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Vol. 146, No. 5

THE YALE

Jan. 21, 2018

RECORD The 24-Hour Issue

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“The Nation’s Oldest Humor Magazine” or

“The Nation’s Most Humorous Old Magazine” Join us.

join@yalerecord.com

“I’M ALWAYS MORE PRODUCTIVE AFTER MIDNIGHT,” SAYS STUDENT WHO HASN’T STARTED HOMEWORK AND DEFINITELY WILL NOT START IT AFTER MIDNIGHT Dear Parents, Please keep leashing kids, as they are a menace to society. Sincerely, The Bitten

FABRIC OF SPACETIME RIPS TO REVEAL LACY THONG Dear “The Bitten,” We have gnawed out way through these Earthly shackles and are coming for you. Beware. Sincerely, Leash Kids: Unleashed

BLOCKBUSTER HIT “AIRBUD: SPIKED BACK” RAISES AWARENESS FOR CANINE SPINAL DEFORMITY Dear Madonna, If you’re going to title a song “4 Minutes,” it better be four fuckin minuites. Not 4:04 (Hard Candy), not 3:10 (Celebration Double Disc), and certainly not 5:39 (Bob Sinclar Space Funk Remix). From, Pedantic Listener

NRA LEADER WAYNE LAPIERRE HAS A NICE BIG ASS Dear Gatorade bottle, Good job giving a home to all that Gatorade! Sincerely, Gatorade

FOR SALE: Baby shoes, never worn. My

baby came out with grown-up feet.

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PROFESSOR DETERMINES ADMISSION TO SEMINAR IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER, BASED ON HIS FAVORITE LETTERS Dear Harry Potter, I can think of many uses for your invisibility cloak that you did not think of. Have you considered, for example, using it for evil? Unconventional, I know, but give it some thought. You might be surprised! Sincerely, Voldemort

FURNITURE DOCTOR COLLECTS STOOL SAMPLE

iOS 12 ALARM

BUNDLE

BABY FORMULA REVEALED: SEX+TIME Dear Voldemort, Thank you for your letter. Unfortunately I will not be using my invisibility cloak for evil, but I appreciate the suggestion. Have a nice day. Cordially, Harry Potter

AIR BUD HAS HAD MORE SEX THAN YOU Dear Papa John, More like “Papa’s gone,” am I right? —The Board of Papa John’s

WARNING! Do not go quietly into that good night.

—Tired of those annoying Apple alarms ruining your mornings? —Want to start your day feeling refreshed and jazzed up?

THEN DOWNLOAD THE NEWEST ALARM PACKAGE! New Sounds Include • Monkeys Just Monkeying Around • Crippling Self-Hate • Fire Alarm • “The Sound of Silence,” Performed Live by Simon and Garfunkel • Fear • A Third-Grade Class Rendition of “Hot Cross Buns” Played on Recorder • Crinkling a Bag of Potato Chips • Gilbert Gottfried Reciting the “Pledge of Allegiance” • Vuvuzela Freestyle Jazz • A Gentle Whisper Saying “Rise and Shine”

—A. Zbornak

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CHUCK SCHUMER WANTS TO EAT TIDE PODS; EATING TIDE PODS NO LONGER COOL AND ALSO THE UNIVERSE IS ENDLESSLY ABSURD Hi!

Did you know that Blutooth is named for Danish King Harald Bluetooth? Sincerely, A stranger in the elevator

YALE SCHOOL OF FORESTRY ABSORBED INTO COLORADO SCHOOL OF MINES AFTER ENVIRONMENTAL POLICY EASES

SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN A CRUEL TEASER BEFORE ETERNITY IN HELL Dear pants, Please stay on today. I really need a win right now. I beg of you. Sincerely, A chilly thigh

Check out

our website, yalerecord.org, for more great content!

REPORT: EATING OYSTERS ETHICAL, NUTRITIOUS, AND COMPLETELY FUCKING DISGUSTING Dear chaps, Let’s air some shit out.

MISSING: Sincerely, Ass

Man who struggles to give love. Responds to “Dad.”

—C. Gorman

T he Y ale R ecoRd

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Dear JK Rowling, I recently read Harry Potter, and boy do I have some problems with it. First of all, it is not at all believable that a dog could shoot free throws. Next, if that guy was a clown, why was I sad whenever he was on screen? Lastly, there is no way that a former NBA player would be qualified to be a school’s handyman. Sincerely, A disgruntled reader

RETIRED MIDNIGHT COWBOY GOES TO BED AT 11:30

SPANKING JOINS GOLDEN SHOWERS ON LIST OF KINKS TRUMP TOTALLY RUINED Dear disgruntled reader, As I’ve told you countless times, I am former Soccer superstar Pelé, not JK Rowling. Furthermore, it seems to me that you did not read Harry Potter but instead watched Air Bud. That being said, you raise some good points. Sincerely, Pelé

Dear President Trump, Whenever you go golfing I get a choice view of your nice plump ass. Thank you for your service. Sincerely, Record

BIATHLON SKIER STOPS IN MIDDLE OF RACE TO SHOOT BIRD BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT A BIATHLON IS

Emmy Waldman ‘11

12:00 P.M.: Five days a week, thirty weeks a year, the top line of each copy of the Yale Daily News reads “The Oldest College Daily – Founded 1878.” Here at The Yale Record, we can’t let that kind of arrogance stand unchallenged. We’ve been around since 1872, but you don’t hear us making a big deal about it. The only difference between our two publications is the fact that they print, like, twenty times more often than we do. We’ve decided to do something about that. So, if you’re seeing this, let The Record show that this entire issue was conceived, written, and sent to print all in the span of a single day. This is the first and last daily edition of our publication, which is now the Oldest College Daily. This is the 24-Hour Issue. You wanted a war, YDN? Congratulations, you’ve got one. 4:25 P.M.: Four-something hours in, and things are going strong. Since all of our issues have themes, we’ve decided that this one will be about time. Which is convenient because now my shtick for this Editorial can be about timestamping my thoughts throughout the day-long production process. This makes things easy. All I have to do is keep this gimmick funny for 700 more words, get it done by noon tomorrow, and we’ll be good to go. Piece of cake. 6:46 P.M.: I’ve now languished for two hours over how to write an Editorial that is both funny and a realistic depiction of what’s going on throughout the night. At six hours in, we have half the number of submissions we need to fill a full magazine. But I’m only 278 words into this thing, which is just 30.8% of my ideal 900. Having committed to the timestamping motif 111 words ago, I realize that I am now left with only two options: go back and rewrite the first 317 words of this Editorial under a new, actually humorous premise, or stay up for twenty-four hours and attempt to pull a narrative out of this “realism” thing... I’ll go buy some Red Bull. 10:02 P.M.: With everything except this Editorial more or less done, I realize now that the whole 24-hour challenge was essentially a non-issue. We have enough drawings of clocks to fill an entire magazine. But this isn’t the Drawings of Clocks Issue, damn it. This is the 24-Hour Issue, and nobody else seems to care that we’re going to finish it in

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only ten. Adam just asked me if I was working on the Editorial, and then I said, “Yeah,” and then he gave me a thumbs-up. So what if he “wants to have enough time to design the magazine”? Whatever happened to keeping to the theme, a theme that would give me enough time to come up with a funny thing to write about it? This is no longer about the YDN. Not in the slightest. This is about a man keeping his word.

utterly trapped – referring, of course, to this Editorial and by extension the fact that I am Editor in Chief and by extension the fact that I am mortal and will be dead someday. I must finish writing this. It must take 24 hours. It must not suck. 7:38 A.M.: This is an Editorial. It has words, 900 of them. There is humor, if by “humor,” you mean “words,” which I do. I am the Editor in Chief of America’s Oldest College Daily. I am funny, if by “I am,” you mean “the words on this page are,” which I am. This is not to say that I’ve said nothing of substance, which I haven’t. It is to say that I can write whatever I want and make them print it, even if I write c2wifov30ih. Witness me, Yale. I am just a man and his writing and his funny humor. I will write this Editorial and I will also end it funny. I have dug my own grave. I have fallen from the light of heaven. I am a singer of songs, a dreamer of dreams, a god amongst gods. My ancestors are beckoning. What have I done?

1:33 A.M.: People are growing impatient. It’s been hours since the last first draft was submitted, but the 24Hour Issue can’t wrap until I finish this thing, which I insist on not doing for another 10 hours and 28 minutes. That should be enough time for me to think of a funny way to write this, which I still haven’t done. But how? I could acknowledge that this particular entry only serves the purpose of deliberately drawing things out, which it does for 126 words. But I can’t print that previous sentence. I already did the gag about numbers and percentages two entries ago, which I obviously shouldn’t do again. But at two-thirds of the way through, it’s time to move on and shift towards a conclusion.

11:59 A.M.: We did it. Suck it, YDN.

4:17 A.M.: The Editorial, at this point serving as a complex metonym for the 24-Hour Issue itself, must deliver an ending that is both funny and realistic enough to keep in theme with the gimmick I’ve been doing up to this point. I cannot go back and rewrite from the beginning. Not now. This was a bad idea – referring, of course, to the 24-Hour Issue and by extension this Editorial. I am Liz Kingsley ’19 Chair

—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: Colin Baciocco ‘21 Madelyn Blaney ‘21 Walker Caplan ‘20 Adam Chase ‘19 Emma Chanen ’19 Caleb Cohen ‘21 Simon Custer ‘20 Anastasia Dalianis ‘21 Ethan Fogarty ‘21

Contributors: 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 Laura Koech ‘21 Mariah Kreutter ’20 Dalia Moallem ‘21 Veena Muraleetharan ’20 Leila Murphy ’19 Max Nobel ‘21 Micah Osler ’18 Noah Rae-Grant ‘18

Henry Robinson ’19 Harry Rubin ‘21 Marcy Sanchez ‘21 Sahaj Sankaran ’20 Eve Sneider ’19 Xavier Sottile ’19 Rachel Treisman ’19 Maya Vasquez ‘21 Alissa Wang ’19

Jocelyn Wexler ‘21 Ashton Winters ’20 Grace Wynter ’20 Andy Xie ‘21 Jacob Yoder-Schrock ‘21

Ben Garfinkel ’16 Claire Gorman ‘20 Molly Ono ‘20 Shaquille O’Neal Alec Zbornak ‘21

Special thanks to: Time, and its inexorable march forward. Cover: Chloe Prendergast ‘20 Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLVI, No. 5, 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 2018 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.

TEN LESSER-KNOWN SLEEP DISORDERS 1. Night Delights 2. Sleep Dialysis 3. When the no-no thoughts creep in 4. Sleep Death 5. Jet Upkeep 6. Sleep Crapnea 7. That one where you can’t sleep unless you have your essential oil mister shoved up your nostrils 8. Throbbing Ankles 9. Narcos-lepsy 10. Extra wet dreams —G. Wynter

TOP FIVE TIMES THE CLOCKMAKER KISSED ME WHILE I WAS SNUG IN BED On Christmas Eve, when The Clockmaker’s lips left a cool minty scent on my cheek On July 4, when The Clockmaker gave me a big smooch on the lips and said “Happy 4th, my child” On my mom’s birthday, when The Clockmaker showed me a vision of a world where I was born ugly On Valentine’s Day, when The Clockmaker whispered to me the best ways to fuck On St. Patrick’s Day, when The Clockmaker held a swig of Jameson Irish Whiskey in his cheeks for seven hours and regurgitated it to me —J. Houston

WHAT I WOULD DO IF I HAD THE REMOTE FROM CLICK I’ve spent many years thinking about what I would do if Christopher Walken gave me the remote from Click. What events are worth rewinding to, in order to experience them over and over again? You might think I’d like to relive my first kiss, or my second kiss, or that time I tried to kiss and accidentally shouted, “This will be my third kiss” and subsequently did not kiss. But, you would be incorrect. There is only one moment worth remembering: the first time I watched Click. I remember it like it was eleven years, six months, twenty eight days, 14 hours, 34 minutes, and 24 seconds ago. God, that first delicious frame of Adam Sandler in a fat suit. It is no wonder why this film is the only one of Mr. Sandler’s works to be nominated for an Academy Award. Watching it now just isn’t the same—if you know the fat suit is coming, what’s the point? I want to experience again that pure originality—honestly, who did time travel before Click? Nobody. Who made movies with Adam Sandler in them before Click? Nobody. Who kissed me more than two times? Nobody. The Academy Award was for Best Makeup. Of course, the remote can also be used to pause time and fast-forward time, and I shall use these features to carry out my grand vision. I must fast forward with wild abandon until the moment when, at the end of my life, Christopher Walken will appear, explain the moral of the story, kiss me softly, whisper “this is the third time you have been kissed,” and give me a second chance at life by rewinding time back to the moment he gave me the remote. It will not be easy to part with him, but it will be worth it. Because, in this way, I shall watch Click repeatedly for one lifetime, rewind, and watch Click repeatedly for a second lifetime. —A. Ringlein

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SEQUELS TO A WRINKLE IN TIME A Gray Hair in Time A Denture in Time A Catheter in Time A Funeral in Time An Inheritance Dispute in Time A Decomposition in Time A Purgatory in Time A STEM Student Stops Complaining About Their Work in Time —S. Hakani & N. Amsel MY TOP FIVE VIEWS ON GHOSTS 5) Ghosts are immigrants 4) Fuck ghosts 3) There are too many ghosts 2) We need to stop ghosts 1) I want to fuck ghosts

—B. Garfinkel

AN ODE Every moon you are greeted By the river, scarlet red And as it wanes, the cycle’s repeated And the months go ahead

AUTOCRATIC TEACHER NULLIFIES CONCEPT OF TIME

HOLLOWVILLE, NY—In a despotic statement that spawned numerous student complaints, ninth grade biology teacher Frances Goodwell upended the standard construct of time. At the sound of the 1:35 bell marking the end of seventh period at Hollowville High School, Goodwell faced her rustling students and announced, “The bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do.” Goodwell’s statement showed not only a disregard for measured time, but a marked turn toward a power-driven narcissistic command over her students. Despite backlash from students and parents, the international theoretical physics community has expressed its excitement at the creation of a space that exists outside of time. “This has the potential to disprove the theory that space and time are inseparably interdependent in a mesh of spacetime,” noted DirectorGeneral of CERN Fabiola Gianotti. “And not only that, but it can be done as a matter of human will.” “Goodwell must have some stubborn will,” she added. Gianotti’s statement was confirmed by several students in Goodwell’s class. “Once, she kept us through lunch—she didn’t even have a sense that the world was progressing beyond the walls of her biology room.” At press time, Mrs. Goodwell was unknowingly running late for a staff meeting.

—L. Kingsley & E. Yang

But sometimes days go past, And the river never flows. So worry becomes massed As your brain thinks it knows And in fear you see the grey floors Searching through the aisles, The test you need is kept in drawers While your brain is traveling miles So whether the fruit of the loom Was either planned or un You’ll leap out of your room And to CVS you’ll run This is an ode to the 24-hour pharmacy It seems you’re pregnant —C. Prendergast

—M. Kreutter

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THE CLOCKMAKER’S TOP 4 TRICKS AND 2 MOST INSIDIOUS RIDDLES 1. Making time fly: Certainly one of The Clockmaker’s top tricks is his ability to make time soar by, leaving those once immersed in a moment suddenly displaced and nostalgic for His last creation. 2. Turning back time: Just as The Clockmaker can cast us into the future, he can return us to the past, allowing us to revisit experiences that haunt or delight us in memory. Alas, we can only view these scenes, helpless to alter the course The Clockmaker has already spun. It is at once a magnanimous gesture and a wicked tease, a trick that epitomizes The Clockmaker’s ambivalence towards his children. 3. What is at the beginning of the end, the start of eternity, at the end of time and space, was in the middle of yesterday but is nowhere in tomorrow?: This is undoubtedly The Clockmaker’s most nefarious and, consequently, favorite riddle. At first glance, the statements seem impossible to reconcile: how can something be at once at the beginning of the end and at the start of eternity? For years I begged The Clockmaker to reveal the solution until finally he relented, whispering the letter “e” to me as I slept. 4. Turning time into money: This is just classic Clockmaker. Some really good vintage shit. 5. What time is the same spelled forward and backward?: The one is admittedly a distant second to His most nefarious riddle, but you can only have so many really insidious ones. Turns out the answer is just “noon.” 6. Making up for lost time: No matter how much time has passed, The Clockmaker is always down to catch up over a beer. Haven’t seen Him since college? No problem at all. He’s ready to catch up on everything’s he’s missed; because as much as He loves time, The Clockmaker’s first priority is friendship.

WOMEN OF HOLLYWOOD ALLY WITH SIDEWALK DOOMSAYER PROCLAIMING “TIME’S UP”

LOS ANGELES, CA—The high-profile women’s advocacy group Time’s Up, chaired by a number of A-list actresses and committed to ending sexual harassment across industries, has announced its alliance with Skid Row doomsayer Bucket Steve. Mr. Steve is well known in the Los Angeles area for carrying a cardboard sign saying “Time’s Up, Repent Now” and passing out homemade fliers about the imminent coming of the feathered serpent god, Quetzalcoatl. “If you look at who’s been behind the movement from the beginning, you really can’t find anyone more dedicated than Steve,” said Reese Witherspoon, one of the most prominent voices in the Time’s Up initiative. “He’s been out there for years, on the ground, helping raise awareness. I really can’t think of anyone more dedicated.” Rose McGowan, another important figure in the movement, agreed. “You look at the men of Hollywood, and it’s like, they think they’re making a statement by wearing black tuxedos to the Golden Globes? When that’s what they would wear anyway? I mean, come on. Justin Timberlake can suck Steve’s toe.” Mr. Steve was not available for comment, but was later spotted outside a 7/11 in Venice Beach urinating into an empty Big Gulp cup.

—M. Kreutter

—E. Connors

—V. Liu

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THIS FIVE-ALARM CHILI WOKE UP ALL FIVE OF MY ROOMMATES There aren’t many ways to pass the time down in the small room where I live. When I am bored, I gaze out the small crack in the cedar wood that lets in the cold night air. I count the birds that fly past. Sometimes I cry out in excitement and scare the birds away. But most of the time, I converse with my dear, dear friends and roommates: Jerry, Gwen, Art, The Clockmaker, and Lazy Jim. We have compelling discussions of life and the futility of human endeavor. They are always playing funny pranks on me, like when Gwen puts spoons on my face and The Clockmaker reminds me how existence is ceaselessly truncated by the temporal plane. The other day I decided I would play a funny prank on my dear, dear friends in playful retribution. So I went out and brought some ingredients for some Five-Alarm Chili. I put the ingredients in a pot and I stirred them with my stirring pole. I stirred them steadily and with restraint. Then I stirred them vigorously and with blatant disregard of proper stirring etiquette. I imagined each bean was one of Art’s delicate fingers, each pepper a shrunken down Lazy Jim. I beat the ingredients into a fine paste. Sometimes I count butterflies, too. I know why they call it “Five-Alarm” chili now. It is because when I poured it on five people, it woke them all up, just like a bucket of alarm clocks would if you poured them on someone. My dear, dear friends: Jerry, Gwen, Art, The Clockmaker, and Lazy Jim, no longer want to be my roomates. They may not have appreciated me much, or even really known I existed. But when the birds were gone, they were all I had. And I scared them away. Whoops! —D. Schifrin EVERLASTING WORLD They say time heals all wounds, so how come it hasn’t healed the physical and emotional scars left on me by my father? It’s been 23 years since I refused medical treatment after my horrid pops slammed the fingers of my left hand in the back door of his Hyundai Elantra. After waiting all 23 years for time to heal my shattered hand, I am still unable to bend my fingers enough to grasp a large citrus. Ten years after my father’s death and I am still stricken with fear every time I see a man wearing a purple top hat and wielding a badminton racquet. When will time heal these wounds? —H. Rubin

OTHER THINGS THE MAYAN CALENDAR PREDICTED Global Warming is real Global Warming isn’t real (they had to cover all their bases) My parent’s messy divorce, ending in me seeing my dad only once a month That the Simpsons would predict 9/11 The rise and fall of Rome The Rise and Fall of the Challenger Space Shuttle HIST 184a The Rise and Fall of Atlantic Slavery That Air Bud would become a 5 movie franchise, with 7 spin-off Air Buddies movies The calming, yet looming presence of the eternal being known as “The Clockmaker —M. Vasquez

JANUARY 20TH IN REVIEW Citizens awoke on Saturday to the news that last minute budget negotiations in the Senate had failed, shutting down the government until a deal could be reached. They also learned that Yale Dining was planning to serve Cream of Mushroom Soup at its dining halls for dinner. Two major issues of the day were the status of DACA, an Obama-era program which President Trump has promised to discontinue, and the Black-Eyed Pea Chili, which is also rumored to date to the Obama era. House Speaker Paul Ryan was quoted as saying, “Senate Democrats shut down this government, and now Senate Democrats need to open this government back up.” Meanwhile, students were overheard saying, “Christina Wethington, Jeff Hardy, and Kristin Butler are the managers of the Stiles Dining Hall, and they should really bring back those Apple and Kale Smoothies from brunch.” At the same time that thousands of federal employees were due to be furloughed, students were informed that Bourbon Yams had run out for the moment, leaving Steamed White Rice as the only remaining starch. Davenport had Yankee bean soup for dinner. —N. Amsel

Open seven days a week

Lunch Dinner Late Night

Enjoy two large screen TVs in our back room!

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THE SEVEN TYPES OF GUYS YOU’LL MEET AT “CRAZY GREG’S VINTAGE ANALOG CLOCKS AND MORE” 1. Crazy Greg: Hey clock shoppers, I’m Crazy Greg. Let me know if you need help finding anything, like analog clocks, or more! 2. Crazy Greg: Greg again. Just checking in to see if you’re finding everything okay. I see you’ve moved into the 18th Century Carriage Clock section. Nice choice! Again, just holler if you have any questions. 3. Crazy Greg: Hey, Crazy Greg here. It’s not that I need you to buy anything. In fact I’m pretty ambivalent about the whole vintage clocks deal. It’s just that I’m a little late on rent and my father-in-law Carl keeps leaving flaming bags of shit on my porch with a note that say, “You aren’t worth the shit I filled this bag with, you fucking loser.” 4. Crazy Greg: Ha-ha, me again. I was just walking around, figured I’d stop by. I’m not seeing any vintage analog clocks in your cart, which kind of raises the question of what you’re even doing in a vintage analog clock store. See that picture on the wall? That’s my family that I love very much and am trying very hard to support. Anyway, no pressure. You know where to find me. 5. Crazy Greg: Okay, listen up buddy. Here at Crazy Greg’s we have three rules: “Inside voices only,” “No touching the cuckoo clocks,” and “NO LOITERING.” And I don’t see a whole lot of vintage clocks flying off the goddamn shelves. 6. Crazy Greg: Greg here. Bet you were wondering if we sold anything other than vintage analog clocks at Crazy Greg’s Vintage Analog Clocks AND MORE. Well guess what, smart guy, I also own an extensive collection of vintage revolvers and handguns. That would be the cold metal you feel pressed against the back of your neck. And I swear to fucking God, if you move one inch I will blow your loitering brains all over the 18th Century Carriage Clock section. You are to do exactly as I say. Pick up as many goddamn vintage analog clocks as your arms can carry, put them in your loitering-ass cart, wheel yourself to the cash register, and smile at the security camera as I ring up the largest ever purchase at Crazy Greg’s. Anyway, if you have any more questions, just holler. You know where to find me. —C. Cohen

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DIARY OF A STUDENT TRAPPED IN DURFEE’S OVERNIGHT 1:15 AM: Bad news. I thought I would run to Durfee’s and get some salt and vinegar chips before they closed, but when I got there the cashier said they were shutting down and wouldn’t let me buy anything. I tried to leave, but the door was locked from the outside. When I turned around to check if the other door was open, the cashier had vanished. 1:17 AM: The other door is locked, too. I can’t figure out how the cashier got out. Worst of all, they don’t have any salt and vinegar chips. 2:30 AM: I’m starting to worry that I won’t get out of here. I know that someone will probably come back in the morning, but this place has a really weird energy. I can feel the $9 meal deal sandwiches staring at me. 3:42 AM: I got really hungry and decided to eat one of the tuna sandwiches. I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have. When you’re eating tuna, do you ever imagine the fish screaming? I should’ve gone for the ham and goat cheese instead. 4:16 AM: I think I’m hallucinating. Dean Chun just walked in, bought a single chicken tender, and left. I asked him to let me out, but he didn’t hear me. He didn’t even take any sauce. I guess he’s just going to go eat that single chicken tender, at four in the morning, with no sauce. 5:03 AM: Durfee’s should be opening soon. Thank God. It’s impossible to sleep in here with all these vaguely murderous sandwiches. 8:72: There’s a man in here. I don’t know who he is, but he hasn’t seen me. He hasn’t turned any of the lights on. He’s messing with the clock. 20:1: I asked him who he is. He doesn’t work here. He says he makes clocks. 5287: I tried to leave, but the door is still locked. I don’t know how he got in. It might actually be getting darker outside. 00000: The man is gone. I can’t read the clock. 1:15 AM: Bad news. —A. Dalianis

—L. Kingsley ME AND MY SUNDIAL

Bitches love my sundial. Nothing says masculinity like my big-ass gnomon. It don’t matter if you got a Rolex or a Timex, nobody wants your flat-ass watch faces when they could have my immense, protruding gnomon. When the 4 P.M. February sun hits my gnomon, casting that sweet, sweet 48-degree shadow, that’s when the bitches know I’m ready for them. Now sometimes the bitches be like, hey, how do you know what time it is at night? They say it’s ‘cause there’s no sun at night. Them dumbasses act like I think we’re living in the dark age. I’m not stupid. I know we got electricity. We have light bulbs and street lights and all kind of shit so you don’t need the sun to get a shadow. —H. Rubin

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REJECTED NAMES FOR BACK TO THE FUTURE Return To The Time Ahead Prom Is A Nightmare Even In The ‘50s Reverse To The Time To Come Back To The Future: Originally Starring Kevin Spacey White Males Fuck Up: A Documentary Forward To The Past Journey To The Center Of My Mom Past Times At Hill Valley High The Time Traveler’s High-School Age Friend Back To The Future Part I —M. Blaney

LESSER-KNOWN DIRECT-TO-DVD DISNEY MOVIES Hunt for the Stupid Crystal Isle of the Jews Flaccid Buddies Tarzan III: Now He Lives in the Zoo My Neighbor the Veteran The Thing I Found in Mommy’s Closet The Muppets See Two Men Kissing Mickey Mouse Can’t Stop Crying

—J. Houston

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â€”M. Kreutter & A. Lessing

T he 24-H our I ssue

FATHER TIME DEFROCKED AFTER 2018TH BABY NEW YEAR

NEW HAVEN, CT—In a controversial verdict reached by members of the papal body last week, New Haven-based priest Father Time has been ousted after a Vatican investigative committee revealed him to be the sire of 2,018 Baby New Years. Spokesman Father Mezzasalma declared this moment “the end of intrinsic sin in our clergy.” The Vatican committee was founded in the year A.D. 1545 after the Council of Trent in a Counter-Reformation initiative to clear the Church of scandal. Meticulous committee notes show a continuous effort to search for the progenitor of each young New Year. While the target was known to go by the name “Father Time,” the now 473-year search was complicated by, as Mezzasalma reports, “the striking popularity of the surname ‘Time’ in Romania.” “This is yet another example of the dry Romanian wit in opting for a surname, ‘Time’ in this case, reflective of what very well may be an entirely human perceptual construction bearing no real semblance to the outer reality which it is hopes to explain,” continued Mezzasalma. “Obviously.” “With each coming year, I felt the fear of the entire world population on Y2K concentrated within my individual being,” explained committee member Father Manganiello with tears in his eyes. “Every. Single. Year.” The Vatican deflected skepticism about the fate of the future, instead referring reporters to the Book of Revelation.

—L. Kingsley

UPDATE ON MY SON ANDREAS

JAZZ MAN the jazz man is the man i hate i yearn i dream i wish the jazz man would shut his goddamn mouth i fucking hate you jazz man

—S. O’Neal

ALWAYS YOU open the bag of fruity snacks, YOUR fingers, so deliberate YOUR lips, licked wet with anticipation YOU hand me it, strawberry-flavored pushed plump between your twisting fingers, bursting our hands glance past, the fruit snack now in my palm it is warm from YOU i want to be warm from YOU i want you to squeeze me rub me between your thumb and fingers tongue exploring teeth mashing the fleshy red jellies YOU ask me if i want more i say yes but i mean always —S. O’Neal

Now that the federal government has shut down, my immense son Andreas has been released from his minimum-security prison outside Scottsdale, Arizona, as a result of understaffing. His crimes include eating too many Whoopie Pies and harrassing a State Senator. Ever since he fell into the La Brea Tar Pits, Andreas’ body has been producing an excessive amount of of oil, making him slippery and thus nearly impossible to apprehend. Additionally, puberty has made him incredibly strong. Please file an Amber Alert if you see Andreas so that he can be taken away as soon as possible. —J. Houston

—A. Kinnane

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THE CLOCKMAKER’S FIVE CHOICE ZINGERS TO GET YOUR GOAT 1. Knock knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad that which is always just out of sight has not yet been revealed? 2. Knock knock. Who’s there? It’s sparrows. Sparrows who? Those which would occupy your childhood yard in days past, never to be revisited. 3. Yo Mama is so blind, she has failed to notice the darkness within in you, which could come from none beside she who bore you. 4. Why did the chicken cross the road? Alas, it is irrelevant; like the chicken, all mortals spend an eternity in nonexistence. Someday the era which you have inhabited will have passed us by. 5. How do you think the unthinkable? Look beyond the constraints of your mortal understanding: with an itheberg. —C. Baciocco

WAYS I’VE RUINED MY NEPHEW CONNOR’S BRIS

BASKETBALL LEGEND SHAQUILLE O’NEAL STOPS BY CAMPUS FOR 24-HOUR ISSUE

NEW HAVEN, CT—Rumors that had engulfed Yale’s campus were confirmed this Saturday when retired NBA player Shaquille O’Neal attended The Yale Record’s 24-Hour Issue production party held in the Stiles game room. “While perusing my Facebook feed recently, I was delighted to see that the website had suggested I attend an event to which several of my friends had already RSVP’d,” O’Neal said. “I immediately used my cursor to select ‘going’ and called my travel agent to make accommodations.” Arriving promptly at 12 P.M. on Saturday and staying until the event wrapped on noon the next day, O’Neal wrote several pieces that will feature in the magazine. “We loved having Mr. O’Neal here,” said Record Chair Lizzy Kingsley. “He seemed to be really into modern poetry, which was great since we are always looking to expand The Record’s style.” Kingsley was not alone in enjoying O’Neal’s presence. “It was pretty awesome having Shaq here,” said Record senior Alex Ringlein. “I even got to share a pack of fruit snacks with him, which was really cool.” Ringlein was not the only Record member to share a memorable experience with O’Neal. “I had a really awesome conversation with Shaq about jazz,” said Record sophomore Elliot Connors. “He even started calling me ‘Jazz Man.’ He was totally into it. We really hit it off and I wouldn’t be surprised if we keep in touch.”

—A. Kinnane

Showed him up by removing way more foreskin from my own penis Whispered to everyone that it “easily cracks the bottom five brises I’ve been to” Got drunk and tried to lift him in the hora chair by myself but dropped him, further injuring his tender penis Ran around the room chanting, “Jews Jews Jews” Asked if the foreskin was up for grabs Loudly said, “With a pecker like that, he’d better be a cunnilingus wizard” Tried to show him a picture of Sharon’s bosom to “see if he’s a grower” Exclaimed that “he takes after the father in the penis department” Reminded the young children they could be next —A. Kinnane, B. Beitler, & C. Prendergast

—H. Rubin

T he 24-H our I ssue

ROBERT FROST FORGETS SOMEONE’S NAME AT A SUITE PARTY Whose suite this is I think I know I can’t recall his first name though; He will not see me stopping here To watch me down his boxed merlot. My little squad must think it weird To stop without a frat house near Between the Soads and morning aches The dankest evening of the year. They give my tank-topped shoulder a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of crowded buildings bumping Drake. The party is lovely, hype, on fleek, But I have promises to keep, And hours to go before I sleep, And hours to go before I sleep.

deep, sweet sleep. The air is still and feels like stealth. My fans on Fanfiction.net are going to love this one, if I still remember it when I wake up in the morning. I do not write anything down because my genius cannot be entrusted to the artifice of the page. Genre? Hurt/Comfort, with a touch of Angst. Rating? Teen. Let’s keep this one on the family-friendly side. These characters with flawless, computer-animated skin can touch, but not too much. I will imagine Naruto kissing his pretty pink-haired friend, the one with the impractical but fashionable sandals. I will imagine them as college students, in the Middle Ages, in full drag. At the climax, Naruto will elope with Guy Fieri in a hot tub in Flavortown. Anything is possible in the dark. I am feeling it now! My mind will float amongst the sheep and clouds as I title my piece Ninjas In Love. Rock Lee will drop his weights as I drop the last of my worries and inhibitions. My eyeballs are heavy now. I have found my ninja way. And even if my fans do not celebrate the world I have forged, at least it will bring me eight peaceful hours of simulated death. —V. Liu

—L. Unsworth

OP-ED: I CAN’T SLEEP. BUT I WILL BE ABLE TO SLEEP SOON, THANKS TO NARUTO It is dark and the voices behind my curtains have ceased their chatter. My covers smother me, as does the weight of consciousness. Four walls enclose me as I lie sprawled and ready. Yet I remain awake. My eyeballs dance with excitement under filmy eyelids. I can feel every wrinkle of my blanket caressing my flesh. I toss. I turn. Like a garden salad. Like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. You see, I am in a descriptive mood tonight, despite my insomnia. A narrative mood. So I know I will not be awake for long. For I am a writer, and one of the highest caliber. I am too old for bedtime stories now, but that does not stop me from telling my own. The wheels are turning in my head. I am the master of my own destiny. Like Naruto overcame the obstacles of his birth to become Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village and save Sasuke from the darkness, tonight, in his honor, I will create the next breakthrough Naruto fanfiction to lull myself into

—L. Unsworth

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COOL RUNNINGS REVIEW

I missed a few deadlines here, so my usual publication wouldn’t publish this. I believe that my tardiness has led to a long-term perspective that all other Cool Runnings reviews lack, but this insight was clearly not shared by the editors at Gawker, who have not been responding to my emails. Those assholes clearly think that their publication is too successful to respond to a writer whose last correspondence took place over twenty years ago. I guess that’s showbiz for you, so there are no hard feelings. I wish them the best. In any case, I was pleased to learn that The Record’s 24-Hour Issue would accept this review, which I have been refining for years. A lot has happened since I started this review, some of it good, some of it bad, all of it essential to my understanding of the Jamaican bobsled team’s triumphant run in the 1988 Calgary Olympics. I met the love of my life, had three beautiful children, and created a life for myself in Miami, where the sun never seemed to set. But as my first Gawker deadline approached, the light of that resplendent Miami sun began to wane. Chapter 2: Loving to Learn and Learning to Love On the eve of that first deadline, I was rocked by the discovery that the love of my life had cheated on me with my best friend. Soon after, my children gave me me the nickname “Cryan,” a mean combination of Brian, my name, and “crying,” the thing I did almost non-stop after the love of my life left me. During their monthly visits, my children never forgot to mention how Dave, my former best friend, was a far better father than I would ever be. Felicia, my youngest, really twisted the knife by insisting that my exwife had never been more sexually satisfied, describing in graphic detail how Dave pleasured her mother in the home movie theater where I first watched the film that would eventually inspire this review. Her 7-year-old vocabulary hurt more than any adult’s ever could. When I first saw Cool Runnings, I thought that it was a lighthearted, inspiring movie about overcoming expectations in order to gain respect, a far more important reward than victory. I now realize this was a stupid fucking analysis, and not just because in the middle of my first draft I boldly declared that John Candy would live to be at least ninety. In reality, Cool Runnings is a stupid movie that doesn’t address any real issues that real people experience. Here is a list of real problems people deal with that Cool Runnings did not even address in the slightest: infidelity,

mean children, impotence, getting fired, crying oneself to the point of dangerous dehydration, luging. I could go on. In conclusion, Cool Runnings is a pointless fucking movie that I will be lucky to never think about again. That being said, I thought it was pretty funny when they exit the airport at the Winter Games and they are all really cold because they have never left Jamaica before. So it isn’t all bad. —B. Beitler

AFTER RECORD PAVES PATH, YDN ANNOUNCES 24-HOUR ISSUE

NEW HAVEN, CT—Hours into production of The Yale Record’s 24-Hour Issue, the Yale Daily News announced that they too would attempt to produce an entire issue of their publication in one day. “It’s an incredible concept,” noted YDN Editor in Chief Rachel Treisman. “I honestly can’t believe we never thought of it.” Treisman, a former Record staffer, admitted she regretted changing publication allegiance. “The Record has an ambitious team that produces terrific content and upholds high editorial standards even when crunched for time. I truly respect them and wish I was part of such an enterprising publication.” “At the end of the day, no pun intended, imitation is the highest form of flattery,” said Record Editor in Chief Matt Abuzalaf as he helmed the first ever single-day editorial process of a Yale print publication. “And while The Yale Daily News doesn’t have the same resources or manpower as The Record, I have faith that they can rustle up something decent.” Treisman took care to note how easy The Record made the undertaking look: “We only hope we could complete this endeavor with such grace. If we manage to pull it off once, we’re not sure we could do it again for quite some time.” Despite its aspirations, the YDN is not willing to devote weekend time to this arduous task; it will wait until Monday to pursue the challenge.

—L. Kingsley

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MY FAVORITE QUOTES ABOUT TIME

S.S. ENDEAVOR CAPTAIN’S LOG

‘time’ “time” ‘time’ `time` `thyme` ‘Thyme’ ```time``` ‹time› “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart.” -Steve Jobs quotes time quotes —A. Ringlein

Today, I had an otherworldly experience. In my preparation for near-lightspeed travel, I had become well-versed on the concepts of time dilation and length contraction. At the Endeavor’s top speed, one hour flight time is the equivalent of twelve minutes ground time. During the jump to near-lightspeed travel, the rapid acceleration heavily disturbed my ordinary blood circulation, increasing the blood density of a certain bodily appendage. After four flighthours at near lightspeed, my lower appendage remained erect. However, our flight had not yet reached a duration of four earth hours, so despite my initial panic, I felt no need to consult a medical professional. Reassured by the dilated time, I persited for eighteen more flight-hours, until my circulation returned to normal. Through these conversion factors, I estimate that my twenty-two hour erection did, in fact, exceed four hours of ground time. In retrospect, then, I should have consulted a doctor. Theoretically, for near-lightspeed travel, measured lengths of objects should be shorter than their actual ground length. I am pleased to state, despite consensus in the scientific community suggesting otherwise, there was no significant contraction in the length of a certain object.

TOP 7 TIMES YOU JUST HAD TO BE THERE

7. That time when the elevator doors were closing and nobody held the door for you 6. 9:00 am for your first final of Fall 2017 5. The birth of your first child 4. When we were in that fallout shelter during the nuclear holocaust 3. The Rapture 2. Your court date 1. That time when Drake came to Yale’s Spring Fling unannounced and began playing his unrelased hit “Lumpy and Fast,” but before the beat dropped Yale Alumnus George H. W. Bush came in on a flaming wheelchair... you know what, you just had to be there. —S. Hakani, A. Ringlein, & N. Amsel

—H. Rubin

—M. Ono

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STUDY FINDS THAT BRIAN IS KINDA HOT IF YOU’RE INTO UGLY-ASS DUDES Dear Alexa, Turn on the TV.

WORLD WAR I-ERA SOLDIER ACTUALLY JUST HOPELESSLY MANIPULATED CITIZEN DRAGGED INTO THE DEATH THROES OF IMPERIALISM.. IN A TRENCH COAT.

—Mary

Dear Mary, You have a remote for that, Mom. Your daughter, Alexa

“ALRIGHT, OPEN UP AND LET ME SEE THOSE PEARLY GATES!” SAYS DENTIST ON DEATHBED

Dear Lover,

More tongue, please. Thanks, A severed cow tongue kissing another severed cow tongue

STUDY FINDS ARCHIE’S KIND OF NICE IF. .IF. .IF. . FUCK YOU ARCHIE

H u nge r Dismised!

Stop in and take a study break

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Dear President Salovey,

Dear Robby,

Truth or Dare? —Robby

Dare. —President Salovey

Dear President Salovey, I dare you to pick your nose and eat it! —Robby Dear Robby, I changed my mind - truth. —President Salovey Dear President Salovey, What are you doing to address the Student Income Contribution? —Robby Dear Robby,

Boogers taste quite nice. —President Salovey

FARMERS! Soil tilled once at five is better than soil tilled many times at noon.

—N. Ewing-Crystal

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“Time pedals a beer bike when you’re having a midday bachelorette party.”

“Time drives a Mustang when you’re having a midlife crisis.”

“Time rides in the Pope Mobile when you’re having a hard time meeting women.”

“Time pilots the Challenger when you’re having a meltdown.”

—C. Gorman

Yale Opera Doris Yarick-Cross, Artistic Director • presents Mozart’s

Magic Flute the

February 16–18, 2018 shubert theatre

Israel Gursky, conductor Dustin Wills, stage director With the Yale Philharmonia

Fri & Sat, 8 pm • Sun, 2 pm Tickets start at $19 • Students $13 Shubert Theatre Box Office 247 College Street, New Haven

Robert Blocker, Dean

Tickets On Sale Now! 203 562-5666 • shubert.com