Spoof 2011-12, The Aquarium

the

THE AQUARIUM Bruns Spoof 2012

Marineland’s Unofficial Newspaper Since 1935 Splitting

Banana split

Billy Banana is looking forward to spending time on multiple campuses this year. Bruce Wayne / The Aquarium Oscar Orange Banana Hater After debating for months on which university to attend, Billy Banana is pealing.

By pulling back his peal he’s going to split and hit both campuses to get the best of both worlds.

His reasoning behind attending both universities is the different opportunities.

“Who wouldn’t want to pay $150 to utilize a brand-new gym,” said

Billy. “I can’t use it because of a rare banana disease, but hey, if we’ve all got to pay it then, we’ve all got to pay it.”

And if tuition wasn’t high enough, he will have to do some clothes shopping seeing as he does not have sweatpants to wear to his UNF classes. He also doesn’t have enough dress clothes to attend St. Timothy’s.

“It’s quite an expensive endeavor, this going to university,” said Billy.

“I can’t believe each school would have a dress code that nearly every

student adheres too, but I just want to fit in.”

The other thing Billy pointed out was the architecture.

“I love watching the decay of UNF’s buildings,” said Billy. “Everyone is building new buildings like St. Timothy’s. Who doesn’t want to look at some brick from the 1800s that is collapsing every once and awhile.

Paying lots of money for a mix of both is the best feeling in the world.”

“It’s no wonder UNF students wear sweats, they might need to run out

of a collapsing building that is over 100 years old.”

Being a young person, Billy said one appealing thing about UNF was the UNFSU’s social media section of their website like Facebook.

“I’m just so over Facebook,” said Billy. “I just can’t wait to use this new form of social media, at least now I have the opportunity to use a tool that SO many UNF students use. I just can’t wait.”

Billy summed up his interview, saying that he is excited to start his time

in university, all things considered….

INSIDE

‘The Centrespread’

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Mystery

Arts 1000 students burn down Tilley Hall in mysterious conspiracy ritual

Liza Bout-Burns Good Ole Trout

Do you remember last Thursday, when the Arts 1000 lecture was interrupted by a fire alarm signaling a blaze that ended up killing 16 people – which is strangely more than the number of students who attended the class -- and leaving half of Tilley Hall a mess of rubble and ashes?

It was a tragedy that rocked our campus, but the flags weren’t even put at half mast.

Why? Because the administration has been attempting to cover up the real source of the fire: a student conspiracy headed by some of our very own peers.

Everyone knows that Arts 1000 isn’t about listening to the professor, pretending to care about existentialism, or even about crafting the perfect tweet; it’s about spying on your classmates without getting caught.

At the beginning of the year, people were mostly scouting for dates and hookups, but let’s get real – you aren’t going to find anyone in that mess of hormonal Plato wannabes.

So, many of us turned to picking out the most ridiculous members of the class and cataloguing their every move. It’s a little-known fact that this is what previous generations

had to do before Facebook was created, much like how cavemen hunted with stone tools before we invented nuclear weapons.

When the fire alarm went off, an intrepid reporter – yours truly – noticed some of the most prevalent members of the class were missing and, ignoring the lecturer’s incessant curses, went off to investigate.

My spidey senses led me to the roof, where I found something that even Freud couldn’t explain. Various members of the first-year arts community were dancing around a fire they had built out of science and engineering textbooks, chanting Latin and ancient Greek phrases -- the meanings of which are still unknown (even to them). They seemed to be praying to the gods of the Liberal Arts, imploring them to do Hobbes knows what.

Among their number were Blonde Chopsticks Girl, Dreadlocks Guy, DJ Dangermouse and his short friend with perpetual five o’clock shadow, and the infamous Girl With The Orange Shirt. Standing as their leader was none other than the Guy in the Black Kimono (his white one was presumably at the drycleaner’s).

Just when I was going to turn and run for help, that section of the roof began to implode. I grabbed my

FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! Old Lady Learie / CLC trusty hipster cardigan – a required material for the course – and used to it parachute away from the collapsing building just in time. As I was floating down to safety, I glanced behind me in attempt to learn the fates of the Crazy Arts Conspirators (band name still available). While some of them were sucked into the whirlpool of the crumbling structure, others had parachuted to safety like

me. It is my belief that these members have gone un-reprimanded, because although the video is available on Blackboard, no one else has watched it.

So, this is a warning to the public, based on a completely unverifiable (and therefore not libellous) eye witness account: beware of these dangerous people! Many of them are still at large and will continue

to wreak havoc on our campus until they are captured. Do not listen to the authorities when they tell you that it was a harmless incident, much like you didn’t listen when they told you that it was important to go to class. If you see any member of the Crazy Arts Conspirators, report them immediately to the local police. And Godspeed.

Tips n’ shit

Five tips for writing ultracreative-brilliant-geniusnon-fiction

STUrgens Upstream fish

1.

Embellish, embellish, embellish

2.

Excessive, nauseating detail

3.

Think for your subjects

Morals? Pssh. They say write what you know, and it’ll come across more honest. Instead, consider bending the truth a little bit. Imagine a watch on a wrist that doesn’t have one; dream up dimples where there are none; change 35 to 31 just for fun!

Make sure you transcribe every single detail in a scene. I mean every. single. one. Covering Blaine Higgs’ budget address? Don’t just relay the facts: describe his water bottle. Is it BPA-free? How many times did he blink?

Did he pause poignantly before giving the tougher pills to swallow? Didn’t happen? Write it anyway.

If you’re dealing with a subject who isn’t emoting or opening up easily, just write what you think they might be thinking. And be liberal with your imagination. Did he raise an eyebrow? That means he’s racist. Did she adjust her skirt? That means she had an abortion and she’s feeling guilty about it.

4. Always be biased. Sure, it’s right there in all the journalistic ethics books

reporters must remain objective. But let’s get real – who gives a shit about putting emotions aside? Might as well hire robots. Furthermore, always support one side of a political conflict. You’ll be alienating one side of a heated issue, but at least you’ll be showing your partisan colours and catering to the other side!

5.

Mine your personal life for details to use.

Finally, this is perhaps the most valuable piece of information we can give you. When you’re fresh out of ideas, or you’re just too goddamn lazy to come up with anything, why not use your boyfriend as main source for your story? Why not write several stories about your love life, or about your time spent in Timbuktu? Studies have concluded that readers actually appreciate mundane details about a reporter’s personal life over something that might actual affect them.

Sexy lovin’

Dora Paige Killer Carp Things are heating up in the student body.

Starting next year, the UNB Student Association will be offering a new dating service for students. The investment comes after executive members of the association went through a successful trial period.

The service, dubbed UNB FU, made two matches among test subjects.

“Yeah. It works. I’m all loved up.

Just ask Whitney,” Manny Artel, director of finances for the association, said as he winked at Whitney Chant.

Chant, director of student services, returned Artel’s wink with a sly smile.

“It definitely works. I’m so glad my hunny bunny found room in the budget for this. I know it’s a little pricey, but it’s definitely something students will care about. We certainly care,” she said.

“I know I-“ The interview suddenly broke off when Artel grabbed Chant by the waist and kissed her passionately.

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself.

It’s something about this hallway,” he said in between ardent liplocks, gesturing to the association offices around him.

“Just ask Jerry and Miss G.” Jerry O’Kay and Miss G, directors of external and internal affairs, respectively, for the association, were also successfully matched up by the UNB FU program.

“Oh. It works. This is definitely a great service. We’re considering expanding it and maybe taking the money out of our entertainment budget. We’re not really using that money anyway,” O’Kay said.

“I think our constituents would definitely be well served by this program,” Miss G agreed.

O’Kay said there are only two

Love nest producing future leaders

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What will this kid look like? Peter Parker problems with the service. One, they are getting a lot of “external-internalexternal-internal” jokes from fellow students. Two, the janitor doesn’t always knock.

Gordon “Cuddlebug” Johnson, president of the association, was designated the Mama Bird of the UNB Student Association love nest.

“I keep an eye on the kids and make sure they don’t get into too much trouble. I restock the condom barrel at the end of the hallway once a week.

I’ve also gotten really good at stalling the custodians and keeping them out

of our hallway,” he said.

UNB FU i s e x p e c te d to c o s t $750,000. The FU kits include condoms emblazoned with the Student Association logo, lubricant, scented candles, a chocolate fondue starter set and a naughty video entitled SUB: Straight Up Boning. Students, however, will not have to pay anything for the service. Their $150 Curry Centre access fee money will be transferred to the UNB FU program.

“You know, students won’t get to work out now, but they’ll still be getting their cardio, if you’re pickin’ up

Get off your pickle and dive into the aquarium

what I’m puttin’ down,” Artel said, flexing his arms inside his Giants jersey.

The new program will begin on Sept. 1. Residence Life is expected to see a boost in business. Students will

be so hot and bothered, they’ll want to have their beds as close to campus as possible.

“AWWW YEAAHHHH,” O’Kay concluded.

Good work this year, Joey! You’re finally one of Mom’s top three favourite sons.

4

Curry not delicious for all

Pila Pike funky fish

It’s official. The Curry Centre didn’t get five-star reviews from students.

Sixty per cent of UNB’s undergraduate students sampled the four-floor curry palace and exercise emporium over the course of the year. Reviews show 66 per cent of students don’t feel like they are getting bang for their buck.

“I’m just not into curry. I would have preferred an Italian eating complex. Why couldn’t it be the Fusilli Centre? Or the Parmesan Centre,” asked Milly VonWart, a third-year student.

The university administration has decided to knock the structure down, but the building won’t be a complete loss.

“Well, we’ve certainly been looking at more creative avenues. It’s part of our latest strategic outline for the future of the university,” Teddy Graham-Bell, university president, said.

The rubble from the Curry Centre will be purchased by the city of Fredericton.

City mayor Bro Forests said various pieces of the building will be stacked up to build a second conference centre in the downtown area.

“Well, I know our first effort hasn’t been getting a lot of bookings. We thought the best thing to do would be to build a second one and maybe it will bring some attention to the city,” he said.

Forests said more buildings in the downtown will be torn down to accommodate the new structure. When word got out that he planned to demolish Fredericton hot spot Zee Train, local military personnel and ill-fitting spandex-clad protestors took to the streets in outrage.

Only a small portion of UNB students are upset about the centre being demolished.

“I’m pretty pissed. I work out here

like five hours a day. I just learned how to study and eat and run on the treadmill without throwing up,” second-year student and resident meathead Harold MacProtein said.

Other students couldn’t be happier to see it go.

“I only went once. That tikka masala was not worth $150,” Lucy Dominguez, a third-year student said.

Graham-Bell said the decision to build a spot reserved for both curry and exercise was not well-advised.

“Curry is generally a heavy dish. Most people had stomach cramps after both eating and exercise. I think next time we spend $62.5 million on a building, we’ll reserve it for one thing and one thing only.”

Ladies: Cum to the Curry Centre Anna Liesex Sex Fish

Attention ladies of UNB: be prepared to get your sweat on! Recreation Services has just announced plans for a new series of group fitness classes called Moan Your Way to Toned.

Max Reppes, a UNB Rec Services spokesperson said, “We pride ourselves on staying on top of new and exciting ways to get students active.

The new classes we’re offering are a direct result of some exciting research that has just come out of the states and is bound to spark a new fitness trend.”

The research that Reppes is referring to was conducted by Debby Herbenick and Dennis Fortenberry, researchers at Indiana University (home of the famous Kinsey Institute). They wanted to shed some light onto a phenomenon that women’s magazines have been talking about for years: the Coregasm.

What exactly is a coregasm? A coregasm is an orgasm that some women say they have when th ey wo r k o u t .

These unexpected orgasms are called coregasms because they seem to happen most often

during exercise that engages the core (the group of muscle that stabilize our backs and stomachs).

After surveying over 500 women about their experiences with either sexual pleasure or orgasm while exercising the researchers found that the coregasm is most common during certain types of exercises.

These included ab exercises (e.g., sit-ups), climbing poles or ropes, lifting weights, running, stretching, yoga, or aerobics.

UNB already offers a wide range of instructional and group fitness classes including yoga, pilates & dance, and weight lifting, but none of these classes are specifically designed to encourage the coregasm.

Reppes de-

scribed the new classes as “a combination of traditional components of exercise classes known to engage the core, such and will also involve dim lights, candles, and soft music.”

These new classes might help to ease some of the controversy surrounding the mandatory Curry Centre fee. Although 60 per cent of students voted against the fee in a recent referendum, UNB president Teddy Handle says the fee is necessary and is likely here to stay.

He said the university hopes these types of classes will help students find “something else to moan about” other than the mandatory $150 fee.

Curry Centre coordinator Ivan Yamunny said, “Anything that increases students’ warm and fuzzy feelings toward the center is a good thing in my books.” “ We f e e l t h a t Curry would be proud to see his

spoo spr

facilities satisfying the needs of our student body.”

And these classes aren’t just about easing the tension between the university and students. Both exercise and orgasm are known to reduce stress and improve general well-being.

Unfortunately, as students tend to lead very busy lives, they often have restrictions on their time. Combined with the fact that it takes the average women longer to have an orgasm than the average man, having limited time may be especially detrimental for female students.

By offering these new classes the university is hoping young women won’t have to choose between their fitness and their sexual satisfaction.

The hope is that in the end, these new changes to recreation services will have students coming out on top.

Reppes said UNB is hoping to be the North American leader in exercise-induced orgasms by 2015.

“Happy students are better students and we want our students to be the best they can be.”

T h e M o a n Yo u r W a y to Toned classes will be launched in the fall of 2012.

ofer ead

5

Residents enjoy themselves, piss off ReSSlife Avery Juan Ocotopus It started so innocently.

It was a beautiful Friday afternoon, and several UNB residences decided to move their lounge furniture outdoors to enjoy the sunlight.

“We thought we were just getting our tan on,” said one resident.

What began as spontaneous sun tanning soon turned into a spontaneous gathering, with house residents intermingling and enjoying each other’s company.

“We had reports of talking and laughing,” said a ReSSlife spokesperson, “and we all know the next step from there is anarchy.”

The festivities increased in intensity as someone blasted music from their not-DJ-quality-but-still-pretty-alright speakers. Given that the weekend was beginning, students began their celebrations – “drinking, dancing, and probably devil-worshipping,” according to ReSSlife.

“See, we require a two-week notifica-

tion process for all student activities, in order to fully and comprehensively suck the joy out of them. By bypassing this process, this so-called ‘Project UNB’ gathering was automatically prohibited,” they explained.

“As soon as I heard the bitchin’ tunes of LMFAO, I knew we had a real situation on our hands.”

News of the gathering quickly spread via a newfangled process called “social media”, which – like nearly everything – is expressly banned by the ReSSlife authorities for unspecified “safet y reasons”.

“It’s a thin line between creating a Facebook event for a house social, and having people leaping haphazardly from third-floor windows. That’s a statistical fact,” ReSSlife said.

“We’re not fucking stupid, dude,” said a representative of the UNB residence population.

Partygoers were seen partaking in such life-endangering activities as moving furniture between rooms, having nine people in a single dorm, drinking alcohol from an open-topped container

(commonly known as a “cup”) in common areas, and having what one resident called “just a legitimately good time, for once.”

“Even though it may have appeared that people were having fun, it was only because the children didn’t realize the danger they were in,” said the frazzled ReSSlife rep.

“Our rules aren’t boring if you happen to be the kind of person who finds boring rules enjoyable.”

Although no one was even remotely injured during the shenanigans, ReSSlife expressed concerns that music played past 2 a.m. might have disrupted the delicate sleep cycle of the average university student. They declined to speculate on the impact of meal hall food on the digestive cycle of the average human being.

“What this incident has clearly demonstrated is that it’s a slippery slope from moving furniture to full-blown chaos,” concluded ReSSlife.

“Our biggest concern is that if people have fun living in res, they’ll actually want to return.”

Did you know...?

Sara Salmon A Canadian Classic

They say there are other fish in the sea – but are there too many?

Recently, the Marine Ocean Organization (MOO) announced there are seven billion fish in the sea.

And that rate is climbing. More and more negligent pet owners have been flushing their goldfish down the toilet.

“What is usually a childhood ritual meant to ease the child into talking about death is causing a severe imbalance in our water,” said Shark Poisson, leading researcher at MOO. “It’s funny that you’re doing this story now, the statistics were released months ago.”

There was already a shortage of algae and krill for the fish to munch on; now, these numbers are only going to get worse.

There is one beacon of hope, however, a small university in Atlantic Canada has been depositing a largerthan-normal amount of lead into the ocean. This heavy metal is expected to kill a significant portion of fish.

“Oh my goodness! Can’t a guy smoke in peace? There’s so many damn fish in this ocean. All the fish are salivating. Someone needs to de-salivate it!” said Sharkie Brunswickan, an ocean resident.

He angrily stamped out his cigarette with his fin and lit another one.

Lead tests will be done in the coming weeks. Researchers will not be doing the five-minute flush test in order to get maximum results.

Meanwhile, fish floating near the top of the ocean are advised to watch out for seagulls.

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Ourpoint.

What’s your favourite fruit?

He’s bananas. She’s bananas. We’re all bananas.

Billy

Bananibal Lector

Bananajamz

SUBanana

“Bananas.”

“Bananas.”

“Bananas.”

“Bananas.”

Bob

Cocker Bananiels

Biker Banana

Randy L’Orange

“Bananas.”

“Bananas.”

“Bananas.”

“Orange you glad I didn’t say Banana?”

Polly Piranah Miller Lake

The search for the two legged stripper

It was a Friday night when I went out in search of the two-legged stripper.

Some said she was an urban legend.

Some said she was real. Some even said they’d seen her live, but they just couldn’t get a picture. Some said she didn’t have legs at all. Or a head.

Strippers are rare in this city, especially two-legged ones. But, everyone’s friend has met one.

Strippers were easier to come by before the South Comet Sports Bar in this city shut its doors. Now, you’d be lucky to see a drunk college girl take her top off at the Zee Train. Feminism, really?

Knowing this, some friends and I still set out into the night in search of her.

I envisioned her as a fat Julia Roberts, like in Pretty Woman.

At our first stop on the journey, the Snobby Muskrat, a man told us he had heard tell of the two-legged stripper.

“She looked nothing like Julia Roberts and she was licking a brick of cocaine,” he said.

“I took a lap dance from her anyway.

I like to think of myself as the Richard Gere type.”

Creeped out, we moved to the next bar.

At this particular establishment, people seemed more open to discussing their visits to the South Comet.

“I saw a stripper once,” one man said.

“She wasn’t wearing anything.

That’s how I knew.”

Another man said he was a frequent visitor to the South Comet, before the local government purchased it.

“I used to be there all the time, but

then they had to go and tear it down.

I’ve got this idea that it wasn’t really torn down, but that town council just hid it somewhere and took all the strippers for themselves,” he said. ** My only recollection of a strip club is from when I was three. I was walking out of daycare to meet my father, pink My Little Pony lunchbox in hand, the one with 13 glittery purple stickers. I saw my friend Tammy-Lynn put on her yellow rainboots and take the hand of a fading brunette woman in the highest leather boots I had ever seen in my 36 months on Earth. They glistened in the flickering fluorescent fixtures, and reached all the way up to her lady parts. She bent over to Pat Tammy-Lynn’s head, her fish-net crop top riding up to show a tattoo done with great, colourful skill, showing the words “Don’t hate me when you ain’t me.” Bored with her plastic, fake exterior, I rested my little chin on my lunchbox and started out the smoky glass at the rolling hills and shiny cars whizzing by at 123 kms an hour. When father finally arrived, his cheeks turned red as he walked by the fish-net mom.

“Hey Jerry,” she rasped, her voice made harsh by years of cigarettes and sin.

I walked out holding Daddy’s hand, puzzled head to one side as I pondered the fact my father’s name was Walter.

We already knew what we needed to look for to find the two-legged stripper in this city. Find a woman licking a brick of cocaine, wearing nothing, on two legs. The challenge rose before us like a blossoming, throbbing erection during a lap dance.

Shouldn’t be hard to find in a city like this.

“Yeah, just come to this party.

There will be lots of girls there. It’s for my buddy’s bachelor party, so lots of titties, ya heard,” the party host said, before he invited us and thrust Budweisers into our hands.

When we arrived, there were only men, sitting around. The scent of waiting hung in the air like the thick, dense, musty fog of cigarette smoke, combined with anticipation.

Then, the doorbell rang.

“The party is here,” a woman’s voice

In th e m o s t r e c ent Ma c li f f ’s Magazine national report on Canadian universities, known for its comprehensive ranking of postsecondary education institutions, Mt. Alleison fell to tenth place.

According to sources, the re sounding ‘smack ’ of the fall was heard in British Columbia.

When asked to comment, Mt. Alleison’s President Bob Cappy, began to sob inconsolably, “There are no words to describe this disaster.”

“I need a Kleenex.”

Through careful interpretation of the sobbing, President Cappy explained that Mt. Alleison’s fall from grace came from a lack of presence at the recent ARGHCUP conference.

Apparently Mt. Alleison’s student paper The Argrossy failed to turned up at the regional student paper meeting, af fecting school spirit and relations with other universities in the Atlantic region.

“Wait, I think there is a word to d e s c r i b e t h i s c a t a s t r o p h e,” President Cappy said, again though interpretation. “Nope. Never mind.

There really isn’t.”

The report in Macliff’s comments

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So, we’d already visited two bars and we still hadn’t found a two-legged stripper. It was time to try a different technique: house parties.

that there were other factors in Mt. Alleison’s fall from grace. Including the location of campus being in the ‘middle of nowhere New Brunswick’ and ‘what stuff are the programs suppose to teach besides sleeping’ and ‘amazed at the fact there is any student retention.’

The report also maintains that the main reas on is due to T he Argrossy, stating ‘ The Argrossy is apparently the kind of paper doesn’t take every opportunity to expose itself to new ideas when it’s handed to them on a silver platter.

Honestly, it was less than two hours away, guys.’

Mt. Alleison’s chancellor Phillip Manners is particularly disappointed with his university’s paper. “I don’t know what they were thinking. This was a prime opportunity to build bridges across the region and see journalist s share their wisdom,” Chancellor Manners said.

A s a wo r l d - r e n ow n r e p o r te r with the BCB, Chancellor Manners accepted his position with Mt. Alleison under the assumption The Argrossy was willing to constantly improve.

“I’m not surprised we fell. In fact, if I had known our paper was going to miss an opportunity I would have never agreed to the position.”

Rising to first place in the rank-

She wasn’t a stripper after all, but a pizza girl. The gender role reversal struck me. I just assumed she was a stripper, stripping her way through college.

Instead, the closest thing she did to stripping was ask the host to stick a $20 in her fanny pack because her hands were full.

We got too drunk and forgot why we even went out. I guess the two-legged stripper will remain a myth for now.

04/30/12

i n g i s n ewc o m e r Uni ve r si t y o f Atlantica, a new university that is celebrating its first year as a postsecondary education institute.

Prior to this year, the U. of Atlantica was a paper mill that had been closed for over a decade.

The president for U of Atlantica, Bethany Kerfuffle was ecstatic at the news.

“Wow, we are so thankful for the high praise Macliff’s has rained down on us. This is a wonderful stepping stone for our university and goes a far distance in establishing us as a serious university.”

President Kerfuffle said T h e f l a g s hi p p r o gr am o f th e university, engineering, attracted over two hundred students to the campus yet maintains class sizes of twenty-five for all of the courses.

“Yeah, we believe that student require real degrees that actually h av e p l a c e s i n t h e wo r k f o r c e.

That’s why we don’t offer any Arts programs,” Kerfuffle said, “I mean sure, writing is important, but real use do people have for it?”

Maclif f ’s Magazine publishes it’s university rankings every blue moon, harvest moon and April 1st.

nce - Qu

ality - Se ds of M lection eat Ide Mon-We as, One d 9-7 Th u rAisle 459-565 Fri 9-9 S at 9-8 S 1 South un Noon side: Pr -5 iestman & Regen t Only Hun dre

Mount Alleson has fallen from its pedestal in a spectacular manner surpassing gravity.

Roberto Murrany Middle of Nowheres

trilled loudly into the dingy space.

She walked in, on two legs. And slipped off her coat. The room collectively drew a breath. She had a large bag, possibly full of sex toys or a collapsible pole.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just me,” she asked, her seductive voice sending my loins a flutter.

Then, she reached into her big, black bag. Her warm scent wafted throughout the room.

She pulled out three boxes. Pizza.

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Pintwocent’s head to be good-luck charm

Holdenma Groin Bench Warmer

As they walk out onto the pitch, each player extends their left hand. They wait, as each player takes turns passing their hand over the smooth, shiny, surface.

It’s their good luck charmand they’ve done this before every game this season. Now,

in their final home game, the Reds will continue their longstanding tradition.

Max Pintwocents.

Some people wear dir ty socks. Other keep a good luck charm tucked in their jock strap.

But for these soccer players, they rub their form of a genies lamp.

The gleaming beacon of a victorious future can be reflected on his head. Much like the dirty towel in Dodgeball, it speaks to his teammates. Encouraging them in the most elegant fashion and poise about winning, excelling and capitalizing.

It’s the egg shaped noggin of

While on the field, you can

see Pintwocent from any seat in the house. The Sun beams down on it, and shoots halos out to all of the spectators as he throws his hand up in rage.

A glorious rage at that. As each player comes off a shift or in between halves, each player runs to him, rubs his head and prays to the soccer gods.

Their magic genie head, the rarest of all will help them win.

By the end of their game, he’s had a thorough shellacking and the team has won.