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THE

LOG Of the U.S. Naval Academy

“The Commissioning Issue”

MK. 91, Mod. 5


I have to be an adult now?


Staff Editor-In-Chief Michael Ebeling ‘15

Salty Sam

Contents

4 From The Top 6 Salty Sam

Salty Sam ‘14

8 On Graduation

Executive Editor

10 Who is Salty Sam?

Business Team

12 How To Survive Summer Cruise

Hannah Bobell ‘15

Dick Wheeler ‘16, Manager Jett Utah Watson ‘16 Luke Sullivan ‘16

Layout Team

Ali Segovia ‘16, Editor Miguel Moravec ‘17 Jason Mapa ‘17

Content Editor Ben Creed ‘15

Artists

14 USNA Prison Experiment 18 Welcome, USNA ‘18 22 Wu Yang Clan 24 Where Are They Now? 26 The Summer Vacation School 28 10,000 Words

Jess Miller ‘17, Editor Matthew Brook ‘15 Ivan De La Cruz ‘15

30 The Supe’s List

Photography Editor Alec Bacon ‘15

35 Things To Do With Your Rings

Online Editor

38 Home Improvement Tips

Frankie Gale ‘16

Officer Representative CAPT Leigh, USN

32 The Academy Awards

39 2015 Plans for the Brigade 42 Croquetiquette

Principles of The LOG

Visit us online at www.usna.edu/thelog, “like” Salty Sam on Facebook or email us at Saltysam@usna.edu

The LOG magazine is a 32 page, monthly publication produced by and for Midshipmen. Found within is a satirical compilation of real and exaggerated news articles, editorials, advertisements, cartoons, and more. It provides an outlet for your creativity, artistic ability, comedic talent, and (maybe) critical-thinking. The opinions expressed herein are those of LOG staff members, and in no way reflect those of the Department of the Navy, the Department of Defense, the National Security Council, or the President of the United States. We do not intend to undermine the Mission of the United States Naval Academy, or by extension, the Constitution of the United States. Our goal is to reveal Academy life as observed by Midshipmen, and to deliver a publication that is truly their own.


From the Top

Brigade, As I awoke this morning, peering out of my rack cocoon, it all appeared differently. My new PRK eyes were nearly blinded. It was beautiful; it was fresh; it was as if I hadn’t spent the day before doing 6 hours of drill, as if the cynicism meter I keep in my room was zeroed out. As if the endless winter had finally come to an end. It was sunlight. Summer – it’s here, I know it. From the whitest of whites to the dingiest of summer working blues, summer is in the air, the water, and hopefully the reason for that weird smell in 7th wing. The firsties have found “the light,” while the Plebes are still afraid of it and aren’t sure whether to call it “Sir” or not, the youngsters are too indifferent towards it, and the second class just want to change and take advantage of it. All these matters will be settled out soon, though. As for AC Year 2014, we hardly knew ‘ya. The end of the year is always a great opportunity to come up for air after a long semester and look back at the year that was. There’s a lot to be proud of as a Brigade this year. We caught the arsonist (kudos Fire Watchers!), beat Army (and got to play in the snow in the process), and then learned about how many snow days you can fit in one semester without Saturday school. Admittedly, though, it’s been a rough year for the Brigade, as we were beset with tragedy after tragedy. Now is a time of reflection, a time to

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reexamine everything in a new light. And that’s where we come in. “But what about Lucky Bag?” you’re probably thinking to yourself as you struggle to find something to do with the mountain of Lucky Bag bricks you’ve accrued. Please, everyone knows Lucky Bag consists of a bunch of former members of The LOG whom I’ve either managed to alienate, offend, or fire at some point. The rest are all Plebes. Someone should seriously go check it out; it’s like a sweatshop up there. A sweatshop of Plebes handwriting all of the Lucky Bags for next year by working 80 hour weeks. Sorry, it seems my loathing for Lucky Bag has gotten the best of me again. Where was I? Ah, yes, coming off the heels of the rousing “NARPs Illustrated,” is the perennial “Commissioning Issue.” The staff has put together another hilarious issue for your own entertainment. I won’t spoil it, as it’s worth a summer afternoon of reading to get through. And I can’t lie, cheat or steal, so that’s a fact. Here’s another one: I have the greatest staff on the yard. Take that, Supe. My staff will go toe-to-toe with anyone else and come out better. Except drill staff, but that’s only because everyone loses in drill competitions.


They’re a wonderful bunch and as we approach the end of the year, I owe them a debt of gratitude as does every reader and enjoyer of this publication. These are the people who spend late nights taking pictures, drawing ridiculous things, writing nonsense, doing amazing layout work, and worst of all putting up with me. So please, if you see one of the “Loglings” about the Yard, give them a hug. Make it really awkward, too. They’ll appreciate feeling what it’s like to have friends again. With that, I leave this up to you: go forth and Mid it

up this summer. Unless you’re a firstie, then grow up, for God’s sake! Take care, don’t go to Tijuana, and enjoy your magazine!

Very Respectfully, MIDN Mike Ebeling The LOG Editor-in-Chief

Dear Editors, __________________________________________

__________________________________________

Dear LOG Staff, Ok, I’m getting, like, really sick of this. WHO IN THE HELL IS SALTY SAM? Sincerely, SICK AND TIRED OF THIS BS

Dear Editors, How can I ensure success on the upcoming PCR? VERY RESPECTFULLY, 3/C JOE PRO

Mr. (or Miss) Ill, Hate to break it to you, but this is a franchise. ...You really want to know?

There. I said it. __________________________________________ Dear Editors, What do you suggest for my brand new tattoo? VERY RESPECTFULLY, 4/C Bandwagon Plebe, Please see the image that I provided in my last answer. __________________________________________

Mr. Pro, On the night of a full moon, take your company out on Farragut and light a large fire. Do the ceremonial dance around it with D&B drum line in the background. When things really heat up, sacrifice a virgin plebe on the altar and carve out his still-beating heart. Eat said heart. Then, repeat the magic words, and pray for the best. __________________________________________ Dear LOG Staff, Who really runs Cynical Mids? --3/C Curious Curious, Gunny. Now get it back. __________________________________________

Love, The Editors Page 5


Salty Sam Brigade, Send over the bowline! Send over the stern line! Why, just send over all the lines we have! I think you can take care of it from here, BM2... You seem to know what you’re doing anyways. I don’t really remember since I slept through my ProDev curriculum. Hopefully that won’t come back to bite ol’ Salty on the PCR… Ah, it feels good to moor up USS BANCROFT after yet another great year. As always, Salty will give you a look through his very own spyglass on AC Year 2014. Perhaps we should start with the Bancroft Burner, otherwise known as the Academy Arsonist, Phantom Flamer, or Burning Mid. Surely, you all remember fire watch?!?! After all, the one way to get midshipmen to take something as ridiculous seriously is to instill some

Surely you all remember fire watch!?!? sort of watch. Maybe they should have a PCR watch. Keep score, kids, that’s 2 shots at the PCR and I’ll gladly walk through that minefield in good time. If last semester was a firestorm – the pun was intended but immediately regretted – this past semester was anything but warm. As the polar vortex descended upon USNA, we grew to love that 4am text message announcing that it was to be a SNOW DAY. I lost track somewhere around 5 (!!!) of these, but considering there were barely any full weeks it’s a miracle we never paid for it… Yet. Salty would hate to jinx it this late in the game with so much at stake. Speaking of which, is it safe to say the word “cro-

...is it safe to say the word “croquet” yet? quet” yet? Salty had himself a blast wearing the clothing of his youth, but could hardly see the game over the

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drunken debauchery of the whole thing. ‘Twas like my days as a pirate, save for the domestic disputes. I’m sure the lovely couple will have a grand old time on Jerry Springer, though. In the meantime, Salty’s a bit perplexed by the number of Mids willing to roll the dice that weekend in front of not only the Dep Dant but the Supe as well. But the winds are in the east and the scent of tours in the air. Tours will go round and round; thus is the great circle of restriction.

Enter Gunny Salcedo. Enter Gunny Salcedo. Now gunny, Salty respects your valiant effort, but the cause is like Atlantis or Carl’s Junior: it’s been lost for years and there’s no hope in finding it. Between the hours of 1600 on Friday and 1559 on the following Friday, the collective caring of the Brigade about drill is about the same as how much we care about Scott Strasemeier emails (friend of The LOG). It’s not that we don’t think looking our best in front of the public is unimportant. It’s just, after a full week of 16-20 credits of classwork, the handful of mandatory briefs that always run late, various billet or ECA obligations, and the general stresses of living among type-A personalities, standing mindlessly in ranks and parading around in Civil War costumes gets placed on the back-burner of priorities. Perhaps if we made parades fun by implementing colorful floats, a high school marching band (And got rid of D&B altogether!), candy, and joyful children, we would be much more receptive to the experience. Ok, West Point… You’ve got us on this one. But that’s for another time. After all, there are important cases that must be resolved, such as the

...the Naval Academy statistically houses two Wiccans... captor of two goat heads. Two mascot goat head. Though this is disconcerting, Salty would be more fearful of midshipmen making goat sacrifices and the fact that the Naval Academy statistically houses

two Wiccans... A coincidence? These two heads were apparently stolen at some point in the last 5 months, yet no one really noticed the absence of two rather large Bill the Goat heads. Not to fret, Brigade! CDR Holmes and her trusty assistant LT Watson were on the case, and NCIS is sure to get involved somehow. The culprits have been narrowed down to the usual suspects: The LOG Editor-in-Chief, Lucky Bag, the Labyrinth, and Margret Gilroy. Naturally, the suspicious parties were unduly placed upon this fair publication’s staff for its abilities to gain access to nearly any space within Bancroft. Alas, Salty has yet to hear a mea culpa, as written statements will attest. As far as the Zodiac goes, it seems that we find ourselves in the year of the SWO. With the new SWO screener, SWOcials, SWO foam hats, and the popular resurgence of SWOters, it seems like surface warfare

...lost sight of what the Navy is really made up of... has become the new aviation. Top Railgun, anyone? I’m not really sure how it became such an “unsexy” career, but we seem to have lost sight of what the NAVY is really made up of and how imperative it is that the NAVY keeps people AT SEA. Think about it, people: You travel the world, get a beautiful ocean sunrise/sunset view, can take 3 years off to raise a bundle of joy, and can finally get a working grasp of the Rules of the Road. Who could ask for more? With the rise of the drone and the inevitable antiquity of traditional army which will result in massive budget cuts (Sorry, West Point. No matter how well you parade, your money will end up going to us.), SWO is both a machiavellian and a kick-ass service selection. Don’t fight it; embrace it. Pretty soon, we’ll have the carrier/super plane from The Avengers anyway. Stay Salty, Salty Sam

‘14

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On Graduation A Firstie’s Perspective on Graduating

By Marissa Lihan A few things have dawned on me as I’ve been thinking about graduation. The first occurred to me in a dream, one of those dreams you wake up from and can’t decide if you’re happy or not that it wasn’t real. In this dream, I was carrying my government issued hard drive to Ward Hall to get wiped after my last exam. I enter Ward Hall, a place I’ve always considered shrouded in mystery, and see a line of my classmates awaiting entrance into the Erasing Room. We all talked about how little we’re going to miss this place, how excited we are to be moving on with our lives to our various service assignments in various duty stations, and how we’re so pleased that this is one of the last mando things we’ll have to do as mids. Finally, my turn comes to enter the Erasing Room, and I’m caught completely off-guard by what happens next. First, they have me place my hard drive on a desk, where some super nerd Ward Hall worker, pocket

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protector and all, connects it to a monitor and clicks a bunch of buttons to remove all the memory on it. Right after he’s done, when I’m expecting to be handed my hard drive and sent on my merry way, they tell me to sit down, strap my wrists down to the chair, and point a bar code scanner at my head. The scanner is aimed directly at my brain, and the super nerd Ward Hall worker says, “You didn’t think we just swiped your computer’s memory, did you? We have to swipe your memory too. Trust me, you’ll be much happier this way. We’ll replace all your memories of the Academy—which, as I just glanced at when I scanned you seem pretty unhappy— with pleasant ones. All the time we should have been making the internet run faster or finding the pages that Bill the Goat ate, we’ve been perfecting the art of selective memory reconstruction. We have to do this; otherwise, you’d leave this place warning everyone you knew not to come! Now, you’ll only reflect on your time as


Artwork by Jess Miller ‘17

a mid with fond memories—and don’t be alarmed, the effects won’t take place for at least a few weeks, maybe even a few months depending on how strong your current memory is. Now sit still while I scan you again.” After that point, the dream gets a little fuzzy. But when I woke up that morning to a gaggle of overenthusiastic Plebes doing chowcalls, I thought about the implications of such a thing being real. It would make a lot of sense, if that’s actually what happened in Ward Hall. We all hate this place so damn much while we’re here, but once we graduate, some switch seems to turn on to make us suffer from extreme nostalgia. I’ve seen it happen to numerous friends, the ones who still wear their N* sweaters drinking and come back regularly for home football games. While other explanations would be reasonable, is it that far-fetched to think that this dream I had is actually a prophecy about the secret practice of memory reconstruction at Ward Hall? The second thought, to take a sharp u-turn for the sentimental, I had while writing a research paper. Studying the biographical timeline of anyone important, the first two dates listed are the important person’s birthdate and the date they graduated college. For historical purposes, anything happening in between those years is insignificant. Thus, for all of us getting ready to graduate, all the

talk about the rest of our lives being ahead of us is actually true. According to any biographer out there, our lives are only now about to become significant. To some of us, that might be a comforting thought—or to others, like me, it’s terrifying as hell—but regardless of our sentiments on the matter, it’s a fact. We’re about to go do something in the world, and for most of us, it’s going to make a difference to someone else. And that’s kinda cool.

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Who is

Salty Sam? By Mike Ebeling ‘15

On a dark and foggy night, The LOG staff gathers within the catacombs. They are in traditional garb, with a black sash over their velvet cloaks. But this night is not just a meeting at which one of them will be unceremoniously sacrificed in the most ceremonious of ceremonies. The air is tense, and smells of overcooked vegetables and undercooked meat. Perhaps that’s the King Hall ventilation system – it really needs to be fixed, can we get someone on that? I’m not asking for anything major, just maybe a Glade plug-in or something? Hey you reading this, can you get us some at the CVS? It’s not like you’re doing anything, I mean you’re still reading this drawn-out tangent. Hello? Yeah, like I was saying, the staff got together with a particular purpose in mind. Collectively, they would answer the question everyone has been asking: WHO IS SALTY SAM? As Editor-in-Chief and helmsman of this ignoble ship, I commanded this venture. We immediately took to looking over the suspects, but unfortunately we used up all of our post-it notes and had to write the record the rest of our investigation on Dick Wheeler’s back. Thank goodness he shaves it for his cycling career, but then again that may just be an effect of his Lance Armstrong diet. Yeah, I know, too soon, sorry you’re still holding onto your LiveStrong bracelets you pansy. Nevertheless, the following is to be kept entirely confidential, as public leaking of these documents would make Snowden look like a mere tabloid columnist. Jess Miller is probably Salty Sam. Her Plebe-esque physique would make it easy for her to move about Bancroft. Why, she could show up even Butch Ferguson with her furtiveness. Furtive, yes, why that word describes her to a “T.” And I’ve

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always been suspicious of the letter “T.” A furtive fencer, that’s what Jess is. A furtive friendly fencer feverishly fanning feathers forever. Why does she have a Youngster as a Plebe? Why did her classmate’s get PT’d the week after she was PCC? And why wasn’t she chopping that one time in that one place that one time when everyone was watching??? Alec Bacon may be Salty Sam. He was conveniently absent while receiving “PRK” last semester. Word on the street was he was the Bancroft Burner’s squad leader, allowing him exclusive access to the NCIS investigation, including Special Agent Gibbs and all. Jett Watson is dashing. I don’t actually suspect he did this, but I base 90% of that decision on his disarming smile and the other 10% on his piercing blue eyes. Or are they green? I should find out one of these days. Either way, it’s definitely not the dashing Jett Utah Watson. I ought to give him a call, though, see if he’s free for a jaunt through the park. Ben Creed could be Salty Sam. He is an established comedian both in the Open Mic night circuit and at some reputable places such as John’s Laughin’ Barn, the Ha-Ha House, The Apollo, and Pusser’s. He’s a regular at Pusser’s as a matter of fact. Benjamin is also an English Major, and everyone knows they have a rebellious streak a mile wide. “That’s nearly two kilometers,” he would say in his best scientific voice. If he were here, that is, which he is not. This makes me suspicious. Then again, one must be this tall to ride the Salty Sam ride. Sorry, Ben, but I’ve run out of anything witty or original and so I am falling yet again on short jokes.


Hannah Bobell could be Salty Sam. Then again, that would make her Salty Samantha, a move which would please the radical feminist element within the staff, by which I mean her and her alone. Then again, again, she is Wonder Woman, and can do literally anything. And she embodies the requisite fury, as experienced in a vicious attack I received on the beaches of San Diego. She’s also a UK Scholar, meaning she has plenty of hoity and none too few toities to maintain the air of classiness expected of Salty Samantha. Certainly, it could be Hannah Bobell. Ivan de la Cruz could also be Salty Sam. No, never mind, he did the SEAL screener. Definitely not him. The voices in my head may be Salty Sam. They have gotten a lot louder lately. Every morning it’s, “Bancroft Hall, attention to announcements, blah blah blah.” I’m not sure if I should tell them my name isn’t Bancroft Hall. I wish they’d be more consistent too. This brings me to a bigger point: I could be Salty Sam. Sure, it’s the perfect cover since I am the judge, jury, executioner and culprit. That might be a difficult one-man band there, but I think I’m up to it. I did pass Navigation 2 (even the VMS part) and I’m fairly certain I only barely failed the PCR. I also sold my soul to Naval Reactors, meaning

I’m part of the dark submariner side of the Navy. Having my service selection does mean I can spend even more of my time on frivolous ventures and muck-racking. Why did I waste so much time writing this, though? When will I shut up about dating a ballerina? Am I wearing anything underneath my bathrobe? And how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?!?! The world demands Answers. Answers shall be delivered. Specifically, on page 41.

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How to Survive Your Fleet Summer Cruise By Jett Watson ‘16 A bed on a United States Navy nuclear-powered fast-attack submarine measures exactly 8/16 of an inch shorter than I might prefer. The ceiling, lower than others might like, actually soothes me, assuring me of my own mortality like a friend constantly hovering over you with another friend over him and you just don’t know how structurally sound everything is. But if the Navy didn’t want you to experience debilitating claustrophobia every few hours, they wouldn’t have an issue with it or something like that, right? Submariners didn’t really tell all the jokes the same way everyone else does. If you haven’t already figured it out, I’m going to teach you how to have the best time possible on your fleet cruise this summer. Drawing on my own personal 4-night jaunt on a submarine, I assume I know plenty about everything else too. True, I spent roughly half my “cruise” in Boston, sleeping on the floor of a graduate dorm at MIT (thanks Christian and Erik!) and trying to get into those raging MIT football frat parties we all hear about (Editor’s Note: What? This isn’t a thing. I think you’re making it up) (Author’s Note: This was totally a thing and nobody even edits this stuff anyway; I wrote that editor’s note) (Reader’s Note: -_______________ ___________________), but by golly, I’m in the Navy, and so are you, and I’m going to tell you all about the real Navy that you’re about to experience. Let’s get salty. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot here at the Academy. A lot of words. Words like “Honor,” and “Courage,” and “Commitment.” Well, those aren’t just old wooden ships

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from sometime around the War Between the States. See, they’re also old metal ships (citation needed), ships that you’re going to be on! Yes, the American Navy: Boys and girls have been setting sail across the world in search of adventure and muscular forearms for centuries now. “But Jett,” you might commence to question, “All you’re doing is teasing me! How exactly am I going to make the best of my cruise?” Well, I’m getting there. You’ve all heard plenty of other little snippets of advice. Sure, you can work hard. Yeah, definitely ask everyone every kind of question you can. Build a close relationship with your running mate. Talk to the chiefs. Find JOs, if you can. Bond with your fellow midshippeople. Don’t get in trouble. This is all great stuff, and shouldn’t be discounted as “lame” or “trite.” But, as I’m sure you can figure out, it is not the whole picture. You’re going to have difficult choices to make. Making the right friends is everything. The mess deck will show you just how important it is. A very wise man taught me: “Where you sit in the mess deck is crucial because you got everybody there. You got your Freshmen, ROTC Guys, Preps, JV Jocks, Asian Nerds, Cool Asians, Varsity Jocks, Unfriendly Black Hotties, Girls Who Eat Their Feelings, Girls Who Don’t Eat Anything, Desperate Wannabes, Burnouts, Sexually Active Band Geeks, The Greatest People You Will Ever Meet, and The Worst. Beware of The Plastics.” That’s actually a quote from the hit movie Mean Girls


(2004). Can you believe it’s been ten years? Poor Lindsey Lohan has not had a good time these past couple. It’s still a great movie, though. And in some ways really relevant. But the real relevance is this: the Navy runs on movies. Even down on the submarine, they proliferated. We Midshipmariners were tasked with the delicate duty of deciding upon a film each “night” with the Skipper. Fascinating stuff, really, often interrupted by requests to fire photon torpedoes and board smugglers’ submarines. I also started a gang. I know, I know, you’re all thinking, “How could you?” Well, it was pretty easy, really. A bunch of bored, idealistic young people are the perfect sowing ground for a field of … a gang. I don’t know where that metaphor was going. Sorry. Thanks for holding on with me. They’re very young, very idealistic, and … smart. Yes, submariners are smart. And not everyone recognizes it! This is the key to your gaining lordship over these men and women. Now, I don’t recommend you be one of those gangsters from the movies. They tend to be bad dudes. You could have poetry readings, say, instead of turf wars. Slam poetry can get just as pitched if two readers truly believe in something they lyricize about. It would really get pitched in a storm on a surface ship, I’m sure. You forget that you’re underwater in a submarine. Sometimes I wonder if they were just messing with us all along, and we were in an office building in Connecticut for four days. That would be crazy. Who do you believe, anyway? If people like me are the ones in authority, well, shoot.

That causes some unpleasant feelings. Your gang can also do a lot of positive things for the ship you’re on. They can build parks, teach kids, and clean up the streets. Surface ships probably need all these things. They seem pretty big and scary to me. If you do enough positive things, you might get in good with the CO of the ship. Then, who knows what could happen? They say “A midshipman will never be promoted onboard a summer cruise because that’s just a stupid idea and not even remotely how the Navy works.” I say “So you’re saying there’s a chance.” Jim Carrey said that, actually. Maybe in Liar, Liar. I really like his serious movies. Have you seen The Truman Show or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? Sure, he can be funny and silly, but these movies show just how dedicated of an actor he really can be. It’s mind-blowing. And the former relates to my theories from earlier, the office building ones. Wow. Jim Carrey has agreed with me all this time. You heard it here first, folks. I know you think this has just turned into some sort of film review column, or a frame-of-consciousness writing by someone who needs to fill a couple inches within too few hours. It’s a problem I’ve faced plenty of times in my life. I mean, the editors expect like two ten-inch columns. I prefer to maintain low expectations of my output in all facets of life, including these. But I guess it’s kind of like the Navy, isn’t it? Have fun where you can, and sing when you can’t.

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Photo by Alec Bacon ‘15

Every Wednesday afternoon during the Spring and Fall months, the United States Naval of Academy conducts an experiment that would make Philip G. Zimbardo along with any ethics board (except the one in Luce Hall) cringe. Under the clever guise of “professional training”, young college students, between ages 18 and 26, are forcibly subjected to mental abuse and torture, and no one is doing a thing to stop it. In these so-called “experiments”, students are forced to wear black polyester uniforms. Any researcher involved in these experiments would be quick to claim that these uniforms are designed to create unity amongst the subjects, but the truth is that these degrading costumes actually remove any sense of individualism from the subjects. The lack of individuality in the subject group seems to strip the subjects of their humanity because they willingly submit to the overseers in the experiment. From an observational standpoint, it is also clear that the overseers in these experiments have been taking advantage

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USNA

By Ben Creed ‘15

of the subjects’ lack of humanity in the most malicious ways. It seems that it is easy to abuse a human that is no longer an individual. While the overseers are also given blue camouflage uniforms, it is clear that their costumes come with limitless power. Due to their uniforms, the overseers face no fear of sanction from any outside party, so they are free to act as they please, and they consistently act abusively towards the subjects. Humiliation and ridicule are the prevailing themes in this experiment. You know, besides the minor physical torture. Under the authority of the overseers, the subjects are forced to stand in blistering heat while holding rifles filled with concrete. No matter how much the subjects sweat or itch, they are not allowed to move at all. The subjects are under the constant scrutiny of the overseers, so the subjects have no choice to give into the abuse. The subjects occasionally make lackluster attempts to rebel against the overseers by singing or smiling, but this only prolongs the abuse. It seems that the leader of these experiments would step in to put an end to the abuse,


Prison Experiment Artwork by Jess Miller ‘17

but the leader of these experiments, a man the subjects refer to as “Gunny”, encourages the overseers to abuse the subjects, and even abuses the subjects himself! What is worse is that the subjects cannot leave these experiments. Due to the hostile environment created by Gunny and his overseers, subjects fear further punishment from the authority so much that they will not excuse themselves from the experiments. How can such atrocious experiments continue at one of our nation’s most prestigious institutions of learning? Even the Stanford Prison experiment was shut down after six days! This absurdity must be stopped, and someone must be held accountable for this miserable situation! But that seems doubtful. The way these experiments are being conducted says quite a bit about the institution itself. Based on the way the leader of these experiments is instructing his overseers

to act, it is easy to see that the institution itself is malevolent because the actions allowed in this experiment clearly reflect the institution’s disposition. Perhaps I am being unreasonable. But is it unreasonable to suggest that the lessons learned in these experiments being conducted at the United States Naval of Academy are not worth the time, sweat, and tears of these young students? All we know now is what we already knew—some people are merely sadistic when they do not fear repercussions for their actions. This unnatural experiment must be stopped before permanent mental damage is inflicted on these young subjects. Such continued abuse could easily lead to lethargy, depression, and cynicism if nothing is done to counteract the abuse. Oh, wait…

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Artwork by Miguel Moravec ‘17

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, e m o c Wel USNA ‘18!

Plebe Summer on “The Yard” Photos by Alec Bacon ‘15

By Hannah Bobell ‘15 Welcome, you grand little Class of 2018! Today, the first day of Plebe Summer, you are “embarking” on a grand “voyage” that will be the great “journey” from a “civilian” to a real, bona-fide “officer!” Far out! But, hold your horses there, you little Eager McBeavers! Before you “cast off ” on your “first leg” of the journey, it’s important for you to “get the gouge!”

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Before you are officially “part of the Brigade,” you must “survive” the rigorous indoctrination known as PLEBE SUMMER! Now, don’t spoil your britches too early there, Shipmate! With a little hard work, elbow grease, and a “Can-do!” spirit, all of your dreams will come true! Before you know it, you’ll know all the Laws of the Navy, how many dolphins hold up the tomb of good ol’ Johnny Paul Jones, and even how to get that extra “uph” in your shoe shine that is sure to make you the “Stand Out” in parades! Wowie! Your detailers will be your guides through this instructive and deeply life-changing experience, helping you to spring up into a healthy, happy, and competent young midshipman! Anchors aweigh! The Naval Academy’s “buried treasure” is far and wide the rigorous academic experience that you will receive on completing your STEM (That’s science, triangles, engineering, and mathematics, for all of you “civvie folk!”) Masters in BS of Science! This “roller coaster ride” of learning includes such thrills as a proton accelerator, a big, cold tank of water for boats, and even a library with actual books and calorie-saturated coffee! Time to hit the books there, matey — You’re gonna be a “gentleman scholar!” “But, hey!” you might be saying to yourself. “Let’s get to the important stuff. What’s for dinner? How’s the ‘chow’ now, ‘brown cow’?” Don’t you worry your pretty little tummies there! Thanks to the amazing spread of the King Hall eatery, all midshipmen get their fill of yummy-dummy, nutrient ridden vittles! With such illustrious dishes as “chicken-fried-chicken,” “cauliflower

mac n’ cheese,” and “Sequestration Sandwiches,” we make sure that the only hungry midshipmen on the yard are those who are on the Cross Country team or Cat V! What are we fueling all these “middies” for, you may ask? Well, let me tell you now, “cabin boys and girls”-they are fueled for EXCELLENCE. And by EXCELLENCE, we mean “THEY ARE GOOD AT SPORTS.” What sports? All sports. Lame sports. Legit sports. Prison sports. Not even real sports! (Sorry, D&B.) A midshipman is just as good as he is on the playing field, boys and girls! (And I say “HE” because everyone knows that “girls” can’t play SPORTS.) At the United States Naval Academy, you will be given every opportunity to show off your athletic abilities, whether that may be taking things way too seriously in Street Hockey (Yea, I’m talking to you, random guy in street hockey that somehow thinks that you are too godly for the goalie box. Jeez, you’re a jerk! Just CALM DOWN, man!), skipping leg day in Mac D, or even making it look like you’re kinda sorta trying to get exercise on that elliptical in the cardio room! Wowie-ZOWIE! What an outstanding Brigade of EXCELLENCE in SPORTS! Wow! What a lot to “churn over” there, you future midshipmen! But don’t be discouraged! Life at the Academy can sure be tough, but with a little bit of oldfashioned grit, a love for AMERICA and SPORTS, and maybe a few nippy-naps in the “team locker room,” you, TOO, can be a real midshipman! So “tighten the rigging,” get “all hands on deck,” and cast those “anchors aweigh,” boys and girls! It’s time to be the future leaders of AMERICA. And SPORTS.

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2/C Loans Buy 2/C Drones By Jett Watson ‘16 I remember when they offered me my 2/C loan that they haven’t quite offered me yet. It was a late night, and I was just wandering back to my room after a long, long day. I had taken a few turns differently than usual, and ended up on a rougher side of the Yard than usual. But hey, I’m a young, tough guy. I’m in the Navy. Maybe I was even looking for trouble, now that I think about it. You never think something will happen like it does in the movies, but that tends to be the case in the strangest situations. I might never stand outside a lover’s window, holding my boombox just like how she’ll hold my feelings (with indie rock). I certainly doubt foreign agents will chase me through a cockfight in Tanzania and up and down a curious skyscraper. I never though a man would approach me with a long, dark trench coat and an offer that would change my life forever. I’m sure you’ve looked at the title and decided, “Oh, this is just another article where some guy uses a low-interest government loan to buy unmanned aerial vehicles and essentially take over a small, weak nation.” No. In journalism, we call it “Give your stuff a cool title.” All you engineers will see that in your capstone projects. No, wind flow over the starboard lee helm of a rotary LaPlace Transfer is not “Totally Rock and Roll.” But, if you tell me it is, maybe I’ll politely listen instead of throwing my drink all over your poster and calling you a heretic. They really need to create more of a guest list for those things.

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I could probably be a pretty good bouncer. I’m not big or intimidating, true, but I’m street-smart. Like a fox. Maybe I could pool my loan together with a few other people and we could buy a bar. That would be cool. I won’t be 21 for a while, so I could definitely be the bouncer and just stand outside and check identification. People would understand if I had to turn them away and then tell them, “It’s okay, I can’t go in to drink either, and I own the place!” Then we’d probably have a real good laugh and end up great friends. I love making friends. I’m going to be serious for one paragraph here. I know, I know, I’ve been serious for several so far. I’m just reinforcing the fact. A lot of people buy cars with these so-called “loans.” Okay, cars are important. They’re cool. They’re motorized. All these things are pretty hip. But you don’t need to go to a dealership and buy a new car. Dealerships in general are pretty lame. I know here at the Academy of Naval Arts and Sciences we tend to distrust things like Craigslist, but you can get a car that will do just fine for really cheap. I mean, you wouldn’t even need a loan, provided you had been relatively wise with saving for a while. Your car is not a reflection of your personality. You are not your khakis. Actually, that’s bad advice around here. You will be judged by your khakis. The uniform ones. It’s an unfortunate gateway drug to a consumer culture. Although at the same time, I think some mids need to


Photo by Alec Bacon ‘15

learn how to dress. Sure, you can wear cowboy boots, you’re from Wyoming and you live on a ranch. Makes sense. But why are you wearing a neon-yellow tank top with board shorts the next day? It’s confusing. I’m from Texas, which, as many of you know, conglomerates the nation’s styles in a really confusing way (also the last holdout of those “Miss-Me” jeans, ladies please keep away from them I’m just not digging the rhinestones). But I had hoped for a new world when I came to the Naval Society School for Academics. A better world. A world where people could just chill out. I think I’m done with that little plug. This is an article about finance and business, after all. What business does my business have with this other business? My plane is delayed. Shucks. I’m not actually sure when I will return to Annapolis. I’ve been on assignment, you see. The LOG is doing big things. Living large. Maybe I went to Guinea. Maybe it was Zimbabwe. We work tirelessly for you, our reader. And I would not recommend beginning your own microloan bank in a developing nation. It’s more complicated than you might think. Maybe you could buy a motorcycle. Motorcycles are pretty cool. I’m not very good at riding bikes. Maybe I’d be good at riding a motorcycle. I honestly am not an adrenaline junkie, though.

Hey, I know! The load can go toward an amusement park! If we get, like, ten people together, we could totally start designing some rad rollercoasters. It could be the first Navy-themed amusement park in the country. Why is this not already a thing? Long blue line, you dropped the ball there. There could be YP bumper cars. A rollercoaster, but it’s really just a frigate in an extreme sea state. A haunted house, which would be the chief ’s quarters on board a carrier and all you have to light the way is a pair of butter bars. These are all really good ideas, you guys. I’m sure there’s tons of land open around Norfolk. Or the water. Or the water! It could be Navy-themed and also at sea! Or at least a pier. I really like this idea, you guys. Forget what I said about not taking the loan and not really even being able to take it yet. If anyone else is down, we can definitely do this. And we can charge people only what they can pay, so it’s really fair and everyone wants to go. That would be a great bit of guerilla marketing. That’s how you make fans. We could have a Facebook page, but I’m not that good at the social media stuff. I feel really bad not responding to every single comment, and I take them all really seriously. What if someone says that it’s a dumb idea to just let people pay whatever they want? I’m having serious doubts about my fiscal sense.

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The LOG Interviews

MIDN CAPT EUGENE YANG

By Griffin Burke ‘15 Oh what a semester it has been. And a lot of it is due to a stellar MIDN leadership staff headed up by the one and only Eugene “Call me Eugene” Yang. To examine the man behind the curtain and the wocket in the pocket, I held an intimate, up close and personal interview with the Brigade Commander himself.

What made you want to be the Brigade Commander? Originally, I did it all for the perks and the privileges that you get. However, when I high-fived JL on the way in, he whispered in my ear a horrible dose of reality: “Bro, there are no perks... they don’t even freeze your grades.” Ever since then I’ve had to reevaluate my values and character, but since then I’ve found it to be a very rewarding and humbling job to work for my friends and communicate the Commandant’s intent to the Brigade, and provide insight and recommendations to help the Brigade run smoothly. Was the Yang Gang/ Wu-Yang Clan your idea or the Dant’s? I wish I could take credit, but it was 100% the Dant’s. Someone ran the math and his swag is way higher than mine. Did you know that you would have to become a legendary rapper and form your own striper rap group? There were a lot of doubts in the beginning, but I’d like to just thank my family and all of the friends that have encouraged me to pursue my dreams. I’d also like to give a big shout out to some Bay Area influences that have been role models to me from the beginning: E-40, Messy Marv, Mistah FAB, The Federation, and of course the eternal Mac Dre. East Coast or West Coast? West Coast. By far. Is that even a question? How many people are pumped to get East Coast PROTRAMID? Only the ones who haven’t tasted the goodness of San Diego and Taco Tuesdays. Who is your favorite rapper? Nelly before 2000. Easy. Besides your own Striper crew, what legendary rap posse would you choose: Three-Six Mafia (Biggie), Outlawz (Tupac), Taylor Gang (Wiz Khalifa), Ruff Ryders (DMX), Shark Face Gang (Macklemore), Boogie Down Productions (KRS One) or The Furious Five (Grandmaster Flash)? Gotta go with the Outlawz. Tupac’s alive man. I’ve seen him. If you had to choose between having taste buds only on the bottom of your feet or no taste buds at all, which would you choose? No taste buds at all. Taste is 70% smell anyhow. Even worse, you can ask any of my company mates, I sweat like an ice cube in a microwave, and the foot situation is never pretty by 1500 when I get those bad boys off. With the change in “body alteration policies”, what tattoo and/or piercings are you now going to get? In all seriousness I’ll probably get my parents’ Chinese names tattooed on my chest at some point. Probably at least after TBS. Do you read Scott Strasemeier’s emails? No... my only regret is that I heard about that sweet deal on Navy gear way too late in the game.

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Hometown, Major, Fun Fact? Albany California, Computer Science, I learned multiplication in Chinese before I learned it in English. Favorite professor? For me it all started with Dr. Isaac, my plebe year academic advisor. When I wanted to believe my upperclass and think that I was worthless and terrible at everything, he legitimately saw something in me and encouraged me to believe in myself. I owe him a lot. There was no infamous Bancroft super-villain this semester. How come? Jean-Luc scared em off last semester. Respect. *Editor’s note: We believe Eugene to be wrong in this case. The lack of villainy is definitely due to the Badmin. He’s the reason you sleep safely at night. But we can’t blame Eugene, after all, the Badmin does a damn good job of working in secret and protecting his identity. What is the name of the Wu-Yang Clan’s first studio album? We’re thinking something along the lines of: 36 Companies. Our first single is gonna be “Protect Ya Deck” featuring our boy Cam Benner with a sick solo. Something about attention to orders. What is your spirit animal? The Bearshark. One love. Two mouths. Who is your favorite WWF wrestler? Stone-Cold Steve Austin. What a name. What a warrior. Most romantic spot on the Yard? Easy, Triton Light at sunrise. Your SO (significant other) has no idea what kind of emotional turbulence you’re going through as you remember the days of PEP and how far you’ve come since then. Favorite moment from this semester? Going to Nicaragua this spring break and meeting some really cool people there and sharing life with them. Changed my life forever. Advice for Chris Diorio? Be cool, stay calm, take care of your friends. Know which hat to wear and when. Midshipman, student, friend, brother, leader, son, mentor, mentee. You were already solid at being all of those, just figure out what Brigade Commander means and wear that hat when you need to, but don’t let it become the only hat you wear. Do you and Ben Berkey compete for a deeper voice? Let’s be honest here. Is that even a competition? Does a puma race against a cactus? What is your legacy? I’d say the members of the class of 2016 that I had the privilege of taking from I-Day till Sea Trials and watching them mentor the class of 2017 now. I gave them everything I had and I couldn’t be more proud of them. And finally our final question: How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? I’ll find out and report back.

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Where Are They Now? By Ben Creed ‘15

In the past four years, we midshipmen have faced a multitude of wonderful leaders and mentors. However, it seems that we have also faced a myriad of strange individuals that defy traditional social norms in ways that seem unimaginable. Although most of these ne’er-do-wells have been forcibly (and I seriously mean forcibly in one case) removed from the hall, all of these infamous characters still exist in the outside world. That thought alone makes me cringe, but it also makes me ask myself this important question: Where are they now? Thanks to my impeccable sleuthing and research skills, I now have definitive answers to my all important question. Prepare to be shocked. THE ARSONIST: We all remember the arsonist, right? It is mind-boggling to consider that his atrocities committed against the Naval Academy’s trashcans transpired less than six months ago. It was difficult to trace our own Human Torch, but I eventually picked up a blazing trail. Seriously. There was this long line of fire that seemed to originate somewhere in the basement of Rickover. I just followed it. The flames followed a long, harrowing path, but I was determined to find the end. I often relied on locals to point me in the right direction. The locals were less than helpful. At one point, I found myself lost somewhere in Louisiana. I was simply stumped, for the trail had gone out. I was forced to ask two men on the side of the road for directions. The older of the two men stood with eyes closed as he tongued a large lump of chewing tobacco wedged in his gums. I asked the man if he had seen a young man literally blazing through town. The old man opened one of his eyes and spat on my shoes. I noticed that he only had three teeth. I turned to the old man’s companion for guidance, but the second man was even less help. You see, he was on fire, so he was too busy writhing on the ground in agony to pay me any attention. I tried asking him for help, but all he said was “AHHHHHH!”, “OH MY LORD!”, and “SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!”. Quite puzzling. I became frustrated with the man’s cryptic nonsense after a

Artwork by Jess Miller ‘17

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time, so I walked over to a bench and sat down. Just as I immersed myself in thought, I was suddenly rattled by a sudden explosion in the distance. Once I gathered myself, I noticed a large tower of smoke rising behind some trees in the distance. I rushed towards the source of the explosion. I pushed my way through the brush and fervently bounded over fallen tree trunks. I was quite sweaty and out of breath when I reached the clearing created by the explosion. It was there that I found the man I had been looking for. However, I was far too late. A large male grizzly was beating the arsonist’s bloody corpse about the clearing. When the bear noticed me, he shifted his weight to his rear legs and stood upright. I immediately noticed that the bear was missing an arm and was covered in blood that likely belonged to both combatants. I also noticed a small green park ranger hat positioned on the bear’s head. I chuckled at the little hat. The bear then proceeded to let out a primal roar as he tore open the arsonist’s abdomen. Then all became suddenly clear. This was no ordinary grizzly. I had found myself face to face with Smokey the Bear! I let out an audible gasp. I was frightened when his gaze met mine, but then his bloody jaws flashed a comforting smile and I felt relieved. He made his way over to me, and we began to talk. It seems that I was not the only one tracking the arsonist. When Smokey caught wind of the arsonist’s actions at the Academy, Smokey sought to challenge the arsonist to mortal combat. No one wants to fight Smokey, so the arsonist fled south. Smokey seemed satisfied when he finished his story, but he also seemed tired from the blood loss. I gave him some water and bandaged his wound as best I could before he lumbered back into the woods. That was the last I ever saw of the arsonist, and it was also the last I ever saw of Smokey. I can only hope that he is still out there somewhere mauling wannabe pyromaniacs because he seemed so happy to do so. THE BOOK THIEF: The notorious book thief was much easier to track down compared to the arsonist. While I was home over spring break, there was a knock on my door. I answered it. It was a delivery from Amazon.com. Nothing about that seemed unusual considering that my mother and I are ravenous book collectors, but the woman standing before me seemed oddly familiar. That was when I suddenly realized it was her! The book thief was right in front of me! Perhaps it was chance that brought us together, but I like to say that it was destiny. Upon realizing her true identity, the words “book thief ” somehow escaped my mouth. Her face became flushed. She was found out! It seems that the past is inescapable. She began to flee. I called out to her as she ran across the front yard, and, for some reason, she stopped. She turned to face me with tears in her eyes. The wind suddenly picked up, and the breeze lazily attempted to


take her hair away from her. I started to walk towards her. I could feel the shame in the air. As I drew near, she began to shake. She collapsed as her body became overwhelmed with sobs. I embraced her, for I also know the painful allure of books. After a few uncomfortable minutes, she stopped crying and she opened up to me about her new life. I listened intently. According to her, life was hard outside of the Academy. She tried to find a job, but things did not work out for a while. She spent quite a bit of time on the streets, and she confessed that she often stole books and burned them in order to stay warm. This time in her life pained her deeply. However, things picked up after a few months! She eventually landed a few librarian positions in the local school system. She was fired from all of those jobs, and I am not sure why. She spoke vaguely of that time, so I never got a straight answer. That was for the best, or so she said, because her string of library jobs led her to Amazon where she found her niche. Some corporate higher-ups took interest in her because they noticed her strange passion and decided to give her a chance. She did not disappoint them. It seems that every time she made a delivery, she returned to the distribution center with new inventory. I assumed that she would be ashamed of this fact, but she was not. She was actually praised and rewarded for her actions! This was a relief to her because she was no longer labeled as a petty thief. Better yet, she felt that she had found an establishment that appreciated her true goal: increased circulation of books. Why should books remain on a shelf gathering dust when others have not read those books? Why not spread the joy? These are some of the questions she asked me. I could not answer them, but everything suddenly became clear to me. Once she finished her story, she stood up and dusted herself off. I did not want her to leave, but she was clearly driven by her greater purpose. She kissed me. I fell to my knees and begged for her to stay. I told her that I would give her all of the books I had because I understood her goal. She laughed and said that she preferred to take them herself. She was like the Robin Hood of written text, and I loved her for that. She hopped up into her large delivery truck and drove off into the distance. That was the last I ever saw of her. I always leave a small pile of books on the back porch when I go home now. They always disappear in the night. I have never seen the culprit, but I know it is her because the books are always replaced by a single rose. BUTCH FERGUSON: Although this strange character left us over three years ago, I have always felt him somewhere in the depths of mind. It is as if he has been lurking in the shadows all this time. For all I know, he could be doing just that because all of my attempts to track down the infamous Butch Ferguson have proved to be fruitless. I began my search after I picked up a tip from a connection I have in the underworld of Annapolis. My connection, 4/C Steele, proved to be quite helpful. Although he is prone to sudden fits of napping, 4/C Steele frequently informs me of the shady happenings that go on in Annapolis. As usual, I met 4/C Steele under the bridge near Hospital Point. He filled me in on the general gossip around town, and, just before he slipped into the shadows once more, I asked him about Butch. Steele became visibly unsettled

by my inquiry. I could see the fear in Steele’s eyes, but he always looked afraid, so it took some time before I understood this particular fear. Steele began to tell me everything he knew about Butch. Early on in his story, I came to understand why the name “Butch Ferguson” made my confidant shudder. It seems that the two have a rough history together. According to Steele, Butch was his mentor after he fled the Academy. Together, Butch and Steele lived off of whatever they could get their hands on. Their relationship seemed beneficial for the first two months. Then winter came. Food became scarce in the harsh weather, and shelter became even scarcer. Steele laughed nervously when he covered this part in the story. I saw a maniacal flash in his eyes as he mentioned all of the rats they captured together. They cooked them over a fire, or so he said. They were often forced to fight off Annapolitan bums in order to defend their food. In these dire moments, Steele and Butch fought back to back for survival. Steele confessed that he was always scared when the hobos came around, but he noted that Butch always grew excited when men carrying bundles rushed towards them. Just when spring was around the corner, Steele and Butch had a falling out. Well, those were Steele’s words. I think Steele fled from Butch out of fear because it seems that Butch had completely regressed into a wild animal. You see, Butch had stolen a woman’s Chihuahua. He planned to cook the small dog with an old bottle of Lefty’s that he had been saving for a “special occasion”. Steele was opposed to the idea, but he gave into the plan out of hunger. Just as the small dog began to crisp over the fire, a sight that would have made the Toltecs cry out in agony, a large pack of wild homeless men appeared. Steele fled at the sight. However, Steele turned back once he had reached a safe distance from the vagrants. That is when he saw the most gruesome sight. Steele stopped for a moment to gather himself before going on. According to Steele, the hobos had backed away from Butch, so the sight was clear. Butch was straddling a downed bum, but something was wrong. Not with Butch, but with the dirty man on the ground. Butch raised his right arm to reveal that he was holding the beating heart of the homeless man! The forcibly removed organ pulsated in Butch’s hand a few times. Then Butch crushed the human heart in his hands and began to laugh. The other homeless men fled. Steele explained that everything was hazy after that. However, he did tell me that Butch had talked about trying out for a part on the Discovery Channel’s new show “Naked & Afraid”. Given Butch’s survivalist nature, this lead seemed likely. Finally, I had something to go on, so I set off. I got in touch with my friend at the Discovery Channel, and it seems that I was on the right track. My trusty friend, who would also like to remain anonymous, told me that a man by the name of Michael Smith was currently being filmed in Death Valley for a new episode of the show. What was curious about this man was that he fit Butch’s description perfectly. I never actually found any sign of Butch Ferguson’s existence, but as I scoured Death Valley for the Wildman of Bancroft, I always felt like I was being watched…

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The Summer

[Vacation] School By Hannah Bobell ‘15 So, you failed that class. Whether it was calculus, chemistry, or even Plebe Leadership (ouch), you find yourself doing exactly what all of our instincts are telling you not to do—stay at the USNA for an entire month. Or, perhaps you are one of those “martyr overloading” types who wants to get navigation/weapons/nuclear something-or-another out of the way to make way for some sort of ground-breaking humanitarian mission that you’re planning on getting first semester of firstie year. Whatever your beef may be, 2017, take it from a seasoned summer school veteran--you are in for one helluva good time. Why

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do I say that? Well, because I’ve never taken summer leave. Let’s start at the beginning, back when I was in your shoes. I’m actually trying to remember the class that I took… Oh, history with Captain Bishop. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what that class was about. I spent about 15 minutes to an hour on homework, and I really don’t think that there was a final. Weapons the next year was a little more stringent--but let’s not say by much. Why do I say this? Let’s think about my daily activities. Firstly, I moved into seventh wing. This is an adventure in itself. You should go back in your little plebe minds (though I know it may be traumatic) to remember your first summer in Annapolis. Search deep. (Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand…figuratively. I’m a bit of a germaphobe.) Do you remember how hot and humid it was? Now, imagine that you are actually conscious of how you smell and that there are no predatory detailers watching over you. Naturally, you are much more aware of the heat. AND IT’S TERRIBLE. For some bizarre reason, 7th Wing is the ghetto wing of the Brigade. Why do I say this? Well, firstly, let’s take into account that there are chains hanging


from various laundry poles. Chains! Secondly, you’ll always have uninvited neighbors, and they will make themselves keenly recognizable as your stay commences. One of my friends had a litter (Coven?) of baby mice born in her shoe, and I was literally kept awake at night by the tenants in the ceiling having happy fun time (this magazine is apparently rated PG). My desk was littered with tiny drops of poo whenever I awoke. The shower was a portal to another world. It had no drain. Half of me kind of wanted to stick something down there, just to see if it was a black hole or something…. But even I am not that courageous. Take heart, my dear plebes, for I usually deliver the bad news first. Let’s take a look at King Hall! You remember when there were about 3,000 less people in the Brigade? Back in those glorious times when you all had to eat in whiteworks and get rated at tables? You’re blocking it for your own sanity, but I do--BECAUSE I WAS THERE REAPING THE BENEFITS OF YOUR SUFFERING! Yes, you may not have access to all the delightful perks, but as a free human being, you will enjoy fresh blueberries and strawberries every day, non-ridiculous lines for eggs-to-order, and delicious chocolate cake every other day. Amidst the wails and

cries of the plebes at meal, it is the spread of a king. There is also Gate 8 Pool. Y’all don’t know that this exists (yet), but when you actually have free time and it doesn’t snow in March, there is a pool right outside of Gate 8 where DOD members get in for free. That’s right, I said it. Tanning, lounging, and watching those occasional SEAL motos swim laps…fo free. And don’t even get me started on liberty. Liberty gets handed out like Oprah tossing washing machines out into the crowd: “Liberty for you, and you, and you, and you, and YOU!” Well… Maybe it’s not that libertine. But it certainly more than you get now, and weekends are usually fweeninety-fwee every weekend as well. Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Think about it: a government-paid vacation, framed in the sufferings of the incoming class, with fresh berries and a swimming pool. Sure, you’re knocking out menial classes like NAVII and youngster swimming; sure, you’re possibly giving up (or being deprived of) your leave… But it’s pretty much the best deal ever. Guaranteed. If your family really loves you, they’ll come visit you anyway and buy you ice cream. Artwork by Jess Miller ‘17

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10,000 If gunny makes us go around one more time, I’m gonna, I’m gonna burn the parade deck down. Good morning, sir or ma’am, Bancroft Hall Main Office. Oh, no, sorry, I don’t actually know what I’m doing but I can direct you to someone else who probably won’t either.

We’re all been here before...

Yeahhhh, if you could do that NKO training by taps tonight, that’d be greeeeaaaatttt... JUST LOVE CHIT ALREADY

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Words

“Office Edition”

WOOO, DIDN’T FAIL THE PCR!!! Every company has a Dwight. If you don’t, it’s probably you.

Who else is excited for more mando-flair next year?

How every company officer feels sometimes.

Finally, summer...

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Lieutenant Dan Most people will probably balk at LT Dan’s candidacy and state “how can an O-2 become Supe?” But when you look at Gary Sinise’s very successful visit to the yard last fall it is obvious he has popular support within the Brigade of Midshipmen. If Lieutenant Dan becomes Superintendent he intends to convert King Hall into a Bubba Gump shrimp and play nightly shows at the Anchor with his band. When asked about his problems with rank and no longer being active duty, LT Dan made a gruff reply saying only popular support matters. The Soup Nazi The Soup Nazi has a very basic campaign platform: “No Supe for You!” After returning from Argentina he intends to settle in the Buchannan house and perform absolutely none of the functions of Superintendent. To compound matters he plans to whittle King Hall down to one soup station which he will be in charge of. If a Midshipmen is refused soup and threatens to complain to the Supply Officer they will receive a one year ban from King Hall. In fact, the King Hall staff will all act like their new leader with the ability to deny service on a whim. The Soup Nazi will solve the problems caused by his lack of job performance by installing a vice-supe, who will do all the duties he is refusing to do. No Supe For You!

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ADM Farragut’s Ghost The ghost of David Glasgow Farragut is VADM Miller’s personal selection for his successor. Admiral Miller knows that without any damning of the torpedoes, the Academy’s moral foundation would rot from the very core. In order to keep the Academy in line ADM Farragut would also bring back his personal collection of ectoplasm swords. These swords maintain their use for sending the chills through the spines of unsuspecting Midshipmen. Farragut’s ghost wants to use the swords to punish misbehaviors and restrictees, but it is unclear whether top brass will let him use such oldfashioned techniques. Asked about his old-fashioned techniques Farragut replied “well torpedoes are still stationary right? Well Damn them!” Vice Admiral Miller is clearly very excited about Farragut’s arrival and has begun arrangements to hide all those pesky propeller driven torpedoes on the yard. The current Superintendent is afraid they may startle his relief out of the job and back to Mobile Bay. VADM Miller has also confirmed that ghosts do indeed eat the way portrayed in Harry Potter and that he is installing a rotten meat buffet in the Buchannan House for his successor. He has also considered renaming the house since Farragut is reportedly testy about the house being named after a Civil War rival. Sources close to the current Superintendent claim he can hardly contain his excitement about meeting his relief. One said “he just keeps walking around saying ‘I can’t wait to hear “Damn the Torpedoes” from the guy who said it first.’”

Robert E. Clark II CAPT Clark refuses to quit. Quite determined to bring KISS to the Naval Academy, he was actually the first person to file his paperwork to run for Supe. That’s right, you run for Supe. Asked why he was running, he replied “I think my head balances out Admiral Miller’s mustache very well; there has been too much hair in the Buchanan House in the last four years.” When pressed about the nature of the job normally belonging to a three-star he replied “despite lacking my first star I have complete confidence that the SECNAV will skip me ahead three ranks upon my inevitable selection. I am the most qualified person for this job because no one truly knows the Academy like the Arctic Wolf. The mids and faculty love me almost as much as the flag selection board, and I’d really like the chance to get away from the kids up here at Penn State” Captain Clark clearly has his merits but his selection is viewed as doubtful by informed observers who note that his relocation to State College should probably be the sign that Academy Superintendent is not in his near future.


The Supe’s List By Luke Sullivan ‘16

Severus Snape Severus Snape touts his fine experience as a fictional headmaster as why he should be the next resident of the Buchannan House. He believes the way the Minister of Magic and Voldemort allowed him to succeed Albus Dumbledore uniquely qualifies him for today’s Navy where everything is about connections. VADM Miller is not thrilled with Snape’s candidacy for Supe given the manner in which he took control from Dumbledore. Miller released a statement saying in part “Mr. Snape may have killed his predecessor at the headmaster’s wishes but he did not then have to use Voldemort’s influence to unseat the proper heir Minerva McGonagall. I think it would be improper for Mr. Snape to try to assume this office ahead of my personal choice of ADM Farragut.” Miller is at least confident that Snape cannot use his magic to kill the already dead Farragut before saying he would have chosen James Potter too.

Chet Gladchuck Chet Gladchuck is the famed director of Navy athletics. As head of the shadowy NAAA organization he is already the most powerful man on the yard. In fact, he considered taking the job after he moved VADM Fowler out of the way but balked at the 4x pay cut he would have had to take. He would also have to move his Maserati a quarter mile from Captain’s Row to the Buchannan House where it would be far more visible. Supe would also be a big demotion because he would have less influence over admissions and the scheduling of finals around the ArmyNavy Game. As Supe, Gladchuck would also have to make numerous public appearances and risk allowing more sports at the Academy to matter other than football. In order to retain his total power he might have to allow parts of NAAA to fall under government scrutiny which could greatly reduce the total effectiveness of the organizations stated goal of lowering the Academy’s academic standards. Chet Gladchuck couldn’t be paid to run for Supe.

Jimmy Carter Jimmy Carter exemplifies every aspect of the mission of the Naval Academy. He was a stud cross country runner at the academy with the famed Wesley Brown. Academically, he was nuclear power qualified, surviving the famed scourge of Admiral Rickover. Morally he has won a Nobel Peace Prize and works extensively for Habitat For Humanity. President Carter’s resume makes him an ideal leader for the Academy. Imagine the positive press when he retires to the Buchannan House and enjoys a few Billy Beers around the Yard. His main issues for becoming Supe are his age, lack of being an Admiral, and the distance from Georgia. Turning 90 this year he may have difficulties fulfilling his duties as Supe although he could always appoint a Vice-Supe like the Soup Nazi or show all the mids that age is no limitation. After all, Farragut’s ghost is nearly 200. Carter’s zest and enthusiasm would be a great follow up to VADM Miller’s and his sway could win the Academy lots of support in Congress. Carter’s near universal popularity after leaving office may help him a lot in the job; we just need to convince him to take the job.

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The

Academ

By Griffin Burke ‘15 No, no, this is not the Supe’s three-year running joke about the Distinguished Graduate Awards. This is the real deal. With an elite team of midshipmen who are “not that guy”, but describe other midshipmen as “poop and candy”, I utilized the many facets of google docs to collect the nominees and winners of the 2014 USNA Academy Awards. Our first category was competitive from the beginning. Just barely edging ahead of his co-nominees CAPT Clark, Tyler Burnett and former Brigade Commander “Jean Valjean” Currie, the Log would like to congratulate Scott Strasemeier on winning the title of “The Least Likely to Make the Military a Career”. Next up was the category of “Worst King Hall Meal”. Although many votes went to Gyros, Tuna Salad, and the ambiguous submission of “Chinese”, the winner was a clear favorite: Leftover Pizza Night. In the category of “Most Pointless Brief ”, you may have initially thought to see The-Super-Duper-Top- Se-

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cret-Sub Brief, or maybe the How-to-Wear-the-ClothingYou-Wore-Before-Coming-to-This-School Brief, take home the trophy, but the winner was undoubtedly Whatever-Brief-was-the-Most-Recent Brief. Another close race was in the award for “Most Fashionable”. While there was strong support for Brady Flies, Kevin Deese, and the residents of room 6152, the dark horse swiped this award. Who is that dark horse you ask? None other than old Dwight D. Eisenhower himself for gracing us with the always hip Service Dress Ike. For the category “Best Log O-Rep” we had a landslide victory for the one and only CAPT Leigh. Now while some may say that this vote was “rigged” since there was only one option, I say back to you, “no”. We will miss you sir. A fan favorite every year is the category of “The Best Practice Parade Line from Gunny”. Every nominee was top notch quality with lines such as: “This stuff ’s new, straight outa the box”, “I will run through you like


myAwards

diarrhea” and “Go around again 18”. While we wish they could all be winners, there can only be one, and this year we would like to congratulate the line “Wait, there’s a letter ‘X’ in that word?” Our next category will not get printed and that category is “Funniest Honor/Conduct Case”. (Editor’s Note: this part of Griffin’s article was not fit for the light of day.) Beating out Racquetball, Hockey, and “Whatever Sport Doesn’t Make Me Walk All the Way to Hospital Point”, the award for “Best Intramural Sport” this year goes to “Exemption.” In the category of “Most Likely to Be Tried for Espionage Later in Life,” we had the greatest variety in names. These nominees include: Majoria, Hannah Bobell, Josh Elliot, and countless other mids who spent semesters abroad. However, we knew from the start that a Forrestal legend had to be the winner, and that man is Richard Snowden. Now on to the category of “Best Naval Academy Sponsored Event”. Let me tell you folks, this may be our strongest category yet, with strong nominees such as “Anything with Beer”, “Zero Block Party… with Beer”, “Drinking Beer at Firstie Club” and the dark horse candidate, “Paid Leave.” However, once the dust settled, the chosen event is naturally “Croquet Day… Not the Game, but the Day in General.”

Our nominees this year for “Best Hair/Sickest Flow” include legends such as Ivan De la Cruz, David Schoeder, Jordan Bowman, Justin Engel and CAPT Robert E. Clark, II, in his second nomination of the night. The winner? VADM Miller’s Mustache. Let’s talk dental. In the category of “Best Smile (Officers)” we have some spectacular nominations: CAPT Byrne (his smile is “excellent”), VADM Miller (is it even possible for him to frown?), LT McCall, and our winner, CAPT Darby. Keep those pearly whites shining, sirs. Next let’s see what’s cooking under the hood. The Academy would like to congratulate The Mystery Machine for winning in the category of “Coolest Car” by a wide margin (the other nominees were “Razor Scooters” and “the standard Mid-Stang”). In my favorite and final category, we have some outstanding nominees. This category is “Most Likely to Lead a Military Coup of the Nation”. The nominees are as follows: Jean-Luc, CAPT Borrebach (and we all know we would support it…), Bubba Scott, Major Chontosh, Siwan Livingston, the Tennis Coach, Butch Ferguson, and “That One Plebe this Past Summer that Tried to Overthrow the Detailers”. The last one won of course, how could we choose anyone else when someone has already shown us proof?

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Artwork by Miguel Moravec ‘17


Photo by Alec Bacon ‘15

By Hannah Bobell ‘15

Yes, ring season is upon us, and that means Ring Knockers, Ring Dances, Ring Dips, Ring Losses, Ring Kisses, Ring Bills, Ring Wraiths, Ring Worms, and Ring-a-Ling-a-Ding-Dongs. Seriously people, this is a big deal. Upon this auspicious occasion, it is quite common for people to do dumb stuff that either loses, destroys, or altogether trashes thousands of dollars for these memorable little baubles. Follow my 6 easy steps, and you too can live to see the day when they have to pry it off of your cold, dead fingers! ...Um, er—I guess that one doesn’t really work. Anyway. 1. Pop and lock it, but certainly don’t drop it! Too many people do the whole Titanic thing and watch their ring go bye-bye on their firstie cruise. My casein-point? Rose was an idiot, and you should not seek to emulate her in any way, shape, or form. Ever. There was room for two people on that board. 2. Never try and drunkenly propose with it. He was a firstie and I was a youngster, so it wasn’t going to work anyways. If I weren’t a better person I would have hocked that thing and finally bought my popcorn machine. (True story). 3. Clean your ring religiously—with dental instruments. Yes, my friends; a toothbrush and those little plastic toothpick-y things go a long way, especially in those tiny little crevices where lotion/nacho cheese/God-knowswhat-else likes to linger. Ew. 4. Turn it around if you get in a street fight. I’m not sure if Jostens

Things to do with your

Rings

really covers this or not, but one can never be too careful, especially when you have fragile stone like a pearl or an opal. (If you have the diamond cluster, however, hit that motha-lova’ in his motha-lovin’ face!) No use cracking your beautiful gemstone on someone’s ugly skull. 5. Don’t cast it into the fires of Mount Doom. Unless, of course, scary black-caped guys are chasing you with swords. You might want to tell the CMOD about that one, maybe get some ATFP back-up or something. 6. Please do not give it to your girl/ boyfriend. I don’t know if y’all do that where you’re from, but in central Illinois, if you’re—like, a serious thing— you give your ring to your honey booboo. The gal ties it up with string (like the kind you make friendship bracelets out of at summer camp) and the dude just wears it around his neck with strap of tanned hide or something manly like that. DON’T DO IT. I dropped 2.5k for that thing, and it ain’t goin’ to nobody! Not nobody, not nohow! Now that we’ve addressed proper ring care, let’s move into ring etiquette. As a ring knocker, there are certain standards that you must uphold. Now that you’ve signed your 2-for-7s, you’re a part of the club, and if you’re really one of us, you’ve got to act like us. (You dress like us, eat like us, and play like us sort of by default, so those aren’t really prerequisites.) Firstly, when your plebes approach you, it is customary for them to kneel and kiss the ring. Make sure you hold it out in a sort of

languid, “Oh, I’m just so used to this, I don’t really even care anymore!” manner. This is the only way that they are going to learn to respect your authority! When you’re angry at them, call them into your office (a wooden study cubicle in Nimitz works well for this) and have them sit down. Proceed to yell at them fiercely (Maybe the 2nd or 3rd deck of Nimitz…) and bang your ring down on the wood as you do so. The intensity of the banging will surely make them realize the error of their ways and recant their sins, if only by the sheer magnitude of the noble power that it exudes. When you’re in class and you’re bored, make sure your teacher knows it. It’s his/her job to entertain you, and they should be treasuring every last second that they have before your presence. Tab loudly and methodically in the middle of his/her lecture, making sure that he/she is fully aware of every precious second that he/she is wasting of your life. Surely, they will realize their shortcomings and incorporate some sort of movie/puppet show like that. Now that you have your crass mass of brass and glass (as our northern rivals like to chant), it’s time that you start taking some responsibilities around here, son (or daughter). This power is yours and yours alone--no one can help you carry it. And, if you do it well and use its powers for good, even the smallest, most cheapest synthetic sapphire can change the course of the future.

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Home Improvement Tips By Ben Creed ‘15 Artwork By Jess Miller ‘17 “Bancroft just doesn’t feel like home!” Look, I get it. Momma B doesn’t have, well, your mom…or your cat…or your dog…or your Donald Glover shaped body pillow. Whatever. Let’s face it. Nobody is really as comfortable as they could be here at The United States Naval of Academy! Thankfully, I’m here in attempts to make things feel a bit homier. Here are some tips to help you all out: 1) Get a pet: Now, I know you can’t exactly keep your horse in Bancroft (unless you are on the Equestrian team because you are required to sleep with your horse if you are…just ask Frankie Gale!), but there is plenty of space in these rooms for a small animal! Heck, those cult members managed to have pets at that Hogwarts school, so we could easily do that here, and it would raise the quality of life dramatically. Just shoot for a small pet that is easy to take care of like a lizard, or a hermit crab. I myself have adopted a family of slugs, and they are just so fun! They’re like a pack of fat, homeless snails! Well, I’ve given them a home, so that last part isn’t quite true. 2) Anyway, you can keep most of these animals under your sink or in your con locker. I keep the slugs under the sink. Feeding is easy because they will eat almost anything from King Hall. However, they do get lethargic like us after a big meal. I feed the slugs some mashed potatoes last week and they haven’t moved since. Whatever the case may be, I hope you find a suitable pet for you! They give you something to come home to, and that’s what we all need. It’s nice to be needed. 3) Get a pillow top for your rack: This is absolutely no joke. Have you ever slept on one of those things?!?? Oh my goodness. They may make it a bit harder to make your rack, but you might not ever get out of your rack once you get one! Seriously, I slept through a few alarms when I got mine. 4) Candles do wonders: Who cares if they are out of regs?! They sell them at the midstore, so they must be alright. And they smell great. I trust that all of you are smart enough not to accidentally start any fires, but maybe I’m just naïve. I am actually burning a “Cinnamon Bun” candle as I type. It is really getting the juices flowing. You know, the creative juices and the gastric juices (because now I’m hungry). It also reminds me of my momma. I should call her… 5) Bath Salts are a must have: Not the drug, but actual bath salts! They always relax me after a long day. After every parade practice, I rush up to my room and fill up my antique tub. Once it is filled with warm water, I admire the lion paw legs of the tub while I sprinkle bath salts in it. Wait, I’m being told that no other room in Bancroft has a large tub…just ignore this one. I hope some of these things helped! If everyone starts relaxing and feeling at home, then maybe we can start acting like the incredibly large and dysfunctional family that we are!

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2015 Plans for the Brigade By Hannah Bobell ‘15 A new dawn is rising! It’s a new sun! A new day! A new era! Let’s give a warm, Midshipman welcome to…. (Bum-bum-BUM!) the GRAND CLASS OF 2015! That’s right, 15-ers! In a few short weeks, WE will be in charge or the Brigade and leading the United States Navy into the future. (Oooh! Ahhhh!) But, as Former President Clinton said, there has got to be some reform around here. Personally, I have been musing on changes ever since I buttoned on that second anchor, and as time rolls on, I think it’s time to draw back the curtain and tell you about some changes that will be rolling your way this fall! Firstly, let’s talk about parades and drill in general. (I have to give props to Jacob Glesmann, because this really wasn’t my grand idea.) Segways. Yes. Segways everywhere! Instead of marching, we need to be zipping by the Admiral; it would be much more impressive. Just think about how technologically competent we would look! True, it would take some getting used to. There might be a few plebes run over, maybe an honored guest or two taken out… But, come on. It’s so cool! Also, parades need to be more like fun parades, with candy and floats and stuff. Each company designs their own float, which are pulled by the plebes. If your float doesn’t make the cut (i.e., have lights, music, and/or a chocolate fountain), you’re just gonna hafta get it back. Secondly, let’s go into the character process. Instead of having these lampooning “showcase XYZ Cases,” let’s just take the guilty parties and tie them to the anchor like The Hunchback of Notre Dame! Then, we can throw rotten food at them and mock them even further with a puppet show of their dastardly deed! Since the department seems so keen to publically humiliate people needlessly, let’s really add insult to injury. We can get them paper cuts and rub them with lemon juice, just to make it seep in more. Then they’ll really learn their lesson.

Thirdly (Because everyone’s talking about it!), let’s get to the PCR. “Professional Competency Review?” You mean, “Paramountly Random Reaping!” So, instead of grabbing random questions from Ships and Aircraft and testing you on things you learned three years ago, we are going to expand our knowledge even further! Now, all literature in the Nimitz is testable! Yes! That’s right! The knowledge is there for your gleaning; it is YOUR professional responsibility to go out and memorize every publication. Our question pool? Well, we had LT’s 5-year-old son randomly put his finger on any phrase he opened up the book to. Then, we will fail 30% of you (when over 50% fails) and make sure that we not only tank your midshipman career, but keelhaul you as well! Why? Because you’re a BAD POTENTIAL OFFICER, that’s why. And, to conclude, more uniform items. Yes. More. SDB Jacket, cumberbund, eagle buttons, black silk scarf… We want you to have more of those for the Fleet. Not only will these items be distributed at the most inconvenient times, but we’re also going to make you pay for them! Because, let’s be honest, who doesn’t need both a leathery and a corefram pair of ugly witchshoes. Am I right, or am I right? So much potential--so many rising stars! Sure, fate might have tossed her dirty laundry at 2015, but we sure have some great ideas to be making the Brigade better and more competent than ever! Let’s work harder here, people--not smarter. We, as a rising class, are here to let you know that we don’t care at all what you want! So party on in excellence.

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Gunny air bud says attention to USNI. It’s

your

future.

Read and join the discussion about it. Become a member of the U.S. Naval Institute today.

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m a S y t l a

SRevealed

Well there, you have it. It was me, your humble editor all along. Sure, I could not have done it alone – I had my motley crew of mischievous misfits merrily meddling to back me up every issue. I also had the fabulous Hannah Bobell as an accomplice, because she had to do something during all that time she supposedly was in France. I throw her under the proverbial bus not because she double-crossed me, but because she failed to bring me back the one thing I wanted from France: my own mime. Think of the possibilities, the endless silent enjoyment, the training value! If only, if only, if only. Maybe I wouldn’t have gone underground like this, maybe I would have been a respectable member of the Brigade instead of receiving gossip 37 times in my aptitude comments, maybe I could be…THE BRIGADE COMMANDER. We can get to all these questions in due time. You’re stuck with me for at least 5 more issues, unless that coup they’ve been planning goes through. Until then, this is Salty Sam ’14, signing off. Screw you, kids. Applications to relieve me can be sent to Scott Strasemeier. Stay Salty, Salty Sam ’14

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Croquetiquette By Ben Creed ‘15 It seems that we all had a great time at the annual USNA vs. Saint John’s croquette match. It also seems that some of us had a bit too much fun. In the future, let us try to avoid the following: pooping our pants in front of a Batt-O after drinking too much wine, driving after drinking too much wine, striking your significant other after drinking too much wine, et cetera. I think I see a theme here… Despite the few unsightly incidents that would make Anna Hart cry, we all looked great! Some of us even looked good enough to get into the mythical Saint John’s dorm room parties. But I would recommend not attending such parties because you will most likely run into a bunch of midshipmen that you know. In some cases, running into other midshipmen will create situations so awkward that they will literally end parties. Also, I would like to point out that I am living proof that you do not need to consume alcohol to enjoy Croquette. Don’t believe me? Just look at some of these pictures and see for yourself!

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THE

LOG Of the U.S. Naval Academy

“The Circle of Life”

MK. 91, Mod. 5 Page 44

Issue 5: The Commissioning Issue  

Elements explored include Commissioning week, summer shenanigans, and Navy issue board games.

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