamburger sitting on its paper and I heard the paper slide over the pleather seats as we went around a bend. It reminded me of waking up in a tent sticky from dew. I always hated that. I was sticky from sweat, the truck was only one degree too hot. Then I opened my eyes and it was eleven AM.

“Ha! Well look who’s up.”

“These are nice seats”

“Well thank you! You know this truck didn’t come with these seats.”

He told me a story about his seats, and I nodded.

“So you married? You on your way home?” He pointed to my finger, which had a gold ring on it.

“No,” I said, and took the ring off. “It’s not mine.” I didn’t want him to ask about my ring. I didn’t like that I had to lie. I had already wanted the conversation to be over, and then he asked about my ring. I wanted to get out of the truck.

“Oh,” he said. “Well,” he told me a story about his truck, and I nodded.
My wife’s name was Allie. We met at a high school dance and I wanted to leave and to my surprise she did too. I took off her bra in the back of her father’s sedan which she had been allowed to borrow. I smiled at her and it was midnight. I kissed her and then we were married. It was one PM and I looked at her and I stepped down from the altar holding her hand and we walked to the door and there was Gregory. It was two AM and she was on a table and yelling her best blues yell and our baby boy Gregory fell into my hands. That was it. That was all that had happened. It was three AM and I was sitting in my bed and I looked at my hands where Gregory had been born. Gregory was asleep in his room and I’d had enough of all that, and so I left.
I looked at the ring which I was flipping back and forth between two fingers. I put it in my left pocket. I would sell it at a pawn shop. I would never think about them again.

I asked the driver to let me out in Willits. He stopped at a gas station.
“Oh, almost forgot to mention! My name’s Steve. See you ‘round,” he told me.
The truck gassed up and drove off and it was noon. I had already forgotten the driver’s name. I looked down to see what I had with me. In my pocket I had my wallet and my ring and on my wrist I had my watch of course. I had to find a phone and a phone book to call Mike. I’d heard that Mike lived in Willits.

I sat down at a table in the diner and Mike sat down across from me. We ordered coffee and we looked at each other. He was happy to see me. On the phone Mike had picked up the receiver and had said hello and he was contented when he said it and he was firm and I saw him through the receiver and he was seven feet tall with two days of stubble and one cocked eyebrow. Mike had taught me things, a long time ago. We never sat down and he never stopped talking and he never said anything that wasn’t Important. He told me that some things were Important, and that nothing else was worth the time. He bought me a beer. He bought me a ticket to a show. He brought me to the mall, and bought me the time to steal the watch behind the counter. It was my first watch. It was three PM.

Our coffee came and we looked at each other. I leaned forward over my coffee, looking into his eyes, ready for him to speak because I knew that I had to listen. He was going to tell me how I had done the right thing, and then I was never going to think about them again. We were going to remember all the Important things that had happened, and we were going to grin. I looked at Mike. He was five foot nine like he had always been and he was wearing a jacket. He smiled and he sipped his coffee and then he looked at me and saw my eyes asking at him and he did not smile.

“I thought we would just be having coffee,” he said. “We would catch up. I was happy to see you.”

“We are, aren’t we? That’s what we’re doing.”

“Oh, well, yes. Good.”

He smiled again. Something was wrong.

“So what did you ever end up doing? You were always pretty good at the lumber yard during the summer. You’re not still there, though, right?”

“I… well, I… no, I’m not.” I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“That’s good, it’s nothing you want to do for too long. Too many splinters over the years can’t be fun. I opened a coffee shop around the corner with my cousin a few years back. It’s doing pretty well. Ha! Hope nobody sees me in here drinking this stuff.”

“But Mike, this is small talk.”

“I guess, but we’re catching up, right?”

“Didn’t you always… you’d always say that small talk wasn’t Important.”

“Small talk isn’t important?” Mike looked at me sideways, and then remembered. “Oh! Oh, wow, you got quite a memory on you! Haven’t thought about that in years. Man, we would spend hours talking about what was Important and what wasn’t. What a great time.”

“You haven’t thought about it in years? But haven’t you been doing Important things? You were going to go on television. You were going to buy a motorcycle!”

“Well I opened up my coffee shop, that’s pretty important to me. I’m enjoying myself. I just don’t go around all day deciding whether things are Important or not, that’s all.”

We looked at each other and he looked down and he told me a story about his coffee shop and I nodded and my eyes were red around the edges and my hands began to shake and it was one PM. He finished his story.

“Mike I can’t believe you. I come to see you and you’re running some coffee shop and you’re making small talk and you don’t care what’s Important and what’s not. Mike, anything that’s not Important isn’t worth the time,” I bit at him.

“Come on, that was a long time ago, you don’t expect me to still think that way.”

“Mike, it’s hard, I know. I let myself slip, but I kept thinking about what was Important and I realized that nothing Important was happening. It wasn’t worth the time, Mike. I left.”

“You left what?”

“I got married, Mike, I had a kid. But nothing was happening. Nothing.”

Mike’s eyes opened wide. I could see that he was going to remember. He was going to tell me I’d done the right thing and he was going to sell his coffee shop and we were going to leave. We would go and we would give our best blues yells and every bone in our bodies would anticipate the next Important thing that would happen, because we knew it would come. I began to smile.

“You left your wife and kid? Just like that?”

“It was three AM and I left.”

“What the hell were you thinking? Does she even know where you are?”

“Well, no, of course not.” I was shaken. He didn’t understand yet. “Mike, nothing Important was going to happen.”

Mike dug his eyes into mine and lowered his voice. “Nothing ‘Important’ was going to happen? You believe in that shit? I was barely old enough to fake an ID and you think I had some sort of grand philosophical statement to make? Even I knew I was bullshitting. You left your God damn wife and child and you come to me and I haven’t seen you in years. You think you can explain yourself with this kid shit? How immature are you?”

I couldn’t say anything. Mike stood up and pointed and hissed at me. The volume besides, each word was thunder.

“Tell me! Tell me what things you think are Important! Huh? Give me a list.”

I wanted to tell him, to think of my list and tell him what it was, but I just looked at my coffee. Mike’s shoes clipped on the tile as he stomped towards the door. “I can’t believe you grew up to be such scum,” one of us said. He abandoned me and the bell over the door rang and it was just past one PM. I paid for the coffee.

I was glad the conversation was over because he had been making small talk. Small talk wasn’t Important. Nothing Important was going to happen if I had stayed and why couldn’t he understand that? He had told me, he must have known.

The rental car was green and I was angry and I was going very fast and it was five PM. I had made an Important decision to go South. Willits was to the North and very soon my wife and my kid would be too, but I wasn’t thinking about them. I would never think about them again. I felt the ring still in my pocket with my wallet.

I recognized the trees and knew that I was close to my wife and my kid and I was thinking about them. I couldn’t help thinking about them. I pulled the ring from my pocket and threw it out the window. No! I needed to sell it in a pawn shop, that was what I was going to do. I needed to sell it in a pawn shop, and so I pulled the car over. I was not thinking about them.

I walked back to where I had thrown the ring and it reflected the last parts of the sun and I saw it and picked it up. I was very close to my wife and my kid. I sat down on the grass hill next to the highway and looked at our house. I wasn’t thinking about them, I was tired.

If I went back inside Allie would be mad and she would cry and I would want the conversation to be over and Gregory would graduate high school and I would get promoted and Gregory would fuck and get married and I would have a grandchild and I would be old and that would be all. I would be so old. I would be old and that would be all.

A twig snapped and I jumped and turned my head. Another twig snapped and I could feel the hairs rising on my neck. I gave my best blues yell and I could not hold the ring and it fell on the ground and I was back in the car and it was six PM and the car started. I never thought about them again.

Tickets

2007-10-06T21:01:00.000-07:00

The car was stopped, but I had help. I reached in my pocket for my Oreo and bit it in half as Marko, who had told me his name was Mark, slammed the car’s hood shut. I remembered the other Mark I had known, who everyone had called Marko. It was a pretty funny nickname.

“You were just running a little hot there; I put some more water in. You should be fine, just don’t run her too hard and make sure to have it looked at when you get where you’re going,” Marko told me.

“Okay, I’ll be sure. Thank you so much for stopping Marko. Thank you so so much.”

“Heh, don’t worry about it. Does she start?”

The car started. I thanked Marko again and again and left the side of the road. The I-71 was moving slow and it was going to be a pretty long trip, I thought. I put the other piece of the Oreo back in my pocket for later and concentrated very hard on the road. You’re not supposed to drive unless you’re paying close attention. I wanted to pay very close attention. Columbus was still a hundred miles away. I thought of how funny the Marko nickname was. The other Mark had sometimes said “Polo” when people called him Marko.

I wondered if there was going to be a long line at the ticket counter. Would it be a ticket counter? I needed to buy the tickets somewhere, so probably a counter. That’s where you buy tickets. My brother Jack wanted to see the show, a band called Spoon. I had never heard of them, but Jack said they were good. Nothing that I’d like, but good for him.

The show was in Columbus, he’d said, and he wanted tickets but they wouldn’t sell them over the phone. I told him how lame that was that they wouldn’t, but he said that I should go to Columbus to get them for him. I said that I would. I totally would! I told him yes. He said that he couldn’t go, he was busy. He’s never really very busy, but I don’t mind going to Columbus for him. Besides, he always gives me a supermarket cigar when I do stuff for him. I like the cigars; they make me feel cool to smoke them. That reminded me of the cigar in the passenger’s seat. I reached for it and put it in my pocket, and then remembered that I still had part of an Oreo in there. The cigar made the pocket too full, so I took the Oreo out and ate it while driving. You’re not really supposed to eat while you’re driving, but it was probably okay for just this once. I was careful to concentrate.

The cigar was going to be so cool to smoke when I got to Columbus. Those people won’t have known me before and they’ll think I’m cool like Simon smoking a cigar. Simon always made fun of me until I smoked a cigar he gave me. He made fun of me after that too, but never while I was smoking a cigar. Simon always wore jeans and punk patches, even when he was playing sports! He once had a Mohawk but he didn’t keep it very long. Simon was cool, and maybe the Columbus people will see me like Simon. Maybe Simon will be there. Does Simon live in Columbus? Maybe if Simon’s not there, there will be a guy named Mark and I can call him Marko. Marko is a pretty funny nickname.

Comedy: What’s HOT, what’s NOT

2007-10-05T18:28:00.001-07:00

HOT:

In this year are RETRO JOKES! Got something funny to say about the Soviet Union? Just maybe the Soviet Union has something funny to say about you! Ever notice that there are some words you aren’t allowed to say on television, or that sometimes Polish people are really stupid? Relive these back-in-style classics and you’ll be at the CUSP of the comedy curve.

Memorize your script, because to be the hottest this year you have to know how to QUOTE MOVIE LINES! It’s all the rage, and all it takes is to say a line from a movie that was funny or endearing in some way! DON’T BOTHER writing your own material, that parrot is dead! Hollywood does it for you! Yeah, baby, yeah! Groovy! Get your friends to bust out laughing, and may the force be with you!

NOT:

It’s autumn, and when it’s cold enough to stay in, baby, IN-JOKES are OUT! Don’t be that nerd who shows up at a party and can’t make anybody laugh but his close friends! So make sure your jokes are something that EVERYBODY can understand, like airline peanuts or relationship problems, or be laughed… off the stage!

Ever since STEVEN COLBERT premiered his fall line, SATIRE has sold out! Don’t be caught imitating someone with their pants down, because Onions are out of season! All the hippest comedians and comediennes are going in a whole new direction. That’s right, the newest, most innovative thing around right now is saying things you ACTUALLY MEAN! Rev your engines on the open ha-ha-way, because from now on it’s sincerity to the MAX!

Exclusive Interview with an Important Political Candidate

2007-10-05T18:27:00.001-07:00

Liz Johnson is poised to change American history with her upcoming run in 2008. She’s planning to take one of the highest offices in the land. The job has its share of responsibilities, but also great rewards. I welcome Liz, the Democrat candidate for the position of my girlfriend.

The Pamphlette: Welcome, Liz.

Liz: Um, yeah, sure. What’s this about again?

TP: It looks like you’re the hottest thing in the polls right now. What makes you right for this position?

L: What? Do I know you?

TP: I’ll just start off with the question that’s on everybody’s mind. Remember me from last night, Liz? Last night at Jay’s? You seemed pretty into me.

L: No, not at all.

TP: You know, I think your candidacy is extremely promising. What are your long term plans for going out with me?

L: I don’t have any plans for going out with you.

TP: That’s gonna hurt. How do you plan to keep running your campaign with an opinion like that?

L: Campaign?

TP: Polls have shown, Liz, that your constituency thinks I am “super hot.” Ignoring the polls could land you on the wrong side of some very polarizing issues.

L: Such as?

TP: Where do you stand on abortion?

L: Well, I’m pro-choice, I guess.

TP: Good, good. That’s good to know. Just in case, you know?

L: Thank you.

TP: You and I seem to align on a lot of issues. I think that we’ll have a good time going out when you win.

L: I’m not going out with you.

TP: You seem resolute on this.

L: I already said I’m not going out with you.

TP: Have you considered adding going out with me as a plank in your party platform?

L: Last night wasn’t so much a party as a gathering.

TP: We had a keg and Guitar Hero. That makes it a party.

L: See, this is why I don’t want to go out with you.

TP: Other party members will be very harsh on any anti-Guitar Hero arguments.

L: Look, nobody else wants to go out with you either. And it was a gathering.

TP: Would you go on record as saying that if it had been a party, you would have gone out with me?

L: No!

TP: So you would have gone out with me if it were a party but you wouldn’t go on record saying it? Because I really think it was a party.

L: I wouldn’t have gone out with you under any circumstances.

TP: Is it wise to be this resolved on the issue so early? Realize that if you want to change your mind later you may be accused of flip-flopping.

L: I won’t be flip-flopping on this.

TP: Are you sure? We could flip-flop together at my place if you wanted.

L: What? Oh my God.

TP: Have you considered getting a running mate? Rachel or Meg for one night might be a good match. Or are you one of those frigid Christians?

L: I’m not a Christian.

TP: So you’re comfortable with sex education in our schools? I will point out that we are in a school right now.

L: Look, I’m not going out with you.

TP: You seem firm on this issue.

L: Yes, I’m firm on this issue!

TP: Because speaking of issues that are firm, I…

L: That’s it, I’m leaving.

TP: What a bitch.

Area Man Leaves Area

2007-10-05T18:25:00.002-07:00

After living in the Portland area for over twenty years, Area Man Robert Reeves announced yesterday that he would be moving away. He cited pressure to represent the area properly and heavy rainfall as reasons for leaving. Locals say they understand, but will miss him.

“He just seemed so… here, you know? And he was always doing things. The headlines would read ‘Area Man Saves Tiger,’ ‘Area Man Raises Money for Sick Children,’ ‘Area Man Slips on Sidewalk.’ I’ll always remember him,” said neighbor Thomas Junk.

Reeves’ extensive community involvement is said to have revitalized Portland’s friendly spirit, and has gained him several admirers. Among these is George Marks, who has been named by Reeves as his successor.

“I’m very excited to take over. For years I’ve just been a Local Resident, but soon I will be an Area Man. All I can say is that I have some very big shoes to fill. You may remember the headline from last year, ‘Area Man Has Unusually Large Feet.’” Marks told us in an interview.

In his announcement, Reeves said that he was looking forward to retirement. He is planning on moving to Beaverton, where he will simply be referred to as Man.

New Reed Myths

2007-10-05T18:25:00.001-07:00

MG under the library? Ugh! That’s so lame it deserves an award – a Myth Award that doesn’t exist because it’s a myth because Reed doesn’t deserve it! Served! In order to attract top-notch students you need top-notch myths. Thankfully, we at The Pamphlette have uncovered these new, TOTALLY TRUE things that you should circulate.
------------------------

During a tour in the early 90s, Guns N’ Roses frontman Axl Rose visited the Reed library and learned how to read. Shortly afterwards, he realized that his name was a sentence, driving him to drink. Several years later the band split.

The bottom of the canyon is actually a two-inch layer of mud and bacteria. Underneath is an underground canyon. Under the underground canyon is another underground canyon, and underneath that is another college that is similar to Reed, but also underground.

Reed was not founded in 1908. Rather, Reed is an ancient Native American university. In the early 20th century the college “founder” enlisted William Foster, who had been a general in the Spanish-American War, to “clean out the dastardly red man so that we may rightfully scrounge our place upon these hallowed hills.” The name Reed is the Atfalati word for “awkward.”

Sometimes, people listen to KRRC.

Library Circ Desk Blotter September 2-8

2007-10-05T18:19:00.001-07:00

Sunday, September 2
A freshman tries to walk through the book detectors. He screams and starts to run. Slow down, buddy! Thankfully there was a math professor on the scene and the student was pacified and made to check out his books.

Monday, September 3
While asking for a reserve book on ancient pornography, student raised one eyebrow and grinned at the circ clerk. The two made out for two hours until the line at the desk got too long and they had to stop.

Monday, September 3
Let's say the man was very colorfully dressed! He found his way into the library and began sleeping on top of the staplers. Despite the man saying that they were good for his back, they really just served to attach him to the desk. Thankfully, nobody minded and he had a full night's sleep.

Tuesday, September 4
A worried upperclassmen came to the desk and reported that there was underage drinking going on in the library. Library Circ Officers rushed to the scene, but the students were only reading books. "Underage drinking... of knowledge," the senior added. Everyone nodded very seriously.

Wednesday, September 5
Circ Officers heard a distant crash and found that someone had jumped through the window separating the second floor of the library from the second floor of math classrooms. "I've always wanted to do that," said the bleeding student. The Circ officers agreed and the matter was dropped.

Thursday, September 6
Some wise student tried to return a reserve book several days after it was due. What a yutz! The system where the book is actually due several hours after its checkout and not several days was explained to the student, who then paid a small fine.

Friday, September 7
After years of everybody wondering if it was possible, a student was finally seriously injured by being crushed in the stacks. There was a collective contented sigh and the paramedics were called.

Friday, September 7
One student working in the evening on a Friday instead of going out with friends sighed heavily.

Saturday, September 8
Three people tripped going up the red stairs towards the library at the exact same time. Paramedics were called, and the Circ Officers reported wishing they had had a camera. One found a camera, and the injured students gladly re-enacted the trip for them. This injured the students further.

Racism & Homophobia Ended at Reed

2007-10-05T18:12:00.000-07:00

After years of furious campaigning by groups like the Queer Alliance, the Multicultural Resource Center, Chaverim, and the Black & African Student Union, racism and homophobia have been pronounced eradicated on Reed Campus. The final racist homophobe, Chad Brett, changed his mind in response to an 800-word screed in the Quest penned by Students for Equality.

“I think it was the line about all of us being equal. That one really got to me. Now I understand that blacks and fags are people too,” Brett told us recently.
Reed is one of the first campuses to be able to declare a 100% victory over racism and homophobia. Other schools such as Lewis & Clark still have as many as five racists and three homophobes.

Colin Diver celebrated the news on Monday: “I think the fact that we have over one black professor proves our commitment to equality,” he said. “For years I thought that we had already eliminated racism and homophobia because we’re so enlightened. Brett was the last holdout. I’m glad he’s changed his tune.”

Student advocacy groups see things are looking up. The QA released a statement apologizing for all the “guilt trips.” They plan to go back to just doing the dances now that there’s no threat of homophobia anymore.

The BASU was pleased with the news. “For years, Chad Brett has single-handedly kept minority retention levels very low at Reed,” said BASU member Aaron O’Connor. “Everyone besides Chad was practically incapable of making us feel unwelcome. Now we’re sure that numbers will improve.”

Minority students around campus breathe a sigh of relief at the news, but most affirm that racism and homophobia were never really a problem to begin with.
“Homophobia? How can there be homophobia when there’s no such thing as homosexuality? In a modern society like ours, we have no need to label ourselves like that,” said QA member Wil Horsley.

“I feel like I’ve always been accepted as a gay person on campus. Especially whenever I’m in class and a ‘gay’ topic comes up. Everyone looks at me and wants to know what I think! It makes me feel like everyone really values my opinion,” said freshman Greg Brokov.

“There’s never been any racism while I’ve been here,” argued Mexican exchange student James Fox. “I consider myself a friend of everyone on campus. How can anybody be racist if they have a Mexican friend?”

The news has given students and faculty the opportunity to tap into a previously forbidden creative wellspring and unleash a torrent of ironic racism and homophobia. “If there is no homophobia, how can saying that ‘God hates fags’ be homophobic? It’s ironic!” said sophomore Sociology major Tina Winters. She added, “God hates fags.”
“I can say whatever I want without being branded a bigot,” said senior Economics major Ryan Morris. “You can’t Jew me out of that right.”

The Quest has announced plans to devote an entire issue to ironic racism full of equally ironic typos.

This end of hatred has even affected plans for the school. Colin Diver released an additional statement recently: “We’re now sure that we don’t need that crazy Ethnic Studies program after all. And we’re excited to finally begin construction on our new all-black dorm. “

Despite racism and homophobia disappearing, sexism still runs rampant on campus. Thank God.

One Feminist Student Union member who wished to appear anonymous for fear of repercussion remarked, “I can’t believe one shitty letter to the Quest ended racism and homophobia. Those of us against sexism are still committed to our strategy of putting up hundreds of hideous posters all around campus. Sexism is so fucking gay.”

Dating Notice

2007-06-01T15:31:00.000-07:00

Uh, hi. I'm writing this blog because, well, I figure it's cheaper than a dating service and, uh, well yeah. I'm sorta looking for a date right now.

I guess I should start by telling you about myself. Um, well, my name is Brian and, um, yeah well that's my name. I work in a music store.

Lots of people ask me what my favorite kind of music is, when I tell them that I work in a music store. My favorite music is I guess rap. Here is one of my favorite lyrics in a rap song and I suppose it kinda shows why I like rap music:

From "The Champ" by "Ghostface Killah"

N-words want me dead
but they scared to step to me
rip they guts out
like a historectomy

I think this is a really interesting use of the word "historectomy."

In the song they don't actually use the word "N-word" but I don't think I'm supposed to say the other word that they actually said because some people might get a little, you know, uncomfortable.

Personally I don't understand how that word got to be the N word. There are so many better words that start with N.

The person I would like to go on a date with will hopefully like rap music at least a little because I kinda like to play it real loud while riding around town in my VW. They should also have a dream because I think that people without dreams just don't go anywhere and I think that people agree with me.

I have a dream. I have always wanted to own a boat. That's actually why I decided to get my job at the music store. I did some calculations and found out that if I got a job and saved up for eight years, I could afford a boat. They actually asked me about it at the job interview. They said "Where do you expect to be in five years?" and I said "Three years to a boat." Where will you be in five years? Hopefully dating me.

A lot of dating services, or at least dating tv shows, ask the question of where you would take someone on a date. I would take you maybe to a restaurant. We could eat some food, I'm not really picky about the kind of food so you can go ahead and pick I don't really care. I don't really know what we should do after the dinner, what do you want to do? You want to go on a walk? Okay we will go on a walk. You want to go to a movie? Okay I will call up the movie theater and see what is playing and then figure out if we can get there in time. Then if we can and we both want to see the same movie we can stop by the supermarket to get some candy and sneak it into the theater, although maybe only you should get something because I always chicken out and buy something at the concession stand anyway. I wouldn't want to spend money on supermarket candy I'm not going to eat when it could be going towards my boat instead.

Then maybe after that we could go back to my place, I guess, if you wanted to. I've got a nice little place above an Applebee's. It's kinda small, but it's nice because you don't need carpeting when your mattress can cover the whole floor.

This actually reminds me of a funny story about how I lost my virginity. That's I think the kind of thing I should be putting in my dating request, funny stories. I'm a pretty funny guy sometimes and I have said some funny things once. Anyway, it was my 21st birthday and my friend insisted on taking me to a bar to drink some beers.

Anyway, it turns out with beer that if you drink too much of it you get drunk! So I was pretty far gone. I blacked out somewhere around my third Smirnoff Ice. When I woke up, I was face down, naked, on a strange bed. I was groggy and tried to look around but there was something on my back. I looked back and there was this naked girl sitting there! She looked at me and smiled, and then went back to shaving my butt. I thought that was pretty weird and pretty funny! I would have stopped her there but she had only done one cheek and I figured it would look pretty lopsided if I didn't let her finish.

The next day I went swimming to see if I would go faster than normal. I think it may have worked a little, but my butt itched a lot so I wouldn't recommend it.

Anyway, that's all about me. If you are interested in dating me, please send me an email and I will definitely go out with you. If you are not interested in dating me but have a boat for sale cheap, please also email me. Make sure to put "boat" in the subject line so I know you don't want to date me.

That's right.

2007-05-25T16:24:00.001-07:00

As far as I'm concerned everyone else can just go straight to hell. I've dealt enough with the oppression, enough with the bullying, and enough with the ridicule. This is going out to all those little punks the world round who don't get it, aren't going to get it, and feel like it's their prerogative to "show me what" or whatever.

You know what? I sit on chair cushions. That's right, fuck you. You can't do anything about it and I know it's making you seethe in your seats right now. Seats that probably only have one cushion if any at all. You can see me enjoying myself just that much and you can't stand it. Your little Puritan-wired brain is misfiring all over the place.

You want more? That's right, you want more you punks. More to ridicule me about. Well I'm going to give it to you. I'm sitting right now on a stack of Sunbrela 5488-0000s so tall your sitting-inexperienced backs would break to even consider sitting down on it. I am at the height of comfort, figuratively and literally as the mountain of cushions is piled six feet high over my Broyhill Leather Top Grain Executive Chair. That's right, I'm going princess and the fucking pea right on your little "Normal" faces but in this case the pea is that jawbreaker I dropped a few nights ago and lost. I can feel it. It's under there somewhere.

My ass is so comfortable right now you could pump it full of ass heroin and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Seething yet? Jealous yet? I thought so. That's all you little internet scum are anyway, jealous. You're probably sitting in your moms' basements reading this and wishing you could sit as comfortably as I do, but you can't. You don't even know what real sitting is.

But people keep expressing their jealousy as rude disgust or, even worse, an excuse to mock me and other pro sitters. I went out a few days ago to hand out pamphlets telling people about pro sitting and how they could get into it, what groups to join, that sort of thing. Nobody was interested! One laughed at me. Two girls slapped my ass and giggled, which I can only assume was a jab at me and my lifestyle and hobby. I asked them how they could possibly be so rude as to ignore cultural tolerance and that if they weren't interested in sitting to just move along and stop bothering me. They got this weird look on their faces and walked away. That was the look of understanding. They understand now why mocking me was wrong. Why can't you?

Not that it matters. I'm going to keep sitting here, just showing you how it's done and proving that someone can be both successful and a pro sitter. You haven't been able to handle that before, and I expect to be ridiculed for my beliefs in the future, but you know what they say about bullies - the best revenge is success. So this year after the sitting champs, where I plan to sit on seventeen feet of the official futon/waterbed hybrid and win the medal, you internet fucks will be crawling back to me and begging forgiveness. You're even more worthless than my bedsore.

B to the A to the NNERS

2007-04-19T23:14:00.000-07:00

Advancements in Modern Philosophy

2007-04-11T16:50:00.000-07:00

Since the days of the ancient Greeks at least, people have been trying to unlock the mysteries of the universe using philosophy, logical thought, and rational consideration. The field of philosophy has been growing and maturing for thousands of years, but shows no signs of stopping. Even today there are dozens of philosophers at the top of their field, continually putting forth new arguments and disproving old ones. I don't really know many of the names of top philosophers who are still alive, for the most part their names are a great hidden mystery to all. However, I had the once-in-a-lifetime chance to sit down with great modern philosopher William Clifford (no relation to the 19th-century mathematician, he assures us) to discuss several of the most important topics in the field today.

The Quest: Hello, and thank you for agreeing to sit down with me today. I know you have a very busy schedule.

William Clifford: No problem, it's cool.

Q: I've read all your works, and I have to say I'm a huge fan.

WC: Hey, thanks.

Q: So let's get down to brass tacks. The field of philosophy is so wide and fast-moving. What are the big topics to keep an eye on?

WC: Funny that you should mention, really. One of the most heated debates going on in the literature now has to do with "brass tacks." I was sitting around one day and thought the big question: what if everyone except me is a robot? The topic is now hotly debated.

Q: Where do you stand on the robot issue?

WC: It's certainly not disprovable.

Q: What does that have to do with brass tacks?

WC: The most intelligent of us philosophers are moving past the "what if" and on to the "how." Simply enough, how do you think those robots are held together? It ain't silly string.

Q: What would you consider your first philosophical awakening?

WC: I was watching the Matrix, and after the movie ended and we were walking out of the theater, I thought, like, whoa: what if the Matrix is real? What if we're just, like, in this matrix, right? And the whole world is just a computer simulation!

Q: What are some of the major arguments on this topic?

WC: I consider myself a major Wachowskian, the summary of our arguments being "it could totally be true." However, there is a small opposition who call themselves Hobbesians... er... Calvinists. It's pretty much the same argument but without the robots.

Q: Modern philosophy seems to be very robot-centered. Is this an accurate depiction?

WC: Well, robots are one of the cornerstones of the new world of third-millenium argument. They're such a new phenomenon that there hasn't really been time for them to be adequately discussed. I would definitely recommend that anyone interested in philosophy check out some works by the father of modern philosopy, Isaac Asimov. He posits the three Laws of Robotics which form the backbone of most legitimate rational thought.

Q: I hear you're writing a book. What is it about?

WC: My new book is going to head in an entirely new direction, and I hope the field will follow. Simply put, I read Fahrenheit 451 and watched Idiocracy and the gears started turning. It's not obvious, but if you look really closely at these works you can see some parallels to modern society and government. My book seeks to extrapolate on these similarities and put them into a logical argument.

Q: Do you expect your book to have real-world effects?

WC: Only time will tell. Hopefully governments will wise up and start listening to philosophers. In one of my papers I put forth the idea of a "philosopher president" who either is a philosopher or at least listens to philosophers. That was the paper that put me on the map, really. Nobody had ever read anything like it.

Q: On that topic, you've long been a proponent of bringing philosophy to the masses. How do you hope to achieve this?

WC: We've already made great headway in this area. People of all walks of life can choose the t-shirt that says "God is dead - Nietzsche" or the t-shirt that says "Nietzsche is dead - God." Bringing such high-level debate to anyone simply able to read is a great advancement and gives me hope that there will be even better philosophers in the future. However, today you don't even need to read to enjoy philosophy. Right now in the works is a television show that I'm involved in called "If You Don't Watch This Show, Is It Still On?" where two other top level philosophers and I sit around and debate exclusively that point, three nights a week. Catch it on primetime soon. Of course, we're only building on the legacy of great philosophy-driven films and television shows such as Children of Men and Battlestar Galactica.

Q: So would you say it's an exciting time to be a philosopher?

WC: Oh, definitely. Even besides all the stuff I've been talking about, there are lively and important discussions like "is your red the same as my red?" and "science: good or bad?" We're really making a lot of headway. I invite everyone who can to come along.

Q: That's great to hear. Thank you very much for your time, William.

WC: Please, call me Clifford. You're welcome.

Philosopher William Clifford, affectionately known as "Bobby," has written three term papers on philosophy, did a seventh grade book report on 1984 by George Orwell, and his "On Halo: Secrets to Winning through Cognitive Awareness" is a top view on GameFAQs.

Music Review for The Quest

2007-03-01T16:34:00.001-08:00

Webster’s dictionary defines “ears” as “the characteristic vertebrate organ of hearing and equilibrium consisting in the typical mammal of a sound-collecting outer ear separated by the tympanic membrane from a sound-transmitting middle ear that in turn is separated from a sensory inner ear by membranous fenestrae” and also seven other things. Fascinating. I like to use my ears to listen to music, sometimes. My thesis for this article is that my music is good to listen to and that you should listen to it too.

The first album I will be reviewing is Electric President’s self-titled album, “Electric President.” It came out in 2005 on the Morr Music label. Despite the label name being an English pun, note that the label is based in Germany. This will be important when I tell you that the label name is not a pun at all and is just the label founder’s last name. What a bummer.

Despite being on a German label, Electric President continues in the American tradition of singing their lyrics in English. I would describe their lyrics and vocals as being like The Beatles, if The Beatles stopped harmonizing and took lessons from the guy who sang for The Microphones. If you don’t know who The Microphones are, you might be surprised to learn that they are people, not microphones! They sound like The Beatles, if The Beatles were born in the 70s and were depressed because they had never met each other.

The songs on the album are good. Electric President writes ten songs for this album. Ten is not a lot of songs for a whole album, but don’t worry, four of the songs are longer than five minutes so you know you are getting your money’s worth. If you download this album illegally, well, you have no right to complain about album, length, buster! So, if you like songs and would like ten of them, please try out Electric President.
This album is: Good
You should: Buy it
Try it if you like: The Beatles

The second album I will be reviewing is OOIOO’s album, “Taiga.” It came out in 2006 on the Thrill Jockey label. You may be surprised to note that OOIOO’s band name is in all capitals. That is because they are Japanese. This is why, when speaking to someone who does not understand English, you must speak English very loudly. They know the language, they just don’t understand the lower-case letters!

In fact, all of OOIOO’s songs are all in capital letters, too! My favorite is “ATS,” or maybe it was “UMO.” Sorry, but it’s hard to remember the song names because I don’t speak Japanese. Anyway, if you are interested in strange foreign albums, you are probably curious as to how this album sounds. If you listen to it, it sounds kind of like The Beatles, if the Beatles played tribal drums and yelled a lot – in Japanese! Sean Lennon once played on an album with OOIOO. I don’t think it was this album, but I’m not really sure. Sean Lennon is the son of John Lennon, who was in The Beatles.

OOIOO is a side project of Boredoms, a noise band from Japan which has mastered the lower case. The sound of Boredoms is kind of hard to describe, as it’s mostly strange yelping into the microphone (in Japanese!) with weird guitars and keyboards in the background. It sounds a lot different from OOIOO, and really closer to something like The Residents or The Beatles.
This album is: Good
You should: Buy it
Try it if you like: The Beatles
Note: OOIOO is going to be at the Doug Fir Lounge on March 24th!

The third album I am going to review is Ghostface Killah’s “Fishscale,” which came out in 2006 on the Def Jam label. I was a little scared to listen to this album at first for a few reasons. First of all, my face is very pale and I did not want to be killed, because then I would be unable to listen to the album. Second of all, the man on the cover looked very mean, and maybe he installed a virus on the CD. You never know who is a hacker these days. Make sure you have Norton Antivirus installed before listening to this album on your computer.

After a few days I worked up the courage to listen to the album, and it was pretty good. He did this weird thing where he talked really fast instead of singing. I think it was pretty cool and this may be where music is going in the future. He was, like Electric President, speaking in English. This was a big relief.

Behind the talking there was music, and the music was pretty good. It’s hard to think of how to describe it, exactly, but I’d say that it’s something like The Beatles. If I had to think of a term to describe the music it would have to be that it was “pretty good.”
This album is: Good
You should: Buy it
Try it if you like: The Beatles

More Banners? Impossible!

2007-02-23T17:50:00.001-08:00