The Ballistic Issue by Oregon Voice

OREGON VOICE powered by Four Loco since 1989 VOL . XXVI

ISSUE II

THE BALLISTIC ISSUE

editor in chief ISABEL ZACHARIAS art director HALLIE FROST managing editor EMMA BURKE publisher CELIA EASTON KOEHLER multimedia director DEREK CHESNUT cover art HANNAH MARKOVIC cover design ISABEL ZACHARIAS centerfold COURTNEY DAUM content page art REYN HIROSHI YEAGER drawing of isabel TED HAMILTON writers EMMA HENDERSON, JESSICA JOHNSON, SHELBY MARTHALLER, CLAIRE BYRD, EMMA HASKINS, LAUREN RAPP, EMMA BURKE, DEREK CHESNUT, HALLIE FROST, KATIE NOCK, ANNALEE NOCK, DAGNY DANIEL, ISABEL ZACHARIAS, CELIA EASTON KOEHLER, CHARLIE CRAFT, RUCHI KAMARI, AKIRA NAKAGAWA, KATIE WINKELMAN, NATALIE MIANO artists HANNAH MARKOVIC, DEREK CHESNUT, REYN HIROSHI YEAGER, EMMA HASKINS, TED HAMILTON, CLAIRE BYRD, COURTNEY DAUM, RILEY FORTIER, KATIE NOCK board of directors CARA MEREDINO, STEPHEN PERSON, SCOT BRASWELL, SARA BRICKNER, KOREY SCHULTZ, SCOTT E. CARVER, HALEY A. LOVETT, JENNIFER HILL, RYAN BORNHEIMER, RACHEL M. SIMS, BRIAN A. BOONE, SARAH AICHINGER-MANGERSON, ROBERT K. ELDER, AUTUMN MADRANO, SAM PARKS, MIKE RUSSELL, CLIFF PENNING, GARY

EDITOR’S NOTE Emma and I first thought of this theme when we were messing around with a “Random Word Generator.” This word was hilarious to us. We just, like, laughed about how stupid it would be. Laughed about the Thrasher font, teenage boys, Whoopie cushions — laughed our huge stupid laughs again and again and again, most certainly delirious from a long meeting (long week (long life)). It was a joke (duh). It wasn’t until later that night, when my roommates were all sitting around the living room crackin’ the heck up and spitting modest game about the number of times they’d seen Guy Fieri in the flesh, that I thought, “Wait.” Honestly, it probably still isn’t that great an idea, and an extension of infinite thanks is in order: to everyone who tolerated this theme even though they were confused by it, and more importantly to everyone who giggled immaturely with us. We’ve been having so much fun. I guess that’s how you know you’ve made the big leagues: when something objectively dumb that you laugh-cried about until sinking to the floor from your chair becomes a full-fledged publication. Aeee! AEEE! BOOM BOOM, BANG BANG BANG,

TOP DAWGZ What’s the most ballistic thing you’ve ever done?

Emma

I once took a shot of Ranch.

Hallie

Some of my bff’z shaved my head during Wine Wednesday once.

Isabel

I suckled Emma’s teat for milk

Celia

I had group sex in my dream last night.

Derek

JV Waterpolo (Junior Varsity)

CHLAMYDIA SOUNDS BETTER IN SPANISH

12 iversity of n U

HUMANS ARE BALLISTIC

peolo A VAPE EDUCATION Taste-Makers Cloudmaker69 and The Dragon enter the Arena

20 DOUBLE DICK DUDE

Having two dicks is apparently not twice as fun

Katie explains science

contents

when the romance lanuage goes too far

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through the ins and outs of everyday life, the OREGON VOICE asks

: WTF?

DONALD TRUMP’S RACIST ASS FAMILY

words CELIA EASTON KOEHLER Folk singer Woodie Guthrie (For those of you who don’t know, Guthrie is that Commie who wrote “This Land is Your Land”… a song touted as patriotic of which the last verse usually gets left out…) pre-empts the millennial trend of ‘calling out’ social or political ills by referencing presidential candidate Donald Trump’s father, Fred Trump, for being a racist. Fred Trump land-lorded over an apartment complex in Brooklyn named—get this—Beach Haven. Probably had pastel wallpaper, probably peeling. Anyways, Guthrie, after two years of living there back in the 1950s, says IT’S NOT COOL that Trump refuses to rent to people of color. And he does so in this classy-ass song:

After his most recent escape, Chapo began communication with the telenovela (soap opera) star, Kate del Castillo. What’s almost too good to be true is that Castillo is super popular for playing a drug lord in the telenovela La Reina del Sur. Castillo is a total babe, which is confirmed by Chapo’s interest and flirty texts that ensued between the two. ¡Qué Sorpresa! Pause for dramatic effect. This is when Sean Penn and all his smolder come into play. Castillo was a direct line for Penn to get an interview with one of the most wanted men on our continent. (Highlight, El Chapo had no idea who Sean Penn was when he

Some might ask, is Trump Jr’s racist leaning an inherited trait? And to that I will answer: WHAT THE FUCK. FUCK NO. I’M NOT GOING TO BLAME RACISM ON GENETICS… RACISM SHIT RUNS FAR DEEPER THAN BAD INTERPRETATIONS OF DARWINIAN EVOLUTION.

EL CHAPO ON EL LOOSE words LAUREN RAPP

Netflix may have chosen the wrong drug lord to make a TV show about. El Chapo, THE top dude of the Sinaloa cartel, has twice broken out of the most secure prison in Mexico. The last escape was pulled off by a mile-long tunnel under the prison, equipped with motorcycle rails and lighting.

BEREN-WHAT?

words DEREK CHESNUT

What the fuck Berenstain Bears? it used to be Berenstein Bears. I suppose that was before there was a fold in the parallel universes and shit from the “ai” reality slipped into our “ei” one. Now all of our minds are blown, the stitches holding consciousness together are breaking at the seams, and nothing makes sense anymore! Go back to your eirplane with your Sainfeld, and other Jewish people of interest, and what have you. Maybe the Weinstain Brothers will make a movie about it.

SPREADING THE SEED

“I suppose//Old Man Trump knows// Just how much//Racial Hate//he stirred up//In the bloodpot of human hearts// When he drawed//That color line// Here at his//Eighteen hundred family project” In more recent news, Old Man Fred’s progeny is RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT and is busy spewing racist nonsense and worrying about the many horrifying ‘others’ who might threaten his deluged liberties (“When the Syrian refugees are going to start pouring into this country, we don’t know if they’re ISIS, we don’t know if it’s a Trojan horse” Trump was quoted back in November…)

structured drug policies, that would allow for drug cartel influence to become so realized.

words KATIE NOCK

agreed to this.) The drug lord and the famous American actor proceeded to exchange information through burner phones and encrypted messages. With an ending that is worthy of a season finale, the Mexican authorities re-captured El Chapo just eight days after the interaction with Penn. El Chapo now sits in the exact prison he had broken out of just six months earlier. Trying to trace the story lines of what El Chapo has been doing for the last year is about as dramatic and outrageous as any telenovela. Just as funny as it is to see someone get slapped real good on a novela, there is an equally comedic light to the unbelievability of this criminal’s story. Unfortunately, the pain is real when we look at the impact drug cartels have had on people and communities, both sides of the border. A real life story that includes Sean Penn receiving encrypted info from a Mexican drug lord can only be borne out of equally unimaginable levels of poverty, political , and poorly

Imagine you’re a little seed in the pod of a plant. Maybe a lupine seed, or a geranium, or a gorse. You are very dense, and you are also very saturated with moisture. As you grow riper and riper, you notice that you are beginning to expand. Oh my, you are getting so big! As you expand you realize that you are getting very thirsty. Unfortunately, as you expand you are simultaneously growing drier and drier. You have now also developed a terrible headache and can’t rid yourself of the need to let out a little seed fart. This is because as you expand and loose moisture, a lot of pressure is beginning to build up inside each of your little cells. Poor you, you little pod of denseness and tenseness. But fret not, for something big is coming! One hot summer day you get a very funny feeling inside. Suddenly, you can no longer take the tension that has been building up since you were a wee little baby seed. The seams of your surrounding case burst open and you are ferociously launched into the air. Weeeee! This tiny explosion sends you a whopping three whole meters! What the fuck just happened? Your little confused seed self looks around and notices that you are bigger and heavier than all the flimsy wind or animal dispersed seeds in the soil around you and you realize that you have just experienced a ballistic seed dispersal in action.

art COURTNEY DAUM

MICRO NON-FICTION

Bob, the security guard at a Cowfish was checking ID’s one night and decides to peer into the alley to clear out any vomit spewing dumbasses. It’s the middle of January and snow’s packing in. With a lack of anticipation, Bob casually glances around the corner. And to his surprise it’s a local, an older woman. Her back was meticulously balanced against the wall, using a wheelchair in front of her for support and she’s taking a colossal, steaming shit. He decided that he couldn’t deal with it at the moment… and returns to his post at front door.

A few minutes later he returns to the foreboding alley, inlaid with feces from any kind of animal, to an even more disturbing sight. This time around, a man receives fellatio from the older woman, now sitting in the wheelchair. He propels her back and forth back and forth…directly over the steaming pile of shit.

My first Blink 182 concert was also the day I saw my first penis. My freshman year of high school I went to Blink 182 with three of my guy friends. I was so stoked to see them and little did I know the concert was going to be filled with so much more than head banging. We only had two tickets between the four of us so we had to sneak in and share seats. It was kind of a tight squeeze so we were standing in front of one another. We were

dancing, going nuts, screaming out every lyric having a ballistic time. Then they started playing “The Party Song, “ my personal favorite. The chorus hit and I looked behind me to sing along with the boys and I saw the two boys waving their flaccid penises around right next to each other. HOLY SHIT two fucking flaccid penises waving around behind me this whole time. Pretty damn BALListic.

words NATALIE MIANO

words EMMA HASKINS

It was my senior year of high school and I was deciding which college to attend. My college friend invited me up to Corvallis to tour campus and show me what college was like. Her bright idea of taking a 17-year-old to a fraternity turned into a disaster. After an endless supply of jungle juice, a hookah session with complete strangers and no memory of how I got there, I got up to hug a cute boy in my annoying-drunk-girl state and bumped right into the scorching hot hookah. Next thing I know I am in a disgusting fraternity bathroom, 3 hours away from home with a wet towel pushed against

art REYN YEAGER

my lower stomach. “Guy I think I drank too much…” I laughed as I first laid eyes on a burn the size of a quarter. I still have a scar to this day.

words SHELBY MARTHALLER

On an uneventful night during the summer of 2011, we parked on a side street up Runyon Canyon just before midnight. On our right was a house encased by a gate, with two misplaced trailers off to the side. There was a sign on the gate: FORGET THE DOG – BEWARE OF OWNER, and a picture of a gun below the words. After about twenty minutes and two or three joints, a man who I like to remember as

words IAN BERNSTEIN

having sported a Ron Jeremyesque mustache, and whose beer belly pushed the elastics of his clinging ‘wifebeater’ inched toward the gate with a shotgun. We scrambled back to our seats and I ducked my head like it was a JFK situation. After the fastest six-point turn I’ve ever seen, we got back on the freeway just in time to hit a sig alert. We didn’t move an inch for almost three hours.

THE TROPHY WIFE words EMMA HENDERSON art EMMA HASKINS

NONFICTION

Sitting in her old rocking chair, she swayed back and forth. The chair creaked, echoing through the still house. Running her bony fingers together, she admired her glistening wedding band. The woman had creases in her skin and thinning hair, she was once a beautiful woman but no traces of beauty remained. Her glazed over eyes drifted around the room. There was a large porcelain doll collection on the shelf. Each doll had a unique, hand-sewn dress and long, silky hair. The wallpaper was a blush pink, decorated with rose vines in perfect vertical columns. In the corner was a pile of stuffed animals, waiting to be played and snuggled with. The most beautiful thing in the room was the old vintage crib with hand-painted roses that perfectly matched the wallpaper. Inside the crib lay a fragile sleeping baby. The room was exactly as the woman had decorated it years before, when she was pregnant with the baby in the crib. She felt joy in the room because she chose not to see the truth of it. She didn’t see that the porcelain dolls were covered in a thick layer of dust, that the rose wallpaper was peeling away, that the stuffed animals’ seams were tearing and stuffing was breaking free, that the beautiful baby in the crib wasn’t breathing. When Elizabeth was a young mother, only a few months after her baby was born, her husband went away on a hunting trip. This was her first weekend alone with her new baby Jane. It was late and there was a storm. Water pounded against the walls and leaked through the old windows. Flashes of lightning beamed in the distance and thunder echoed through the old house. The pots hanging in the kitchen shook and rattled while the floorboards below creaked. The ancient house shifted in its foundation, making more terrifying noises. Her precious baby screamed, alarmed by all the new sounds.

baby to be quiet, she begged and begged but she wouldn’t. Jane kept screaming, refusing to help her mother. “STOP CRYING,” Elizabeth yelled.. She had a strong grip on her and in the midst of her begging and tears she shook her little baby in one heavy movement. Jane finally stopped crying. She never cried again. Elizabeth walked back downstairs. The house was dark and the storm had taken out the electricity. She sat up awake all night, unable to fall asleep, confused about what had just happened. Elizabeth could see the animals watching her with their clay eyes; they knew what had happened, but she blocked out their taunting stares. The sound of a car pulling into the front of the house jolted Elizabeth awake. Footsteps were coming up to the front door. Elizabeth’s heart froze, “Who could it be at this hour? Have they come to take me away? Are they going to take my baby away?” The door creaked, slowly swinging open. A cool breeze from the storm outside swept through the house. A squeaky boot walked in, followed by another, followed by a man. Elizabeth looked at the man, confused for a second, before she realized it was her husband. He was wet and cold, his hair and beard were drenched in water. Dripping water on the floor, he set his gun down and took off his jacket. Elizabeth was so relieved to see him; he would know what to do about the baby. “Andrew? Why are you back?” she asked. “It got too wet to hunt so I came back early. It’s pretty crazy weather out there.” He said with a grin. He came in for a hug but she pushed her arms toward him to stop him. “Something happened… while you were gone...” Elizabeth said. “What is it?”

The moment she heard her baby cry Elizabeth quickly shuffled through the house to get upstairs. She quickly scurried along the cold floor, almost running into her husband’s animal trophies on her way to the baby. Her husband, Andrew, loved decorating the house in his victories, he even made them himself. Darting around a dark deer, Elizabeth fled through the hall following the noises of her screaming baby. She finally got to the staircase, tripping on her nightgown as she bolted up to her baby’s nursery.

She explained what had happened. When she was done with her story, Andrew looked astonished, clearly in complete shock.

When she opened the door to the nursery all she could hear were the piercing screams. Elizabeth coddled Jane and kissed her little head, she tried everything to make her calm down, but the noise would not go away. All she wanted was for her baby to stop crying, but she did not know what to do. She took a firm hold of Jane’s tiny body. She kept telling the

Andrew took his hand and gently pressed it on Elizabeth’s face, where he had hit her. He wiped away the tears with his thumb and looked her dead in the eyes, “I’ll fix this,” he said kissing her forehead, “go upstairs and get some sleep.”

“You stupid woman!” He screamed, slapping Elizabeth across the face, “What is wrong with you? What kind of woman can’t even take care of her own baby?” Elizabeth, red in the face, began to cry. Tears streamed down the marks on her cheek. “I’m so sorry, Andrew… It was an accident.”

She went upstairs, into her bedroom, climbed into her quilted blankets, and tried to sleep. No matter how hard she tried to relax she couldn’t get the vision of baby Jane’s blue face out her head. She waited for Andrew to join her in bed but he never came. She wanted to go downstairs and figure out what was going on but she felt paralyzed by the darkness, so she stayed in her bed. Finally, she felt the warm sun peak through the window letting her know it was okay to leave. Elizabeth quickly scurried across the hall to her baby’s room. She could feel an eeriness seeping through the cracks around the door, making her nervous but she opened the door anyway and went into the nursery. Inside the crib there was a peaceful sleeping baby. Elizabeth picked her up, so relieved. But when she pressed Jane against her she noted how her chest did not move up and down and her body was not warm. She knew immediately what had happened. Andrew had stuffed her, had made her into a trophy, just like a prized animal. She threw her down onto the ground, screaming. Panic filled her body as she started crying and shaking uncontrollably. Elizabeth bolted out of the room and ran into the kitchen, where Andrew was eating breakfast. “ANDREW! What did you do?” Elizabeth screamed, “You stuffed little Jane!” “It’s okay now, Elizabeth. Calm down.” Andrew said, “We have our baby back.” Elizabeth was crying, gasping for air, unable to calm down. She was so enraged and scared. She grabbed a knife from the drawer and stabbed Andrew right in the chest. Amazed by the satisfaction she felt, she stabbed him again, and again. Joy flooded over Elizabeth as she kept pulling the knife in and out of Andrew’s body because she was finally standing up to the man who had been hitting her for so long. When she was done she was so shocked by her own actions that she dropped the knife on the ground and stepped back. Her vision got blurry and her head started spinning as Andrew’s body fell to the ground. Elizabeth walked back upstairs to Jane’s room and carefully picked her baby up off of the ground. She realized that everything was okay now. All of her problems were fixed and she had her baby again. She walked over to the rocking chair and held Jane’s delicate body against her chest, getting blood all over her baby. “Everything is okay now, sweetheart,” Elizabeth whispered as she rocked back and forth, singing her baby a lullaby.

BAND-AID COVERS THE BULLET HOLE The U.S Board of Education brings relief to millions of students in debt but reform does not address the cost of higher education. words HALLIE FROST art RILEY FORTIER Millennials are defined as a generation characterized by early exposure to the internet. What may shape our generation more so is our early exposure to thousands of dollars of debt. Collectively, America owes $1.3 trillion dollars in student debt yet policy makers seem to view that ballooning figure with the same urgency as a drowning polar bear. There has been reform in how students borrow however, that was not widely publicized. In 2010 the US government stopped subsidizing big banks to give out federally guaranteed student loans, and instead became the direct lender. That last sentence has really boring words in it but read it again because it’s actually ballistic. Before 2010, the government would give taxpayer money to large private bank as incentive to give out low interest loans to students, and if the students defaulted the government would be responsible for the balance. That’s another icky familial relationship between our government and private industry that has been disbanded! Probably because these banks were the ones that fucked up in 2008 (watch The Big Short). This turnover quietly made The Department of Education one of the biggest banks in the world with their Federal Student Aid department overseeing $1.2 trillion of debt, a portfolio which, for comparison, dwarfs that of Well’s Fargo. By eliminating the costly middle man (private banks) The Department of Education was able to increase Pell Grants which go to low-income students. That last paragraph is sooo freaking cool that you’re probably like why am I reading about this in a college literary magazine (or around the middle of the November 30th 2015 issue of Time Magazine where I read about it). The answer is three-part and is complicated. First, for people taking out loans and dealing with paying them off, not much of the interfacing looks different, the interest rates are the same whether directly from the feds or not. The difference is that private corporations are no longer profiting from student loans. Also, the rules of what happens to your debt are different and written by the Board of Education. Second, this is a perfect example of “big government takeover” that makes the Tea Party shit bricks. The low profile expansion of the Board of Education saved it from the national controversy that happened to Obamacare. Not all exposure is good exposure. Third, the Board of Education’s reform concerns debt forgiveness not debt avoidance. A band-aid covering a bullet hole. 8

There are two rapidly expanding loan forgiveness programs. Income Driven Repayment (IDR), first implemented under Bill Clinton allows former students to pay 15% of their discretionary spending for 25 years before having debt wiped from the books. Under Obama that was modified to be a maximum of 10% and wiped after 20 years. At the beginning of his Presidency when asked about the burgeoning debt crisis, Obama lamented how America’s best and brightest were being pulled post-grad to careers that cover debt rather than the public service sector. The revitalized Public Service Loan Forgiveness (PSLF) is a program where students with Federal Direct loans can get their debt wiped after 10 years by working in an industry or company that qualifies as the “Public Service Sector”. The increase in number of borrowers enrolled in IDR has risen 40% and the Department of Education estimates 600,000 new enrollments to the PSLF. This reform aids those with debt. It does not address the hemorrhaging cost of higher education. As devastating as mountains of debt can be for the individual, as a capitalist economy we get into serious trouble if defaulting on Student Loans looms over 45% of 25 year olds. It’s not just a plea to young voters when candidates put Student Debt on their platforms, if the debt crisis isn’t curbed our economy faces dire constraints in the next decades when it’s our generation’s turn to be paying mortgages. Obama wanted America’s best and brightest to be attracted to the public service sector but how have we judged “the best and the brightest” historically? Typically by what name was embossed on the diploma. Should a Ph.D graduate from Sarah Lawrence (the most expensive higher education institute in 2015 at $62,000 a year) be eligible for loan forgiveness if they go into the public sector having taxpayers pick up a tab of what could be over $200,000 in the name of a virtue? Our higher education degrees are commodities and we are consumers as well as students in this relationship. So be critical about what you are buying. Figure out how to qualify for IDR and PSLF, but also ask your administrators why the University of Oregon will be raising tuition again next year 4.7%. If you are interested in this topic and want to know more here is the source of the original article: Haley Sweetland Edwards. “The Affordable College Act.” Time 30 Nov. 2015: 92. Print.

THE BALD MACAW The trees scatter along the stretch of road as I merge onto the highway into the desert landscape of eastern Oregon. I am drowsy from days spent in the summer’s heat. A yellow crusted scab forms on the tip of my nose and skin peels red under the bags of my eyes. I spot a Shell station and pull up next to a pump. The smell of hot tar and asphalt wafting through the open window chokes my dry throat. A cheery attendant approaches. I fumble with the screwdriver in the ignition tossing back scraps of trash before finding the release to the gas cap. Handing the now-hesitant attendant a $20 I step out of the car.

lives with, judging him all because he had an emotionally unstable bird.

I walk into the convenience store and grab a plastic water bottle, bag of chips, and wait in line to get tobacco and pay. To my right, standing in line for the bathroom is a lean, middle-aged man with grey hair that forms a horseshoe around his scalp and hangs down in strands. He’s wearing his sunglasses on a strap around his neck. On his shoulders is a large red bird with flashes of fluorescent blue on the tips of its wings. Hands deep in the pockets of his cargo shorts he looks up at the parrot and lifts a handful of grains to its black beak.

“Who’s a good bird?”

“Woah man, sick! Is that, like, your parrot?” I ask.

The man sits there coarsely defecating. He makes a kissing face at his bird- it makes a garbling sound reminiscent of a human’s voice. The man would never repeat out loud how he felt about his parrot. That would shatter the illusion that there was a spiritual connection between him and his bird, an interconnectedness that the parrot understood and appreciated. The idea that they were pals.

… “Now say, ‘I’m a good bird.’” ... “I’m a good bird.”

The man turns towards me, his fist in the bird’s face as it gawks its neck back and forth and eats its grains. He responds in a way that indicates he both anticipated and appreciated my attention. The others in line gaze silently, mouths agape, towards the register. “Actually he’s a macaw.” The man responds, giving me a toothy smile. As he turns to me I notice the parrot’s bald stomach, its flesh exposed like an animated uncooked chicken roast. “Hey, it’s bald!” The grin fades quickly and the man becomes bashful. “He plucks his feathers out…it’s a tic - like biting your fingernails.” A toilet flushes in the men’s bathroom. Before I can feel embarrassed for the man and his parrot, I reply in a prescriptive tone: “Well, he must be nervous.” Another man steps out of the bathroom, glances up at the parrot, and hurriedly leaves the Convenience Store adjusting his belt. The parrot moves its head back and forth and grabs a single tuft of crimson blue from its chest. It drifts slowly to the floor. “He is not ginning to room, the ward the

nervous!” The man replies defiantly, his lower lip befold, before taking three long strides into the bathbird still perched on his shoulder. I turn back toregister, my brain seared stupid from the heat.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, the man with the parrot unzips his cargo shorts and squats down on the toilet. The parrot watches as the man folds his penis between his thighs and pisses and shits into the toilet. The man grumbles about the inconsideration of some people, and how they must have no idea how hard it is to take care of a macaw. But really it’s the bird he’s upset with because the bird was supposed to liven up his social life, give him an edge- an identity. The Guy with the Bird. Instead, the bird ripped feathers out from its own skin - making people wonder about his treatment of the animal. They must be imagining a small cage in a dingy house somewhere. How gross this man must be that he has with him an exotic bird experiencing a mental breakdown resting on his shoulder. The people might wonder what other filth this man

words DEREK CHESNUT art EMMA HASKINS

HUMANS ARE BALLISTIC

Humans are ballistic. Ballistically brilliant and ballistically ignorant. It’s ballistic that it’s been over a decade since Mean Girls came out and it’s ballistic that when you google Martin O’Malley the first suggested search is how tall he is. And while it feels like the human contributions of plastic to our precious oceans and the obsession our generation had with Old Navy flip-flops from 2004-2008 seem like the genesis of ballistic-ness, as per usual that’s just humans taking more credit than we deserve.

NONFICTION

There was ballistic-ness before us, and there will be ballistic-ness long after. From the way our planet happens to be positioned at an orbital position distanced perfectly from the sun preventing us from freezing to death or getting fried, to the fact that hammerhead sharks reproduce asexually, or to the fact that the earth grows carrots right out of the dirt that are deliciously sweet and crunchy and we don’t even have to ask; it’s clear that Mama Earth didn’t need us to get the party started. Here’s a compilation of stuff that’s equally scientific as it is ballistic—stuff that just happened while we were concerned with creating hydrogen bombs and bedazzling our do-it-yourself high waisted jeans. Philodendron bipinnatifidum “Lacy Tree Philodendron” A species of arecaceae, native to Brazil, whose method for dispersing its genes through pollination (which is fucking insane as a concept on its own) is evolutionarily exceptional and downright ballistic; by metabolizing fat rather than carbohydrates, similar to the way humans do, these little fools heat their floral tubes up to a balmy 30 degrees Celsius, which happens to be the exact same temperature in which beetles like to fuck. Thus, arecaceae create the perfect ambiance to tempt beetles to crawl in and get it on. The beetles conveniently roll around more than the average pollinator and coat themselves with a coating of pollen and are thus ready to fertilizer other bipinnatifidum, immediately after fertilizing each other... ballistically efficient. It’s been proposed that P. bipinnatifidum is evidence for plants and animals converging somewhere on the evolutionary path.... I mean what?! What’s even better is that the Greek root of “philodendron” means “love tree.”

I read once that humans know more about galaxies thousands of light years away than we do about the bottom of our planet’s own oceans. Strikingly ballistic when you think about how close the ocean floor is to us in the grand scheme of the universe. Something freaky we do know about what’s going on down there is the existence of nudibranchs, often referred to as “sea slugs”. These little weirdos have developed one hell of a defense mechanism. Nudibranchs lose their shells during their larval stage of life, leaving them small and colorful and squishy but mostly just vulnerable. Turns out “cuteness” isn’t the best protection mechanism in the dog-eat-dog worlds of deep-sea ecosystems, so these marine gastropods went with more of a “you-are-what-you-eat” approach. Nudibranchs feed on organisms like anemones and hydroids, and basically all the things you’re told not to touch in fake tide-pools at the aquarium because they’ll sting your precious little fingers. But watch out little stinking critters because nudibranch don’t give a fuck about your toxins! She’ll eat ya anyway and not think twice! Not only

will she gobble you up without getting hurt, but she’ll actually absorb your “nematocysts” (toxic stinging cells) and store them in assorted places in her body and use it to protect herself from bigger predators. As if the normality of women faking orgasms wasn’t conceptually ballistic enough, we’re not the only one’s who have taken on the pressure of making sure men don’t feel bad about themselves. Female Salmo trutta, or “brown trout” have taken on the same bizarre responsibility all in the name of premature ejaculation. Too bad boys, these fishy bitches have got you outsmarted! Success rates in spawning are extremely dependent on the exact position of both fish and these ladies aren’t taking any chances. While crouching in a nest, she digs in the gravel of the stream bed, opens her mouth, and awaits a male to see her and assume the same position allowing the sperm to be delivered directly on top of the egg. However, if the male is half-assing his job and the female feels like his positioning is off, she will put on a little show without releasing her egg, leaving the male confused as he watches his lady immediately begin to re-dig her pebble nest in preparation for a new lover—the switch-a-roo has been observed to take place within thirty minutes of her first attempt. Cheers to you lady trout, you brilliantly ballistic belle.

words & art KATIE NOCK

The fact that the circle is life is fueled by a baby literally growing inside of mother-beings is already pretty crazy if you take a sec to sit and think about how fucking insane and incredible that is. But get this...

While these are all relatively small-scale ballistic bits (though there is no small scientific inquiry, there are only small scientists), the root of all ballistic-ness comes from the fundamental existence of existing. It really all comes down to having oxygen in our atmosphere and that is all thanks to the tiniest most miraculously ballistic little photosynthetic dude. Fuckin’ cyanobacteria, man. If you want ballistic, than ballistic you shall receive. Here’s a little bit about how this works: So 2.5 billion years ago the atmosphere was a lil’ different. For instance, there was no oxygen, and very little nitrogen.... but conveniently there was an abundance of hydrogen sulfate. Hooray! This is dope as hell because the first plants to perform photosynthesis (more on this later...) received their electrons from hydrogen sulfate, which they split apart in order to form a hydrogen gradient which allowed the ETC to produce more ATP and thus power glycolysis. But blah blah blah, what really matters is that suddenly out of the nowhere everything got wet!!! A.K.A.

So then brilliant, beautiful green cyanobacteria evolves to do something truly magical and the most ballistic possible adaptation occurs! Little cyanobacteria dude is like, “Wow there’s a shit ton of water... let’s be resourceful and make the best of this situation! Let’s use solar radiation to split water instead of hydrogen sulfate! Yay, now we will have so much hydrogen!” and Boom, oxygenic photosynthesis was born. After working long and hard through the Proterozoic and early Cambrian era, cyanobacteria managed to produce enough oxygen to allow life on land to really take off. From bryophytes, to wooly mammoths, to genetically engineered potatoes, and Donald Trump. Get stoked on science, humans. Because it’s literally happening all the time everywhere and it’s never not ballistic.

CITSILL AB ERA SNAMUH

Next time you’re orgasming in bed with bae and you think you are having the most ballistic moment of sexual stimulation on earth, just think about this... When a Limax maximus, or “leopard slug,” is in the same moment of final throes, they are intertwined in each other’s glowing blue penises hanging in the air from a tree branch on a rope of sparkling mucus. Since these gastropods (along with many other member of their genus) are hermaphrodites, they both have their own penis to accomplish the task of fertilizing each other’s eggs. Once you’re done googling nudibranchs, go ahead and type “Leopard slug reproduction” into YouTube, might even turn ya on a lil’... or turn you off a lot...for a very long time.

water became abundant on earth and thus became a kick-ass source of energy for little plants to get turnt.

Chlamydia Sounds Better in Spanish words and art CELIA EASTON KOEHLER

en cy clo pe di a ba lli sti ca A

a shot at love with tila tequila alphabet soup ambien astronaut syndrome

being an orphan braces below freezing temperature

infinity indoor recess ice cube at coachella inheriting money

jamie from mythbusters jello shots

K C

calculators capri suns car accidents costco hot dogs

donald trump dry ice

ed hardy eyebrow piercings

forked tongues fox news fun dip the fourth dimension

gel pens god

hot cheetos having chainsaws for hands hot topic hulkamania

words ANNALEE NOCK, KATIE NOCK

ketchup kiwi-strawberry flavored things karma

sharks sparkly uggs spit roasting a pig studded belts

temporary tattoos thanksgiving dinner tic tacs transition lenses triplets

lisa frank lip gloss

underwater weddings underwear with the days of the week on them ursula from the lil mermaid understanding your role in this vast universe

magic mansions mountain dew baja blast the matrix

nelly furtado the never ending pipe screensaver near death experiences nail art

old navy flip flops orgasms

people who dont believe in climate change photosynthesis pogo sticks

vajazzling vaping velour videos of bill clinton playing the saxophone

waxed bald heads wearing athletic shorts with colored costco socks and moccasins

x-ray vision glasses

yurtle the turtle

zebra stripe gum zoey 101 zit medication

queen mary i of england quitting your job

rent in seattle riďŹ&#x20AC; raďŹ&#x20AC; reunion tours

crowded When you’re driving to school with your ankles still cold in the blue pre7am, you can never remember your dreams. You play your mix of ‘90s songs and hum along and sigh and try to bat your eyes back open: how bizarre, how bizarre, how bizarre — It’s hard to remember what things mean. You keep a big journal in your head — [What it means to get a gift you really wanted. When you arrive on time and pray the person you’re meeting never shows up. When “Bad Day” came on at Applebee’s. Walking down stairs and forgetting how to walk down stairs, waiting to really fuck up and fall.] You bought one at the bookshop once, but the man said, “Got big plans?” and you get scared when you think too much about God stuff and what’s going to happen. Today it’s not fair to write about how you once ate a Sour Patch Kid of LSD at a music festival, because everyone already knows: the crowd rolled like a tide in the weird huge shoreline of your eyes, the Honeybucket graffiti kept dancing, tiny bugs appeared between your toes, your bare feet, weaving between grassblades. It’s mostly a bunch of stuff you can’t see a connection between. Actually, it’s mostly just boys. Mostly just one boy. And your mom. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? The worst that could happen is that everyone you love disappears, you dummy. That’s the worst that could happen. The people you love are so whole that you’ve touched them. You pay for a metered spot every morning and give it all day to run out. It’s not the most logical, frugal decision, but you are twenty-one years old. Twenty-two now, gee whiz. [Nobody has sympathy for young people these days!] Danny said to keep an acid journal. Why are you so interested? It’s crowded in my head, he said. I’d like to keep track of what I can, even if it’s not mine. (Today: call Dad, groceries, auto parts store, find camera.) Being back in your bed at the end of the day isn’t sad. It’s not anything. You imagine a television show: Life As Me. (What a stupid idea)! You’ve got some ideas for band names: Daddy Milk is the stupidest, but you still like it the best. You just want to do something different [anyone listening?]. 14

words ISABEL ZACHARIAS art HANNAH MARKOVIC

Your best self is yourself when you’re not trying to hard to be the best. You wrote that on the big dry erase board you used to keep on an easel at your old apartment; Danny took a picture of it when he came from out of town. It disappeared during the move (two rings, one keychain, the erase board, your camera). I can’t ask Daniel if he still has the picture. What’s been the biggest loss of your life? There was one black crow in your dream last night; you were waiting in line for lemon water. You got up to pee and dreamt next of dark chocolate and broken glass. I guess you were hungry and destructive. The crow must mean something, but you’ll have to look it up in that anthology on the coffee table. When you wake in the morning, there’s no one else up in the house. Your shirt’s disappeared between bed and wall. The tacked-up photos of your family beam down at you — your dying fern, you other plant Julia, your glow-in-the-dark stars, your soft sheets and own soft skin. Everything’s quiet, and you don’t know what to think about [the big fat apple waiting for you in the kitchen, the dance you might do by yourself ]. And then you think of nothing. - You okay? -- Yeah. - Okay, because if you weren’t okay, I would do something. -- What kind of thing? - Any. Any old thing. -- Hey — - Yeah? -- If everything were perfect — - Everything is perfect. -- No, if everything were really perfect. Do you think you would notice?

art COURTNEY DAUM

RIFLE RAFFLE: A Q&A WITH

LIBERTARIAN STUDENT ACTIVIST THOMAS TULLIS Giving away gun vouchers as prizes at a poker tournament fewer than two months after the mass-shooting at Umpqua Community College was Thomas Tullis’s idea. Tullis is a junior and the coordinator for UO’s Young Americans for Liberty, the group that hosted the event. They stirred up a lot of shit: students demanded President Michael Schill stop the event, the ASUO voted down funding YAL to rent out the EMU Ballroom, and a national free speech group (the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education) called on Schill to let the event go forward. In the end Tullis and the YAL won out and “Liberty Poker Night” went forward. interview CHARLIE CRAFT OV: What was your relationship to guns growing up, if you had one? TT: My dad hunts pheasants and so I went hunting with him once or twice. I was probably a teenager before I shot a gun. My dad very much disagrees with me on most of these issues…I think that he thinks that the purpose of guns is for hunting and for recreation, and that’s a really good purpose of guns, but obviously, the Second Amendment wasn’t written to protect this one specific sport.

would be a lot safer if they allow concealed carry. Of course, that’s a relatively unpopular opinion and a lot of people on campus disagreed with us. But there was also a surprisingly large amount of people who were very vocally supportive.

Why did you want to give away gun vouchers at the tournament to the winners? It’s kind of funny because, actually, at the [Student] Senate meeting they were like, “Is part of the appeal of I’ve heard the argument made this that it’s so that if we don’t need guns controversial? “I’M NOT SUPER INTO GUNS, I DON’T because we have police, then Do you OWN ANY GUNS, AND I DON’T THINK we don’t need fire extinguishers like how because we have firemen, and controversial I REALLY NEED TO OWN ANY GUNS” that’s kind of a pretty good this is?” And comparison actually because I was like, of people have fire extinguishers course — because you can’t always trust of course the response time of the firemen. I support people’s right to own I like how controversial it is. The goal, of course, was to be very weapons as a means of defense against crime — as a means of controversial and to get noticed and if we just held a forum or protecting themselves and their family and anyone else who’s we just held a verbal type of protest or we just brought in a guest there. I feel safer on campus knowing that some people concealed speaker, that would not get noticed as much and it wouldn’t carry. I’ve been told before that there’s some people who concealed have inspired the conversation that took place. Students are very carry on campus, and that the rules don’t really stop them. apathetic to politics…by giving away three guns, and by taking that kind of action that gets students to notice, it sort of forces Technically, it’s not illegal to concealed carry guns on campus, them to start considering these circumstances and forming an it’s just an academic disciplinary action, so you’d be expelled for opinion surrounding the issues. it, basically. Nobody really quite understands the concealed carry policy because it’s not Oregon law, it’s a rule by the State Board What did you think of the response to the poker tournament? of Higher Education…Essentially, what they do is they disarm students but they allow outsiders to come on with weapons…it There was a fairly strong opposition to it. Everyone was posting on doesn’t even make sense at all. social media like, “Oh, we need to call the president of the school and we need to call the Dean and we need to stop this event from Why did you hold the poker tournament? happening,” and it was very disheartening that people tried to We held the tournament as a form of protest against the concealed stop the event from happening. Nobody showed up to protest the carry ban on campus specifically. We wanted…to encourage the event. They didn’t want to join the dialogue and discuss the policy, university to overturn the weapon policy regarding disarming instead, they just thought it was something sort of inherently students who have a concealed carry license from carrying on evil or that our event was only there to be controversial or that it campus. Of course, we think that that policy makes campus a more was only there to make people upset. I know that it made people upset, and I think that it’s impossible to try and have a learning dangerous place for students and that campus atmosphere on a university without making people upset at all.

“I’m not super into guns, I don’t own any guns, and I don’t think I really need to own any guns. “

People said that it was insensitive because of what happened in Roseburg. They were like, “How could you hold this? It’s only been a month since what happened in Roseburg.” I think it was more important than ever. Usually what happens is: we have one of these mass shootings, they seem routine now, they plague the nation…and everyone’s really upset and then everyone says, “Well, we’ve got to change something”…and then there’s too much conflict and so everyone sort of moves on and then it ends up happening again. I agree that something needs to change, but then, when we actually hold this event as a protest of a policy and we want to bring people in and encourage a dialogue about [the university concealed carry policy] then all of the sudden, everyone thinks it’s insensitive. I was like, no, not having this conversation, that would be insensitive. I think that if we overturn [the concealed carry policy] it will make campus a safer place, and you can disagree with me on that, but you can’t expect me to be quiet and to just sort of quietly go about without opinion if I think it’s going to make campus safer. That would be insensitive to everyone who’s been a victim of gun violence, because I think that gun violence and gun crimes are a result of misguided policy. How do you think the law should treat guns? I am radically antigovernment and I think the government is the opposite of freedom and of safety and prosperity. I think that the government shouldn’t enforce gun control; I think the market will choose to enforce gun control. I support background checks and I support gun stores background checking people but I don’t know if it should be mandated that they background check people. We sort of already passed this point of no return where there are more guns in this country than there are people. Maybe Australia’s policy made people safer in that context but in America there would be a radical revolution and so many people would die if we just tried to round up all the guns, it would just never happen. And so if we can’t collect all the guns, then it’s like, “Okay, well, what policy is there?” And I just don’t believe that prohibition has ever worked: it didn’t work for alcohol, it doesn’t work for drugs, it doesn’t work for abortion; if we made abortion illegal, there would be a strong black market for abortion…If there’s a bad person who wants to get a gun, they’ll find a way to get a gun. Why do you shoot guns? I think it’s a good thing for anyone who has a strong opinion on gun policy. It’s a good idea to get experience with guns. There’s this inherent fear of guns and there are a lot of people who are very afraid of guns, but they’ve never held a gun and they’ve never shot a gun. But I think that should be done in a responsible manner. It’s an experience just like anything else: just like climbing or hunting, it’s a sport; there are a lot of people who sport shoot. I’m not super into guns, I don’t own any guns, and I don’t think I really need to own any guns.

DOUBLE DICK DUDE words JUICY J art COURTNEY DAUM Two years ago, the world was introduced to Double Dick Dude. His popularity on social media was kick started through a selfposted Reddit AMA (ask me anything, for Reddit newbies) and grew into an overnight sensation. Almost immediately after posting the AMA, he posted proof: pictures of the dynamic duo itself. Soon after, the story was picked up by Rolling Stone as well as the Huffington Post. Furthermore, going under the pseudonym “Diphallic Dude,” he wrote and published an e-memoir titled, “Double Header: My Life With Two Penises.” In his e-memoir Double Dick Dude describes what it was like growing up with two penises. One of the first things he clarifies is that the condition is not inherited, nor is a side-effect of absorbing a twin in the womb. Rather, his condition is known as diphallia and is caused by a developmental abnormality in the womb. Many people with this condition tend to have severe health abnormalities in addition to having deformed genitals. Double Dick Dude, however, seems to have gotten off lucky (pun intended). On top of having an 8” softie and a 10” hard-on, he’s only needed a few minimal surgeries to end up with two fully functioning dicks - and yes, that means he is able to urinate and ejaculate from both. But he doesn’t get to pick and choose: his urethra is split into a Y and causes fluids to come out of both at once. (Double Dick Dude outlines on his Reddit AMA, however, that his left penis has to have the cum sucked out of it, while the right one, his Old Faithful, always shoots.) Double Dick Dude’s social media is (surprise) dominated by questions and stories about his sexscapades. Both his first and upcoming memoirs detail his numerous sexual experiences and explorations; “I’ve had various degrees of sex with men who identify as straight,” he wrote. “Some discovered they were bi, others still identify as straight.” Triple D’s had sex with women too, though, and in fact he’s very vocal about his bisexuality— as well as his love of fisting. Yes, he has had sex with a 20

Double Dick Dude

words JUICY J art COURTNEY DAUM

man and a woman at once. And yes, there was double

" and yes, that means he is able to urinate and ejaculate from both. "

Dick Dude wrote in his memoir that after losing his virginity the girl he had slept with told everyone at his high school about his dick sitch, and he became the butt of locker room jokes and relentless teasing. At one point, he said that he even considered cutting one of his penises off, but that his father talked him out of it.

penetration involved.

Since high school, Double Dick Dude has come to embrace his body and say “hell no” to the thought of altering it; but, that doesn’t mean he’s immune to the awkwardness of the situation. He still goes out of his way to avoid public bathrooms, and if he does he always tries to use a stall instead of a urinal. After all, some people can be ree-dick-ulously insensitive.

Nevertheless, having two dicks hasn’t always been double the fun for Double Dick Dude. Growing up, even routine doctor’s visits would get immediately out of hand. As he wrote on his AMA, “One [doctor] grabbed, like, five others in the building to check me out. That was the last time my mom let anyone examine me for any reason besides personal check-ups. She said ‘my son is not a freak show,’ and slapped on of them.”

On top of learning to love his body Double Dick Dude has developed a strong sense of respect for himself as a person. Though offered a variety of porn jobs, he’s always refused—Double Dick Dude rejected the idea of being a novelty item for the porn industry, and by doing so sent a powerful message: unique doesn’t mean freak. Double Dick Dude is a prime example of how people shouldn’t be exploited for their differences, but celebrated.

Sadly, gawking wasn’t just something he received at the doctor’s office. Double

GUY FIERI SIGHTINGS We knew the Oregon Voice staff was fated to be together, but we’ve never felt it harder, better, faster or stronger than when we came to realize numerous OV babies have had run-ins with the food prince of darkness, hot dog maven, greasy troll doll come to life- Guy Fieri. Here are their stories. On vacation in Oahu, my family and I stop at a roadside BBQ truck. My mother refuses to eat there, but while she mopes in the car, a white Cadillac Escalade rolls up, and out pops Guy Fieri, with his white spikes and even whiter Oakley sunglasses perched on his charboiled face. He goes over to the men cooking and joins right in, starts spinning the chicken, like he’s at home. We tell our mother he’s here; she freaks out, runs over, and begins the onslaught of mother pictures, like it were me cooking for the first time - such a special moment. She asks to take a picture with him. Guy refuses, looking even more red with anger than usual, and jumps back into the Escalade, driving onto the white sandy beaches. Of course now, my mother devours the food, saying it’s the best she’s ever had. Aye yah.

words COURTNEY DAUM

Basically I was just taking out the trash one day when I saw him strollin’ down the street with his shades on his brow, checking out the scenery. I wasn’t certain it was him at first because I’m from a town of about fourteen hundred and it’s rare to see anyone walking down my street let alone Guy Fieri. But as I got closer it became clear that Guy Fieri was indeed coming out of a walk in the woods. I started to ask him “Are you Guy--”, but he cut me off ; “Yeah, I am.” I dropped my trash and introduced myself with a startled laugh. Then I asked him if he would sign an autograph for my dad, who watches the cooking channel all the time, he said “of course”. The autograph reads “David, Keep Cookin.”

It was Saturday, August 4th, 2012: Day two of Lollapalooza in Chicago. I’d attended every year since 2006, when I went as an eighth grader and hung out in the front row of the Red Hot Chili Peppers with my mom, cried because I lost her in the crowd at Matisyahu, and got offered my first joint at preKim, pre-Yeezy, pre-presidential Kanye. This year, my best friend from Oregon was visiting, the Chili Peppers were headlining again, and she would take my mom’s place as my front row companion. Somehow, I still ended up in tears at the same stage I had six years earlier. In the late afternoon, an announcement was made that sounded like a sick joke. Grant Park was shutting down, and the entire festival would be evacuated due to a superstorm heading into the Chicago area. We contemplated hiding out in a port-o-potty, but settled for standing just outside the park gates for two hours as the clouds blackened, the sky over Lake Michigan turned red, and

art HANNAH MARKOVIC

words AKIRA NAKAGAWA

we were soaked in torrential rain. Two hours later, we were let back in, and the Chili Peppers were up next. We sprinted to the main stage and ended up within ten rows of the fence, with levels of desperation and that despicable aggression you only see at concerts. When the music started, it hit another level. The 50,000 people behind me decided to do that “1, 2, 3, PUSH!” thing and I didn’t stand a chance. We were packed so tightly my arms were pinned to my sides and my feet left the ground; I was suspended in human mass. My screams for help were mostly directed at everyone’s armpits. I was fucked. Eventually trampled, separated from my friend, kicked in the head by crowd-surfers, and gasping for air, I thought, “this is the end.”

sobbing. I squinted through the tears to behold another familiar figure. Five feet ahead, Guy Fieri floated through the VIP section with an ethereal glow and a nonchalance that said, “I don’t give a shit about any of you.” He was completely dry, sweat and tear-free, breathing normally, even laughing. My insignificance next to him was striking, even maddening, but I traced his movements with awe. To this day, I’m not sure if Guy Fieri was sent to me as a spirit guide or simply to taunt me with his superior elegance at one of my lowest lows. Maybe I died for a second, and Guy Fieri is heaven.

words RUCHI KUMARI

Because I genuinely feared my own death or because people were freaked out by how much I was crying, I was able to push my way to the fence. I saw the glorious sight of Flea and continued 21

HOW TO BE BALlISTIC words EMMA BURKE art DEREK CHESNUT

SuuuuP% my Dorklets

I see you’ve turned to the best ballisticity consultant in any and all tri-state areas- me, Dr. Miami Cowgirl, for some red, hot consultation on aforementioned ballisticity. Going ballistic – piece of weak, sugar free cake. Being ballistic is truly, at it’s lava core, hard as fuck. I’ve penned some tips on how to reach full ballistic capacity in that sweet bod and mind of yours.

No 1

HANG OUT WITH BABIES

You’re probably like, “but, Dr. MC, babies are only good for, like, one thing: proving to people that I’m not some virgin nerd!” Listen dummy, babies are good for literally millions of things, including, yes, being cute-ass, real life, Disney 3D evidence that you put your thing in someone else’s thing or your thing temporarily housed someone else’s thing or whatever. Babies are hella smart and fuckin’ badass ballistic heroes. Have you ever seen a baby thrash? It’s nuts. No inhibitions anywhere because their brains are too small to fit them in. Adult brains are way too big and empty so we fill that space with thoughts like “Will it look weird if I thrash too hard?” or “I can’t barf here, I’m in public.” Not a problem for babies! Babies can swim underwater with their eyes open and just be like “yeah, what of it?” That’s fucking savage. Kicking it with a baby just means talking about how cool colors are, laughing hella, and being a happy fucking clam. The truest ballistic statement is owning how stoked you are to be alive. Oh, also babies have bones as soft as grown hip hop baby Drake so if you bring one to a mosh pit it’ll be the toughest one there cuz babies can’t be broke. But make sure to bring them some noise-cancelling headphones, infantile eardrum damage is not a joke and deeply uncool, my barf prince.

No 2

GO TO THE FREAKING MALL

I love the mall. The long, fluorescent hallways may seem soul crushing….If you have a closed off brain unit. With the right mindscape malls are the perfect canvas to go ballistic and look swaggy doing it. First step: locate a mall with a Lego store. Go to said Lego store, buy some free floating lego bricks and chew on them to show how hard you are. Pay for them first though, stealing from the mall is soooooo 7th grade. Which, yes, a ballistic time for us all, but like, we’re adults. 7th grade ballisticism is unharnessed, maturity means controlling it. Anyway, my precious dingus, after the lego store hit up Lids and drop some chalupa change on one of those hats guys with low trafficked soundclouds wear—big brim with some words on the front. What words? Something political, preferably democratical. Nothing more ballistic than a true and passionate understanding of social policy. Eat a cinnabon with your bare hands, buy a hoodie with flames on it and/or the Misfits skull at Hot Topic. Many Hot Topic frequenters aren’t unlike babies when it comes to ballistic mindsets: no inhibitions, passion that verges on lameness but is so freaking weird it transcends judgment. Homies are either at the mall to get shit done or because they have nothing to do with themselves and therefore have nothing left to lose. This exemplifies an interesting fact in The Science of Ballisticism ™ : although these two types of people are at opposite ends of the ballistic spectrum, they hold equal ballistic weight. The mall is loud and overwhelming and bejeweled with every type of ballistic persons.

No 3 HATE URSELF A small BIT There’s a whole movement of “loving yourself” and finding your “inner beauty” the corporate media and 4 out of 5 Kardashians are pushing into our soft monkey brains. Listen up, future ballistic experts: not only does this totally stigmatize “ugliness” as an entity (one of the best and most ballistic entities), but it’s also a sure fire way to lose any ballistic boner you may have brewing. Obviously it’s not swagged out to have, like, hatred coursing through your veins. Ballistic goof balls pump Mountain Dew and Type O blood—not prejudice or loathing. HOWEVER it’s crucial to have a tiny, inner hater in your heart to keep the outer you in check. When homies don’t have that teeny, tiny little speck of inner hate in the lower quadrant of their brain stem the self awareness that accompanies true ballisticity can be lost. Some people or things are almost, but not quite, ballistic. They go too far! For example: chokers, Sunny D, people who paint their chests at sporting events. Those ain’t ballistic, baby. They’re next level corny. Corny and Ballistic are opposing entities but closely related. You know how Satan is a fallen angel? Corny is a fallen Ballistic Being. It’s v important to love yourself hella too, of course, but the part of your brain that can be like “dude…what?” sometimes adds dimension. Ballistic heroes Blink-182 aren’t always All The Small Things, they’ve got the Adam’s Song to balance it out. You gotta word up, dumpling, and get the self confidence required to GO ballistic and the self hating to MAINTAIN the ballistic.

CHILL SPOT:

THE WILD DUCK CAFE words ISABEL ZACHARIAS

What’s in a name? In this case, literally everything, like literally, I actually don’t need to write anything more at all.

what the hell else was open this time of night in this weird Sporty Spice neighborhood?

But okay, the last time I was at the Wild D (AKA The Wild Fuck (AKA also The Wild Suck)), there was some kind of noise raining like Bud Light from those big corner-ceiling speakers; it was either “Roll With the Changes” by REO Speedwagon or some other selection from that mix CD my junior prom date made titled “Classic Rock Dream Team.”

The only reason I’d theretofore been to the Duck was to attend comedy open mics where everyone feels embarrassed: for the kid up there red with shaking hands, for his friends’ nervous laughing, for yourself for even being there. It was only a different kind of tinned-ha-ha feeling to walk in that night as if This is Our Tuesday Night Place and These Are Our Usual Hellos to the Human-Sized Duck Entrance Statue.

The way Emma describes it, everything the Wild Duck does, it does to the most ballistic degree possible (note that this extends beyond “sensible” or “appealing”). The neon-ish mural of old town-y Eugene? It’s so ugly. The nachos? Fuhgetaboutit. They’re huge. Don’t even order them, because they are too huge. This last time I went, I was on a romantic walk with my significant boyfriend, whose name is Teddy if you really want to know (you nosy goose). It was nighttime and the air sort of smelled like moss because it was still autumn and we were just barely dating. We avoided the hills because that’s not the kind of walk we were on — this was just a walk to be together but not have to look directly at each other — but then he asked me if I wanted a coffee. At TEN PEE EM? On a weeknight? I said yes. We would usually go to Denny’s to fulfill this brief desire for eye contact, but we walked into the smooth thin glass front of the Wild Duck because 24

We were seated at this booth, just a few feet away from these kids wearing the Green and Yellow doing homework together (“wild ducks,” one might say, in their habitat). Our coffee came in tall, bowed-in glasses that I want to describe as Parisian. Teddy, who (if you really want to know) has a thing where at restaurants he asks me to “help him” not order food that will one day kill him, said something like, “Do you want calamari? I won’t get it if you won’t eat some. Would you have some calamari?” It came on an enormous platter, clearly meant to be shared among a tableful of people, and I more or less watched Teddy dip little handbunches of fried stuff into a teeny tub of chipotle ranch, then plop into his mouth. It was so strange to be there, and we’ve never gone back. And we still laugh about it, because we laugh about everything, because guess what? Everything is funny.

words & art CLAIRE BYRD When I think of ballistic music, the first thing that comes to mind is punk. Not only is it ballistic because of the clanging guitars and primal screams of the enraged singers, but the entire punk movement itself is ballistic as fuck. Beginning in the 1970s, primarily in America and the United Kingdom, the punk ethos went against everything “traditional adults” were expected to do. The punk ethos became a strong message to those disenchanted by society and the unfair pressures of being a tax-paying, day-job-having traditional adult. A few important punk ideals include those of non-conformity, anti-establishment, and free thinking, but in reality that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Not every punk song concerns itself with politics or social issues, but the sheer amount of energy and emotion these artists put into their songs make even the most petty of breakups seem like a terrorist attack on the heart. What makes this movement so ballistic is the way punks stuck with what they believed in no matter how unwelcome they became in the eyes of their “conformist” counterparts.Through this list I highlight some essential ballistic tracks with a punk ethos, and hopefully this small sampling of tunes will make you feel ballistic enough to smash all the injustices of the world.

Shield for Your Eyes, A Beast in the Well on Your Hand - Melt Banana

No list would be complete without imported tracks from around the world, and Melt-Banana doesn’t disappoint. A Japanese duo, this band isn’t your traditional punk sound. They incorporate a more electronic sound and the lead singer, Yasuko O. brings an unusual and excellent female voice to the mix.

Bulls on Parade - Rage Against the Machine

This song is a modern classic that raises awareness about issues that come with belonging to a society that focuses a lot of time and energy on warfare. Consider this a gateway to punk- easily accessible and effective.

In the Belly of a Shark - Gallows

This is a relatively recent band (formed in 2005) from England that employs more of a hardcore aesthetic. There is also a lot of screaming so yay for that.

Human Fly - The Cramps

A deliciously dark surf-rock riff is employed throughout Human Fly making any beach goer feel the ballistic power that is The Cramps. We’re reaching new demographics here! Need I say more?

Hybrid Moments - Misfits

One of my personal favorites, Misfits’ musicality combined with the distinct voice of original lead singer Glenn Danzig creates tunes that are excellent at hiding disturbing or sinister lyrics behind upbeat and (dare I say?) dance-worthy songs. Also check out Some Kinda Hate and Last Caress for more essential Misfits classics.

Kick Out the Jams - MC5

Released all the way back in 1965, this song is considered a proto-punk anthem. It’s been covered by notable bands such as Rage Against the Machine (see above), Blue Oyster Cult, and Jeff Buckley.

Staten och Kapitalet- Ebba Grön

Let’s go on over to Sweden now! Short lived but one of the most influential Swedish punk bands, Ebba Grön’s music is absolutely political. This song in particular translates to “The State and The Capital”, an anti-capitalism statement.

Kropotkin-Vodka - Pussy Riot

No ballistic list would be complete without the badass Pussy Riot. Maybe you’ve heard of their political performances in Russia, maybe you haven’t. Either way listen to this and feel the feminist rage.

Rise Above - Black Flag

It would be a sin not to mention Black Flag, who formed in Hermosa Beach, California in 1976 and is thought to be one of the most influential American hardcore punk bands, particularly for the West Coast scene.

I Wanna Be Your Dog - The Stooges

Often credited as the godfathers of punk, The Stooges came before the punk wave was an established genre. After the band broke up, lead singer Iggy Pop went on to have a lucrative solo career.

Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World - Ramones

To finish the list I present an essential. A classic. Everyone knows the Ramones. If you don’t you live a sad life. Educate yourself on the Ramones. 25

A VAPE EDUCATION

words ANNALEE NOCK, DAGNY DANIEL art RILEY FORTIER

Upon entering Urban Vapors, Eugene’s premiere vape shop, we noted a lack of visibility. The vape clouds loomed. A flat screen mounted on the wall beside the menu displayed the Travel Channel’s prized program “Extreme Pig-Outs” and vintage Kings of Leon played pleasantly in the background. The two of us meandered to the marbled counter where we were initially ignored. The bartender seemed to be playing hard to get. Soon enough we caught his attention. Charlie, sporting a duck printed Supreme hat with a unicorn-on-a-cone pin, introduced us to his menu of brand name and locally sourced juices and was only a little skeptical of our motives. We entered the arena. PLAYERS Dagny “CloudMaker69” Likes: pain and suffering, cats Dislikes: being banned from any local store Vape Experience: friends here and there, dudes at shows Annalee “The Dragon” Nock Likes: getting followers on twitter, poetry Dislikes: morphine withdrawal Vape Experience: 7 Charlie “Charlie” from Urban Vapors Likes: The Office, The Red Hot Chili Peppers Dislikes: House Bill 2546 Vape Experience: self-titled “Vape Lord” FLAVORS Chillaxin - “a cool refreshing mint” D: Made me settle into my chair and stay awhile! A: enhanced by the warmth of the vapor, an Andes mint Pairs well with: scotch and Neil Young’s entire discography Lychee Lauren - “white peach and lychee tea” D: It’s as though petals are lighting upon my face. I can envision myself vaping this while enjoying a face mask in a toasty cabin. A: Lychee Lauren tastes like Peach O’s and Mulan. Pairs well with: Pinot Gris and pledging Delta Delta Delta Whitewalker - “a blend of 5 types of menthol” D: HOLY SHIT!!!!! like that gritty dentist toothpaste stuff. I’ve been purged. A: The lord sent this flavor to cleanse me of my sins and I am loving it. Pairs well with: Driving your girlfriend’s car to work and lamb kebabs Rose Pudding - “rich milky pudding with subtle hints of rose” D: It truly is like pudding. Airy, a floral bouquet. Perfect following a steak dinner. If I ate steak. A: Distinctive milk aftertaste. Would go terribly with steak. Do not listen to Dagny. 26

Pairs well with: Anything but steak, using the word “floral” to describe foods Apple Butter - “sweet Washington apples, slow cooked to caramelized perfection with spiced cinnamon” D: “fucking awesome” - Charlie. If I could eat scented pinecones, this would be it. Trader Joe’s should definitely carry this juice. A: I feel like I am breathing in a craft store at Christmas. The description is doing too much work. Pairs well with: Thanksgiving dinner and a brand new SUV

rsity o e v i f Un

Afterparty - “fried beignet” D: I’m getting an overwhelming “grease pan” flavor. A: This is how the circus tastes. Pairs well with: those jeans you bought at Kohl’s that are too short and Costco samples. Quartz - “sweet, vibrant, raspberry blend” D: The only thing I wrote in my notes for this one is, “Uhhhhh. Tastes like plastic noodles.” I honestly feel a little misled by the “vibrant” descriptor. A: This is the e-juice of a 16 year old girl. Being discontinued for good reason. Pairs well with: getting your first period and Arizona tea Wonder Worm - “crystallized gummy worms laced with psychedelic sweet tarts.” D: I was incredibly intrigued by this juice. It’s very tart. I think the fact that When You Were Young by The Killers was playing really enhanced my experience. A: Subtle hints of worm. Pairs well with: doing LSD #123 - “corn flakes cereal with sliced bananas” D: Who needs breakfast when this exists?! Not me! Yum! *Dagny’s Pick* A: This name is not ballistic. Pairs well with: Jimmy Buffett and 5 dollar champagne

peology

Ohmgurt - “creamy, thick, berry infused yogurts; a swirling river of velvety goodness” D: Surprisingly not too much like curdled yogurt. Instead it’s really just like hot berry water. So. A: Delicious. So pleasant. I love all things thick, creamy, and berry infused. Pairs well with: attending cosmetology school Wildfire - “toasted almond mezzaluna cookie” D: Terrible, it’s really terrible. Like fucking chocolate Chapstick. A: Can you burn vapor??? Pairs well with: Milk, having no taste buds

Charlie’s Choice - “straight mango” D: So fresh, so clean...it’s like I’m eating Hi Chew and putting on sunscreen A: I am allergic to mangos Pairs well with: watching Hawaii 5-0 after having sex Charlie was not only very accommodating, but he also genuinely cares about sharing how vaping can be a helpful tool in becoming a former smoker. He disclosed to us that he had been a smoker for seven years, beginning at the age of 12, and within a month of vaping he had kicked cigarettes for good. His words: “Do your research, don’t jump to conclusions; there’s a lot of misinformation.” Vaping: not just for fuckboys?

REVIEWS PUNX R US

words EMMA HASKINS

It’s Thursday night, the 7th of January. It’s cloudy, but pretty damn warm for winter. My plan for the evening is to go see the Athiarchists at the Black Forest for a Pyrate Punx show. If you don’t know who the Pyrate Punx are…Google it.

splintering drums as flecks of sweat fly off their greasy, shoulder-length hair. Their sound is like watching two manic pieces of melting metal drip over a pile of dirty underwear and good beer. Neither of them is wearing more than shorts and miss-matched socks.

It’s about 10:30pm and I’m almost to the bar. I pass the alleyway, and it’s none other than the Shady Pines crew from down the street — them crust kids with their D.O.A patches and missing teeth, love ‘em to death. First thing Mike yells, “HOW’S IT FEEL BEING JOBLESS?!” Me, being recently laid off, yells back, “FUCK YOU TOO! YA FUCKIN ASSHOLE!” We both start laughing and he slaps a flask into my hand. We all take a few swigs and tramp into the din that emanating from the bar.

While they wail onstage, an older woman comes tearing in front of the band and faces the crowd. She starts flinging her arms and thrusting her hips from side to side. She whips her hair and hurls an arm to one side and, as most of the front row will recall, her boob flies out of her top. She doesn’t notice, but thankfully the song ends and she breathlessly returns to her corner table. Is she in the band? What’s happening?

Mikey and Mary Rose wander off and I navigate my way to the bar. I’m down and out; so, naturally, I go for the $2 Rainier on tap. I squeeze my way to the front to see The Athiarchists up close, right near the splash range of their sweat. These demented characters are a two-piece thrash metal band that originated in Eugene. Tunnell on guitar and Dano on drums sync their cacophony of distorted bass, guitar, vocals and

A RAVE REVIEW: NEW YEAR’S RAVE New Year’s Resolutions. Most people think of them as a promise of selfimprovement. But when I hear “resolution” I think of my first rave. This year I attended Resolution 2016: a night full of unique costumes, kandi jewelry, blaring DJs, electronic dance music, beaming lasers, non-stop dancing, half-naked strangers, and trippy visuals. Imagine a place free of judgement with no racism, no sexism, no rules and no boundaries. Rave culture represents the idea of expressing peace, love, unity and respect (acronym: PLUR) to every human you meet. Ravers believe in loving and respecting all human beings regardless of race, age, or gender. At Resolution 2016, people with all types of backgrounds came together, holding hands and celebrating life. There is no judgement at a rave, you can be exactly who you are. Held in the WaMu Theater in Seattle, the environment of this particular rave was the strangest, craziest scene I have ever been in. All around me people were on drugs, whether it was LSD, MDMA, or alcohol. There were strangers dancing next to each other and screaming lyrics at the top of their lungs. Being the people watcher I am, the outfits were the most interesting part: people had on fuzzy boots, animal costumes, glowing bracelets, tutus, bandanas, pacifiers, fishnets, nipple tassels, and basically various costumes and things that light up. The dance moves were different based on individuals interpreting the beat in their own way. People danced as if they were the only person on the universe. The beat of the music was so strong, I could feel the floor move underneath my feet and could feel the bass inside my chest. The DJ’s were shouting and blasting their mixes while everyone sang along and screamed their favorite parts. Lasers and visuals shot in every direction, making it difficult to focus your attention elsewhere. The best part was all the interesting things ravers were doing around you. There were people doing light shows, doing snow angels in the middle of the concert, hula hooping, trading kandi and expressing love towards one another. Every place I went there was an overwhelming feeling of PLUR.

art HANNAH MARKOVIC My favorite part was the countdown to the New Year. The song “Opus” by Eric Prydz was a perfect beginning of 2016, as the beat dropped exactly at midnight on January 1st. The year began with couples and bestfriends kissing each other into the new year, people cheering and laughing and crying, balloons and confetti falling all over the crowd. I remember looking all around me with tears in my eyes and the biggest smile I have ever had as I leaned toward my bestfriend and kissed him. Raves feel like being on another planet. I kept thinking, “There is no way this is a real thing. Human beings coming together to celebrate and dance and love each other with no drama or pain.” It was the most magical night of my entire life, and I will continue to attend shows and meet strangers from around the world and express peace, love, unity and respect in my everyday life.

words SHELBY MARTHALLER

krazy krossword

Down 1. Cocaine 2. Cactus 3. Anal 4. Jellyﬁsh 5. Ballerina 7. Stilettos 9. Kilt 10. Smoke Detector 11. Curry 13. Knife 15. Religion Across 6. Super Glue 8. Hell’s Angels 11. Commitment 12. Honey Badger 14. Rugby 15. Russia 16. Uterus

Across 6. Don’t let this substance stick you to anything unwanted, like, say, a rhino 8. Notorious motorcycle gang 11. I have ________ issues 12. This animal don’t give a shit 14. Like football, but better and you actually have to be a badass to play 15. Snow and vodka live here 16. Once a month this will tear its own walls down to get ready for a new possible baby Down 1. What would a Scarface make snow angels out of? 2. Prickly, lives in the desert 3. In the butt 4. These animals provide the best topping for a Krabby Patty 5. These dancers can move with the grace of a swan 7. Shoes that women wear, no one understands how they can walk in them 9. Bottoms for the Scots, often plaid 10. Don’t light a ﬁre in your home because these will go off and make you deaf 11. Spicy af; Indian food 13. One of the most basic weapons 15. An organized group of people praising some higher power

EARTHQUAKES

RICKY GERVAIS’ TRANSPHOBIA

NO RESPECT

RENT

crossword CLAIRE BYRD

BRAD PITT’S PENIS

R E S P E C BACKPACKS WITH WHEELS

DOLPHINS

OVERHEARDS!

I just feel lik e an industrial w hore.

I grunt any time I hear pizza pie.

s eyebrow I take my e, m ti a t a off one veryone just like e else.

.....seriously

BUILD-A-BEAR WORKSHOP WILLOW SMITH’S NEW ALBUM

ADULT BRACES

C T R U M PEOPLE UNDER 21 WITH THEIR OWN IRON AUTOSAVED PASSWORDS

MAD RESPECT

n Leigh An y Jashewa

My bo speak dy s rhyth the m of love.

You have to go a when it’s dark...on y... da e im htt nig

Take bong as long as you bleed.

Wha t chee ’s the goa se an t d be little thing et ?

Whorter Brian Mc

cond He’s the se I’ve o h w t n e d stu ink th I o h had w in a p u d might en rabia. A i d u a S jail in

PROFESSOR TRADING collect ‘em all! KARDZ ™

Whorter Brian Mc n Leigh An y Jashewa

What’s the most ballistic thing you’ve ever done? My career and life has felt like a study in ballistics. Or maybe a better word is ‘pratfalls’? But to answer your question, I’ll just admit here, between you and me, that, in an earlier life as a student, I had a certain proclivity for...um....streaking. What was the most rebellious thing you did as a teen/young adult? I staged a one-person sit-in at the principal’s office when he cut the funding for the debate team, but not the football team.

What’s the dumbest thing a student has ever said to you? It’s always awkward when students address me as “mom.”

OV OV

Who are you? I’m part of the UO School of Music and Dance. This term, oddly enough, I’m also the subject of a class in Product Design.

Who are you? I teach for the School of Journalism and Communication. I also teach stand up and improv for Lane Community College. Have you ever been arrested or in trouble with the law? No, I was always a good girl. That’s why I’m having such a great time being crazy now.

Q: What is your favorite piece to play, why? A: It changes, based on my mood, what I’m playing currently. I really like playing

Q: If you could play another instrument, what would it be and why? A: The issue with this is I’m struggling between the instrument and the people I know who play them. My first instinct is bassoon, because bassoons are just super cool. But also I feel like I would want to be a percussionist because they have the most fun… Q: What thing have you enjoyed most about being a musician? A: I am a big fan of orchestral playing…There’s an energy about it, of excitement and determination to be really good… Like a really good sports team that have players, that don’t have to be that good alone but, that are amazing

mary evans:

Q: What is it like to be a music major, do you feel like it is substantially different than any other major? A: I think ever major is different. I think there are a couple of majors that have a similar sort of vibe. I think it’s music and architecture. I’m going mostly from stereotypes on this, but we are the people who like never leave our building. They go into their studio and stay there, that’s how we are with the music building, we hermit… The main thing that makes it super different being a music major is that I can’t think of another major where you can’t finish your homework. I think it’s true of a visual artist too, but at a certain point you have to put down the brush and call it good…

Tchaikovsky, everything by him, because it makes sense to play his music. He was the master of melodies, while you’re playing it you can kinda sing with the music… I’ve only ever played one or two pieces that I found nothing in them to love. Even if it’s not my favorite piece, there’s always a part that I love.

interview KATIE WINKELMAN

Q: Mary, How long have you played violin? A: A little over 13 years, started when I was 8, the summer before third grade

THAT CAMPUS HOMIE

PROFESSOR TRADING oh yeah! KARDZ ™

together, if you have a coach who knows what to say at the right moments and when to not say anything, what drills to put you through at what times. Then you have a really good team… Q: Do you feel there is anything you get out of being a musician that others who don’t play music don’t get? A: I don’t think there’s anything in music that can’t be found else where. Everyone finds their joy… Which is why we have so many wonderful things in the world. I do think there’s something music can bring to everyone - not in a “you have to study it” sense… Without any study it’s still easy to get the feel of music. If you hear The Nutcracker or Swan Lake, you get it… There is something very healing about receiving that and about giving that. There’s a reason people sing in the shower. So no, I don’t think there’s anything I’m getting that other people don’t get.

HOROSCOPES words HALLIE FROST

PISCES February 19–March 20 Ke$ha’s new band is called Yeast Infection. Rihanna’s new album is perfect for walking home drunk. Alan Rickman is dead. You fluid nature allows you to resist grounding yet that craving for assurance had you reading the fate of those stars as an indictment of your own month. Happy Birthday Pisces. Above all you’re loved. ARIES March 21–April 19 Allow strangers the same infinite complexities as you do yourself. TAURUS April 20–May 20 Your home-body tendencies usually save you from the winter but this year you may have felt left in the cold. The moon is feuding with Mars on your chart which eludes to a conflict with your personal ambitions probably the cause of your home-body’s need to venture. It’ll work out though, home is nostalgia more than a place so go to your people to shelter you. GEMINI May 21–June 20 Your ruling planet, Mercury, is no longer in retrograde which threw a wrench in your multiple personality disorder last month. Venus and Jupiter take over this month which encourages a settling and a closeness with your surroundings giving February an underlying sense of peace and security. It’s the shortest month of the year. CANCER June 21–July 22 After reading this you’ll be able to see what you want, and you’ll be able to see what you need, and you’ll know how to get there. You know yourself well, but usually cannot help what you do. Write down with a pen lying around on a corner of a piece of paper anywhere this thing you want but have kept yourself from. You’ll realize ambiguity was simply an excuse to wait in this part of your life, it was the cold holding you in bed on winter mornings. February is the last month of winter. LEO July 23–August 22 Winter is hard for those sun signs who have to stay moving to survive. When all the days are lit with the bright grey light and your only movement is between places that serve coffee and you walk out of the grocery store only to find your car has been stolen wait it hasn’t you walked the twelve blocks against traffic head down to keep from being blinded by rain driven sideways. Buy a bag of oranges. Unpeel warm orbs slip their shells in your pocket and eat as if they boost your immune system as if the small suns could keep you lit. VIRGO August 23–September 22

with Madame Gary

Your carefully constructed routines allow you to excel at what you do but do not serve your romantic life. You decided on someone because they fit into your established routines rather than abandoning that security to truly fall. There is no arguing with a sign so headstrong but if you are feeling like you are forcing a connection it may be that a break with tradition is in order. Most signs long for your discipline and commitment to your decisions but borrow from the month of the water sign Pisces known for their wavering. Not everything goes as conveniently planned, least of all love. LIBRA September 23–October 22 For every obsessive thought train hurtling

under your eyelids in the morning. For every piece of doubt or dread lingering under fluorescent lights. When you feel the room occupied with other people, voices loud and words saying many different nothings. For inherited neurosis. For cultivated anxiety. Clouds. Say Clouds. Aloud and surprising that your own shaky voice could associate these blockades with temporal weather events. SCORPIO October 23–November 21 Mars looms in your eighth house requiring ballistic measures to stay lit in this fuckin’ rain. You may have been feeling comfortable. May have been feeling alright most times. May have kept your nose clean, checking off a To Do List. Mars won’t have it. Pick your

poison. Pick up your pen. Do not edit. Drink ink write whiskey. Do things you’ll regret in the morning and then sleep until noon. SAGITTARIUS November 22–December 21 Today, read The New York Times whilst sipping coffee. Read with such vigor your pointer and thumb have ink smudges for the remainder of the day. Write about how you feel about the color burgundy and suicide rates in Sweden. Enter Discussion a few minutes late and try not to trip on your grand entrance like last time this is your moment to shine. Seer GTF with intensely sexual eye contact for all of class. Drink a Cappuccino. Leave a conversation without warning. When people exchange pleasantries respond to “How are you?” with “on the motherfucking brink”. Fall asleep in your clothes. CAPRICORN December 22–January 19 Capricorn. Apricorn. Acorn. All the nuts you’ve been storing in your cheeks and in the ground- Drop them. Forget where they are buried. Nuts are a good source of protein but kinda gross and hard to eat. If you disagree with this widely generalized statement stop reading horoscopes you are an odd balance of practical yet indulgent and also I love you AQUARIUS January 20–February 18 Mercury is on a much shorter orbit than that of earth and so will lap the earth three times on their paths around the sun. When Mercury is situated between earth and sun there are three week intervals where to ancients it appeared that the tiny planet was moving backward. This is not the case but instead the same phenomenon as two cars side by side on the highway where one appears to move backward as the other passes. “Mercury in Retrograde” has become a fad quip for the general phenomenon of nothing going well but you hope it’ll pass about as quickly as a galactic body hurtling slightly faster than the rest. Scientifically speaking Mercury rules your communication house and even the perception of it moving backward causes more than usual to be lost in translation. The three weeks of retrograde came in Aquarius this last month, and for a sign already designated with strained communication to the rest of the world this may have been marked by a colossal mis-communication. Allow the planets to take the fall for this one and when your friends are still drinking late in the winter nights indulge in your solitude.