Issue 153

#153

NONSENSE: The Worst Of Issue Contents

Editor-in-Chief Bryan “Jailbird” Menegus Managing Editor Cody “Star Child” Heintz Design Director Meg “-Atron” O’Connor Head Writer Marc “Dark” Butcavage Art Director Holly “Squeaky” Mayer Faculty Advisor Amy “Amy” Karofsky, Ph.D Extreme Ghost Tony Hawk Sr.

Contributors: Matt “Trial Size” Ern Andrew “Sansone” McNally “Danielle” Ruiz Ruiz Matt “Shortstop” Matusiak “Admiral” Amanda Beneway Kemi “Workhorse” Ajisekola Aaron “Bookman” Calvin Jake “the Nomad” Nolan Bernie “C.K.” Krumm Chris “Available” Krueger

DISCLAIMER: NONSENSE is Hofstra’s only intentional humor magazine. We accept no responsibility for strep throat, failed relationships, or blindness resulting from the consumption of our content. That said, please don’t eat this issue.

We meet once a week and produce 3 issues per semester. The views expressed herein do not necessarily represent the views of Hofstra University. Any likeness to people existing or fictional is purely coincidental.

Issue 153, Volume 29, Number6, Copyright MMIX

Page Ad 2 by Marc Butcavage Page Editorial 4 by Bryan Menegus art by Holly Mayer Page Meanwhile...

5 art by Holly Mayer & Bryan Menegus Timothy Leary, College Freshman

by Matt Ern Page Drunk Movie Review: 6 Back to the Future

by Matt Ern art by Holly Mayer Page Obama’s Approval Rating is 7 Dropping, Just Like My General Happiness

by Marc Butcavage Beyonce Gives Birth to Healthy Penis

by Andrew McNally art by Holly Mayer Page 9/11: 8 & 9 a Decade Under the Influence

by Bryan Menegus Page Fun & Games: 10 Beginner’s Sudoku

by Bryan Menegus Make Your Own Crossword

by Meg O’Connor & Bryan Menegus Are You an Alcoholic?

by Kemi Ajisekola

Covers inked/colored by Bryan Menegus & Meg O’Connor with special thanks to Joe Shuster of DC Comics.

We hope this constitutes an homage.

Please don’t sue us!

Page How Would You Like it if I 11 Masturbated All Over Your Father’s Grave?

by Matt Ern art by Bryan Menegus Amy Winehouse: Charity Hilarity

by Bernie Krumm Page I Know We’re Having Sex, But 12 Can I Place a Takeout Order?

by Marc Butcavage Texts From Your Dog

by Bryan Menegus Page This Pepsi Is Too Strong: 13 an Open Letter

by Andrew McNally Grandpa Goes to CMJ

by Aaron Calvin Page Emily McCandless, Male, Intern 14 by Bryan Menegus I Want You Inside Me: a Romantic Dilemma

by Meg O’Connor Page Obituaries 15 by Marc Butcavage & Bryan Menegus

p Well, another year has passed and Nonsense has lived to fight another day, mostly because no one remembered about us long enough to put this ragtag pack of punks and putzes out of our collective misery. Not to say there haven’t been some hassles at the hands of multiple law enforcement organizations and a certain Office of Student Leadership Activities who shall remain unnamed. But god dammit, we have a job to do, even if that job is to inundate an uncaring student body with sixteen pages of dick and fart jokes.

Welcome to the Worst Of issue: at least it was free.

This year has seen some exciting changes within out little band of misfit toys. We’ve bitched and moaned about how “print is dead”--and it is--for years now (see page 2), and we’ve tried in the past to move our particular brand of humor to that internet thing everyone keeps talking about, with varying degrees of success. This year, we’ve finally managed to slap together a website which updates every day (again, see page 2), and just like the magazine, it’s entirely free*. Jumping the internet bandwagon fifteen years late has given

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Editorial us plenty of time to hold on to our traditions though. The page opposite this one features the abstractly glorious return of our one-panel ‘Meanwhile...’ comic, originally drawn by Sat Shenoy.

Drunk movie reviews are back too, as are obituaries.

Less by choice than as a result of an embarrassingly stingy budget, Nonsense has been forced to abandon the oh-so-sexy glossy magazine format (which could be read while showering) and go back to printing on something barely better than copy paper (which can only be read while running in high winds). But hey, if a club with a thirtyyear history had a little extra dough, how would SGA afford the hundreds of pizzas they consume in a semester?

We’re not bitter--like arugula.

But you know what they say: when a door gets closed, someone has already said ‘fuck it’, climbed through the basement window, and stolen as many valuables as they could fit into a burlap sack. Come to think of it, I don’t think anyone has ever said that. Regardless, running on a shoestring budget with a skeleton crew has been an opportunity for our members to tighten up and

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q hone their skills at making offensive and tasteless jokes. Staff writers Matt Ern and Andrew McNally have truly come into their own this year after choosing to give up a life of crime, and Holly Mayer—cosmonaut—has shown herself to be one of the rising stars of the club, taking on the role of art director as a freshman. Young adult fiction authoress Kemi Ajisekola finally wrote her first piece after attending meetings for four years—and it only took her two weeks to write. Marc Butcavage, a serial polluter, was pretty sure he stumbled onto the formula for eternal life, but it turned out to be methamphetamine.

Resident slouch Meg O’Connor still telecommutes her submissions from a cosmic abyss.

It’s been a lot of work putting out this issue in addition to providing daily content for our website (which we really cannot emphasize the importance of enough) but we genuinely hope you enjoy what we were able to jigsaw together. If you don’t like it, take it up with the Better Business Bureau—absolutely nothing we’ve photoshopped, drawn, or especially written for this issue is purposeless. We would never stoop so low as to plagarize ourselves or anyone else, just to fill space.

Demolition Man is a 1993 American dystopian science fiction action film directed by Marco Brambilla, and starring Sylvester Stallone and Wesley Snipes.

Sandra Bullock, Nigel Hawthorne, and Dennis Leary co-star. The film tells the story of two men—one, an evil crime lord; the other, a risk-taking police officer—who are cryogenically frozen in the year 1996 and reawakened in 2032.

Following a massive earthquake in 2010 that destroyed much of Los Angeles, it merged with San Diego to form a planned city called San Angeles in which crime has seemingly been eliminated from mainstream society. Some aspects of the film allude to Aldous Huxley’s dystopian novel, Brave New World. *we accept optional payment in beers

Timothy Leary, College Freshman Hey would you guys like to buy some acid? It’s pretty good stuff, I just took some myself a little while ago. Holy shit! Did you guys just see that? Never mind, it was probably nothing. This is a pretty cool party right? Everyone here seems pretty chill. That one guy in the corner keeps giving me dirty looks though. Oh wait, that’s a picture. We’re all good.

The weird drippy thing the walls are doing is a little concerning though. You don’t see it? It might just be me then. I think I’m going to go check out the backyard.

What do you mean you don’t get it? The sky is totally the color of that Venture Bros. episode when Dean listens to prog rock. You’ve never seen it? Well there’s this one Dean who’s dressed as another Dean, and the other Dean is listening to Yes or Asia or something.

Man how good is that show, right? Oh you guys have to go? I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve got to hit up the bathroom now anyway.

Whoa why are these stairs so wet? Did someone spill the stairs?

What do you mean I broke the lamp? I didn’t touch anyone’s fucking lamp. I’m going to see what’s going on in the kitchen. No way, this floor is so clean! I’ve never seen a kitchen floor this clean. Oh wait, this is your bedroom? My bad. Also I think I ate some of your chips out of that binder over there. What about your baseball card collection? I think I have to go, sorry.

Hey who broke this lamp? That’s not cool guys.

Above: Free acid. You’re welcome.

Don’t look at me, I couldn’t have broken it. I’m just a dog.

Issue 153, October, 2011

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Back < to the Future I recently had the opportunity to sit down and watch Back to the Future for the very first time. And I got very drunk doing so. Like, pre-gaming with a bottle of whiskey and then throwing your phone down a storm drain while screaming in the streets drunk. Wait, am I still drunk now?

For the uninitiated, Michael J. Fox (white) plays a professional skateboarder named Marty McFly who dresses like MacGruber and also takes care of a bedridden old man (think Charlie and The Chocolate factory).

The old man is Doc Brown (white), and he is killed by Libyan nationals after his dog steals a time-car. The dog drives the car into a mall but really he drives it into the future. When the Libyans arrive to kill Doc Brown, Marty needs to make his getaway in the timecar, but ends up going back to the 1950’s. Because doing so would be too easy and ruin the movie, Marty can’t get back to his own time so he goes to meet up with his father, played by Crispin Glover (black).

Unfortunately, the Libyans do not make a second appearance, which is a shame because Gaddafi was such a great super villain he would have really brought a lot to the table. You just know he was developing a laser to blow up the moon. Supervillains like to do that stuff, right? I never really got why; the moon is just a big gay rock floating in the sky. I wouldn’t miss it.

Maybe Gaddafi could have had his harem of sexy assassin’s track down Marty in the past. Or he could have melted Marty in a vat of boiling lead!

Anyway, Mr. McFly (or as he’s known in the 50’s- McFly) is being bullied by Biff (white). Marty attempts to help his dad, but fucks up the timeline and now Fry is his own grandfather. Also Marty’s mom wants to bang him. I’m pretty sure she bangs him.

I stopped paying attention around this part because I really wished I was watching Jurassic Park. I’ve never seen

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Jurassic Park but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it has more dinosaurs per minute than all of the Back to the Future movies combined. And that’s saying something.

Everyone in the past is really confused

by Marty’s MacGruber costume. They kept asking him if his vest is a lifejacket.

What, they didn’t have vests in the 50s?

Despite being made of wood, this movie may or may not have made Matt Ern cry.

Fucking assholes. Everyone should have a healthy appreciation for Bill Hader (white) regardless of what time period they live in (get with the times man!) and I don’t think Marty should have stood for all their wisecracks.

Wait- Doc Brown is still in the movie!

He was only shot in Marty’s present so there’s a younger version of him that looks exactly the same living in the 50s.

The younger Doc Brown wears a crazy hat and seeks to harness the power of lightning when he’s not busy figuring out who killed Mr. Body. He teaches Marty a song on the guitar which allows him to win the battle of the bands and earn his mother’s freedom back from Biff.

Oh I guess I forgot to mention that Biff totally kidnaps Marty’s mom because he’s mad that Marty invents skateboarding using knowledge from the future.

The really crazy part about the song Doc Brown teaches Marty is that it’s the same song that Marty teaches to him back in the beginning of the movie

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when they were still in the 80s. But Marty himself won’t actually learn it until the 90s. That song was Carousel

by Blink-182. Trust me, that’s really important later on.

Here’s some fun Back to the Future trivia- did you know that Christopher Lloyd (white) not only plays Doc Brown in this movie, but is also an Emmywinning creator of the hit sitcom Modern Family? No? That’s not true?

Well I could have sworn it was.

This is also where the tone takes a strange and unwarranted turn. Up until now this was a comedy about a time traveling dog just searching the cosmos for a party. Now Marty has to come to terms with his father’s shortcomings and learned to love him not just as a man, but as a friend. If he cannot learn to walk a mile in his father’s shoes then he can never get back to his own time.

What should have been a light hearted romp through time turned into a meditation on my own mortality and the horrors of going back in time and meeting your father as a bumbling adolescent. I’m sure there was some sort of resolution and happy ending where Marty is able to help his father become a better man, but I don’t remember the last third of the movie, so all I was left with was a feeling of secondhand embarrassment.

By the end of the movie I was overcome with feelings of sadness and bitterness. I was promised a hilarious movie about time travel but ended up sitting through one of the darkest things I’ve ever watched. My soul became a void that not even all the time-dogs in the world could fill. That is why I killed myself in the grossest way possible immediately after finishing the movie.

Also I was a little miffed I wasn’t watching the third Back to the Future, which I hear takes place on a dude ranch, which was my favorite Blink-182 album after Through Being Cool.

Obama’s Approval Rating Is Dropping, Just Like My General Happiness Recent studies have shown that President Barack Obama has not been doing so well in the polls, and that his general approval among constituents is falling rapidly, not unlike my increasingly poor mental health. Voters have grown more and more unhappy with Obama’s inability to keep campaign promises, such as promises to close Guantanamo Bay or to not increase taxes on the middle class. They probably feel as I did when Cheryl told me she was leaving me for my boss, or that time a few weeks ago when I managed to accidentally hit and kill both of my dogs at the same time.

Political analysts agree that in order to properly secure the 2012 election, Obama will have to step up to the plate and answer to his supporters why he has been unable to fulfill the promises

he made on the campaign trail back in 2007 and 2008. He has a great chance at rebounding, especially given the current political climate. I, on the other hand, suffer from frequent erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation, male pattern baldness, and incurable, somewhat illegal sexual fantasies. Obama should be glad to have it so easy. While pundits and voters alike are easily swayed, my friends on the suicide support forum have given me the overwhelming goahead to just end it all and make it easier for everyone else.

The other day the neighbor boy called me a “faggot” and lit all of my mail on fire. I bet stupid Obama never had to deal with that. That kid is like seven, too.

What possesses a seven-year-old to act like that? Did you know that, according

to a recent PEW poll, Barack Obama has never walked around a hardware store looking for the softest yet strongest rope? The study also shows that the president has never been kicked out of two parks, three coffee shops, and a Pep Boys for sobbing uncontrollably. As far as I’m concerned, the president has far less to worry about than the sack of shit I call my body.

Honestly, fuck the president and fuck Cheryl. I bet she’d sleep with him so fast that some kind of record would be set for how fast someone has slept with another human being. Looks like it’s time to watch the entire Netflix instant library. Again.

Beyonce Gives Birth to Healthy Penis If you’re anything like me, you spend your Sunday nights eating bags of PCPlaced Doritos while masturbating to Australian talk shows. If so, then you were probably just as surprised as I was to see the video from the show “Sunday Night” of Beyonce’s unborn fetus imploding in the womb, like a balloon animal being deflated, if the balloon was in the shape of an unborn fetus.

This video led to some serious speculation over whether Mrs. -Z was using a surrogate mother, or if she was even pregnant at all. But new photos have leaked on TMIZ.com of Beyonce in the hospital with her newborn. Early Friday morning, Beyonce gave birth to a healthy, functioning, four and a halfpound penis. The penis, named Richard, has already learned to use its testicles to stand upright, and is capable of becoming very erect. “It was my destiny to have this child,” said Beyonce. The pictures released by TMIZ show Beyonce cradling her newborn and breastfeeding it.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened,” said Dr. Robert Beefy, head of the Semi-Human Birth Studies

Department at Southern Southern Illinois University State College, and one time participant in a Mormon freak show. “This sometimes occurs when a famous male celebrity and respected badass impregnates a female celebrity of equal respect. We saw the same thing happen with Will and Jada Pinkett Smith, whose penis-baby grew up to star in a porn remake of the Karate Kid. Kanye West also fathered a penis last year, but kept it to fuck himself with.”

Explaining the pregnancy, Beefy said, “A pregnancy for a penis-birth, because it is only a partial human, is only a partial amount of time. Beyonce only made her pregnancy announcement on August 28th, and gave birth on October 14th.

This also explains the apparent deflation she had caught on tape. When Beyonce moved her body, the penis--flaccid at the time--adjusted itself. Unfortunately, the penis will only live for three or four years, unless it can find a vagina to mate with, like the one Natalie Portman birthed after filming Black Swan with Mila Kunis.”

A smiling Jay-Z, the father, was quoted, “I got 99 problems, but this

definitely is not one of them. I’m a father,” he said through tears. Jay-Z asked for a tissue, wiping semen off his shoulder, saying, “he threw up on me.” Richard, the penis, has inspired Beyonce’s next single, “My Baby Just Came on my Tits,” dropping next week. Jay-Z was last seen at an adult entertainment store, saying: “I love it, so I wanted to put a ring on it.”

Beyonce plans to release a concept record, featuring her “child” on “drums”, as a B-side to ‘Countdown’.

Issue 153, October, 2011

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9/11: A Decade Under the Influence T

en years after, the remembrance of the events of 9/11 is still enough to shake Americans—and especially New Yorkers—to their core: its anniversary was fraught with an outpouring of sympathy and still-raw pain as the names of the nearly 3,000 citizens killed that day were read aloud. President Obama, his wife, and former President George W. Bush visited the completed memorial to the victims and their families. More quietly, it was also the source of great news for all New Yorkers affected by the events of that great tragedy.

Eccentric billionaire Giuseppe Mantalban announced yesterday, in a gesture of amelioration for America’s collective pain, his plans to spend his entire fortune on a reconstruction effort which would convert all of Manhattan Island into a 9/11-themed amusement park, aptly titled Terror Land.

“New Yorkers have seen enough horror,” said Mantalban, gesturing towards a set of blueprints. “Or at least, they’ll think they have until they ride an 800ft super-coaster through a burning mock-up of the World Trade Center,” he chuckled politely. Construction on Terror Land is slated to begin immediately.

The park, which takes its inspiration from the most destructive incident on American soil, is slated to feature all of the usual attractions of any similarly-themed amusement park. On Mantalban’s proposal list were an American Airlines 11 flight simulator, a “ride” described as the “97th Floor Leap”, a Tour of Duty Ferris Wheel where patrons are forced to continue riding for several years after they expected to get off, a caricature artist who depicts his subjects as first responders suffering from respiratory carcinoma, as well as a teacup merry-go-round meant to symbolize America’s national loss of innocence.

When approached by Disney with an offer to rebrand and repurpose their popular Twilight Zone Tower of Terror for inclusion on the new Manhattan-wide amusement park, Mantalban and his associates immediately dismissed it as “utterly tasteless, appalling, and just plain insensitive” to fans of the famed science fiction show in all its iterations. To quote one nameless Disney executive, “Shucks, it would have made a real splash, just like all those losers hitting the pavement after they jumped out of that skyscraper that was slowly burning them alive. I can name at least 200 people that aren’t welcomed in the Magic Kingdom anymore.” The park’s board of trustees, which included executives from nearly every multinational corporation, exchanged sympathetic nods and phoned their secretaries to make sure the Disney executive would receive a gift basket, a set of truffel-scented soaps, a wheel of feta cheese, and unrestrained use of those same secretaries.

“A little to the left, you nimrod!” Mantalban thoughtfully instructed a laborer who was pouring several thousand gallons of concrete down a subway stop in Times Square onto an MTA official below who was unavailable for comment. Terrified screams were heard. One New Yorker, who was trying to pretend that the deluge of liquid concrete was just another homeless person asking for change, was asked his thoughts on Mantalban’s plan. “I mean, after 9/11 there just wasn’t anything left in this city. Those planes brought down two buildings I had categorically avoided and had never had a reason to go into in the first place,” the native opined, spreading his arms to the sky with desperation, “Now look at this hell hole! What the fuck else is even here?!” Letting out a defeated snort, the man mumbled under his breath, “It’s not like this city has anything going for it anyway. Might as well just cash it all in and start from scratch. At least we’ll have a Gravitron…”

For many New Yorkers, the ground zero site is still an open wound that reminds them of their losses.

Mantalban sympathized from behind the controls off a crane which he had strapped a wrecking ball to. “It was such an iconic part of the skyline and an important piece of the city’s architecture,” he said, swinging an 8,000lb piece of forged steel into the side of Grand Central Station. Hundreds of rush hour commuters clutched their heads or shielded their eyes from the falling shards of broken glass. “What New York needs is 8

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to rebuild. There’s just so much crap to clear out of the way before we can really break ground on anything,” Mantalban bemoaned, before leveling the Chrysler building, which put him in higher spirits. Later in the day he was seen slapping ice cream cones from children’s hands. It was unclear whether this was part of the Terror Land project or not.

Mantalban’s plans have had a few very vocal opponents. He has, however, responded to all of them with the blanket statement, “I can promise you that this theme park will let you live as your loved ones died: screaming, vomiting, and probably disappointed with the commute. What more could you want?” Since this answer was unsatisfactory to a few ninnies, wusses, and dimwits, Mantalban later tweeted in quick succession, “I have big plans, you stupid babies,” “Plans meaning a safari,” “There’s going to be a safari,” and “We’re turning the Bronx into a safari. Way to spoil the surprise, idiots.” He later clarified, “There will be no fences. Bronx residents are free to remain in their homes; patrons of Terror Land are expected to supply their own helmets and first aid.”

When asked if Terror Land would include any sort of memorial to the victims of park’s inspiration, he replied, “Fuck no! Absolutely not! The media would be all over that.” He huffed, “This is a theme park, not a circus. All we need is another 60 Minutes segment titled ‘In Memoriam’. What a bunch of greedy blowhards.”

As a closing remark, Mr. Mantalban added, “And if I see anyone selling any goddamn American flags, miniature or otherwise, I swear I’ll-.” Unfortunately, his threat was drowned out by the sound of dynamite coming from the upper west side, and the immense splashing of thousands of New Yorkers chancing the Hudson to seek refuge in Hoboken.

Issue 153, October, 2011

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Answers on page 17

Are You an Alcoholic? sponsored by IKEA

Cut out and assemble this crossword using the included allen wrench Many of the answers are already filled in to help you create better clues!

1. How many times have you listened to “Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO in the past week? a. None b. 2-4 times c. 5 or more times d. Can’t remember

Q: Can I borrow a couple dollars?

A: I’ll pay you back, I promise.

2. Does the man who works at the liquor store still check your ID? a. Yes b. No c. He knows my name and address d. Can’t remember

3. What is your definition of binge drinking?

Q: If a tree falls in a forest, but no one is around, does it make a sound?

A: No.

a. Glass of wine with

parents at dinner b. 3 after work cocktails c. One before work cocktail, two lunch cocktails and 6 after work jager bombs d. Can’t remember

4. Have any of your relationships suffered as a result of drinking? a. No b. Yes c. Define “suffered”… d. Can’t remember

5. Are you in a relationship now?

a. No b. Not really c. Yes, but I don’t care d. Can’t remember

6. Have you ever sustained a serious drunken injury?

Riddles:

a. Nah, those stitches healed right up b. My finger will never be the same again c. Someone tried to tell me I had a concussion but I went to sleep and was fine so... d. What are you, a cop?

7. Have you ever taken off your clothes in public while drunk?

a. Yeah, but no one was watching b. Yeah, but the guys driving by in the pickup truck cheered c. Yeah, but everyone at the party laughed d. What quiz am I even taking right now?

8. Have you ever cheated on your significant other? a. If they never find out it doesn’t count b. Right? c. Right?? d. RIGHT?!

9. Have you ever driven drunk?

a. No! b. Yes c. Yeah, but I drive better when I’m drunk anyway d. Cn’t remmmbmbber

10. Are you drunk right now?

a. Yes b. No, but I should be c. I’m in a very dark place right now d. This isn’t where I parked my car

11. Want to go back to my place?

a. Yes b. Not when there’s a perfectly good bathroom behind the pool tables c. You look very pretty tonight d. I thought you lived here

If you answered mostly D for any of these questions… fuck, I don’t know. I had like 4 shots of vodka before I even started writing this.

Q: A healthy man in a completely empty room drops dead. How? A: It doesn’t matter because he was an asshole.

Q: You probably have syphilis A: No seriously.

Fun and Games

Q: When is a woman not a woman?

A: Thailand.

How Would You Like It If I Masturbated All Over Your Father's Grave?

Hey you little shit, I know what you’ve been doing in my computer room. I don’t appreciate you spraying your filthy cum all over my keyboard and desk chair. I swear I think I found some dried on the wall and in the carpet too. What the fuck were you doing in there? Just spraying like a fire hose? You better not have got any on my pog collection.

Don’t think that just because you’re my step-son I won’t kick the shit out of you. That’s what step-sons are for. I love your mother very much but you’ve crossed a fucking line Mister. How would you like it if I jizzed all over your room? I’ll glue all your books shut, open up your Xbox and cum right inside, I swear to God I will. Good luck playing Call of Duty on a cum filled Xbox.

For the next month you are going to eat, drink and breathe my semen. Maybe then you’ll think twice about jacking it in my room.

No, you know what? Get in the car, we’re going to the cemetery. I’m going

to cum all over your dead dad’s grave and you’re going to watch. That guy was such a pussy anyway. Fuck him. He’s probably the one that taught you to masturbate all over other people’s things.

What kind of headstone does he have? I hope I get to see my manslime dribbled down some poor saint’s stone chin. And you’ll know it’s all your fault. You caused this. You and those big gnarled hands of yours. Fuck.

I’m going to loosen my belt on the car ride over so I can start early. I want to be about to climax as we pull through those cemetery gates. I want to walk right up to that grave and blast one on it.

Crap I think I hear your mother coming home. Be cool. We’ll go to the cemetery tomorrow. That actually works out better, I’ll have a nice, big load saved up by then.

Fuck your dad.

Your dad’s name was ‘Dad’? You’ve got to be shitting me. No wonder you turned out so goddamn stupid.

Amy Winehouse: Charity Hilarity A few months have come and gone since Amy Winehouse died. You may have forgotten all about her passing because, like me, important things may or may not have come up. It was a troublesome day for many of us. All forty seven of her facebook fans were in mourning that day.

Where were you when you found out? I remember when my parents told me that she died, I responded with, “Who the fuck is that?” As I learned more and more about Amy and what she liked to do for fun, the shock of her death started to not make sense. It’s kind of like a guy who likes to catapult himself into walls dying from catapulting himself into a wall.

Despite her death, we’re not hearing the end of her any time soon. You know what they say: behind every strung out pop singer who finally kicks the bucket is a foundation just waiting to blossom and take your money. According to Amy Winehouse’s father, the foundation is being set up to help, “Those who are in need by reason of ill health, disability, financial disadvantage, and addiction”. I know somebody who could’ve benefited from this charity. Amy Winehouse.

These charities have the tendency to show up right after the person they are named after meets their demise. You don’t see Lou Gehrig at the ALS foundation cookout, do you? While they claim to be open to suggestions, the charity

has already rejected my idea of a “drug redistribution program”, where the personnel would confiscate the drugs from the drug addicts and distribute them equally to the underprivileged. Thereby, the underprivileged can sell them and cease to be underprivileged.

This system ensures the foundations prosperity, for with each dime bag and pill bottle sold comes a new generation of strung out teens to seek refuge with Amy’s foundation. All of these drug addicts and degenerate young people will be sheltered at “Amy’s Place”. They were going to call it “Amy’s House” but as it turns out that’s a popular name for crack houses these days. Ah, I can already see Amy’s legacy flourishing.

Issue 153, October, 2011

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I Know We're Having Sex, But Can I Place A Takeout Order?

Listen, this sex is going really well and all, better than expected really. By that I don’t mean to say I thought you’d be a bad lay, but honestly, I’m a little drunk and wasn’t feeling too confident until about five minutes in. Not to say that I have no self-confidence, but I’m a realist at heart; my mother says that’s one of my best qualities. No, I’d just like to take a quick break to place an order to that Chinese place downtown.

I’m going to be blunt, my fridge is fucking empty, and I’m going to be starving after this. If you think about it, if we order now, the food will be here right after we finish. Actually, this may be one of the best ideas I’ve ever had; it’s goddamn brilliant. I bet no one has

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ever thought of this before. I bet a lot of people think about ordering food once they’ve ended their raunchy fuck-fest, but then you have to sit around not eating for thirty to forty-five minutes, and that’s always a bummer. This way here, we can order and go back to fucking, and if we’re lucky, we’ll forget we ordered food. When it gets here, we’ll be all like, “Oh shit, we totally forgot we ordered food. What a lovely fucking surprise.” This shit has MENSA written all over it.

Oh, I see, you’re going to get all mad about this. That really defeats the purpose, because if you’re sulking, we can’t go back to having hot, sweaty sex once I’m off the phone. Really you’re the

NONSENSE: The Worst Of Issue

one making this weird, not me. If you just sucked it up for a second, I could go back to fucking your brains out after I order my Chicken Chow Fun, but I see that you think my idea is stupid. You know what? If you’re not down with this truly awesome idea, then I don’t even want to do it. I’d rather have a willing partner. I’m not looking to commit takeout rape here, so why don’t you just take your things and go, you filthy animal.

Actually, before you go, can I borrow your phone? I didn’t pay my bill for the past couple of months, and I’m really hankering some Chinese.

Dear PepsiCo, First off, thank you for your wonderful products. I have been drinking one bottle of Pepsi every day since it first came out, in 1898. I have been with you, and any changes you have made. I’ve even visited your factory in Purchase, New York, three different times, in 2002, 1977 and 1905, respectively.

But I am a subtle man, who enjoys the simple pleasures of chess, Ron Howard movies, discussing the War of 1812 and Ross King books. I was at a local Sheetz, buying gas for my vintage Daewoo and a month’s supply of beef jerky, only to find that they were fresh out of Pepsi. And, since my religion condemns diet drinks as a mortal sin, I was left with Pepsi Wild Cherry. Let me say, that drink was just too wild for me.

I vomited in the parking lot the second that explosion of homicidal cherry mutilated my taste buds. I had to wash out the flavor with some of the emergency scotch I keep in the glove compartment.

This does not mean I plan to stop drinking Pepsi products for the remainder of my life. I would like to recommend, however, an alternative to this Wild Cherry thing. I’m sure the kids like a genocidal blast of grenadine up in their mouths, but I prefer a smoother flavor, like cherry-flavored red wine. I would much prefer a lighter cola. Perhaps, if I may, “Pepsi Tame Cherry,” or “Pepsi Subdued Cherry”? Maybe even “Normal Pepsi With Just A Hint of Oh, What Is It?” Since I am not legally allowed to have a job, I have thought about how to make this drink. For a more subtle flavor, use only 24% of the cherry used in the more dangerous version. Also, use only 16 grams of carbohydrates and 18 grams of sugar, as opposed to 29 and 29. (And if possible, knock down the calories so there is an alternative to a “diet” version, without actually being called “diet” so the Overlord doesn’t sentence me to a year of punishment!)

I thank you for your time, and your delicious products!

Your friend and loyal customer, (Former) Professor McDonald

P.S. Tell the Sheetz at 9 Water Street to please keep their Pepsis stocked, or I’ll burn it down with all the employees locked inside. Thanks!

Grandpa Goes to CMJ What is this shit? I thought we were going to the Johnny Carson Show! Look, that kid is wearing neon green suspenders! Back in my day, they only made them in gray and black, and gray was for wooses. You! Yes, you! Where did you get those?

American Apparel? Is that part of Sears?

They make all of their clothes in America, eh? Let me buy you guys some beers. And we’re drinkin’ Coors.

None of that vegan homo beer.

No, I’m not getting a microbrew. If I wanted less beer, I would move to France.

But really, where the hell am I? The CMJ festival? Whatever the hell that is. Sounds like some hippy shit.

You kids droppin’ in, tunin’ out and whatnot?

Back when I was in college, we had a real hoppin’ festival of our own. The main attraction was Benny Goodman. Man, that Jew could play the clarinet. Why you lookin’ at me so funny, Glasses? What do you mean “that’s racist”? And you’re glasses don’t even have any lenses!

What’s wrong with you kids?

So you kids like hot music, huh?

Who’s this playin’? Reminds me of Herman’s Hermits. You ever hear of them? You outta pick up their records sometime. You guys like real records? All my grandkids listen to is their Pod-eyes and what not.

Say, look at that Indian girl over there. I wonder what tribe she’s from, with the glitter facepaint?

Back in Podunk, there’s an Indian reservation. Me ‘n the boys used

to buy moonshine from some guy there until he came down with the pox.

When we used to go out to concerts, we used to put on our best shoes and dance the night away. You kids aren’t dancin’ at all! You’re just bobbin’ your heads. Well, I guess you can’t really dance to this anyway.

What the hell is that noise--a moog?

What in God’s name is that?

Oh my, it’s gettin’ on ten o’clock already! I haven’t been up past ten since 1976. It’s been real swell meetin’ all you weirdo’s, but I better 23 skidoo.

I don’t see the exit. Oh, it’s beneath the sign the says “entrance?”

Why the hell would you put that sign there? Ironic? That’s not ironic, it’s just stupid.

Issue 153, October, 2011

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Emily McCandless, Male, Intern College senior Emily McCandless is a boy full of big dreams, and he decided to take his first bounding leap into the wide wonderful world of adulthood by enrolling in an internship this semester.

“I know a lot of things, thanks mostly to the quality of public schools in America,” said Emily while darning socks, “but I could always learn more about what’s going on in my field.” Applied Resources and Sciences Etc. Incorporated, which took him under their large, protective, and feathered wing, was a corporation which specializes in the creation and distribution of other corporations.

Emily described the interview process as ‘rigorous’. “They’re some tough cookies, but they were so impressed by my resume that the only question they asked me was, ‘Why the hell is your name Emily?’,” he recounted via telegraph, a process which took several hours. “I told them my parents hadn’t wanted children, and that it was refreshing for another human being of flesh and blood to call me by my given name, since my dad usually refers to me as ‘faggot’. They laughed and hired me on the spot. But I could tell they were laughing with me, not at me.”

Although past interns have described the bowels of ARSE as somewhere between ‘abysmal’ and ‘lifethreatening’, Mr. McCandless claims that the experience is ‘like being a sponge’.

“I’m just surrounded with people who

are at the top of their field, and who are trying to help me grow to become as great as they are,” said McCandless, whose co-workers think of him as expendable and ‘kind of ugly’. “The first thing I learned was that you have to spend money to make money. Between transportation, food, and the nine to fourteen cheesecakes my boss has been having me buy him every day, my returns on this little venture are going to be huge!”

McCandless’ responsibilities for ARSE Inc. include making coffee, remaking coffee better than last time, and waiting four to eight hours for further instructions. Occasionally he receives menial tasks which could be described as ‘comparatively thrilling’. “Just last week they had me haul 80lbs of bricks from Brooklyn to Queens and back again. They also told me I would have to pay out of pocket if I wanted to take a cab, but I said no. That’s slacker stuff.

I could tell this was a real opportunity for character growth and learning how the industry works,” Emily notes while carrying 139lbs of bricks, an ARSE record.

He added, “There’s a real potential for upward mobility here.”

While taking a 36-second break to wipe the sweat from beneath his company-controlled shock collar (which has a nasty habit of going off seemingly at random), Emily, a male, noted that there were a few less-than-ideal aspects

to working for ARSE as a whole. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job,” said Emily-who has a penis--while separating a spool of yarn into individual strand fibers at his boss’s request, “but some of the people here are just upsetting to be around. I overheard Mr. Woods in cubicle 1744018_B-6 say that if he could kill himself more than once, he’d like to spread each of his bodies’ entrails all over the 480th floor, just so it would be harder to clean up on Monday,” Emily recounted with accuracy unabated by the regular jolts of electricity entering his neck from his shock collar. “I mean...I’m not sure what an entrail is, but I just can’t stand someone with a negative attitude.”

Applied Resources and Sciences Etc. also has the highest incidence of workplace disappearances of any business worldwide. “I came in on Tuesday, and the entire office was empty,” said Emily, whose important work allows him to hold on to the barest shreds of his masculinity. “At least I still had plenty of yarn to untie.”

Later that week, Emily McCandless could not be reached for comment.

When asked about his whereabouts, college internship adviser Cynthia Krizzman said, “Who? You mean that weird chick that was always yammering on about the ‘corporate ladder’? Who gives a rat’s ass. I hate this job and I wish I was dead.”

I Want You Inside Me: A Romantic Dilemma

Baby, I love you, so I splurged and got this new lace teddy and garters. Oh hey, what are doing? I mean, yes, of course I want you to rip it off me, I really really do, but do you have any idea how much this thing costs? $200. That’s right, I’ve been saving up for this beautiful thing and I’d like to get more then one use out of it. And yes, I want you to take it off me with your teeth, but what if it gets damaged?! Or worse, what if you get a little too excited--how am I getting those stains out? You can’t. And that will kill the mood completely, because I will be really upset and you will think I’m being ridiculous and next thing we know this romantic candle light night has turned into me throwing a hair dryer at your head and you sleeping on the couch, while you mumble little passive aggressive comments just loud enough for me to hear. No, I think it will probably be for the best if I just gently take this off and put it on the other side of the room where it’s safe. So take a good look, and I’ll go put on some of my regular stuff so we can fool around. I just want you so badly right now

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NONSENSE: The Worst Of Issue

Obituaries

To Our Fallen Comrades

Think You Have What It Takes?

Even if you can’t read this, the answer is probably “yes” -Words on a page -Pictures of your friends getting arrested

-Letters to dead people -Holograms of your friends getting arrested

submissions: nonsensehumor@gmail.com If you can dream it, we’ll probably print it Issue 153, October, 2011

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Did I leave the oven on?