FROM THE EDITOR Christina Sterbenz
Kelly Peters
editor-in-chief
Executive EDITOR
EDItorial
Megan Griffo Asst. features editor Melissa Goldberg opinions editor Rob Marvin asst. opinions editor Maggie Quigley style editor Noah Silverstien style editor Victoria Troxler arts & music editor Shea Garner asst. arts & music editor Daisy Becerra research editor Laura Cohen copy editor Lauryn Botterman copy editor Leigh Miller Fact checker Kerey Morris Fact checker Sarah Schuster features editor
design
Alex Vitale Devry Drosky, Chris Guimarin, Tierney Latella, Alex LoGrasso, Talia Roth design director Designers
ART
Bridget Ginley Alyssa Greenberg STAFF PHOTOGRAPHERS Rachel Fisher, Brian Brister, Kristina Subsara illustrators Jaycee Checo, Esther Coonfield, Adam Day, Jack McGowen, Hansol Kim, Kelsey Lima Illustration director
photography director
PODCAST WEB
Nicole Fisher WEB editor Joelle Hyman asst. web editor Kirste Pena blog editor Charlie Ecenbarger
executive web editor
Charlie Ecenbarger Paige Schell Staffers Julia Fuino, Lakota Sky Gambill, Victoria Kezra, Chelsey Perry Executive producer Executive producer
contributors business
Nicole Inniss Ad director Patrick Brennan Ad Representative Meghan Burns Ad Representative Nikeya Alfred Ad Representative Perri Fetner Representative Elizabeth Pisarenko publisher
Ad
Ben Aaron, Emily Rhain Andrews, Jennifer Bacolores, Cassandra Baim, Zerina Buljabasic, Andy Casadonte, Sean Cotter, Julia Fuino, Maia Gradante, Derek Kirch, Leah Khatib, Chrissy Lucy, Ian Ludd, Emily Maloney, Emmie Martin, Meg O'Malley, Nancy Oganezov, Annie Ray, Kayla Rice, Shaina Riley, Altan James, Ryan Shanley, Alexandra Steinberg, Zoey Topper, Jessica Wolfe
I waited all summer to write this damn letter. Yet as soon as I started, writer’s anxiety struck. Of course I like the attention. But when my editor-in-chiefdom ends, these pages will hold the secrets to my soul. I guess I’ll just start now. My first confession: I’m a daddy's girl. My dad, affectionately known as Papa Sterbz, screams like a—well, like an ex-football player wearing Skechers loafers. He hates horror flicks; he shudders when I even mention The Grudge. And if I walk into the kitchen unannounced, he jumps pretty high for a middle-aged teddy bear. Surprisingly, a few years ago, my dad suggested we go to a haunted house. And not just any lowbudget, backyard suckfest. He chose 7 Floors of Hell, the largest one in the entire country, conveniently located in my hometown, Cleveland, Ohio. Needless to say, I lauded his brave proposal. The next weekend, we hopped in the car, my best friend Lexi in tow, ready to poop our pants. My dad’s adrenaline started pumping as we stood in line for the first “floor of hell.” A dwarf dressed like a deranged pink bunny stood and glowered at him. My dad tried scurrying away, hiding behind me, and even cutting in line. But the evil bunny followed. When our group finally reached the front of the line, we had to walk down a seemingly harmless hallway. As soon as we crossed the threshold, though, the room went pitch black, and the walls started billowing around us. My dad, ever the tactless man-child, screamed, “It feels like I’m walking through a fat woman’s vagina!” Lexi laughed so hard she peed herself. Or maybe she let a little leak as the psychotic lumberjack with a working chainsaw chased us through the woods. No matter your tolerance for fear, this issue of Jerk will make you squeal. Just hope your pants stay drier than Lexi’s. Head to page 22 to meet a crew of Ghostbusters researching paranormal activity in Cuse. You’ll think twice before going to Wise Guys again. Resident advisors can spread just as much fear as ghosts though. Form & Function on page 64 offers revenge against freshman year’s fun-Nazis. And finally on page 61, Land of Oz and Ends, a shop dedicated to Dorothy and her friends, has too many dolls for most people’s comfort zones. Speaking of boundaries, Jerk tore down some of our own this issue. Immerse yourself in three new pages—and drown out your parents. You're welcome. Happy Halloween,
Through its content, Jerk is dedicated to enhancing insight through communication by providing an informal platform for the freedom of expression. The writing contained within this publication expresses the opinions of the individual writers. The ideas presented in this publication do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Jerk Editorial Board. Furthermore, Jerk will not be held responsible for the individual opinions expressed within. Submissions, suggestions, and opinions are welcomed and may be printed without contacting the writer. Jerk reserves the right to edit or refuse submissions at the discretion of its editors. Jerk Magazine is published monthly during the Syracuse University academic year. All contents of the publication are copyright 2012 by their respective creators. No content may be reproduced without the expressed written consent of the Jerk Editorial Board.
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