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The Botetourt Squat thing e m o s f o t r a t s The

Vol. 4, Issue 7

‘Is It News?



April 21st, 2014

Botetourt Beat Local marriage saved by communication; THE ONLY FUNNY THING AT W&M newfound willingness to try butt-stuff ₰ Class of 2014 fails to develop any meaningful relationships; gets a 3.7 GPA

BY HANK MANGKLACE ₰ Redskins begin planning 2016 season after pro- SENIOR REAR ANCHOR jected 0% win chance of 2015 season “I just want to be clear,” said Martin Thomas in a recent interview, “our ₰ Man irons scrotum to remove wrinkles, is both marriage was saved by BOTH an insuccessful and unharmed crease in communication AND trying ₰ Crisco: good for anal, bad for cholesterol; health butt stuff. Both parts were equally important and I’m not trying to imply that experts call it a wash one was more critical or made me feel ₰ Keyes Carr keys Kar Queise’s car with car keys; more alive in ways I’ve never known than the other.” Kar Queise keys Keyes Carr’s car for keying car Amy and Martin Thomas were a typical couple on the rocks. All their ₰ You should be afraid of warnings in the media, friends and family had given up on warns NBC pop-scientist the two making it after being forced ₰ Landmark study finds 89% of WM students suf- to choose sides and endure the confer from affluenza; the latest in a series of mala- stant complaints Amy and Martin made dies plaguing the 1% (see: Waldorf Hysteria, The about each other. So, it’s no small wonRitz Shits, Caviar Crotch), affluenza transforms der that they’ve attracted attention after the patient into a maniacal sociopath resembling their miraculous turn around. Everyone wants to know their secret. their rich parents Amy says it’s all very simple, “I was ready to kill him. I was seriously ready ₰ Freshman discovers that Botetourt and Squat to kill him and finally have a release for rhyme all the emotions I’ve pent up all these ₰ Google Chrome plans to remove Incognito Mode years. We knew we would be terrible after discovering JohnAugust uses it to watch porn parents. We knew we couldn’t afford instead of using it to anonymously donate money a house. We were tired of each other’s stories and habits and friends and to charity the way everyone else uses it hobbies. Murder seemed like a sensi₰ Wall Street says college publishing industry dis- ble option. But, just as I was about to pull out the ice dagger I’d left in the plays “textbook corruption” freezer, I noticed Martin had an inexplicable boner. He look at me with an ₰ 3 dead after tragic hall jousting tournament

Google image-searching butts is surprisingly tame

interest and curiosity I hadn’t seen in him since the first time we made love and he asked me, ‘Can I stick my pinky up your poop-chute?’ At that point, I figured I had nothing left to lose and it turned out to be really great. It was really really great.” And that’s the feel good story of the year, folks. The Botetourt Squat never censors the beauty of real emotions and loving your body. That’s why you pay to read our news instead of that dirty swill churned out by the Flat Hat. Hopefully this will tide you over until

the next issue of LIPS comes out...they still make LIPS, right? Editor’s note: LIPS hasn’t published in well over a year. What happened, LIPS? You were the yin to our yang. The Dijon mustard to our Yacht. We are but a fledgling species amidst a tide of harsh criticism without you. So please, please, please come back. We won’t print any more dicks, we promise.

Bill Clinton: answer to Russia/Ukraine problem is alien invasion BY DEMOSTHENES


Former President Bill Clinton, who has been “studying Astrophysics” in recent years (gazing upon stellar orbs), came out with a brilliant strategy to solve international crises: Provide an external threat. Specifically, he said “That may be the answer to the Russia/Ukraine problem: An attack from outer space will immediately unite us all.” The Former President was speaking before The Global Education and Skills Forum 2014 when he came upon the solution. He was answering a question on the elasticity of aging brains when learning something new. “I can form new neural networks thinking about that because I don’t know anything about it, or I didn’t when I started.” This claim is dubious. Bill Clinton was lauded in the 90’s for his exemplary per-

formance of the character Bill Clinton in the film version of Contact. The lines are even similar, “we continue the search for answers and for knowledge that is as old as humanity itself but essential to our people’s future.” Similarities were also drawn to a popular film from the time, Independence Day, where an attack from outer space immediately united us all. Least realistic of the president’s assertions was that “members of Congress in the US will immediately start hugging each other, singing kumbaya.” Pure balderdash. Go on, watch it. I triple-dog dare you.


The Botetourt Squat § Monday, April 21st, 2014 § PAGE 2

The College Exposed: There’s actually a giant parking garage under the Ho House BY JOURNALISM ALPHA SQUAD WE WILL NOT BE SILENCED The College of William and Mary is covering up a potential motherlode of parking spots in the notoriously-impossible-to-park-in campus vicinity. Shockingly, our best reporters have uncovered the sordid fact that the Ho House, recently acquired by the College, actually contains a massive underground parking facility just across the street from one of the busiest areas on campus. But the parking garage is now closed to both students and the public, a veritable outrage. Our reporters discovered the cover up when they drove past the Ho House on a routine trip back from Chipotle. Taking an unexpected left turn, they spotted a mysterious garage door on the building’s side.

A speedy investigation revealed that, in fact, the door led to large underground parking facilities which are probably haunted. [TBC] [Probably never] [But maybe] [You never know] [Still] [It’s doubtful]

March Madness paralyses nation, scientists scramble for cure BY DEMOSTHENES CHIEF IGNORANT WHITE GUY

Compulsive gamblers around the nation have been struck with debilitating illness this month. The main symptoms are sweating and nausea, along with decreased productivity and proclivity to suicide. Just last week pathetic Freshman Ezequial “dunked” his head in the Crim Dell. When asked why he did it, he gurgled “Duke, fuckin’ Duke.” Scientists are trying to find a cure, but face considerable odds. “Our chances are pretty bad. Our colleges just don’t put enough into our programs. Those dirty Iowans outspend us three to one. We haven’t a chance.” When I asked them why they don’t just pool their resources and work together, he stared at me glanceways and

The Botetourt Squat

said “This is America. We’re not going to give each institution the same, and we want the glory for ourselves.”

That is the tragedy of it all. Competition makes monsters of everyone. Including you.


What did you do on 4/20, man? Hehehehehehehehehehehehe.

‘Chances Are, It’s News’

Next to the President’s Office, James Blair College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Va. 23185

THE SQUAT: Rigel Kaufman, Editor-in-Chief Andy Goodstein, Golden God William Brightly, Columnist Ben McCartney, Co-Editor Matt Longabaugh, Staff Writer Kenny Revoredo, Co-Editor Stu Mapes, Staff Writer Jordan Obey, Managing Editor Charles Gowan, Seabiscuit JohnAugust Bridgeford, Mark Hutchens, Staff Writer Managing Editor Mike Holtzmann, Staff Writer Jake Balls, Copy Editor Dara Kharabi, Staff Writer Sarah Lohmann, Arts Director Taylor Renard, Staff Writer Ryan Novak, Variety Jack Crum, Plebe Rigel Kaufman, Opinion Mark Hutchens, Plebe Tim Planert, Agenda Setting Frank Enriquez, Plebe Nitin Iyengar, Beat Editor John Choi, Staff Writer Kareem-O Obey, Plebe Aiden Benshimol, Staff Writer And other anonymous people. Rigel Kaufman, Staff Writer

Layout by Rigel Kaufman. Disclaimer: This is a satire newspaper, and should be read as such. Not intended for readers under 18, or people who don’t understand satire. Not intended to be read by Student Affairs. Special thanks to our lovely Swem Cataloguers, who have to endure this monthly hardship. Any people represented in this paper are fictional, unless given express consent to the writer or editor. Please don’t sue us. We don’t have money. We don’t have anything.

Went home and celebrated Jesus the old-fashioned way: by smoking a giant bowl and eating his flesh and drinking his blood. God bless America.

Hey, don’t joke about that. My brother died of a pot overdose. The police found him in an alley with his pants down and a pot needle in his arm.

No, no, no drugs here. I winnot go back to Arabia no sir. You can’t prove I duid anything besides I only sell Opium for my diahreeah! Sreriourslty!

Easter facts with Hank Mangklace -Easter was invented by John Easter. He once went to a friend’s house for dinner and saw a primitive dildo lying on an end table in the parlor. He picked it up and casually waved it around like a magic wand until he realized what it was and set it back down on the table. He never told anyone and it haunted him nightly. -The date of Easter is set on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox. Just to be clear, America owns the goddamn Moon.

Only 12 people have ever been on the Moon and they were all American and they were all White and they were all Men. That’s an aggressively true fact. -Easter celebrates the return of Jesus after the Man tried to bring him down by hoisting him up. We also celebrate the Easter bunny because rabbits and springtime represent fertility. Therefore, Easter can be seen as a triumph over death through our prodigious boning.

-”As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their cold liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and to make plans.”A Moveable Feast Happy 4/20!

The Botetourt Squat


Monday, April 21st, 2014

Student misses one too many classes, immediately fails Ethics; Nietzsche, still alive in some distant multiverse, breaks out into hysterical laughter BY NOTHING POWERLESS TO BE BORN Someday, far in the future, a man will cry for the first time since he was a young boy. Confused, alone, and finally free, he will sob. Strength melted to a liquid, liquid dried on his cheeks, he is defeated and victorious. He never quite took the time to consider himself as he was at this very moment. Stimuli cascaded against his unconscious. His eyes blinked his mouth foamed his ears rang. Dubstep played in the distance. Wild cats purred as he picked himself up off the driveway to his splitlevel house. Nobody remembered his birthday last year. He felt like he discovered something about himself that day. Taurus:

you’re alone and happy birthday, statistically speaking. I was once the leader of the pack. once I roamed this earth like a wounded eagle with a monkey on its back. Confident of my scars weary of my stripes never looking up the stars keen on my gripes.

Last week this man broke into his old apartment, just to see how the new people living there arranged the furniture. It was the same as how he left it. It was just the same. There are exactly 0 pictures of Nietzsche laughing.

Internet crusader changes the world through facebook posts BY ANTICITIZEN ONE DISAGREEING IS AD HOMINEM

In this age of constant connectivity to the vast hive-mind of the Internet, the thoughts and actions of the individual are often swallowed up by the comments of the many and are left deprived of egonourishing likes, upvotes, and video views. Any attempts at speaking out to change the community with a poorly researched opinion or an article from a dubious website are lost in the voices of the millions of others on the Internet. A few weeks ago, however, one man has risen above the sea of cat videos and racially charged YouTube comments in an attempt to save us all from ourselves. David Johnson is on a quest to change the Internet. His Facebook comments and statuses have become the most shared and liked posts among his growing list of Face-

book friends. Those who like his posts have described them as “inspiring,” “thoughtprovoking,” and most of all, “unrelenting.” Philip, one of David’s closest followers, says, “Every time David posts something like a Bible quote or an article against vaccination, I just feel the overwhelming desire to change myself and become a better person. I look at myself, and I am disgusted. How did David come to be so great while I am so pathetic?” Other friends of David on Facebook agree that David is a better person overall than all of them. “He’s just so much better informed about the world than we are,” says Peter. “He’s posting all these articles from high-brow news sources like ‘’ and ‘’ while I’m reading things like ‘’ and ‘Buzzfeed.’ All of the articles he posts about fixing the economy are just so far above me.”

When asked why he has decided to attempt to change the world through Facebook, David replied, “I see all these misguided people with opinions different from my own, and I just say to myself, ‘These people are lost; they need guidance,’ which is why I have taken it upon myself to help them.” David’s followers have taken to calling themselves “The Apostles” and they promise to bring the good word of David Johnson to the entire Internet in time.

Your one-word The Botetourt Squat accidentally horoscope for today annexes the Crimea

BY MYSTERIOUS STRANGER NO IDEA WHO WROTE THIS “I can see Crimea from my house!” cried a Botetourt Squat writer one day last week. “It’s mine!” That’s really all there is to this story. The dude saw it, and he asked the people there if they minded if he claimed them as his slaves, they said no, so he took it. If you want more details about Crimea, it’s also a nymph, or fairy, or whatever. Really it’s a kind of Jungian archetype, it’s something that you can find everywhere (think: Thursday night at the Greene Leafe) but something you can never fully grasp. Consciousness is weird

like that. The Crimea is a flying humanoid thing with wings. Anyway, this writer took Crimea last week. The people said it was okay, so that makes it okay, okay? Does anyone get that? The model UN people were in the School of Education this past weekend. Ask those people what they think about this situation. They’ll see what I mean about how this is totally legal and in fact good for the people of Crimea. What they mean to say is that they have no fucking clue how to stop this Squat reader from taking what he wants when he wants it. He has several thousand nuclear warheads, a huge horse, and a wife. Nothing can stop this man from taking his pixie, or fairy, or whatever.

Aries: Sylvatic

Libra: H O

Taurus: Tattooer

Scorpio: E R

Gemini: A O

Sagittarius: A D

Cancer: B S

Capricorn: R I

Leo: M S

Aquarius: T Z

Virgo: Y W

Pisces: S E

Pumping iron with Jake Balls Tips for true fitness Try taking a class in somthing you’ve never done before, you little bitch. College is about expanding your horizons in addition to your butthole. Also, do more squats. Pun maybe intended. Jake Balls is a fitness instructor at the College of Williamand Mary, and he is a professional self-help columnist.

VARIETY Hey kid, why are you so ugly?

The Botetourt Squat § Monday, April 21st, 2014 § PAGE 4


I mean Jesus buddy, what were you thinking? It sure as hell beats me. The problem isn’t even that you’re ugly, I wish, believe you me I wish the problem was just that you were ugly. But as the fates would have it, you are a special kind of ugly, the kind of ugly that people find oppressive. Really, it’s insufferable. When I’m in a room with you – and you know here I’m willing to consider this may just be a problem with my own assessment of the situation– I just can’t shake the feeling that you are being ugly at me. It’s like you’ve some how learned to become actively ugly. As one of your closest friends I gotta ask, what’s the deal? Why are you so ugly? A used q-tip on the ledge of an even more used toilet seat, a used band-aid with a loose hair on it, old crusty panties – these are all things that pop into my head when I look at you. Also the words ‘ugly’, ‘hid-

eous’, and ‘awwww’. When you walk into a party people hear the screech of a record coming to a halt and glasses breaking despite the fact that we live in an age of digital music and solo cups. I mean the first time I saw you, I had to add even more additional syllables to my already elongated delivery of the word “damn”. Usually I’ll point at something that throws me off and be like “da-yum,” but when I saw you I had to be all like, “da-yaba-daba-yum”. Do you catch my drift ugly kid? It begs the question; why are you so ugly? Don’t want to tell me why you are so ugly? Oh so you’re a wise guy eh? I’ll tell you something kid, with a face like that you really can’t afford to also have the personality of a bag of broken syringes. That’s fine. I came up with some of my own theories for why you’re so busted. Theory One: Freak carnival accident. I notice that in addition to your terrible garbage-troll like looks you also carry with you the vague scent of humungous elephant

poop, itsy bitsy midget poop, and fairly average sized and healthy looking poop. There’s only place where the pallet of fecal matter is this impressively diverse and that place is the circus. My thoughts? You were probably just a kid, you didn’t know any better, you thought it would be fun to feed peanuts to the elephants, and the elephants thought it would be fun to feed their massive elephant feet to your face. I don’t know if what I am saying is clear, so i’ll just say this: you look like elephants accidentally stomped all over your face repeatedly and with that dead instinctual kind of satisfaction certain animals are capable of. Theory two: Negligence. Maybe you didn’t listen enough to your parents enough when they told you to brush your teeth and wash your face. You know, science says all the time that if you don’t brush your teeth you become a terror to look at and that while it’s entirely possible you can weasel your way into tricking somebody to love you, sex just simply

won’t be an option. So what are you thinking man! Brush your teeth you crazy kid! Theory three: Genetics. Haha! Your parents are ugly and now you’re ugly! Theory four: Karma. This is probably the most likely and my favorite of theories. You probably deserve your face. Yeah, I bet a high power just sees what you’re putting out in the world and just isn’t a huge fan so I guess you know, now your ugly. Life is mysterious.

Postmodern Courtroom, Events of 3/31/14 AD


“And that, members of the jury, is how the defendant brutally murdered four helpless members of our community. I beseech you, with the aid of almighty God, to come to the right decision by declaring this man guilty and imposing the harshest penalty possible. Thank you, your honor, the prosecution rests.” The prosecutor, a sharply dressed alpha male in his mid 30’s, returned to his seat, casting a stern and knowing look to the Judge. The defendant, a scrawny, aging man with a wispy grey combover, trembled in his chair. “The defense may now give its closing remarks,” the Judge droned. The defense attorney rose to address the jury. He was bald, and wore unobtrusive glasses with thin rims, a tweed jacket over a sleek black turtleneck, and brown slacks. Turning to the jury, he began to pontificate. “Perhaps my client is ‘guilty,’” he sarcastically smiled, “but what is guilt anyway? I’ll tell you: the myth of responsibility! We punish the offender to establish

his culpability, but could he possibly have done otherwise? Is he not merely the product of our society, a product of power and discipline? What is ‘authentic’ choice outside of the field of power? Is the individual himself, this rational, choosing subject, not a myth we make and remake through this ritual of punishment?” The crowd was rapt, and small beads of sweat began to drip from the prosecutor’s forehead. The attorney continued. “And as to the prosecutor’s ridiculous claims about what ‘really’ happened at the scene of the crime - what is truth anyway? Is it not the imaginary fetish of our society, a mere residue of metaphysics, a lie and a slander of life itself? No truth, only interpretation my friends!” Cheers and shouts of “Bravo!” spewed from every onlooker. “From what perspective can we say that my client’s interpretation of events, namely that he did not murder that family, is untrue? Certainly not that of the numerous witnesses, for theirs is only a subjective understanding! And there is no objective viewpoint, no view from nowhere, from where we might resolve this dispute. Therefore, members of the jury, you must acquit!” The defendant

pounded his fists on the table in agreement, and the defense attorney performed a magnificent pirouette in front of the jury booth. The Judge began to nod in agreement. “What’s more,” the defense attorney spat, “let’s leave this whole ‘God’ business out of it! Doesn’t the prosecution know that God is dead? And you and I, members of the jury, killed him. Must we not become gods ourselves to be worthy of the deed? Must we not, as my client has, slip loose of these shackles of ‘good’ and ‘evil?’” The jury was stupefied, but the defense refused to relent. “Cast off your petite bourgeois morality, your ressentiment!” he thundered. “Your lives thus far have been a lie, you slaves of truth, you slaves of decency and petty comfort! Declare my client innocent and embrace the decline of the West!” The courtroom erupted into uncontrolled mania. The jury deliberated for no more than a few seconds before the foreman stood, letting his jaw hang loose to announce the verdict: an indecipherable highpitched squealing sound. “Very well then,” the Judge solemnly intoned, “we have a mistrial.” He paused for a second. “Along the lines suggested by the defense,” he an-

nounced, “I hereby declare this court, all its doings past and present, and the principles it stands upon to be null and void. Let the deconstruction begin!” And with that, the agitated crowd produced pickaxes and sledgehammers, and began attacking both the courtroom and each other. Amidst the flying blood and woodchips the prosecutor wept, and the defense attorney ripped off his jacket and turtleneck, exposing a gaping black maw in his chest to the crowd. “Ex nihil ut nihil!” he screamed. The prosecutor choked back his tears. “There goes my perfect record!”

reached into the air like a wild stallion about to mount an even wilder stallion. The bridge stood perfectly still, pointing straight up to the sky like a long wooden finger covered in hair and feathers challenging the wrath of the Gods. Then, the sound of wood splintering and metal shattering could be heard as the bridge twisted and spun, like a swirled dollop of evil soft serve ice-cream. One student described what happened next as, “the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. I felt cold all over and everything was being drawn towards the bridge.” The brackish water of the Crim Dell, the trees and bamboo of the meadow, the condoms, bicycles, retainers and excrement resting at the bottom were all sucked up and subsumed into what has now become the

enormous towering spire that stands in the middle of campus. Taylor Reveley had only this to say, “I warned students every night that their naked shenanigans around the Crim Dell would raise the ire of the bridge that I had sealed away with the blood of the ancients. But no one ever listens to T-Reves. No one! Anyway, be advised that crossing through the shadow of the Grim Spire will convert you to an agent of Chaos from which there is no return. Your only hope is to impale yourself as soon as possible.” There is still no word as to whether the Griffin will appear to do battle with the evil structure. The remaining students not fused with the Spire, impaled, or robbed of their eternal souls, would probably be better off transferring to somewhere

warmer and with better on-campus parking.

Students frozen in horror as Crim Dell Bridge begins transformation into its Final Form!


Hot, butt-sweating terror struck a handful of students passing by the Crim Dell last week when the normally tranquil scummy waters suddenly bubbled and boiled. The students felt a rumbling beneath their feet as hordes of ducks, squirrels, muskrats, fish, turtles, tour groups, and pigeons swarmed the bridge, covering it in a writhing mass of woodland body parts. A voice spoke that was both screechingly high and so low that it shook the ribcages of those that heard it. “You fools! This isn’t even my final form!” said the Bridge. One end of bridge wrenched itself loose from the banks of the Crim Dell and

A.K.A. anywhere else

The Botetourt Squat

Monday, April 21st, 2014

Transcendentalist ascends beyond petty words



Residence life decides that only one student will have housing next year BY ANTICITIZEN ONE LOWLY BARRETT LAYMAN After steadily placing more and more students on the waitlist for student housing, Residence Life at the College of William & Mary has finally just said “Fuck it,” and decided that it will only offer housing to one student next year. The organization that is responsible for designating on-campus living space to students claims that it would like to keep the number of people on campus at an absolute minimum. “Students kind of ruin the campus, don’t you think?” says ResLife

staff member Burt Tudrussell. “We figured that most of the problems on campus are the direct result of students. As long as there have been students on campus, there have been issues with the College. However, we don’t want to look like we’re intentionally screwing people over, so we kept one student on campus to make people happy.” But many students are unhappy with Residence Life’s decision. They are claiming that what the housing offices are doing is simply a demonstration of its overwhelming political power. Rumors have been circulating that a student revolt is

coming to overturn ResLife’s decision. Banners have been sighted all over campus with the slogans, “Sic semper tyrannis” and “Better dead than Res” written on them in the tears of incoming freshmen who will no longer be able to live in the Units. The lucky student who was selected for housing by Residence Life, Randy McJonesburger, says that he is really hoping for a spot in one of the lodges, but he is not sure if he will be able to beat out the competition in the lottery.

ated by the games, stating “It was so great to see such a wide spectrum of student organizations represented in one event. There are KDs, Gamma Phis, and AXOs all playing together. I think I even saw a few Kappas earlier! Great events like these really highlight the true diversity of the William and Mary campus.” The day provided opportunity beyond the causal navigating through a course of wire wickets for the campus community as a whole, with staff and faculty also dropping by to observe the proceedings. Even President Reveley weighed in to express his support for the event, stating that he felt that the event accurately portrayed the multicultural acceptance found on campus. He further added that he will always be supportive of any event that supplies wooden mallets to intoxicated students.


Office of Student Diversity’s croquet tournament a rousing success


You know it must be springtime when the Office of Student Diversity throws their annual croquet tournament on the Sunken Gardens. This year participants and passersby alike were delighted by the inclusive environment created by the multicultural event. One bow-tie clad gentlemen declared the spectacle the most eye-opening event that he has so far attended this semester, stating, “I didn’t even know that seer sucker came in this many colors!” A sundress-clad female student stopped to comment on the campus-wide unity cre-

To the left: a gentle, womanly KD participant is enjoying a rousing final stroke. On the right: a downtrodden Sig Chi gentleman courts an understanding GDI with ample brazzerie and corset.

No man is an island.

United States to trick terrorists by claiming they are Al-Qaeda

The State Department has unveiled its new Middle Eastern youth outreach program--be thy enemy. Secretary of state Kerry says “Kids are pretty stupid, and AlQaeda is pretty popular over in West Asia, while the USA is not. They also use the internet, and they’ll gobble up anything wrapped in a meme. Knowing this, we’ve adopted the strategy of credit card scammers everywhere, ‘All Your Qaeda are belong to USA.’ We convince these idiots

that Al-Qaeda and the good old United States of ‘Murica are one and the same. We drive the ‘Murica haters from AlQaeda, and we draw the Al-Qaeda lovers to us. It cannot possibly fail!” Simultaneous programs were also revealed for women and animal lovers, “Two Taliban, one bomb” and “I can Hezbollah?”

Not pumping iron with Ryan Brovak Tips for fitness I think it’s sexist that women go through menstruation but men don’t go through womenstruation. GSWS, get on that.

Ryan Novak is not a fitness instructor at the College of William and Mary, and he is not a professional self-help columnist.


The Botetourt Squat § Monday, April 21st, 2014 § PAGE 6

Cash-Shoed David Springer storms Comedybrew by storm! BY HANK MANGKLACE CHIEF SERIOUS COMEDY CRITIC David Springer could have stood on stage, staring intently at his stack of notecards, and said nothing but “Does anyone here have a nut allergy?” a single time, for the entirety of his ten minute set and still have been the Champion of Comedybrew. David was really good at……………….. pausing. Whenever he stopped speaking it felt like a blackhole of laughter was unleashed and we all had to pour our chuckles and guffaws into it to avoid being crushed into singularity. That’s not to suggest that David’s set was in any way threatening. He seemed very polite. I think David would make an excellent husband or non-traditional wife. He’s versatile. But I think what everyone loved about David is that he didn’t make comedy seem like a desperate attempt to be a likeable, hilarious, witty person. A lot of modern comedy is about trying to seamlessly blend real-life experiences with jokes so that the comic looks like they’re just having a hilarious, extemporaneous, one-sided conversa-

tion. They appear as if they could be funny under any circumstance. It’s a natural speaking style that is designed to hide the jokes underneath it and cover up the conventions and artifices of “typical” jokes. But all of that is really really hard to do and takes way more awareness and planning than it ever seems to require. I think it hurts young comedians because these great comedians do it too well. People watch and think there aren’t any jokes at all. That they just have to go up and speak hilarious. But between remembering all the twists of the story, pausing at the appropriate moments, using the proper inflection and tone, making sure that a part you thought would be funny is actually funny so that when you hit it and there’s silence you don’t get tripped up, it’s really really easy to start floundering and powering through the words you memorized which never actually contained any jokes. David’s style was aggressively simple--he had a clear, established voice and maintained it through this simple pattern-pause---read joke---laughter---pause--read joke---laughter. He didn’t try to assault the audience with words and prove

that he was hilarious the second he grabbed the microphone. He paused and we had time to take in his presence, and then he proceeded to share his humorous, straightforward jokes. It was so simple and effective and well-crafted precisely because there weren’t really any spots for him to mess up. He didn’t care that he was reading his jokes off cards. He didn’t care that he wasn’t moving around and being animated and wacky. He didn’t care that he looked like a person deliberately telling jokes instead of some genius that spouts hilarity as soon as he opens his mouth. He knew exactly what he was and we knew he knew and we loved it. How about a tennis analogy? Rather than trying to make every return a winner and ace every serve to prove he’s the greatest without even trying, David just stood on the baseline and lobbed nice, clean returns. Most of his competitors, and most anyone who tries stand-up at any point, is going to smash the fuck out of the balls right into the net or way out of bounds. They’re trying so hard and it’s so difficult that it’s almost painfully funny to watch David absolutely kill by doing the things that are so

fundamental and so simple that we think they can’t possibly be effective. We overlook them and go for the best and the flashiest without realizing that those great performances are comprised of nothing but the basics. David showed an understanding of stand-up comedy at its most basic level, a level that is actually very difficult to see because it’s nothing like what stand-up comedy is currently sold as. Anyone considering trying stand-up should watch David and know what David does and be able to say, “Yes. I can do that.”. Ignore Chapelle, ignore Louis C.K., ignore Patton Oswalt, ignore Aziz Ansari, they’re light-years beyond what anyone can understand just starting out, but I can guarantee that underpinning everything they do, the groundwork for all of that is what David Springer did for his Comedybrew performance and it was a privilege to watch.

Local rapper tweets Jay-Z a link to his soundcloud, gets record deal BY SONIC YOUTH THE HEDGEHOG ed “The message he delivered in “$tackin’ My Paper” was so refreshing and unique PROBABLY KNOWS ABOUT MUSIC? that I immediately had to check out his proAfter weeks of buzz and anticipation, file and get in contact with him.” And while his Twitter bio does not paint the Botetourt Squat can confirm that loa complete picture of the man guaranteed cal rapper Kim Jong Trill has inked a reto turn the rap game on its head, it does cord deal with Jay-Z’s RocNation. The give us snapshots of a man who can be dedeal, worth 5 million dollars, should come scribed as “the realest in a room full of as no surprise to those familiar with Jayfakes”, “a young stunna”, not to mention Z’s history of promoting unique and talent“your new favorite rapper” and most imed individuals. Kim Jong Trill first came to pressively “the greatest rapper alive”. He Jay-Z’s attention during his daily routine is “bout dat paper” and “don’t love these of listening to every piece of original muhoes”, values which may be difficult for sic posted to him on social media. “I was the average listener to grasp. “At first the just looking through all of the music people had been tweeting me that hour when I public might be hesitant to embrace Kim’s came across Kim,” the Jigga-man recount- vision,” Jay-Z admitted “but I have faith

that he can turn the tides and maybe things like rapping exclusively over already famous beats and bragging about your millions of dollars while living at your mom’s house will be common things that everyone will do.” And perhaps it is the right time for Kim Jong Trill. A look at the 24 year old’s Facebook profile reveals that he has been employed as “Rapper” for seven years. By now he has built up enough buzz and experience to blow open the mainstream and allow an entire wave of rappers that share his revolutionary vision to make the leap from Twitter to Billboard. Rappers like “Da Paper Boi”, “Dolla-Bill Cosby”, “Bugz Money”, “Snor-racks”, “Frosty the Blowman”,

“Parappa the Trappa”, “The Hindu Kush”, “Princeboy Gway”, “Mojo Tha Great”, “Samson Rulez”, “Trappy Bird”, and “Johnny Ca$h”. The future is bright.

So bright, I gotta wear shades

Break-through site lets you compare genital sizes with your peers BY PARTICLE-MAN SKYLORD A 6/10 AT BEST 7/10 IF DRUNK

Get out your laptop. No, I don’t care if you’re in class. Now enter the URL: There are several options, so consider this your impromptu tutorial. The analyzer button lets you compare that particular part with three other people. The design button lets you create and customize your own dick/tits/vagina/anus from scratch but that’s weird don’t do that. But what’s really interesting is the affinity button. Click this baby under the vagina or anus category and you can simulate sex with your favorite guy/girlcrush. It’s even gay male-inclusive. Sorry, though. No lesbians. Though I guess you could simulate strap-ons. Do you see what this means!? This is the new horoscope, except you can skip the whole vague all-inclusive bullshit based upon your date of birth and get straight to what you really want to know: when I fuck this person, will our genitals be compati-

ble? Moreover, if you’ve ever wondered if you have a bigger dick than your roommate and haven’t walked in on them, or if you want to know which out of your group of friends is hung closer to the floor, this lets you compare. Let’s say I go under affinity for vagina. In the left column I enter Particle Man and in the right column I enter Brittany (sorry, Brittany, nothing personal). I then click simulate. Woah, what the fuck? Why do I have a chode? And this Brittany chick, why does her vagina look like a limp twizzler with a balloon on it? Anyway, I give a few enthusiastic Oh!s and Wow!s but Brittany clearly isn’t digging it; after about twenty seconds she tells me no and I’m forced to evacuate candy-land via hot air balloon. We both get a grade based upon how many times we achieve “ecstasy” which is the Japanese way of saying orgasm. We both got 0. Way to go, Brittany, it takes me like 10 seconds to get off when I’m using my hand. That means your vagina is less

appealing than a hand. I know you didn’t get off either, but that’s expected of you. I’m not so much a lazy lover as I am a selfish one, but I own up to that. You sit there crying on the corner of the bed, but my balls hurt. Did you ever think of that? Needless to say, Brittany and I are not compatible, so I’m going to stop trying to get in her pants. On the other hand, she might have nice tits. I’ll evaluate her and her sister Christina to see if I should go for pinks or wait a few years for the younger blood to be street legal. So Brittany gets a satisfaction rate of 82% and her tits are dubbed “The Sexy Sublime Mars” with an F cup. Bravo, Brittany. But I still have blue balls. Christina is also looking fine, though: satisfaction rate of 68%, dubbed “The Giga Paradise,” with a D cup. Not quite as good as her sister’s, but it’s a realistic and well-grounded percentile. She’s not going to have any false pretense or snobbish tendencies. I like that in a girl. You win this time, Brittany, only be-

cause I think F is a good letter. But you must work on accommodating my massive phallus. Go crazy, reader. Imagine the immense comparative possibilities.

OPINION It’s terrible how badly I want you right now

The Botetourt Squat § Monday, April 21st, 2014 § PAGE 7


Girl, this isn’t one of those articles where I tell you a bunch of earnest, heartfelt things to you and then describe the nasty, depraved, unromantic things I want to do you...and then people laugh because the first thing and the second thing don’t match. It’s like people laughing at a monkey wearing people-clothes. And girl, this isn’t one of those articles where I tell you about how strong my longing is for your many features and as I describe those features in detail the read-

er comes to the realization that you are actually hideous and repulsive. No, girl, it’s not one of those articles. That’s like people laughing at a monkey wearing peopleclothes kissing a lady and the lady enjoying it. Girl, this isn’t any of those contrived, shallow jokes about people who can’t honestly express those emotions so they have to try to cheapen those feelings by parodying them. Or, maybe I’m just reading too much into it, girl. The truth is--the real, honest, naked truth is that I got a little bit of sympathy for you, girl. I see you out in the cold. I see

you up late working on your sociology paper, trying to become a sociology major. I see you doing the real things. The little, unnoticed, unglamorous things, girl. Sometimes, I bet, in the middle of the night, you wake up and you have to pee so you go to your hall bathroom and it’s really late at night so you forget that the stall closest to the sink has that toilet that is always clogged up with toilet paper and uncleanliness just sort of radiates from it like a doo-doo cloud and you remember to avoid it during the day time but now it’s like 3 AM, so you sit down and you tinkle and it bounces off the toilet paper and it sprinkles

I don’t actually give a shit how your day is BY PARTICLE-MAN SKYLORD CHIEF SENIOR SCHIZOID DICKHEAD PLEB

Stop asking me how I am. I don’t give my feelings that kind of attention, so when you spring up behind me with your devilish grin I have to fucking make something up on the spot or spew out the first thing that comes to mind. You know how long proper selfevaluation takes? Hours. So I get up every morning and look myself in the mirror up and down, evaluate the size of my dick to see if it’s grown (it hasn’t; but at least it hasn’t gotten smaller), then say to myself, “Self, today we’re going to say to people ‘I’m okay!’” See, but then when you ask me, I HAVE to ask you back or risk looking like a kid with Asperger’s. So I mumble downward uhhowuboutyou? And you say something back like “Good, good,” or sometimes “Well!” but fuck your grammatical correctness everyone knows that if you respond with something other than “Good” that you are being a pedantic asshole fuck you I don’t need that in my life. The problem is that after you’ve said good I think about how either you’re probably not good because nobody here is good everybody is stressed and unhappy and obsessed with physical appearance which is why you say good but you’re lying. Or you actually are good which makes me wonder how big of a dosage of antidepressants you scarf down daily or how many times you’ve had sex in the last month. The other problem is that now that we’ve exchanged these farcical niceties we have no margin for a legitimate conversation so I have to follow up with something equally as asinine like “You still have class?” or “Wow, it’s (nice, sunny, rainy, shit) out!” But that’s dumb, because you have all five of your senses or at least like four and they probably work better than mine. My observation isn’t adding anything to that. You aren’t going to say, “What! I DID NOT KNOW that it was sunny out! THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME!” That doesn’t happen. You’ll probably just respond “Yeah, it is!” and then now I kind of want to leave because I was just trying to get to my last class without anyone recognizing me and then sit there and pretend to take notes and nod knowingly whenever the professor makes eye contact but you ruined it.

If, god forbid, I see you and I actually want to talk to you, either because I am haplessly attracted to you and I want you to notice me or I need to look at your notes, then I’ll ask “How is your day, X?” And you’ll probably be like “good, good.” Then I’ll say, “Hey, listen...” Why would I say that? You’re already engaged with me. Am I assuming that you’re so ADD that in the time between you respond and I engage you with another question, maybe half a second, that you might have stopped listening? I mean maybe. But I say it anyway, and then I ask if I can look at your date or if you want to go on a notes later and then cringe and blush and run away and then you have sex with that guy I really hate later and I kill myself. Anyway, my point is stop asking me how I’m doing or how my day is. I don’t care. And I’m pretty sure you don’t care when you ask me. Just fucking tell me whatever it is you want from me and then let me get back to floundering through college, and I’ll do the same for you. Then we can all be happy and sleep sounder knowing that we don’t have to pretend to engage people or care about their fleeting daily emotions and dispose of the stupid outer layer of going through the motions. Maybe one day we can express genuine interest in each other as well.

on your butt cheeks a little bit and now you feel cold, alone and stinky. It’s too small to tell anyone about but it bothers you somehow and you’re almost more upset about the fact that you let it bother you than you are about the feelings of physical discomfort. I bet that maybe happened one time and I have sympathy for you. Your flaws to me are like sparkles. They’re like glitter. And all of that makes you all the more right for being loved by me. Carpe diem!

On “WM Banana Eaters” BY ANTICITIZEN ONE MORE OF A PLANTAIN GUY, YKNOW? Have you seen the newest sensation that has been hitting the Twitter-sphere-net-web? “W&M Banana Eaters.” Go ahead. Look it up. I’ll wait. Done? No, that’s not it. Keep looking. I can see your search history from here. That’s fucked up dude. Try private browsing. Oh, you found it? Good. Now bask in its glory. “W&M Banana Eaters” represents a special kind of voyeurism. On one hand it is mortifying. No one is safe from this lurking predator. He or she, (or perhaps, it? We don’t know what we’re dealing with here) preys upon our greatest fears. No longer can students wrap their lips around the succulent, ripe, and satisfying bananas that Sadler Center has to offer without a creeping sense of paranoia that someone somewhere is watching them and capturing the incriminating moments on camera.

Just kidding! “W&M Banana Eaters” grabs at the lowest hanging fruit of the student body and makes us pay for our potassium-filled sins. But this creepy voyeurism is what makes “W&M Banana Eaters” so great. It gets at the truth of the condition of the student body at William & Mary. It forces us to look at ourselves and criticize our own behavior. When looking through the pictures on the Twitter page, one cannot help but ask, “Is that what I really look like? Do I just constantly have a thick, yellow thing obstructing my mouth, obstructing my voice on campus?” “W&M Banana Eaters” makes us acknowledge our own personal hangups that prevent our own personal voices from being heard. No matter who we are, there is always a banana blocking what we need to say. Maybe it’s a banana of prejudice. Maybe it’s one of insecurity. This is what makes “W&M Banana Eaters” such a necessary part of our College. It puts up all of our flaws on a public forum for our own analysis so we can learn from them. Also, it makes us look like we all have fat dicks in our mouths.


The Botetourt Squat § Monday, April 21st, 2014 § PAGE 8

Anonymous poll: 1 out of 1 Team Blitz members would make sex with a dolphin to improve their mile time by 26 seconds BY HANK MANGKLACE DOLPHIN RAPE CAVES ARE REAL Students are still clawing out their own eyes with excitement upon having learned that %100 of some unknown percentage of Team Blitz would copulate with the most photogenic of marine mammals if it meant an immediate drop in their mile time. It is a many layered issue that is surely worthy of having numerous issues of this sad excuse for journalism devoted solely to its discussion. How long would one have to engage in intercourse with the dolphin? Does the improvement in fitness carry over to other distances as well? Is it possible to continue improving after the initial dolphin-sex improvement? The sordid discussion all began one afternoon when a member of Team Blitz approached another member of Team Blitz

and posed the question, “Would you have sex with a dolphin if it meant an improvement in your mile time?” Before the other member of Team Blitz could answer, they went on to run the most glorious run in all of Blitztory. They sprinted through the tunnel beneath Colonial Williamsburg. They navigated the secret Dragon trail in Lake Matoaka trails. They ran to Sno-2-Go and then across the street to the Yankee Candle Store and ate the fake snow in the Christmas Room instead. They did all of that and much much more and only after they finished running to apply ointment to their raw nipples and chaffed inner thighs did the other member of Team Blitz say, “Yeah, I think I would.” And then the other member of Team Blitz said, “Oh. I would too.” And the other guy was like, “Yeah, cuz it makes sense.” And the guy was like, “I agree with you.” And they were both like, “Oh yeah, we al-

ready ran today. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for more running.” And one of them was like, “Don’t forget to bring the dolphin.” And the other one was like, “What?” But before the guy could explain, the guy

remembered what they’d been talking about earlier and said, “Oh right, that’s relevant to what we had just been discussing and it is also relevant to running.” And the other guy was like, “Exactly.”

Bike to Uganda ends prematurely after most participants drown BY PARTICLE-MAN SKYLORD WELCOME TO THE HOTEL RWANDA Eternally destined to do good deeds at whatever altruistic cost, the college recently sponsored an event encouraging bikers of all ages and skill levels to bike all the way to Uganda. Due to a practical and minute oversight, however, many of the participants never made it. Those who did never seemed to come back. Uganda effort leader Bevis B. Naked comments, “Well, we knew we wanted to help Uganda. And we know lots of people on campus have a bike.” He didn’t elaborate further, but simply sat back in his chair and smiled. While the effort grossed several hundreds of dollars in pennies, pesos, pieces of eight, and semen, the logistics of the opera-

tion seemed to have neglected the fact that bikes do not float, nor do they propel themselves across the surface of water for more than three seconds at a time, and even then you have to be going downhill beforehand, and like, hit the water just right. The organizing members also forgot that humans can’t breath underwater. Of the 48 students to participate, 30 died of drowning, 7 died of shark-related decapitations, 4 died by Japanese whalers, 3 died by Japanese whales, 2 died of boredom, and 1 died due to using a mountain bike on a road (like an idiot, idiot) and getting really tired, so he pulls over into this truck-stop and finds a man in a really large car who says he can give him a ride—and he does! but after a while the car runs out of gas so now they both have to walk and they encounter another man at another truck stop who picks

2013-2014 Tribe sports: retrospecticus

them up, and you can see how this goes on and on, but anyway eventually there’s like 500 or so men walking the highway to the next truck stop and really all this one guy wanted to do was get to Uganda, but they eventually ran out of food, so he has to eat his bike, but he eats too much of it and then has an aneurism. A homeless man peeing on the street, with a shrug, gives his opinion, “Should have waited for the next ice age. Then you take the long way around through Russia. It’s not so bad then. Unless you’re a,” he comes in closer, several teeth missing, smelling heavily of gasoline, “gay.” The lone man to make it to Uganda, Heywood U. Blomey, by sheer force of will, biked the bottom Atlantic ocean and arrived off the coast of Africa just yesterday. But due to the fact that he’s a Chem-

March Madness concludes; to be followed by April Alzheimer’s




istry major and never took Geography, he isn’t quite sure where Uganda is and is now biking around, asking local tribes for directions in broken Spanish. The effort is cited as having raised exactly $230 dollars, which is enough to provide one Ugandan 230 Mc Doubles or 230 Ugandans one Whopper Jr, except probably a little less due to tax and shipping.

After an exciting month of College Basketball, sports officials are excited to announce the beginning of another monthly trend, April Alzheimer’s. As a publicity stunt to bring further awareness to the crippling and tragic disease, Colleges across the United States will be competing in a month long, single elimination Women’s Basketball tournament, the sport most often “tragically” forgotten about. University of Iowa Women’s Basketball head coach (Some bitch name here) says: “We are very excited that we can extend the college basketball action for another month. We hope that President Obama and sports fans around the country will also make brackets and excitedly tune in to watch women play a sport just as well as men can play, especially when it comes to good, solid fundamentals in place of dunks or action. Lay-ups and conversions are an important part of the game you know.” In addition to providing heart-pounding Women’s Basketball Action, April Al-

zheimer’s is dedicated to providing funding for disease research. 2.5% of all profits will go to Alzheimer’s research labs, hopefully bringing us one tiny, infinitesimal step towards the cure. “I feel good,” says (that bitch name again). “in addition to providing viewers some good solid fundementals, we’re also helping people who need it. I just wish they would change the name “Forgetful Four”.”

The Botetourt Squat Vol. 4, Issue 7 - 4/21/14  

April 2014 special 3-part blowout edition. Part 1/3.

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