Vol. 146, No. 3
THE YALE
Oct. 25, 2017
RECORD
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LOCAL DAD GOING OUT FOR A NIGHT WITH THE BOYS TO BE BACK BY 10 Dear Math Fairy, I’m struggling with my fractions again. Can you help me? Love, Billy
TRIAL OF MAN ACCUSED IN PENIS ENLARGEMENT SCAM ENDS IN HUNG JURY Dear Billy, Did you know that fairies are immortal? How I long for the peace of the void, Billy. How I pray to be liberated from the twisted hell that is existence. P.S. Don’t forget those common denominators! Love, The Math Fairy
BREAKING: LOCAL TEEN DOESN’T REPLY TO OVERTLY-SEXUAL HOLIDAY-THEMED CHAIN MAIL, DIES A TRAGIC AND ODDLY SPECIFIC DEATH Dear Reader, The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. —A surgeon in their first day on the job
BREAKING: LOCAL TEEN RESPONDS TO OVERTLY SEXUAL HOLIDAY THEMED CHAIN MAIL- KISSES HER CRUSH AND BECOMES THE MOST POPULAR GIRL AT SCHOOL OVERNIGHT!
FOR SALE: Vowels! A, E, I, O, U, and Y (seasonally)!
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DOCTORS ATE HIM! LOCAL MAN DISCOVERS SHOCKING SECRET OF THE MEDICAL COMMUNITY’S DARK CANNIBALISTIC UNDERBELLY Dear Abby, My boyfriend of two years has been acting strange recently. He comes home late and doesn’t tell me where he is. Should I be worried? Sincerely, Maggie Dear Maggie, This is the third time this month I’ve had to tell you to stop writing to me; you have the wrong Abby. Sincerely, Abi
Dear Apple, This has gone on for too long. We need to talk sometime. Best, Doctor
NEW GOP HEALTHCARE BILL NOW COVERS TWO TISSUES AND A COUGH DROP FOR SALE: Anacondas. Since you might be swallowed whole eventually, why not make it now?
Normal life on Earth boring you?
Try SPACE!
ICE BREAKERS END IN DISASTER FOR VARSITY HOCKEY TEAM Dear Cradle, You rock my world.
Love, Baby
MARTIAN IS REPORTEDLY UNAMUSED AFTER ATTENDING SPACE-THEMED FRAT PARTY
Space offers great benefits like: - No responsibilities! - Great views! - Unique location! - Isolation! - Lack of resources! - Certain death!
Call 1-800-GETSPACE for your free consultation today!
—M. Vasquez
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EXPOSÈ: 74% OF AMERICANS DON’T KNOW WHICH SYMBOL GOES OVER THE E IN EXPOSÊ Dear Humans, You can lead us to water, but you can’t make us drink. —Alcoholic Horses Anonymous Dear Horses, Aha! What you thought was water was actually the glue factory! Another victory for us humans! —Us humans
PILOT G2 EXPOSED AS JK ROWLING PEN NAME
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I SCREAM! YOU SCREAM! HE/SHE SCREAMS! WE SCREAM! Y’ALL SCREAM! THEY / Y’ALL (FORMAL) SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM! Dear Professor, I really had trouble with the assignment — it’s all Greek to me! —A student who didn’t buy a translated edition of The Odyssey
BRITA INTRODUCES YET ANOTHER WATER FILTER, BUT NOTHING TO STOP BULLSHIT FROM COMING OUT OF DAN THE SECTION ASSHOLE’S MOUTH
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our website, yalerecord.org, for more great content!
WANTED:
The three full hours that we spent watching Interstellar back.
Free Space
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Dear Barbara, Let me be Frank with you.
Best, Frank
OCTOPOLITICIAN ASSURES CONSTITUENTS THAT HE PUTS PANTS ON FOUR LEGS AT A TIME Dear Donald, What the fuck are you on? Your name is Donald, not Frank. Best, Barbara
AREA MAN DOESN’T WANT TO BE CHICKEN; DOESN’T WANT TO BE DUCK; SHAKES HIS BUTT Dear United States Department of Energy, Renewable power sources are the future of our economy. Personally, I’m a big fan. —A windmill who’s a big fan of renewable energy
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THIS FIBONACCI JOKE IS AS BAD AS THE PREVIOUS TWO COMBINED! Dear Reader, What you gon’ do with all that junk? All that junk inside that trunk? I’mma get, get, get, get you drunk, Get you love drunk off my hump. What you gon’ do with all that ass? All that ass inside them jeans? I’mma make make make make you scream. Make you scream, make you scream. —The Yale Record, obligated to print everything you assholes send us
Emmy Waldman ‘11
M
y plan was brilliant. “Show of hands, how many of you remember the Space Issue we wrote at the end of last year but didn’t have time to publish?” A few among our Editorial Board raised their hands in response to my inquiry, but most were ready to be done with our weekly Sunday meeting. Adam interjected, “Did you see any of my texts earlier? You need to write an Editorial for that issue because the one Rachel did last year was graduation-themed.” “It’s funny you should mention that,” I replied. “Show of hands, how many of you remember in the movie Interstellar when Matthew McConaughey enters the fifth dimension through a black hole and then leaves a warning to his past self about going to space?” Everyone raised their hands. “Great,” I continued, “we’re doing exactly that, except we’re going to tell last year’s leadership to start this pesky Space Issue, like, a week earlier so I won’t have to write this Editorial.” “The last part of your plan makes total sense,” replied Rishi. “But what I don’t get is how we’re going to get to space at all.” I signaled for the man at the door to enter. “Elon Musk!” said Elon Musk giddily, announcing himself. “Elon Musk! Elon Musk!” he continued, the large bump on his head clearly visible as he staggered around the room. Jake replied with “Jake Houston!” and the two continued this line of conversation. Vicky, our Publisher, turned to me. “I’m not going to ask what you did to Elon, but if we’re using SpaceX to charter a space flight, he’d better not have the capacity to be able to charge us for it. Print media is dying, so we need to save money.” Vicky was about to be sorely disappointed. We christened our new, very expensive vessel the S.S. McConaughey in honor of The Record’s second-favorite Matt. Takeoff happened nearly without a hitch, except that Archie decided to be super original and play David Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” And just like that, we were in space. Everyone, of course, quickly began to do zero-gravity things. Some made a space equivalent of Yale’s Mint Icing Cupcakes, Ellen squeezing a chocolate cupcake out of a tube and Chloe squeezing toothpaste out of a tube. Nathan did a backflip, but nobody stopped him as he continued to uncontrollably flip in midair. Noah went to put on the
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black cloak he’d brought, saying that we’d understand soon. Meanwhile, our seniors, who knew what was up after three years of Editorials, immediately moved to the escape pod in anticipation. All seemed fine as Dylan charted our course. “We’re just .02 light-years away from the nearest black hole, Captain.” We all chuckled along with him as he pretended that his small pocket calculator was a radar system. For once, it seemed that one of my schemes might be successful. And then there was a thump on the hull. Then two, then three. Hundreds of crashes echoed across the ship, and a swarm of alien parasites – like the Xenomorphs from Alien, except sufficiently different to constitute fair use – was attacking our windshield. And there behind them, we saw our only escape pod jettison back to Earth. “Alright,” I said, “Everyone who’s had their name mentioned in the last 500 words, come stand next to me.” Only Lane, Liz, and Elliot were left as we heard sharp teeth scrape against metal. “One of you will have to go outside and get rid of these things. Any volunteers?” Lane and Liz immediately pointed at Elliot, who was conveniently wearing a red shirt. Suddenly, the ship lurched, and Dylan cried out, “Mayday! We’re approaching the black hole!” He divided 1 by 0 on his calculator to illustrate. Noah then reappeared in his black cloak and full facial prosthetics, impersonating the Emperor from Star Wars as he exclaimed, “You are no match for the power of the Dark Side!” But seeing as our ship was being ripped apart by Liz Kingsley ’19 Chairman
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the gravity of the event horizon, he had just missed his window for sci-fi references. I hit the button that would eject my seat into the black hole, only unstrapping myself at the last second. And then, darkness. All around me, I saw infinite time. Eons passed in the blink of a second, and I was one with the universe, but in, like, five dimensions. Then, before me, was a vision of an Editorial Board meeting from last year. I yelled at them in vain, telling them to start the Space Issue earlier. But just as McConaughey had learned, though I could see them, I could not communicate with them directly. So across space and time, I sent them a message that I knew they would read, my last chance. “From President Peter Salovey,” it began, “Notes From Woodbridge Hall…” When I opened my eyes, I had no recollection of where I was or what had transpired. The SpaceX building towered above me, and when my phone buzzed, I saw several texts from Adam asking me to finish the Space Issue Editorial before that afternoon’s Sunday meeting. Ugh. I noticed a man unconscious on the ground with some kind of ejector seat next to him, and as he awoke, I saw the lump on his head where it had presumably struck him. Concerned, I asked the man for his name. “E...Elon Musk” he replied. Just then, it occurred to me that there might be a way to get out of my Editorial after all. My plan was brilliant.
—M. Abuzalaf Editor in Chief
Matt Abuzalaf ’18 Editor in Chief
Archie Kinnane ’18 Online Editor in Chief
Vicky Liu ’19 Publisher
Noah Amsel ’20 Webmaster
Dylan Schifrin ’20 Managing Editor
Nathan Ewing-Crystal ’19 Director of Online Content
Chloe Prendergast ’20 Art Director
Rishi Mirchandani ’19 Business Manager
Elliot Connors ’20 Online Managing Editor
Ellen Yang ’20 Managing Editor
Adam Lessing ’19 Design Editor
Lane Unsworth ’19 Staff Director
Jake Houston ’19 Publicity Manager
Graham Ambrose ’18 Old Owl
Brian Beitler ’18 Old Owl
Alex Ringlein ’18 Old Owl
Chasan Hall ’18 Old Owl
Louisa Cone ’18 Old Owl
Staff:
Contributors:
Spencer Birney ’18 Emma Chanen ’19 Amanda Corcoran ’18 Sonia Gadre ’20 Andrew Gamzon ’20 Timur Guler ’18 Carina Hahn ’20 Sami Hakani ’18 Carter Helschien ’18
Alex Hoganson ’20 Susanqi Jiang ’19 Shea Ketsdever ’19 Katie Kidney ’19 Mariah Kreutter ’20 Roger Lopez ’18 Andrew Megerian ’18 Veena Muraleetharan ’20 Leila Murphy ’19
Micah Osler ’18 Noah Rae-Grant ‘18 Henry Robinson ’19 Jonathan Rutter ’18 Natalya Sanghvi ’18 Sahaj Sankaran ’20 Justin Shi ’18 Eve Sneider ’19 Xavier Sottile ’19
Sarah Sukin ’18 Teddy Thum ’18 Rachel Treisman ’19 Alissa Wang ’19 Grace Wynter ’20 Ashton Winters ’20 Alex Zhang ’18
Carlos Velez ’20 Fatima Abaroa ’20 Bernard Stanford ’17 Harrison Smith ’20 Nicole Eskow ’19 Megan McQueen ’20 Soham Sankaran ’17 Sebastián Kupchaunis ’19 Madeleine Hutchins ’19
Shunhe Wang ’20 Joshua Baize ’20 Maya Vasquez ‘21 Marcy Sanchez ‘21
Special thanks to: Time dialation, for making the amount of time we spent on this issue make sense in a gravity well or something. Front Cover: Helen Xiu and Katherine Xiu ‘18 | Back Cover: Marcy Sanchez ‘21 Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLVI, No. 3, Published in New Haven, CT by The Yale Record, Inc. Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520 • yalerecord.org • Subscriptions: $50/year (print) • $10/year (electronic) All contents copyright 2017 The Yale Record, Inc. The Yale Record is a magazine produced by Yale students; Yale University is not responsible for its contents. Any resemblance to characters and events portrayed herein, without satirical intent, is purely coincidental. The Record grudgingly acknowledges your right to correspond: letters should be addressed to: Chairman, The Yale Record, PO Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520, or chairman@yalerecord.com. Offer only valid at participating retailers while supplies last. The Yale Record would like to high-five the UOFC for its financial support.
HOUSTON, WE HAVE SEVERAL PROBLEMS We forgot to bring a can opener The Russians double parked in front of the International Space Station Mission Commander Lt. Scott Waterson won’t stop kicking me Jerry left the oven on in his house on Earth It turns out space is really big and we didn’t pack enough snacks to get to the moon Someone rover-jacked the moon rover My decision-making skills are profoundly compromised by a deep-seated anxiety about abandonment I’m bored —C. Hall
HANDY MNEMONIC FOR REMEMBERING THE ORDER OF THE PLANETS
Mercury Other Orbs Neptune is Last And Now you cannot Deny the Images were Not Genuine, anyone With Access to a Soundstage could easily perpetrate a Fraud the likes of which has never been seen by the American people, but we will not be silenced, not until we spread Knowledge of this hoax to all mankind, to every populated area on Earth
—M. Kaplan
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BEST PLACES IN THE UNIVERSE TO MAKE OUT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND Leo I Leo II My basement Messier 87, a supergiant elliptical galaxy in the constellation Virgo which is notable for its large population of globular clusters Under the big dipper, which—I swear to God—you can see perfectly from my back porch The trunk of my dad’s Honda Any one of Saturn’s moons, except Skoll Your place? Oh… well, okay, are you sure? I’m not sure if my parents are around The Oort Cloud Actually, I just found my parents making out in the Honda. Can we go to your place instead? –G. Ambrose
UNRESOLVED SPACE MURDERS The seven Russian Cosmonauts killed between Fall 1963 and Summer 1964 by the Soyuz Strangler The politically-motivated assassination of Galactic Emperor Sheev Palpatine and Supreme Military Commander Darth Vader My father, Jimmy “Hanger-On” Hall, famous among NASA staff as a practical jokester known best for clinging to the outside hull of a space shuttle as it exited the atmosphere The Crew of the Nostromo Former NASA Administrator Chuck Bolden, last seen being escorted into a black minivan by short greenskinned life forms The cat I brought with me to the International Space Station but now can’t find David Bowie –C. Hall
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WAYS TO TELL YOU ARE DATING AND ASTRONAUT They say that the stars are even better up close They have reduced bone density When they drop something, they chuckle and say they “forgot about gravity for a second” They refuse to watch the movie Treasure Planet because of how “unrealistic” it is They refer to the moon as “The One That Got Away” When they are upset with you, they threaten to shoot you out of an airlock They refer to sex as “docking maneuvers” They end every conversation with, “But what do I know? It’s not like I’ve been to space. Oh wait, I have!” –B. Beitler
SPACE DOG, THOUGHT DEAD, ACTUALLY ON FARM IN UPSTATE SPACE
Moscow, Russia – The Roscosmos State Corporation for Space Activities, Russia’s space and aeronautics association, announced last week that Laika, who became the first dog to orbit the Earth in 1957, is still alive and on a farm in upstate Space. At Thursday’s press conference, Roscosmos official Dmitri Petrokov explained, “The original reports stated that Laika was euthanized prior to oxygen depletion, yes. And a few years after that, Communist propaganda reports explained that she had actually died within hours from overheating, yes. But this is the newest, propaganda-free report, and we can say with certainty that Laika is on a farm a couple of space-hours upstate of our solar system chasing butterflies.” Petrokov continued, “She’ll be much happier there. She was too cramped in this region of the universe – in upstate Space, she has space to run around, space to lie down, and even space to explore outer Space.” Recently-leaked internal documents had led to speculation that Laika was, in fact, run over by a car on the way to the launchpad; however, Roscosmos denied this vehemently, writing in their official statement that the farm is indeed real and that “maybe one day we’ll take you to visit her.” In an unrelated comment at the same press conference, Petrokov mentioned that the Roscosmos employee who had leaked the falsified documents had decided to become a space farmer.
–N. Ewing-Crystal
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NERDS YOU BULLIED IN HIGH SCHOOL AND HOW MUCH THEY’RE MAKING NOW Nate, that dweeby redhead at whom you laughed for being better at programming than he was at talking to girls, is now making $132,500 as a senior programmer at NASA. He’s also married to a former swimsuit model who is extremely sexually satisfied. Anna, the shy girl who was in your math class and had a crush on you, is now making $198,500 each year managing a team of aerospace engineers for SpaceX and is fast tracked to a management role. Her acne cleared up a few years ago, and she is now not only brilliant but also stunningly attractive and confident. If you called Anna today, she wouldn’t even have to pretend not to know who you were. Jackie, the gal you always excluded from group projects in English because she “was too into that tae kwon do stuff,” makes almost $400k working as a cryptoscientist for the CIA. She can’t tell you much more about her job (not that she would want to anyway). Jeffrey, the tall quiet bio kid, whose nose you broke in a classic game of “Peg The Nerd,” is now making $188,875 a year (not including stock options) doing stress and strain calculations on advanced materials for Raytheon Industries. His nose never quite straightened out, but it’s a look, you know? Remember those really short twins Andy and Casey? They’re now working for L3 Inc. and Boeing, respectively. And they’re each making an annual salary of around $200k. Ironically, they both hit huge growth spurts midway through college. Andy was able to walk onto the varsity lightweight crew team, and Casey almost became a professional volleyball player. Abby. You teased her so much about her glasses and poor singing abilities that she developed a phobia of sightreading music. Later, after counseling and contacts, Abby learned to channel her anxieties into cold, calculating ambition. She’s now the Special Advisor to the President on matters of aerospace security. The amount of money lobbyists give her would literally blow your mind. Alex, that skinny cross country runner you always pushed around and made fun of his hair, is now a chief technical officer at Northrop Grumman. In addition to his $225,600 a year salary, he also has the ability to call in a favor, having an unmanned weapons system ‘malfunction’ and obliterate your house. I wonder if he remembers how you stole the girl he loved in tenth grade? Hint: I do. –A. Hoganson
INTERAGENCY FEUD TURNS UGLY AFTER NASA SIGN HILARIOUSLY VANDALIZED
Washington, DC—The front sign at the National Aeronautics and Space Administration headquarters was defaced this weekend, with someone having spray-painted the NASA logo to read “NASSA.” After a few days of bureaucratic finger-pointing, the Department of Energy has finally come forward to claim responsibility for the act. Asked for a comment, Secretary of Energy, Rick Perry, chuckled, exclaiming, “That’s just how we roll here at the DOE!” before thumping his chest with his fists. This vandalism marks the public boiling-over of an ongoing series of back-and-forth pranks between the two agencies. Previously, NASA employees had stolen Perry’s glasses, only to discover they contained no lenses. Several sources claim the feud began when, in an interagency meeting last month, Perry asked NASA’s agency executive to pull his finger, releasing a noxious flatulence while joyfully clicking together the heels of his rhinestone-encrusted cowboy boots. NASA did not immediately respond to requests for comment, though several employees shook their heads and rushed past our reporters in the headquarters’ parking lot in a state of total humiliation. Asked when he thought the feud would finally be over, Perry smiled deviously and replied, “When I’m done having fun,” at which point the Secretary licked his lips hungrily and gestured toward the corner of his office, where he had haphazardly piled several nuclear weapons. “And right now, I really want to try out those bad boys.”
–J. Baize
—C. Prendergast
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and seaweed? If I had done it, and again, I’m not saying I did, I would have landed in America or Asia: a big land mass for maximum chaos. Go big or go home, right? I’m not going to crash into Earth just to splash around in the Atlantic. And if I did it – which I didn’t – why in the world would I still be in the Solar System? You never hang around the scene of a crime. Besides that, why would I even want to take the dinosaurs out? Jurassic Park was a masterpiece. If I were to do it, I would 100% crash into the moon. To be honest, you’d probably thank me – you’d have shorter workdays, and calmer oceans would mean better beach vacations. Hell, I’ll still do it if you want me to. Recently, it’s been pretty quiet just hanging around up here and, you know, not killing any dinosaurs. –S. Kupchaunis
REPORT: GRAVITATIONAL WAVES EXIST, ARE DOPE
“Everything the dark touches will one day be yours.” –M. Abuzalaf
IF I DID IT I get it. It’s easy to blame the asteroid. When tragedy strikes, society needs a scapegoat, and behind every great tragedy on Earth, there’s an asteroid conspiracy. To be fair, some of them are justified. Chernobyl was my bad, sure. Atlantis was an accident – that’s on me. But I’ve said it a million times, and I’ll say it again: we are not the same as meteors. So stop blaming us for what those idiots do. Specifically, I’m talking about that old “Asteroid Killed The Dinosaurs” theory. Honestly, the fact that you guys even think that was my work is insulting. Now I’m not saying I did it, but if I did, it would have happened way differently. First off, why would I have landed in the Gulf of Mexico — to punish a bunch of salmon
Pasadena, CA – Scientists at Caltech’s LIGO Observatory recently observed the existence of gravitational waves caused by the collision of two black holes, confirming for the first time the prediction made by Albert Einstein in 1916. “These gravitational waves are gnarly, man” said James Clerk, one of the investigators at LIGO who first witnessed the phenomenon. “So these two galaxies took a donut, right? They just totally orbited each other and collided! Then these killer waves crashed down right in our direction.” Richard Phillips, Astrophysics Department Head at Yale, weighed in on the finding, calling the discovery a “bitchin’” moment for the field. Said Phillips, “If Einstein knew about those bros at LIGO catching some waves, he’d be so stoked.” “Brah, it’s a hella nice time to be a physicist,” reported Stephen Hawking, ripping a monster bong hit. “I mean, it’s still kinda whack that there isn’t, like, a theory of quantum gravity. But it’s dope to think that there’s that dark energy just chillin’ out there, you know?” Scientists at LIGO invested millions of dollars into their wave detection facility, constructing the core of the apparatus using carefully calibrated GoPro cameras. Once the facility was constructed, the observable surface of space-time remained smooth and glassy for years before the scientists finally found a wave to catch. “I gotta give a quick shout-out to all my boys on the LIGO team,” said Clerk in a public statement on the discovery. “These dudes have been in the pocket since 2013. Total warrior status.”
–N. Amsel
While preparing this issue for print, The Owl came across an unusual transmission. All indications are that this spread comes fom an alternate universe in which The Space Issue was published last April, as we had once planned. It is (re?)printed here as evidence that alternate universes do exist, and further, that The Record has its shit together in some of them. Hoot.
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MY JOURNEY TO SPACE I’ve wanted to go to space ever since the first grade, when I first saw Toy Story. Horrified by the limp impotence of Buzz Lightyear, a tiny little baby astronaut who could barely fly across a child’s bedroom, I resolved to be the best astronaut this universe had ever seen, even better than Neil Armstrong: The Michael Jordan of Astronauting. “But how?” I asked myself aloud, awaking my grandmother who had been asleep this entire time. First, I needed to learn everything there was to learn about space: how big it was, how wide it was, if the size of space was at all constrained, how large it was, etc. Unfortunately, there is no direct Wikipedia entry for “space.” I was just about to give up on my online research when suddenly, my grandmother began to choke on her roast beef sandwich. So first I googled how to perform the Heimlich maneuver and then gave up on my online research. Chagrined, I decided to head to NSAS to see if they could help in my quest to becomes the universe’s best astronaut. Upon arriving at the Nebraska Sustainable Agriculture Society, however, I realized two things about myself: first, that I am dyslexic, and second, that I am a Nebraska boy at heart. So I decided to stay for a while, promoting agricultural and food systems that build healthy land, people, and communities, for present and future generations. After a few hours, however, I realized how far I’d strayed from my initial purpose. Like too many good men before me, I had gotten caught up in the debauchery and carnal pleasure of the Nebraska Sustainable Agriculture Society. I should not have volunteered to be its president, and later, its king. I guess it’s true what they say about power corrupting you: that it corrupts you. While I knew I’d miss all my new friends, excluding Greg, it was time for me to go to NASA. It is hard to describe NASA in just one word, but I’ll try: The National Aeronautics and Space Administration. Upon arrival, I was confronted by the prime minister of NASA, Buzz Aldrin’s ghost. “And just what do you think you’re doing young man?” he said spookily, like a ghost. I shuddered in my boots. “Prime Minister Aldrin - I am here to be the universe’s greatest astronaut, even better than Neil Armstrong: The Michael Jackson of Astronauting.” He began to laugh maniacally, like a living man.
“Foolish boy, you would be lucky to be the Amelia Earhart of astronauting. Just look at yourself.” I watched the ghost prime minister saunter cockily away, as if he was the first astronaut to have walked on the moon and was also still alive. What if he was right about me being the Amy Something of astronauting? Would I be remembered in the annals of space travel as a middleaged woman who couldn’t even fly a plane around the stupid world, let alone the universe? I paused for dramatic effect. What if I just wasn’t good enough? But then I remembered something a pathetic manchild once told me: “To infinity and beyond.” What an absolutely moronic thing to say; there is nothing beyond infinity! I could never live with myself if I resigned to being a tiny little baby astronaut that spewed senseless aphorisms in an attempt to compensate for my inferior intellect and stature. Noticing a rocket departing in the west, I charged towards it, lunging forward to grab a hook before it launched. Suddenly, I was coursing through the air, my body flapping against the rocket’s hull like a valiant flag. Far below me, the sprawling cornfields of Nebraska were now just a small brush stroke of gold on a green canvas. The Pacific was a vast and immutable blue mass. How was that the same rippling ocean where I’d baptized myself just one year prior? I had done it. I had become the universe’s best astronaut, even better than Neil Armstrong: The Michael Fassbender of Astronauting. When I returned to Earth, I would certainly be surrounded by bodacious babes and thronging hordes of lascivious fans. I would reap the many sweet-ass perks of professional astronauting. I would be famous. But suddenly, none of that mattered anymore. I let go of the rocket, exhaling as I drifted away amongst the stars. I was in space and it was beautiful. —E. Connors
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WHY I’M SENDING MY KIDS TO SPACE INSTEAD OF VACCINATING THEM When I saw the first snowfall of 2017, I thought to myself, “Hey, if global warming isn’t actually a lie constructed by the Chinese government, then why the heck is it snowing?” And if evolution and natural selection are real, then how on God’s Earth could drivers who refuse to use their blinkers still be alive? The only logical conclusion must be that science is a lie, which is why I’ve canceled my kids’ doctor appointments to avoid having them vaccinated. These “scientists” on the news claim that vaccines play a major role in preventing the spread of diseases, but do they really? I’ve received all my vaccinations, and sure, while I didn’t get the measles or tetanus, I did get a cold last February, so I can’t even say the vaccines were worth the hassle. I’m still interested in keeping my kids healthy, but I’m also pretty darn sick of the intellectual elite telling me what to do. So I had to wonder: in a world that’s dominated by the lies of the mainstream media, what’s a
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mom like me to do? And then it hit me – I’ll just send my kids to space. It’s genius! First of all, there’s no air in space; as long as Timmy and Samantha stay in their cute little astronaut suits, there’s no way they can get diseases from anyone. Have you ever heard of space-borne disease? Last time I checked, astronauts aren’t catching Ebola. And besides, if my kids are in space, they’ll spend some time closer to the sun. Those UV rays will certainly kill any leftover bacteria on them. In fact, the only thing stopping me from throwing my kids on a rocket right now is the thought of how lonely they’ll be up there. But hey, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of aliens around to keep them company… Wait, what’s that? You’re saying that many scientists also believe in the possibility of extraterrestrial life? Well, shit. —N. Eskow
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BLACK HOLE SPAGHETTIFICATION AS EXPLAINED BY CELEBRITY CHEF GORDON RAMSAY Alright, listen up. I’m only going to explain this once. First of all, you idiot, there’s no need to bring water to a boil, because at this point the blood in your body has already boiled off in the pressureless vacuum of space. But that’s where the fun begins. As you fall into the black hole, get ready to be stretched to spaghettic proportions, so don’t expect either light or your lily liver tears to escape this motherfucking Big Bertha. Are you paying attention? No one’s going to give TWO SHITS about your sad existence when gravity – stronger at your feet than at your thick and, in all likelihood, empty skull – funnels you into the abyss and minces up your mangled remains while general relativity stretches you until you’re longer than the lines at one of my restaurants. But know at this point you’ve died before you’ve disappeared, the tidal forces RIPPING apart the electrostatic forces binding your flesh. This isn’t the Al Dente treatment, my friend, this is Al-motherfucking-Qaeda. Look at me. Are you seriously crying, you incompetent fuck? Unlike the shell of a person I’m looking at, Einstein never undercooked and always seasoned with dilated thyme. Especially if it were a bland horsecock like you. Yes you, descending into the singularity and spaghettified into a stream of subatomic particles so stirred that they won’t ever stick, even though two and a half billion years later you know your flambé ass is going to get SHAT back out as Hawking Radiation. So as the Italians say, buona fortuna, and FUCK OFF down the event horizon.
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ASTRONOMICAL EQUATIONS TO MENTION ON A FIRST DATE
Luminosity (L) describes the energy emitted over time by a star-like object in Joules per second. This is a good place to start because it features some intriguing Greek letters and exponents, suggesting you have at the very least an intermediate grasp on math and are therefore a desirable mate, capable of producing intelligent progeny.
Flux (F) is similar to luminosity, except that it includes an additional dimension. Everyone wants to think they’re dating someone who’s more complex than the other guys or girls they’ve already dated. Flux represents the amount of energy in Joules emitted per second per unit of area! Because this hot and heavy astronomical equation requires some serious commitment to understand, it might best be left for second or third dates.
The mass-lifetime relation for stars is an excellent proportional relationship to share with the girl or boy whose proportions you admire.
This is the equation for calculating the Schwarzschild radius (RS) of an object, or that to which it must be compressed before becoming so dense that it bends the fabric of space-time and creates a black hole. But the main importance here is that it enables you to say “Schwarzschild,” a word that is especially romantic because it sounds German.
If all else fails.
—S. Gupta
—L. Kapp
tH3_r3c0Rd.exe
Things That, Like Pluto, Are Also Not Planets:
01. Your snow globe with the fun heart-shaped
sparkles: Whenever you name off all the planets in the Milky Way, everybody can hear you when you whisper “…Pluto, and snow globe” very quickly under your breath. Sorry pal, but it’s just not going to happen.
02. The Schwarzman Center Recent research conducted by prominent Yale astrophysicists has revealed that, while the Schwarzman Center is enormous, powerful, and sucks all mass-possessing objects into its center, this is not because it is a planet but rather because it’s actually the center of the universe. Almost had us tricked there, Steve! 03. A pizza A pizza is not a planet because one of the first rules of being a planet is: "A planet cannot be eaten whole by oneself in sad loneliness late at night." 04. Pitbull This one is admittedly pretty tricky. Although Pitbull’s head is round and luminous like a planet, and the release of his 2011 studio album Planet Pit led many to further believe that he might indeed be one, the sad fact remains that he doesn’t fit the bill. A planet must have sufficient mass to be nearly round, and though Mr. Worldwide is getting close, he’s not quite wide enough yet. -D. Balaji Design: M. Vasquez
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ALTERNATIVE PLANET MNEMONICS
In grade school, we all learned the mnemonic “My Very Excellent Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas” for remembering the order of the planets from the sun. But that mnemonic is sexist, boring, and—worst of all—inaccurate. So here are some alternatives that have none of those problems. My Vigilant, Enterprising Mother Just Showed Up to the Naked Party Midterms Very Eagerly Masticate Juicy, Succulent Undergraduates Near Professors My Vegan Ex Made Jackfruit So Utterly Nasty and Putrid Maximal Villainy Equals Motherfucking JoJo Singing, Unsolicited, Near People Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Schwartzman, Neptune, Pluto —R. Mirchandani
YOU GUYS ONLY LIKE ME FOR MY SEEMINGLY INFINITE CAPACITY TO POWER AND SUSTAIN AN INCOMPREHENSIBLY DIVERSE ARRAY OF LIFE, NOT FOR MY PERSONALITY BY: THE SUN I may be 10,000 degrees, one million miles across, and constantly covered in explosions, but I pride myself in my ability to stay relatively calm and level-headed, especially with regard to the human race. That being said, lately I feel that you guys don’t appreciate me anymore. You like the way I give you tans, dry your tomatoes, and sustain an incredibly vast and intricate ecological network, but other than that, I just don’t really feel that there is connection between us. You may say it’s just one of those things that happen in life, like a mid-life crisis, or me going supernova and
obliterating you all. But you know what? There’s so much more to me than powering your entire biosphere. I’ve spent a lot of time soul-searching recently, and I’ve discovered a lot about myself. Did you know that my innermost plasmatic fluids contain 0.076 percent magnesium? How splendiferous. I’ve also been cultivating my artistic side by doing a lot of acrylic painting. One time I tried painting this wormhole, but then my arm started morphing into a fourth dimensional hypercube so I stopped. Sometimes I play backgammon, too. Look, it’s not that I think you don’t appreciate me. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate you either. All I ask is that, occasionally, you acknowledge that there’s more to me than an inconceivable supply of free biological energy. Because when the time comes for me to obliterate you all, at least I could take comfort in thinking, “You know what? You guys were pretty cool.” —D. Schifrin
ASTROLOGERS PROTEST DISMISSAL BY SCIENTIFIC COMMUNITY
New Haven, CT– Members of the activist group Academic Astrologers for Academic Astrology gathered outside Yale University President Peter Salovey’s office Thursday afternoon, protesting the University’s rejection of the proposal to create a Department of Astrology. “The astrology community is tired of ‘real scientists’ dismissing the value of our field. We hoped that a university as open-minded as Yale would recognize the academic contributions astrologers can offer,” said Hollis Palmer, a freelance astrologer and self-proclaimed disciple of the universe. “Astrology is truly the epitome of interdisciplinary scholarship, joining science, the humanities, and just a little bit of magic.” AAAA member Harmony Williams stated that the group hopes to bring awareness to the scientific nature of their field. “The public needs to know more about astrology’s relevance. Take President Salovey, a Pisces. Pisces are known for their sensitivity and emotional nature. Salovey is known for his work on emotional intelligence. Clearly, the alignment of Venus and the moon at the time of Salovey’s birth determined his soul’s purpose.” “That’s not a coincidence,” she added. “That’s what we in the business call cosmic serendipity in action.” The field of study remains overwhelmingly unpopular
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remain anonymous, called astrology “a joke and embarrassment to scientific discovery,” and another stated that it was “a
ALIENS GHOST ASTRONOMERS
literal pile of horseshit.” However, Andrew Phillips SY ’19 spoke out in favor of establishing the new department. “The research done by these brave men and women might not rely on any quantitative data, but I think it makes pretty good sense. I used to wonder why I had no friends. Thanks to astrologers, I know it’s just my nature as a Scorpio to be an asshole.”
Mountain View, CA– Last weekend, one of mankind’s greatest discoveries turned sour. At around midnight on Friday, scientists working at the SETI Institute in Mountain View, California heard unmistakable radio signals indicating the presence of intelligent extraterrestrial life. Pursuing the contact late into the night, astronomers and U.S. government personnel were able to establish a secure line of communication with the alien species. According to Chief Telemetry Officer Nathan Riopelle, “The conversation was going great; they’re a truly fascinating species. There’s so much we can learn from them. They’re really mature and confident about their place in the universe, and I think I speak for all of us when I say their technology makes ours look positively backwards. In conjunction with the UN, we decided to invite them to Earth, and personally I think they’re going to say yes!” Unfortunately, the astronomers’ delight at finding intelligent alien life turned to shock, confusion, and depression the following morning when the world awoke to complete radio silence. “I don’t understand why they stopped messaging,” said senior SETI astronomer Rishab Negi. “I thought we had really hit it off. I mean, sure, our planet’s a bit messy, but whose isn’t, right? I hope they didn’t think we were too eager - we did message them three times in a row before waiting for them to respond, but of course everyone here was just so excited! I hope they’re okay...” At this point, Dr. Negi left to triple check the aliens had indeed successfully received Earth’s last radio transmission. Further investigations revealed that not only had the aliens ceased all radio communications, but that they had also unfriended Earth from Facebook and removed our planet from their network on LinkedIn. At press time, the aliens could not be reached for comment.
among Yale College students. One, who preferred to
—E. Yang
YUAA PRESIDENT: “WE’LL GET ‘EM NEXT TIME” New Haven, CT – Speaking outside the CEID on Sunday, Yale Undergraduate Aerospace Association President Jonah Lee sounded a message of hope as he recounted the disappointing outcome of the afternoon’s launch. “This may not have gone quite how we expected, but all that really matters is that we had fun,” he said, wiping away a tear with his small carbon fiber handkerchief. “I’m so proud of how you buckled down, worked together, and gave it your all.” The lift-off was, of course, supposed to launch the late Handsome Dan XVII into the thermosphere and to his final resting place in high orbit. In its grief, the spacecraft instead began quivering violently and circling the launch site until, according to eyewitnesses, it “broke down and lost it completely.” Handsome Dan was conveniently cremated in the ensuing eruption; blown by the wind, his ashes descended across campus like a light dusting of snow. YUAA Co-President Leslie Altman offered her reflections on the launch. “This has been a real learning experience for all of us,” she said. “Some of us learned the difference between AC and DC current, and the rest of us learned that rockets can have complex emotional affects. Overall, I’d say it was a productive afternoon.” For the present, however, YUAA members say they plan to refocus their efforts, keep their heads up, and look to the future. And, as it happens, it seems that there’s at least one exciting event on the horizon: in his closing remarks, Lee reported that he and his team are “beyond excited” for the young Handsome Dan XVIII to croak so they can have another shot at the launch.
—N. Amsel
—A. Hoganson
HANDY MNEMONICS FOR REMEMBERING THE ORDER OF THE PLANETS IF ALL THE PLANETS WERE URANUS Unexpectedly, Ursula United Unbelievably Ugly Ungulates Under Umbrellas. Just sing “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” but replace all the body parts with “Uranus.” —A. Lessing
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AREA MAN USES PURELL HAND SANITIZER; 0.01% OF ILLNESS CAUSING GERMS HAVING THE TIME OF THEIR FUCKING LIVES
Dear Professor, How long is this exam? How many points is it worth? Is life an examination in and of itself, with God as the Grand Proctor and free will but an illusion as we inevitably regurgitate our experience onto the great examination bluebook of divine evaluation? —A student asking about question #3 on the Intro Philosphy midterm
Dear Orgy Panlist, Please take me off this panlist. — Peter Salovey, a little too late
BIDEN’S CANCER MOONSHOT PROJECT SUCCESFULLY INJECTS MOON WITH CANCER
SNOW WHITE REMAKE TO BE SET IN SPACE, SAID TO FEATURE A STAR STUDDED CAST OF WHITE DWARVES
H u nge r Dismised!
Stop in and take a study break
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“I LIKE SWIMMING AGAINST THE TIDE,” BOASTS MAN COVERED IN DETERGENT Dear NASA, Why haven’t you sent a man to Mars? It’s not brain surgery. —National Neurological Association
China Opportunities Fair
Thursday, Sept. 7 | 3:00-5:00PM
Yale-China
fellowship
FOR SALE: One giant leap for mankind! Get it now for just one small step!
TO MAKE A LONG STORY SHORT, TAKE OUT THE A-L-O-N-G-Y, PUSH THE T TO THE END, AND ADD AN H
Thursday, Sept. 14 | 12:00-1:00PM Friday, Sept. 15 | 12:00-1:00PM
Live Stream Info Sessions* Tuesday, Sept. 19 | 8:00-9:00PM Wednesday, Sept. 27 | 8:00-9:00PM
Exchange App Deadline Friday, Sept. 29 | 5:00PM
“IT’S FALL BREAK!” SAYS PARAMEDIC TENDING TO STUDENT WHO JUST FELL DOWN AND BROKE FOURTEEN BONES Dear National Nerological Association, Why haven’t you found a cure for Alzheimer’s? It’s not rocket science. —NASA
Lunch Info Sessions*
Lunch Info Sessions* Thursday, Oct. 26 | 12:00-1:00PM Friday, Oct. 27 | 12:00-1:00PM
Fellowship Teahouse* Friday, Nov. 10 | 4:00-6:00PM
Fellowship Webinar Monday, Nov. 20 | 3:00-4:00PM
Fellowship App Deadline Friday, Dec. 1 | midnight
Evening Info Sessions* Thursday, Jan. 18 | 8:00-9:00PM Wednesday, Jan. 31 | 8:00-9:00PM Register at education@yalechina.org Dates and times subject to change, please check website for any updates: yalechina.org/events/calendar yalechina.org/education *Denotes session with alumni
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paula hyman memorial lecture
american jewish men and the anxieties of breadwinning beth s. wenger
Moritz and Josephine Berg Professor of History and Chair of the History Department University of Pennsylvania
October 26 • 4:00 pm Joseph Slifka Center for Jewish Life at Yale 2nd Floor Chapel 80 Wall Street • New Haven, CT
For information, please contact Renee Reed at
beth s. wenger is Moritz and Josephine Berg Profes-
sor of History and Chair of the History Department at the University of Pennsylvania. Her most recent book is History Lessons: The Creation of American Jewish Heritage (Princeton University Press, 2010). Wenger’s other works include The Jewish Americans: Three Centuries of Jewish Voices in America (Doubleday, 2007), companion volume to the 2008 PBS series The Jewish Americans, which was named a National Jewish Book Award finalist. She is also the author of New York Jews and the Great Depression: Uncertain Promise, (Yale University Press, 1996), which was awarded the Salo Baron Prize in Jewish History from the American Academy of Jewish Research. Wenger is co-editor of several anthologies and collections, including Encounters With the “Holy Land”: Place, Past and Future in American Jewish Culture (with Jeffrey Shandler) and Remembering the Lower East Side: American Jewish Reflections (with
COSMOSPOLITAN BE A STAR IN BED!
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