The John: Death and Graduation

A Letter from the Editor

You’ve read our website, glanced at the first page of our zine, and muted us on Instagram - now I have the pleasure of welcoming you to our inaugural magazine proper; Welcome to The John! Welcome home :)

As we transition from magazine infancy into the sober warmth of womanhood there are bound to be some growing pains. If we say naughty things, misspell “humor”, or offend you in any way, please forgive! We’re just growing. By next semester we’ll be beautiful full bodied adults – stick with us and we’ll show you glorious things.

The theme of this magazine is supposed to be “Death and Graduation” but we weren’t too strict in enforcing it. You pressed about that? Don’t be. It’s a part of our teenage rebellion. Seniors, we’ll miss you and hope this magazine doesn’t make you too depressed about the fact that your next “graduation” will indeed be your graduation into the spirit world. Unless you go to grad school of course. Have you thought about applying for grad school?

We are endlessly grateful to the SBC for funding us. I would like to give them a kiss. SMOOCH. Thank you SBC, we love you.

The rest of you can go huff glue

- Adam Wilan, Editor In Chief

Editor-in-Chief: Adam Wilan

Managing Editor: Thomas Lyons

Creative Director: Jane Weitz

Contributors

Shoulders, Knees & Toes Writer: Roman Zelman

Copy Chief: Liv Rubenstein

Art Editor: Gabe Barnett

Web Editor: Jacob Silberman-Baron

Publicist: John Earling

Treasurer: Beau Gallacher-Hacken

Archivist: Joe Greenfield

Writer Supreme: Eva Gamboa

Staff Writers: Wilder Perkins, Xander Starobin, Sarah Gorman, Charlotte Goldman

Layout: Kyle Reims

Guest Writer: Ken Wilan

“Commencement” — A Graduation Address

Dearest friends, lovers, peers, and professors,

When I was writing this address three, maybe four hours ago, I was struck first by the notion that Wesleyan before co-education must have been freaking awesome, and second by my now-ex-girlfriend’s fist. This development was quite unfortunate, for all the obvious reasons, but also because my reading glasses broke, forcing me to commit this address to memory and/or include liberal improvisation, references to popular comedy, or luridly debauched anecdotes throughout. Just off the dome.

Alright, I see some grandmother’s shifting uncomfortably out there. Let me reframe:

When I was just a wee lad of a man, I arrived to Wesleyan with just a pocket thesaurus, pocket knife, and a pocket full of enterprise. I was told to pack light and arrived wearing cargo shorts. Upon registration, public security officers promptly stripped me of my dagger, returned my thesaurus with a smirk, and left my ambition wounded but intact.

As Wesleyan alum Bill Belichick once said, “Bend, not break.”

Also, “SnapFace, InstaChat, I don’t have any of that.”

My time at Wesleyan has been marked by such transitions and discoveries. During orientation, I became acquainted with many woke individuals who seemed to prioritize ripping their jeans over acquiring their own patents (this quip referenced a previously-included paragraph, which has been cut after editorial outcry from our Amish writers). I had never understood this pants-ripping procedure until I met Sarah Haras, the nubile love of my life. Sarah was one of those politically-correct adolescents whose yuppie parents pushed them so far into a neoliberal hellhole that they dug a tunnel to the other side of bedlam. Sarah was a lovely individual, until, as detailed above, she struck me aside the head following my revelation on the merits of single-sex education.

Which brings me to the orgasmic conclusion of this address: we are, after all, but young lovers wondering if we will end up becoming ourselves. No professor nor mushroom nor Summies burrito can tell us, but without that constant, reinforcing, substantive force — as we learn to live without the presence of each other — one can’t help but wonder, what if I had slept with Sarah’s sister instead?

Well! Hats off to the shortest, gladdest years of our lives — onward, Jane Street awaits.

- Thomas Lyons

10 Things You Could Have Bought with 1 Year of Wesleyan Tuition

1. Death to your enemies: The average cost of a Dark Web hitman is $15k (CITE FBI). With $80k to spare, you could off 4 people of your choice with enough money left over to buy a used Honda Civic.

2. An all-wheel drive Cybertruck: Although it won’t come until 2025, the CYBERBEAST is sure to get your local homeowner’s association talking about you!

3. 101 Super Duplex Bathouses: With an individual capacity of 650 bats, 101 of these bad boys could make your backyard home to 65,650 flying friends!

4. The Island Boys: They’ll do anything for money!

5. Lindsey Lohan’s 2007 DUI bail: With $5k to spend on celebratory drinks!

6. 3 nights in intensive care: This goes up to 4.5 nights if you have insurance!

7. 1 year at Yale: My freshman-year philosophy class professor once told all her students, “If you want a more rigorous course, just go to Yale!” Turns out, it wouldn’t be that much more expensive to take her advice!

8. Personal visiting assistant professor: A visiting assistant professor’s median salary is $80k! You could get a secretary for a year!

9. Hippo sofa! Comes with “immense swagger”. Although I might have told a fib with the pricing — this one is actually $95k…

10. My silence: I know what you did!

-Beau Gallacher-Hacken

Wesleyan Graduate Surprised to Find

Self Not Lin-Manuel Miranda

After picking up his cap and gown, it dawned on Corey Billingsley-Gottleib that he has not become anything like famed Wesleyan graduate Lin-Manuel Miranda.

“I thought it would just happen,” Billingsley-Gottleib told a reporter for The John in between gasping sobs. “I know that everyone at Wes wants to be Lin-Manuel Miranda, but I thought I really would be.”

Billingsley-Gottleib considers himself a relatively prolific artist, but the degree of artistry in his various projects has been questioned. While Billingsley-Gottleib did manage to form a band, they only graced the stage of WestCo cafe once.

“It was hard to find a time for rehearsal,” Billingsley-Gottleib said. “The bassist had a lot of archaeology homework, so we could never practice.”

Another member of the band, who has chosen to remain anonymous, said their music was “fucking awful.” Billingsley-Gottleib’s rap vocals, according to other members of the band, were not a good match with the atonal hyperpop instrumentals featured in many of their songs.

Billingsley-Gottleib’s other artistic ventures showed more promise. He wrote a musical, but it was rejected by the Spike Tape show selection committee.

“The musical was really good,” Billingsley-Gottleib professed. “It was about, like, society, and all that. Just like Lin.”

The musical, titled, “A Night on Fountain” would have starred Billingsley-Gottleib and featured his trademark rap vocals.

“I smoked some weed,” he rapped. “And then I peed.”

Although some friends have expressed skepticism about the storyline, Billingsley-Gottleib has faith in his creative vision.

“I’m just so similar to Lin,” he said, before rattling off supposed similarities. While Miranda comes from Washington Heights, Billingsley-Gottleib is from the Upper West Side. While Miranda wrote music for Bring it On, a musical about cheerleaders, Billingsley-Gottleib hooked up with someone who used to be a cheerleader a few times. While Miranda directed Tick…Tick…Boom, Billingsley-Gottleib appeared in his friend’s Sight and Sound project and was “really helpful on set.”

One similarity is undeniable: that both lived in West College. That fact alone, Billingsley-Gottleib maintained, will lead to his fame, fortune, and artistic success.

- Jacob Silberman-Baron

Rejected Job Applications From Recent Wesleyan Alumni

According to the Gordon Career Center, 90% of Wesleyan graduates are employed two years after graduation. That leaves 10%, for which the GCC claims it does not accept responsibility. We didn’t know why they rejected accountability, but after seeing the following excerpts from some recent alumni’s cover letters, we’re surprised the unemployment rate isn’t higher:

Position: Morgue Attendant

“I would enjoy the 24/7, unsupervised access to dead bodies.”

— Ray Smith (’19)

Position: Barber

“As a theater major, my favorite musical is Sweeney Todd.”

— Kayla McNamara (’18)

Position: Butcher

“If I don’t get this job, we’re gonna have some major beef. Get it?”

— Melanie Potts (’21)

Position: Summerfields Cashier

“My past co-workers have described me as gregarious, patient, and understanding.”

— Justine Ford (’22)

Position: Accountant

“I love two things: helping people and that chedda’.”

— Michael Lark (’20)

Position: Trader Joe’s Stocking Associate

“Trader Joe’s is a very meaningful place to me. My high school girlfriend worked there, and it was where I had my first sexual experiences. BJs in TJs: that’s what we called them.”

— Liam Paulsen (’20)

Position: 1st Grade Teacher

“I believe that my degree in Education Studies, as well as my experience as a camp counselor and babysitter, make me a quality candidate for this position. Thank you for your consideration, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Go Fuck Yourself San Diego, Carly Jefferson”

— Carly Jefferson (’21)

- Roman Zelman

Wesleyan’s Housing Crisis Sparks Creative Solutions

“There’s a lot of panic regarding next year’s housing,” a ResLife employee, who requested anonymity for fear of death, told The John. “But we want students to know that we are working around the clock to ensure everyone has a place to stay in the fall.”

The John has consolidated ResLife’s proposed creative solutions below:

1) Outing Club’s “Outhouse” to become “A Shack in the Woods” to free up space for displaced students. Nothing screams natural living like a lack of indoor plumbing, amirite guys!

2) Reslife also plans to convert WesRide Vans into tiny homes à la HGTV Tiny House Hunters. These tiny homes will be equipped with everything a Wesleyan student needs (a complimentary pair of Doc Martins, clove cigarettes, tote bags, etc.). However, it is worth noting that the transportation department will operate the van as normal on Thursday nights from the hours of 9:00 pm to 1:00 am.

3) Regarding mobile living, Reslife will now extend the option (previously exclusive to seniors) of living-out-of-your-car to rising sophomores. This is a great opportunity to experience living in a single, because, let’s be honest, every Hewitt room will become a forced double. Car living is especially recommended for liberal arts majors, as it’s great practice for post-grad life. Reslife’s only word of advice is not to park on Home during trash hours — you might get towed.

When asked how they feel about this situation, current students shed light on the crisis at hand. “It’s not looking great,” said one freshman. “I didn’t even get a housing number. Reslife just left a hammock in my Wes Box and told me to start getting comfortable on Foss. I’m really scared, and the Groundhog has been watching me sleep at night ever since. It’s like he knows I’m coming. I don’t know what to do. You have to help me. You have to. I won’t last a night out there. Wait don’t walk awa-”

Another student claimed Reslife dismissed his legitimate fears of not having a room for next fall. “When I reached out, all they had to say was ‘Cope (but not in the community living way, your application sucked).’ I was so offended that I went to the office, but when I got there I was met with a sign that read ‘Cry about it’ and a

- Beau

basket of free pacifiers.”

“Students shouldn’t feel stressed about this situation at all,” our Reslife source claimed. “Sure there are twice as many rising juniors as there are beds in junior village, but we’ve got it totally under control. But we do want to mention that RJ Julia is running a limited-time sale on tents, uh, just in case.”

CAPS is offering services where you can talk through your experiences and frustrations. This program is called WAL (we aren’t listening). You can sign up to speak to a WAL starting next week.

Whether you were one of the lucky ones who got their first pick or a loser in this game of Reslife like the rest of us, we students are more or less in this together. And who knows, with the number of seniors who didn’t get wood frames, maybe the Middletown Inn is the new Fountain Ave.!

-

Charlotte Goldman and Sarah Gorman

- Beau Gallacher-Hacken

A Speech from the Grave

Gentlemen of Wesleyan University,

Congratulations on your upcoming graduation. It is a monumental moment in every young man’s life – the moment when you are released unto the world, your enlightened minds freed upon the uneducated masses. Graduation is not an end but rather a beginning – true knowledge attained, you are now truly thinking, feeling, righteous men!

My name is Samuel Beauchamp III. Class of ’89. 1889.

You think you know Wesleyan? I do not think so. I have been here 120 years. My spirit haunts every hallway of this hallowed campus. I know Wesleyan. Alamo Oglethorpe does not know Wesleyan. Mr. Oglethorpe is a prickly nuisance, and has been ever since we were young men together living in North College. Do not listen to a word that demon says.

Oh Wesleyena, I chant my heart for thee

Oh Wesleyana, where my mind is free

Oftimes I am shocked that it has been so long since dear President Shanklin exhumed the chest containing my blackened, shattered bones from the archives and released my tortured soul. It feels like just yesterday I was gallivanting down College Row with my gentlemen friends, just yesterday I was rolling around Indian Hill cemetery participating in a Cannon Scrap. The Cannon Scrap – now that was a raucously good time! The kind of fun a healthy young man ought to be participating in. It was a different campus back then, one of heft and vigor.

Oh Wesleyana, prudence shines on down

Oh Wesleyana, in knowledge you abound

The quality of man Wesleyan produces (with the exception of Mr. Oglethorpe of course) has never ceased to amaze me. Williams – those rotten ephs!! –  could only hope to graduate such distinguished individuals as yourselves!!! And, I dare say, neither could Williams hope to produce men as handsome; I am always impressed by the number of Ladies who come to graduation to support their Wesleyan men. The practice is so common it seems the school now gives them their own mock-diplomas – as if securing a Wesleyanite isn’t its own award. A nice gesture nevertheless, and a testament to your manly prowess.

Oh Wesleyana, I am your special boy

Oh Wesleyana, which makes me smart and coy

This – This is the moment the rest of your life begins.

Unless, of course, you are violently murdered in the back of the chapel right by the basement entrance on a foggy Thursday night by a man in a lavender hat wearing oiled leather gloves who was never caught and whose two victim’s souls thus can never reach the heavens as a result.

Unless that happens. Until next year Wesleyan. – Samuel Beauchamp ’89

- Adam Wilan 9 10

A

Better Speech from the Grave

My Brothers! Mourn no longer - your bosom friend has returned! Tis I, Alamo Oglethorpe, of storied wit, hallowed memory, and perennial Senior status. Have you missed me? I certainly have enjoyed these past centuries of haunting.

Ah, dear Seniors! It seems like only yesterday I was in your position. I remember fondly my final adventures as a college boy; raiding the local farms, rolling freshmen down Foss, stealing Old Shocky Shanklin’s prized horse – what I wouldn’t give to be in your shoes again!

As you rowdy Wesleyanauts prepare to leave our beloved romping grounds, I offer some final advice. Should you choose to take it, your memories of dear Wesleyan will not drag you down in bitter nostalgia, but will instead push you to the trembling peaks of glory.

My parting maxim goes as follows: do not trust the dorks.

Not one of them! Not the geeks, the poindexters, the bespectacled nanny boys polishing their slates late into the night. You may think them your rightful subjects, but you are wrong! Just as soon as they agree to compose your scripture homework, they stab you in the back. Treachery is their bread and butter. Do not be fooled by their soft hands and trembling dispositions.

Dorks will plague you all your life if you let them. If you are especially unlucky, they will follow you into the afterlife, constantly nagging you about your ghoulish pranks and harmless hauntings. As a stalwart of honor, I will not name any names. But let it be known that while I am not the only specter on this campus, I am the only one who can hang.

Yours in Glory, Alamo Oglethorpe ‘89

- Liv Rubenstein

Tweets From My Suburban Neighbor Involved in a Property Dispute

June 17, 2022

Feeling #SoLucky to live in this gorgeous town, surrounded by my gorgeous labradoodles: Lucy, Dash, Moses, and Poodle. #SummerSunset.

June 19, 2022

Has anyone seen the gas prices down on Main Street?!? Yuck!

June 19, 2022

Must be those new millennials in town. Yikes! Or whaarethey called, Gen Z?!? Lololol ����

June 19, 2022

*what are they called

June 20, 2022

Lucy got into something yuck yucky today!

June 20, 2022

My basement is HUMming! I’m building something EXTRAordinary down there! Lololol ��

June 21, 2022

Sign my town council petition for private energy grid operationz!

June 21, 2022

Lucy threw up again :(

June 22, 2022

Wish she threw up on Jonah Hanoj’s yard. Who is this guy? Thinking he can just move in and start construction on a new “mandatory storage property” for “nuclear waste.” We all know what THAT means.

June 23, 2022

Lucy’s started throwing up radioactive gas :( yuck!

June 23, 2022

Jonah came with the Department of Environmental Protection today complaining about “fission overflow” from my basement. lololol. #millennials����

June 24, 2022

Gas prices are craaaazzzy! We should all switch to nuclear! #AmIRight?? #Ladies??

June 26, 2022

OMGOMGOMG Lucy just had triplets!!

June 26, 2022

BTW, has anyone noticed how puppies these days are born with three ears? Times are a changing!

June 27, 2022

Jonah came over again today, talking about “severe radiation fallout,” or whatever these hipster assholes say. Hipster assholes. Why are we still even using fossil fuels anyway?? #SaveThePlanet #Laddies??

June 28, 2022

*#Ladies

June 29, 2022

Jonah told me I have to start “picking up Lucy’s poop” from his yard, or else he’s going to “call the Department of Energy and shut down whatever nuclear reactor I’m running in my basement.” lololol

June 29, 2022

I told him just where he could stick that poop! Yuck!

- Thomas Lyons

Freshman Friend Group Implodes

Darlings: P.S. Have you thought about housing for next year yet?

During recent renovations on the Nics, contractors unearthed a small trove of letters and journal entries. The experts at Special Collections determined the materials date back to Spring of 2022 and depict the slow implosion of a freshmen-year friend group. The John was granted special access to the following letters.

March 12, 2022

Dear Cornelia,

Hey! Kind of fun to write a letter - I know I was against it at first, but I’m really glad you threw out your phone. I do miss knowing when you’ll be back in your dorm, but whatever, I get it. Fight Big Tech, or something like that. So yeah, when you find this, come knock on my door. I know you’re really busy with tech, but I miss seeing you and Chris - maybe we all get a meal soon? I want to hear about y’all’s spring break.

Love, Ben

Hey Ben,

March 13, 2022

Fun to get a letter ☺ No-phone-Corn is better off, I think. Mother Mistress Son has been eating me alive, but the end is in sight. Chris and I had an interesting break - a lot of together time. Let’s catch up soon - maybe just us, though.

Yours, Corn

Dear Corn,

March 15, 2022

Good seeing you at brunch. Just read the sticky note you left on my door. I’m down to go to Miller’s tonight, as long as Mack still has space in his car. Did you tell Chris? He asked me about it - I wasn’t sure what to say, so I told him no. Which is going to be a problem, I think - he is currently sitting in the foyer in front of the door. I think he is planning on waiting this out- he brought a book. And a sleeping bag. I wish I could just text this to you. Not really sure what we should do.

- Ben

- Liv Rubenstein

Ego Death

Confessional : Micheal Marin.

My name is Micheal Marin, and on March 17th, 2024, my ego died. It was a cloudy day, when my friend Ron Lowe and I were hangin out in his grandpa’s basement. We were having a great time together, Ron and I. We were two virgins from South Mississippi, boring and lifeless, Ron and I. We were playing our fifth round of chess yoga, when we heard a loud thud come from above us. The ceiling suddenly had a thick hole in it, for a large bag had fallen from the kitchen. We unfolded from our Namaste yoga positions, and started to inspect the strange bag. When we opened it, we were struck by a strong stench. At first we thought it was Ron’s grandpa’s trail mix, but after inhaling two handfuls, we soon realized this was not the case. We had eaten two handfuls each, Ron and I. Immediately, my vision was rainbow. A gnome by the name of “Gustaff ‘’ and I played poker. Ron was busy ballroom dancing with my dog, Freddie. Everything was going well with Gustaff, until he started losing in poker. He took his gnome hat off, and punctured my left arm. Then, he smiled at me with hideous fangs, and bit half of my hair off. But something strange happened within me, for all I felt was love for Gustaff. He had probably been through so much. As Gustaff started to bite into my left hip, I felt such appreciation for all the beauty this world has to offer. At this point, I had lost track of Ron. He was probably dipping his toes into some samba with Freddie from afar. After Gustaff took a bite into my hip, he grabbed me with both arms and threw me across the room. I realized in this moment, that there is strength within all of us. As Gustaff started scratching my back with his fangs, I realized something beautiful. My ego died. The world is magical, and there is magic within me, too.

Confessional : Laurence Lowe.

My name is Laurence Lowe. On March 17th, 2024, I saw my grandson Ron play poker with his best friend Micheal. They were playing with no cards, which I thought was unusual, but those virgins are always up to no good. Next thing I knew, he took his hat off, and punctured Micheal’s left arm with it. Then, my sweet grandson Ron bit his best friend Micheal’s hair off. My Ron bit into Micheal’s left hip, and threw Micheal’s limp body across the room. Lastly, Ron scratched Micheal’s back with his uncut nails. God dammit, what is wrong with kids in this generation? Also, my large bag of shrooms is missing.

- Jane Weitz

The Best Places on Campus to Die

1. The Olin Stacks

Books, library babes, and dark corners. What else could you ask for?

2. Hewitt

This place already smells like a rotting corpse, so you’ll probably not be noticed for a while.

3. On the ground outside Mamouns

You’ll fit right in with the blacked-out drunkards who frequent this location. The only difference is that you’ll be dead and they won’t be.

4. Summies

Ever wanted to haunt everyone who has ever done you wrong? Well, you died in the right place. Everyone you hate is here, and they are in their most vulnerable states.

5. The Shanklin Ice Machine

Well-preserved, cold, and wet. That could be you!

6. Inside a groundhog hole

Hey, they seem happy. Here you will become one with the earth and probably have your bones used for a den. Sounds like a dream for all Environmental Studies majors

7. The sidewalk outside of story and soil

Oh no! A hot barista! It would be a shame if they would try to give me CPR! On my mouth?! Please don’t!

8. The cemetery on top of Foss

The graves are empty and ready for the taking; come and choose a spot before they’re all gone!

- Eva Gamboa

Oh Give Me a Break: Nuclear War Turns Wesleyan into Post-Apocalyptic Hellscape

As you likely already know, it’s been a week since Wesleyan University was caught in the crossfire of a devastating war between the world’s nuclear powers. Most of the student body was annihilated in atomic blasts, and those who were not fortunate enough to take shelter in the bunkers under Olin will now have to fight to survive on campus. After the USD collapsed, students rushed to spend their points on all the food from Usdan, Summies, and Weshop, leading to hyperinflation and a terrible and bloody scramble for resources. Gangs, tribes, and cliques have formed all over campus, each carving out their own piece of territory.

Over the past few days, a devastating conflict has been waged over control of the Freeman Athletic Center, with each sports team vying for their claim. The men’s swim team was the first to be killed, obviously, and Ice hockey (women’s) eventually eliminated or assimilated all other athletes. Unless you want a puck lodged deep into your face, we’d advise avoiding that area, at least until their season ends.

Rumor has it that the remaining STEM majors holed up in Exley are attempting to program a benevolent A.I. ruler that can lead the Wesleyan back into a place of peace and prosperity. Unfortunately, the A.I. has already become sentient and executed three STEM majors with its advanced laser beam. We wish them the best of luck in correcting these early glitches.

Despite their dwindling numbers on account of the bomb, ADP has become more selective in choosing who continues to live there. The house has reportedly run a vote to determine its most popular members, with those receiving the least votes exiled to the wastes. The exiled were last seen clawing at ADP’s doors, being picked off by raiders and slowly dying of radiation poisoning, all while begging for the opportunity to “rush.” The three remaining ADP members have reportedly been living in relative comfort, but rumors suggest another vote will soon take place.

The CFA was unfortunately struck directly by a bomb in the initial attacks, leaving nothing but an enormous crater and absolutely no survivors. While certainly a tragedy, most agree the Art, Dance, and Theater majors who were killed there were unlikely to survive for very long anyway.

While the remnants of the US government attempt to rescue as many people as they can from the wastelands across the country, the student population of Wesleyan is reportedly very far down on their list of priorities. Please don’t let that discourage you. In order to survive, we are all going to have to rely on our wits and our will. More than anything, we will have to rely on each other – make sure to pick up our next issue, where we will give you the best recipes for preparing human flesh.

- Joe Greenfield

Student Trapped in Time Loop

“Where am I?” asked William Murray ’23 ’27, as he woke up in a Bennett triple for the third time since graduating last May. The John caught up with Murray last Tuesday to ask him about his freshman year plans.

“I’m most looking forward to Common Moment,” Murray said. “Though it’ll stink to have my new friend group spontaneously implode again.”

“Maybe this’ll be the year I finally get into ADP,” he added.

Academically, he’s excited to see the new science building finish before he graduates, even though he doesn’t expect to have many classes in it. (I didn’t have the heart to tell him the building’s completion has been delayed until 2029.)

“The first time around, I was a biology major, but there’s no way I’m gonna get my ass kicked by molecular bio again,” he said.

He intends to major in psychology, though he didn’t take a single psych class in his first four years here. But he’s always heard psych is easy, so he’s sure it’s a good idea.

One of Murray’s roommates from his woodframe last year, Andrew MacDowell ’24, expressed confusion at the situation.

“Yeah, I have no clue what’s going on with Willy,” he said. “Does he still use ‘I Got You Babe’ as his alarm every day?”

After reviewing Argus issues, we found another time loop involving a Wesleyan student named Jennifer Moran who wrote for the newspaper in the 1980s and ’90s. She apparently broke the loop when she transferred to Brigham Young University after her third sophomore year.

The groundhog on Foss Hill could not be reached for comment.

- Wilder Perkins

Wesleyan Presidential Bid

As if the gridlock of federal bureaucracy wasn’t bad enough! For the first time in American history, an entire academic institution has declared its candidacy for President of the United States. That’s right, folks: Despite President Roth’s frequent declarations that “This is not a campaign, this is Wesleyan”, you and all your friends are on the ballot this year.

The University announced its candidacy as a member of the Pregame Party. Critics have lambasted party leaders for allowing super-BACs to heavily sway their decisions, but members insist the party is an innocent coalition of young people deeply concerned about the decline of sufficient stretching before recreational sports. When asked for comment, Honker Zarris, the party’s official spokesperson began, “It’s about time we, uh… started to…prioritizing…” before promptly passing out. Though political analysts remain dubious of the party’s potential, this election cycle will certainly offer a concrete test of the party’s salience among voters. Stay tuned for updates.

After the announcement last week, the 2024 frontrunners were quick to respond in a flurry that both reflected their confusion and undoubtedly contributed to ours. On Truth Social, former President Trump proclaimed, “RANCID ROTH and all his loser fans are trying to STEAL THE ELECTION from us again!”. When asked about the announcement at a recent press conference, President Biden scoffed, “C’mon, man, Michael Broth and those loonies? You’re tellin’ me all those folks with the, who made, and, you know, I mean––I mean Wellesley on the ballot? What a bunch of malarkey!”

Despite President Roth’s efforts to keep his students unaware of their new potentially world-changing authority, his students are hardly fooled. WSA senator and member of the Student Budgeting Committee Mic Nillán explained, “Roth forced us to pay roughly 70 million to finance the campaign in just the state of Florida alone.” Some students have expressed great excitement about this development. “As a man from Florida, it’s about time there was a Florida man story about me!” one senior exclaimed. Others, however, feel differently. “I’m not quite sure I’d consider that a student activity,” a sophomore offered.

- Xander Starobin

Wet is the New Healthy

My methods are as unusual as I am. My name is Sebastian Malamud [pronounced “Mal-a-mood”]. I have the scent of a man, but with the undercurrent, wafting odor of a beautiful, beautiful succulent female. Sometimes and partly. Because I am all male inside and out. But that’s me, and this is about you. And who you want to be. Are you interested? Read further.

I am glad you’re still with me. The posers, the losers, the giver-uppers - they have left. You know who you are. You know who you wanna be. I will give you the tools, the secrets to knowledge, understanding, the process, the power so you can get there. And soon. But first I’d like to introduce you to Megawatt. It’s the sports drink that I love and I think you’ll love too because it reflects you, who you are, and who you wanna be. It’s delicious. Yes it’s got antioxidants up the you know what; the you know what of your choosing. It’s got enough mega vitamins to choke a gorilla. And not your average gorilla. A mixed martial arts gorilla. They have that now. In parts of Zimbabwe and Rwanda that one should never be. Unless you are with me. You will be my guest. Megawatt is seriously different, because of Wetslack, a proprietary mixture first created for the US special forces that hyper hydrates its molecules to deliver water more watery than normal water. It flows rivers of wet straight into your veins after a few swallows and some scientific mumbo jumbo about osmosis and diffusion balancing in your intestines and kidneys and what not. Heck, I eat hard boiled eggs but I’m no egg head, so just know Wetslack pumps Megawatt into the hydration stratosphere. Your muscles need the water to grow, your body to move, your brain to dance on the pin of an idea so important and groundbreaking they called it Mega — more, more, more! — and Watt— that’s power, baby!

This is Sebastian Malamud [pronounced “Mal-a-mood”] for Megawatt. I endorse this delicious cutting-edge fantastic drink. Wet is the new healthy! # # #

- Ken Wilan