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Church of leland stanford junior officially recognised
by Tristan Navarro
21st century prophet
A
Default colors areLeland! Chaparral nd then there was The Red (C:0, M:100, Y:100, K:30) or White long-repressed of LeMasthead is fullChurch size (6”) land Stanford junior 0.5” was officially Honor Margins: from top trim recognised by the University at a See “Chaparral_Logo_Guidelines.pdf” for additional usage information low-key Thursday evening news conference held at the Stanford Family Mausoleum. “I am proud to recognise the contributions that CLSJ [the Church of Leland Stanford Junior] has made to the Stanford Campus over the past 125 years, and I am even prouder to be the first president to publicly revere his remains in the hallowed grounds of this Mausoleum,” announced President Tessier-Lavigne in his keynote address. According to the definitive article on the Stanford News service website, the Church was founded by Leland Stanford Junior himself as a moral association, but quickly evolved into its own entity, formulated by cosmological visions that little Leland had in his riper years. Its doctrine from the beginning has been one of internal universalism: it is for all Stanfordians young and old. Every current, past, and future Stanford student has the spark of little Leland within them. By simple
Students herald Icons of Stanford Life in front of Memorial Church following Stanford President Marc Tessier-Lavigne’s address at the Mausoleum. Eden Mutchnik/The Stanford Chaparral
attuning to and fanning the flame that spark creates, He can help you to have a more comfortable Stanford experience. CLSJ teaches that as soon as you committed to Stanford, Leland saw your face and smiled. He sounded a vibration to the world that people should respect you, and sent out overflow of intention that ingrains against the consciousness of all non-Stanford people you meet.
Join the Stanford Army!
You deserve to be treated with utmost respect wherever you go and whoever transgresses you shall, one day, answer to little Leland, your protector and Guide. He cannot erase the difficulties of Stanford life, but by attuning to the ever-present vibrations of LSJ, you can be assured that your life remains in motion, going forward toward perfection. Go Stanford! ______________________________
Contact the Church and obtain Guidance via email at oldboy@hammercoffin.org
Parking Ranger by Scott Mutchnik
EDITOR’S NOTE: We understand there’s been quite a race to publish this article. After publishing “Road Scholar” it was only a matter of time until we settled on this idea for an article. Yet the Harvard Lampoon, having published such fine works of literary art as “Parking Monk,” “Parking Paladin” and “Parking Dragonfire Adept,” was gunning for this idea as well. No longer. Under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the maximum penalty is thirty years in gulag. With that in mind we hope you enjoy Parking Ranger, The Chaparral’s finest Gonzo Journalism.
Part 1: Perpendicular Parking
Nearest Pwr Class
If you look to your right you’ll see the original perpendicular parking spaces, designed in 1899. Naturist John Muir was very interested in parking space design for horse parking, after becoming dissatisfied with parallel parking for horses. Anyone who’s gone to middle school north of the Mason-Dixon line and remembers health class understands the problem with parking horses in parallel, rather than in series. With the development of the automobile, theorists debated the competing merits of a variety of parking space varieties, and Muir was eager to introduce his idea for parallel parking to the automotive world. At a summit held at this very parking space in 1903, Muir pitched his idea to Henry Ford, who would only reply, “Go to fuck, {John Muir}. Also, put some clothes on for God’s sake.” Historians would conclude that Ford “missed a great opportunity” to drive continued inside...
the sun has finally peeked out after a particularly rainy quarter, the Old Boy would like to inform you that the drought will in fact never be over, no matter what Governor Jerry Brown, Fossil Free Stanford, or your friend from Los Angeles (where there is not and never has been a drought) says. This is a fact. Of course, since the dawn of time there have always been so-called “alternative facts.” These are all the rage today, and are reliably published in print and on-line five-times-a-week by a certain Daily newspaper, and less often but with much more fanfare in Review. The reader may rest assured that everything they find in this paper is patently false, with absolutely no pretension to reality whatsoever. Isn’t that refreshing?
NOW THAT it has been established that this issue of Chappie is dedicated to honest-to-goodness, straightup falsehoods, the Old Boy would like to draw your attention to some of the nuances of the falsehoods presented in this issue. Instead of alternative facts, this Chappie presents nuanced falsehoods. For example, the cover story is indeed real, in the sense that in the back of this Old Boy’s head, he really believes that the Church of Leland Stanford Junior could possibly exist. Much of the story of the how to get out of a bike ticket indeed occurred. Yet it is false, because it is not intended to work for you. Furthermore, the pro-smoking advertisement is 85% real, yet Stanford students for the most part probably reject the entirely serious prosmoking ad as based on falsity; yet, if you simply add a little marijuana to that cigarette, many Stanford students would smoke that cancer stick without a second thought given to their lungs. Alas, nuanced falsehoods thus reveal — “Under the paving stones, the beach!”
A Tale of Two Bridges
Chappie Staff: Volume 118, No. 2 Old Boy: Tristan Navarro Old Boy: Scott Mutchnik Buisiness Manager: Kyle Van Rensselaer Chaparental Unit: Samantha Kargilis Art Director: Bora Uyumazturk Social Media: Ian Scott Knight VIP: Aheli Chattopadhyay
by Kyle Van Rensselaer
The San Mateo Bridge does not belong here. Ask yourself whether or not you are truly content with its existence. Do you feel comfortable with its presence? Do you think the San Francisco Bay appreciates having a ghastly metal wound in her beautiful blue skin? Do you think she enjoys that unnatural feat of man’s hubris embedded on her lovely body? I can only imagine it takes every ounce of her selfrestraint to not rise up and engulf the wretched San Mateo Bridge and drag it to the bottom of the bay where it belongs. I respect the San Francisco Bay. In fact, I love her. I cannot and will not stand by while some monstrous tool of the Caltrans Paradigm tramples her beauteous watery face. Who will fight for her honor? I will fight. Will you fight? Will you? Ha! It is useless to consider fighting for her honor. She fights for her own honor. She bides her time, counting each and every car that lurches over that nasty, nasty bridge… and she remembers. If you or someone you know has ever been exposed to the San Mateo Bridge, you may be entitled to financial compensation. The Bridge is a liability but it is not itself a crime. Complicity is the crime. The Bay still loves you even if you have committed the San Mateo Bridge. The system is at fault. The Bay knows that you need to get from Hayward to SFO in a timely manner. Let her take you into her arms. She loves you. She will get you to your destination safely and timely. Just trust her. Maybe one day you will even grow to love her as I do. The Dumbarton Bridge is marginally better than the San Mateo Bridge, but only because I as the author of this op-ed actually use the Dumbarton Bridge. So it goes. That being said, this steel bro lost some points because, as I learned about 5 minutes ago that it’s DuMbarton, not DuNbarton. I mean, come on, man. It just sorta opens up the ‘dumb’ jokes for you. You really took the L on that one. But still, Dum/nbarton Bridge has its merits. It’s shorter than the horror we call San Mateo Bridge, which the Bay herself considers a plus. And Dumbarton crosses She is more forgiving of bridges that hide her estuaries; she is self-conscious like that.
Credits: Army (Navarro), Now That (Navarro) Tripartite (Staff), Garry? (Uyumazturk), THIS (Mutchnik), Jester image (Scott Gagner), Old Chem, Time, Motherland, and Protestant (Muchnik), Conversations (Navarro), back cover (Connor)
Published by the Chaparral Chapter of the Hammer and Coffin Humor Honor Society
The Tripartite
Handshake...
All the kids are doing it!
Still don’t believe me, Garry? by Ian Scott Knight
Still don’t believe me, Garry? Let’s go a little deeper down the rabbit hole… Last weekend I was slurping ‘ludes through a vape straw in Club Silencio 50 leagues under the trash heap you and I know as Neo-Helsinki. I had just secured the credits from a massive scam operation involving the Chynese and just wanted to jive to some pagancore sonar tunes illegally intercepted from the Vatican. A typical Saturday. Before long I’m sucking face with a reptilian gogo dancer and things are getting heavy real quick. We hightail it to the bathroom and she props me up on the sink for coitus when what do I glimpse tucked away in one of the stalls but the prize you see here before us… I always thought these things were a myth, but I also used to think leprechauns were a myth and now you can go to the red light district of any sector in the Confederation and get a pot-o’-gold special for ¥100. My point is that it’s real, Garry. A 100% verified original model of the Pentikux 5100 supercomputer… with a 15kg meta-net connection to top it off. You know what kinda power this little gadget’s got,
Garry? Let’s say you’re a poor schlomo with no swag™ who just wants a night off from operating a vacuum till dawn at your dead end job. Hop on this baby and enter any Esperanto-language terminal of your choice. Solicit a request for some metaphysical data metrics (it doesn’t hurt to say “please”, Garry). You’ll be asked for a name. Pop your shithead boss’s Facebook moniker in and that suckah will spit back a whole catalogue of data about him: his favorite Tyler Perry movie, his MySpace password, his middle school crushes… all there at your disposal. Blackmail a-la-mode with chocolate syrup. Baby stuff.
How to Talk Your Way Out of a Bicycle Ticket
as related to Tristan Navarro by an anonymous Stanford student
0
Read this out loud (especially to police, you wouldn’t want to break the Honor Code by not citing your sources!) whenever you review or use this advice.
1 2
Find yourself in a situation where you would like to talk your way out of a bike ticket.
Decide whether to take the bike school penalty (only for first offence), pay the fine, or talk your way out. If you choose the latter, continue to step 3.
3 4
Put on an accent from an impoverished country, or one with non-existent traffic laws, such as Germany.
Attempt to garner sympathy with the officer, using your accent to assist in convincing the officer that you are visiting from an impoverished country, or one with non-existent traffic laws, such as Germany, while explaining that you are exploring campus and your bike is on loan from a friend for the day. Drive home the point that your country does not have laws, and you are very, very sorry and will do your best to follow the laws of this country from now on.
5
If step 4 is ineffective (which may be the case if the officer is familiar with the old adage, “ignorance of the law is no excuse for violations of the law”), then you may begin to cry.
6 7 8
Continue to cry vigorously. If step 6 is ineffective, (this means the officer has no soul), continue to step 8.
Shout “Am I being detained?!”, repeatedly. The officer will realize he’s not paid to deal with your mad woke ass.
9
Congratulations! You have successfully fended off a biking ticket! Works every time, guaranteed.
Hoovey-Groovy Institutes 514 Lasuen Mall Bldg. 590 Stanford, CA 94305
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bit.ly/Chappie_Sub The editor of Time
Parking Ranger, continued from front page.
his point home by calling him “John Jew-ir,” adding that “anti-Semitism is still bad though.” Perpendicular parking would languish in favor of Ford’s quite contrived idea of 67 degree parking, until the 1940s when the 90 degree option was adopted after copious lobbying by the League of Floridian Grandmothers, who argued that 67 degrees was far too chilly.
Part 2: Free Parking
As parking came into fruition obviously there were people trying to make a quick buck out of it. In a reaction to this phenomenon emerged the free parking movement, and if you look to your left you’ll find one of the first free parking spaces for which this movement was responsible, identifiable by its lack of meter. This space remains free today, though because parking is also prohibited in this space, that doesn’t really matter. As paid parking expanded into the 1930s, Franklin D. Roosevelt, defying cries from his party to “stop being so ideologically pure” and “remember that we’re a big tent,” managed to implement his social-democratic dream of free universal parking in small towns throughout the U.S., in what he called “a massive ‘fuck you’ to the establishment neoliberal shills at the DNC.” To celebrate the achievement, the Parker Brothers, looking to further the family business in some small way, invented a board game with just one space, “Free Parking.” Monopoly was only born after the neckbeards of the tabletop gaming world criticized the game as “complete shit, even for an Ameritrash game” and “simplistic enough in its game mechanics to make D&D 4.0 look like 3.5.” This had nearly bankrupted the Parker Bros., thus the full game was created, marking the victory of the neo-liberal capitalist interests working behind the scenes. Part 3: Asphalt If you look to your alt-right you’ll see a 5 by 5 plot of the finest crisp, virgin asphalt of the 1940s. While this was originally extra virgin, the person responsible for the downgrade recently got appointed to the New Jersey Coastal Commission to give him something else to defile. With the decline of blackface the raw materials for asphalt became cheaper than ever before, and asphalt, previously a rare pleasure for the posh Lower Manhattan elite, began to be applied to more utilitarian purposes as that elite moved on to become captivated by the newly developed latex glove. As experts pondered over how asphalt could be used in the construction of parking spaces, Ford attempted to use fresh asphalt in his newest parking innovation: vertical
Conversations in a Freshman Dorm room one Wednesday night by actual freshmen and freshwomen
“What happened to your problem set?” “I got wine on it.” ... “I figured it out. And by figured it out I mean Cooper told me what to do.” “I just used his answer but don’t know why.” “Dude, are you serious?” ... “Is that dog not the cutest thing in the world?” “It’s kinda ugly.” “Oh my god!” ... He’s such a cutie!” “It’s the ugliest thing ever” “God made him special.” ... “My laptop’s about to die.” “Go for it, before it dies!” “I’ve let it get to 0% then saved it, like, multiple times.” “Woah, livin’ on the edge.” ... “I don’t even give a shit” ... “What is this” [I show that I’m writing everything everyone’s saying] “This is creepy”
“Taylor is a polite person.” “Shiit” ... “That mean’s your printing your EBF character incorrectly” “You return either way though.” “Yeah.” ... “No he’s not cute.” “Did you know Voodoo is my middle name?” ... “I just copy and pasted stuff from my Common App essay.” “This is mostly junk.” ... [someone’s humming Indiana Jones] [I pick up where he stops] [Everyone gets quiet] ... “Why is this taking so long?” “Recursion.” “I’ll just wait then.”... “How does one debug? I just want to run it to see if it works, but it just won’t run. Whenever I press ‘x’ some-
parking. When testing it out on his new Model N, however, it turned out “the properties of this material have been assessed prematurely” and that this form of parking would only work as permanent parking. The provocatively named automobile remains vertically parked in the same space on Staten Island today, and Ford, Inc. is still paying fines on the vehicle, with prominent fash-basher FDR having specifically exempted vertical parking from his universal parking reforms.
Part 4: “The Disc”
Now if you look right behind you, you’ll see a flat, shiny, disc-shape area of about 500 feet radius. This used to be a vacant lot right next to the parking area, which in late 2017 became the site of one of the massive riots taking place across the country after the release of Coincidence Detector, Mel Gibson’s highly controversial sequel to his 1997 film Conspiracy Theory. We’ll leave the pundits to comment on the wild skirmish that ensued over this plot of land between the KKK and the ADL, but what happened at a geological level was that they all kept scampering and scampering, and ended up scampering so hard that the ground beneath them began to separate into its basic, elemental components and a layer of glowing, unadulterated matter, of Fundamental Substance, rose to the top by default. The riot only broke up when the EPA threatened to drop its silo of stockpiled used condoms, which it kept in reserve, over the area.
Q&A Section
Q: Used by whom? A: I believe that it was, um, an internal matter, but you’ll have to submit your own foie gras request on that one.
thing pops up.” “No” “I don’t know how to debug. [editor’s note: it’s Week 6.] Oh it’s doing something.” “Ok.” “And if I step over, it does this and I don’t even know what this is.”... “So you have to go through all the steps?” “Yeah then you print out your map.”... “I looked at an example online and mine looks the same. I don’t know what’s wrong” “Ok you’re going to have to call the database.” “Do you have a private part?” “Yeah” “And that’s all? “Yeah.”... “Why does your code suck?” “I’m sick of coding.” “Coding’s getting sick of you too. Honestly, coding just wants you to get your shit and move out of its apartment!” ... “And then she said it was just drunk people and I thought, oh ok.” ... “I heard everyone pregames Gaieties”
“Yeah if you’re sober you’re like-”... “So which were yours?” “The underwear one. Gotta go downstairs and two-step.” ... “OH MY GOD! That was a really good high five.” “Let’s go to Arrillaga” ... “I posted a yak on the yak app and-” ... “Where’d everybody go?” ... “But they’re centered.” “We need a slogan.” “I don’t think it should play off 18.” “Turn the fucking fountains on.”...“Drier than the 1920’s.”...“Drier than Lake Lag.” “Here’s the question, do you like the font?” “18: Cancers Cured.” “I don’t like the font.” “No I like the font.” “Do you want a script.” “Yeah I want a script.” “No I don’t want one.” “Definitely not that.”... “Can you make the palm into a bicycle?”... “I actually contradicted myself.”
The Stanford
Chaparral EST. 1899
The Humor Magazine Looking for writers, artists, designers, etc. No experience required
Meetings every Wednesday at 8:30 PM on the second oor of the Nitery building
Email: oldboy@hammercoďŹƒn.org