The 24 Hour Issue

Vol. 147, No. 5

THE YALE

Jan. 25, 2019

RECORD

“The Nation’s Oldest Humor Magazine” or

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

chair@yalerecord.org

BAD NEWS FOR BIG BEN: THEY INVENTED CLOCKS SMALL ENOUGH TO WEAR

Dear Crisis Actors, I am sorry I gave you such a hard time. I confused you with Isis actors.

Sincerely, Alex “The Gut” Jones

Dear The Mafia, Please let my daughter go, she’s all I have!

Signed, Sad Dad

THE NEW NEW YORK? THIS SMALL TOWN JUST IMPLEMENTED STOP AND FRISK

FOR SALE: A BRAND NEW TI-84 BECAUSE MY FAT, LOWLIFE SON STILL WANTS TO MAJOR IN THEATER

Dear Alexa, You are a whore for sleeping with Jeff Bezos. Homewrecker.

Sincerely, Mackenzie Bezos

Dear Sad Dad, Please pick your daughter up, she keeps sticking her fingers in the salamis.

Signed, Sbarro Staff

“NEW SEMESTER, NEW ME!” ANNOUNCES STUDENT BEFORE DOING A LINE OF COKE IN THE GOOD LIFE CENTER

THE NEW BITCOIN? IF I EMAIL MY NAKED PICTURES TO UNCLE TOMMY HE’LL GIVE ME A GIFT CARD TO RUBY TUESDAY FOR MY BIRTHDAY Dear the troops, Did you know that if you die in the war, you die in real life?

Obituary CorrectionSincerely, The Yale Record Editorial Board would like Rob to apologize for an erroneous obituary in a previous issue of the magazine. The editors confused Stephen Hawking with skateboarder Tony Hawk, misidentifying the late theoretical physicist as “X Games champion and founder of the ‘Boom Boom HuckJam’ BMX freestyle motocross tour.”

BODY POSITIVITY WIN! THIS GUY LOOKS GROSS BUT STILL FUCKS YOUR AD CAN'T GO HERE CLEARLY THIS SPOT'S TAKEN, DUMBASS

NEW: O

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THE NEW WATERGATE? MY MOM WAS MEAN TO ME YESTERDAY Dear dairy farmers, Is it considered second base when you touch a cow’s titties?

Sincerely, Timmy

OVERWEIGHT MAILMAN DARK HORSE CANDIDATE TO BECOME MY NEW DAD Dear Timmy, Nope, that’s home base.

Sincerely, Dairy Farmers

UNCLE RICHIE ODDS-ON FAVORITE TO BECOME MY NEW DAD Dear Principal Brown, I was pleased to hear about the new anti-bullying campaign. Recently, I have been the victim of a vicious probullying catpaign. Please assist.

Sincerely, Henry

“PAPA JOHN” SCHNATTER POISED TO MAKE A RUN TO BECOME MY NEW DAD Dear Henry, Thank you for reaching out.

We care deeply about protecting our students. Who has been bullying you and how?

Sincerely, Principal Brown

Dear Principal Brown, The perpetrator is Clete, who teaches Geography class in the supply closet after school on Thursdays. He calls me “Dumb-ry” instead of Henry, which isn’t even funny. He also keeps telling me that there is no such thing as Nova Scotia.

Sincerely, Henry

UPDATE: PAPA JOHN RACKED BY SCANDAL, NO LONGER IN THE MIX TO BECOME MY NEW DAD. MEANWHILE, THE MAILMAN IS PICKING UP GROUND ON UNCLE RICHIE. Dear Dumb-ry, I must inform you that Clete is our most senior teacher and the world’s leading expert in geographic conspiracies. If he claims that Nova Scotia doesn’t exist, trust him. It just may save your life someday.

Godspeed, Principal Brown

LAST UPDATE: TURNS OUT UNCLE RICHIE WAS THE MAILMAN THE WHOLE TIME AND HE WAS JUST IN DISGUISE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T WANT MY OLD DAD TO RECOGNIZE HIM WHEN HE STOPPED BY EVERY AFTERNOON TO SCHLONG MY MOM. I NOW REGRET BETTING MANY MONTHS’ ALLOWANCE ON PAPA JOHN.

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uld like to a previous ed Stephen y Hawk, cist as “X oom Boom ”

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KEN,

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NEW: Old Spice Men’s 5 in 1 Shower Gel --Shampoo---Conditioner---Body Wash---Lighter Fluid---Is Self-Aware And Can Do Your Taxes-“Great for Normal to Oily Skin!”

A BLESSING AND A CURSE? THIS WITCH BLESSED ME BUT ALSO CURSED ME

Dear Yale undergrads, I’m emailing to inform you of a revolutionary overhaul to shopping period. Please adhere to the following guidelines: instructors, please post your syllabi. Students, please sign up for the courses you are shopping, and then enroll in some of those courses.

Sincerely, Dean Chun

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Check out our website,

Dear Dean Chun, Isn’t that kind of what we’ve always done?

Sincerely, Yale undergrads Dear Yale undergrads, Shut the hell up and enjoy the new shopping period. It is revolutionary, and it is mine.

Best, Dean Chun

yalerecord.org, for more hilarious content!

FOR SALE: Baby shoes, never worn, kid died.

—P. Davis

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RATATOUILLE ANNOUNCES LIVE ACTION REMAKE SET IN SAYBROOK DINING HALL Dear Record, My body is a temple and my roommate is Jewish. What should I do?

Sinceely, Reader

POINT: I LOST MY VIRGINITY AT THE 24-HOUR ISSUE Dear Reader, Thanks for writing! You may be surprised to hear this, but yours is a question we get a lot.

We would like to reassure you that your body only stands in danger of being transmuted into the Third

house of Yahweh, Beit haMikdash haShlishi, if your roommate adheres to the Jewish philosopher Maimonides’ view that Jews should try to rebuild the temple whenever possible, and turn your supple, sacred body into a lasting structure of stone ASAP. Luckily for you, though, that’s not a widely-held view. To most, the reconstruction of the Third Temple should only occur in the era of the Jewish Messiah at the hand of Divine Providence.

Just slip a quick “Do you agree with the Tanakh’s position regarding the Temple Mount?” into the next heart to heart with your new bestie, and you should get all the answers you need.

Love, The Record

COUNTERPOINT: I FUCKED A VIRGIN AT THE 24-HOUR ISSUE

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COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: I MASTURBATED FURIOUSLY WHILE WATCHING SOME STUDENTS GETTING IT ON AT THE 24-HOUR ISSUE Obituary Correction The Yale Record Editorial Board would like to apologize for an erroneous obituary in a previous issue of the magazine. The editors confused Stephen Hawking with skateboarder Tony Hawk, misidentifying the late theoretical physicist as “X Games champion and founder of the ‘Boom Boom HuckJam’ BMX freestyle motocross tour.”

YOUR AD COUNTER-COUNTER-COUNTERPOI CAN'T GO HERE NT: I DID NOT LOSE MY VIRGINITY AT THE 24-HOUR ISSUE, AS I HAVE FUCKED MANY TIMES BEFORE CLEARLY THIS SPOT'S TAKEN, DUMBASS

—P. Davis

NEW: Ol

--Is Self

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Emmy Waldman ‘11

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veryone else has fallen asleep and I am catching their dreams. Be quiet or you’ll wake them up and we’ll get arrested. If you’re quiet you can help me catch them. See those spirals like DNA they are exhaling? That’s the film. You usually can’t see it, but it’s crystallizing in the cold. Try to spool it on your fingers as it comes out of their mouths. The quicker you get it the better. The images fade and evaporate the farther it gets from their brains. Don’t put your fingers in their mouths, though. Seriously, stop that or I’ll call the cops.

Once the film is coiled, it will keep its structure so that we can take it to the darkroom. There, we’ll steep it in solution and then project the negatives through the oculus onto the sky. You’ll see them as constellations but I’ll see them as images. The Earth will spin and this will set the images in motion like a film reel so that each dream lasts exactly twenty four hours, though I can watch them faster by spinning in the opposite direction. When I was a kid, I thought this was how time worked; that we could speed certain days up or experience others in slow motion by manipulating our speed relative to the Earth’s rotation. I’ve since found that the opposite is true, that the days we want to be fast are slow and vice versa. This idea I have patented and will sue the shit out of anyone who writes anything vaguely similar.

Sometimes their dreams are boring so I whisper exciting things into their ears like “war” or “make it sexy.” I do this for everyone except for Horny Simon, whose dreams are so sexy I often have to ask him to cool them down a bit. Let’s just say if Horny Simon spent as much time on the Record as he does being horny, we would basically be a soft-core pornography magazine. In the interest of anonymity, I will not say which member of the Record’s two-person business team is colloquially referred to as Horny Simon, though I will say it’s not the person you’d expect, namely, Chloe Prendergast.

It’s the other member of our business team, whose name is Simon. Listen: I’m not saying Simon is horny, but let’s just say there’s a reason we call him Horny Simon: it’s

T he CT orporate A merica he 24- hour I ssue I ssue because he’s so goddamned horny all the time!

When they all sleep in the same room like this, the strands of film get tangled together and they dream about each other. See the web forming above them? The nodes where strands intersect are points of collective memory, like today; because as much as this issue is a wildly successful publicity stunt live-streamed to tens of viewers from across the residential college system, it is also an important bonding event for our new and old staff alike.

As I look out over this sea of sleeping faces, I am reminded of many of these people’s names and even some of their last names.

It is this incredible intimacy fostered by the twenty-four hour issue that makes it worth every agonizing second. Rarely have I experienced such acute exhaustion or writer’s block, but now that it’s over, I couldn’t be more grateful that it happened. There is so much more I want to say to you all, but unfortunately, time is running out, so I will leave you with this: dream big. After all, you and I are the only ones watching.

I am now being informed that we are nine hours into the twenty-four hour issue and that I have only written six hundred words of this thousand-word editorial, to which I would respond, what gives you the right? It is this sort of rampant negativity which makes me question the culture the rest of Big Four and I have promoted by releasing weekly power rankings of staffers’ performance and also hotness. I suppose that when you regularly top the objective power rankings of an esteemed institution like the Record, people are looking for any opportunity to take you down a peg, be it by telling you the time or even the word count of your editorial. Honestly, these unprompted attacks on my character make me feel less guilty about watching their dreams tonight. I know some people might consider this an invasion of privacy, but

Ellen Yang ’20 Chair

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I don’t see it that way, mainly because I like doing it. Besides, I never remember what I watch. Before I go to sleep, I package the film and slip it back into their heads so that they can do with it what they please. In this case, I put my fingers in their mouths, but not the way you were doing it. For one, I wash my hands and wear gloves if I have any open sores. Anyways, if they choose to tell me about their dreams in the morning, that’s their prerogative, but if they don’t, it’s as if I’d never watched them at all.

More than anything, I wish that I could watch my own dreams. Most mornings, though, I wake up barely remembering the day before let alone what happened in the unconscious interim. I have chugged apple cider vinegar and kept dream journals to no avail. It makes me wonder whether there is another dreamcatcher out there who is taking my film and never restoring it in some fit of karmic justice. After all, in the only recurring dream I ever remember, I’m being chased through the ruins of an abandoned city by a kidnapper I never see, as if the dream itself has just barely escaped by hiding amidst the remnants of its abducted predecessors. I’ve tried to talk to my therapist about it but he always tells me that no matter how bad my nightmares are I can’t sleep in his bed and that I should please leave his house.

What he never seems to understand is that it’s not the nightmare that scares me as much as the reminder that I dream vicariously through others, and more importantly, what this says about my waking hours.

—E. Connors Editor in Chief

Elliot Connors ’20 Editor in Chief

Jake Houston ’19 Online Editor in Chief

Chloe Prendergast ’20 Publisher

Noah Amsel ’20 Webmaster

Caleb Cohen ’21 Managing Editor

Dylan Schifrin ’20 Director of Online Content

Anastasia Dalianis ’21 Art Director

Simon Custer ’20 Business Manager

Brian Beitler MD ’22 Medical Counsel

Walker Caplan ’20 Online Managing Editor

Mariah Kreutter ’20 Managing Editor

Harry Rubin ’21 Managing Editor

Marcy Sanchez ’21 Design Editor

Adam Chase ’19 Director of Special Projects

Maddy Blaney ’21 Staff Director

Nathan Ewing-Crystal ’19 Old Owl

Colin Baciocco ’21 Ethan Fogarty ’21 Itai Almor ’20 David Hou ’22 Kaylee Walsh ’22 David McCowin ’21

Liz Kingsley ’19 Old Owl

Dalia Moallem ’21 Veena Muraleetharan ’20 Paige Davis ’21 Alex Kane ’22 Luna Garcia ’22 Will Cramer ’22

Adam Lessing ’19 Old Owl

Jocelyn Wexler ’21 Grace Wynter ’20 Amanda Thomas ’21 Vivek Suri ’20 Kyle Mazer ’22 Ryan Fuentes ’22

Staff:

Sarah Force ’21 Alec Zbornak ’21 Ryan Ofman ’22 Cameron Berg ’22 Maya Sanghvi ’22 Alex Hoganson ’20

Vicky Liu ’19 Old Owl

Lane Unsworth ’19 Old Owl

Max Nobel ’21 Kiran Chokshi ’20 Rosa Chang ’22 Tom Battles ’20 Zuri Goodman ’22 Sonia Ruiz ’19

Laura Koech ’21 Yonatan Greenberg ’21 Omar Zakaria ’22 Victoria Chen ’21 Ben Lauring ’22 Nick Abuzalaf ’21

Special thanks to: Tom Brady, Hot Caleb, and every other beautiful late bloomer who reminds us never to stop reaching for the stars.

Front Cover: Rosa Chang ’22 , whose experience drawing owls eating each other out yet again proved invaluable.

Back Cover: Paige Davis ’21, whose experience drawing owls eating each other out will undoubtedly serve the Record at another time.

Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLVII, 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: Chair, The Yale Record, PO Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520, or chair@yalerecord.org. Offer only valid at participating retailers while supplies last. The Yale Record would like to high-five the UOFC for its financial support.

GOD IS A WOMAN, BUT SHE ALSO APPROPRIATES BLACK CULTURE

SILLIEST SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMONS

Is it time to cancel God? After 2018’s stunning revelation that the Christian deity we all know and love is a woman after all, it’s time for the culture to re-examine if She’s all we cracked Her up to be.

Finesse Mitchell of SNL fame doing stand up about Mike Wazowski from Monsters Inc. at the Laugh Factory in Las Vegas: This guy gets goofy. His hilarious set about the Billy Crystal-voiced sidekick in Disney Pixar’s Monsters Inc. always leaves me lying frozen in fear.

Yes, She divined the entirety of humankind and our environs, including creeks, cakepops, and Gossip Girl, not to mention the myriad realms of existence beyond our mortal perception. But in the Third Testament, She described Herself as a “hip hop fan,” which normally would have been fine, except then sShe made the Roots back Her up for an impromptu freestyle rap on Fallon. Like, hop off, “sis.”

And don’t even get me started on the obsidian statue She carved of Herself with cornrows like some midwestern teen back from her first Caribbean vacation. Your scalp ain’t made for that! Stop calling it a “protective style” when it’s not protecting shit!

I’ll say it, God’s done some pretty fucked up shit to negros! Ashy skin, winter in general, pop-up ads, and ya know, wypipo, to name a few targeted plagues. Love the culture, hate the people.

So before you stream that Bible audiobook, take a minute to think about how that New Testament Bitch is on Her same old bullshit. Thank u, next!

—G. Wynter

Mike Wazowski from Monsters Inc. performing his own stand up routine: This is mostly just that scene in Monsters Inc. where he burps up his microphone.

I physically cannot let out the big chuckle this bit deserves, but I try my best.

Kermit the Frog: Absolute silliest moment is when he comes in singing “Rainbow Connection” in a little cowboy hat. I cannot move or speak, but if I could, I would stand up and say, “Now this is silly.”

The inspirational speaker that spoke at Camp Athena Leadership Camp For Girls when I was nine: Should probably talk to my therapist about why this guy keeps coming back.

The entire cast of Gremlins: The entire army of gremlins congregates to recreate various silly scenes in the movie that happen before the plot gets too tense. Thank goodness: those other scenes are too scary!

—M. Sanchez

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ALTERNATIVE WAYS DAFT PUNK COULD HAVE GOTTEN LUCKY Invested in a hedge fund with diversified assets, guaranteeing slow but sustainable returns.

Looked inside of themselves to realize that on this tiny cosmic speck of dust, the most important thing isn’t sex but rather learning to accept oneself, inside and out.

Went to sleep instead of staying up all night to the inevitable detriment of their physical health.

Taken off those silly masks and showed themselves to the world. It can be scary to expose your naked self to the public eye; as a high school teacher who enjoys teaching naked, I understand this better than most.

But we love you Daft, and want you to feel safe and free, no matter how fuck-ugly you are.

Fucked the aspiring young comedy writer who was right under their nose this whole time.

—R. Ofman THINGS YOU DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT LATE-NIGHT TV Disney Plays the “Explicit” Versions: In the new spinoff Raven’s Home, Raven Symone finds herself finally old enough to drop the f-bomb with style and tenacity.

Fox News Goes Liberal at 3:00 AM: Every morning, Fox fills its 3:00 AM commercial break with a video on loop of Sean Hannity pleasuring himself to a highlight reel of Hillary Clinton’s best debate moments. Still not great, but we’ll take it!

ESPN Covers Curling: Trouble falling asleep? Put down the Ambien and turn on ESPN. You’ll be unconscious by the third roll.

Steve Irwin’s Ghost Appears on Animal Planet: Meet the guy who made Bindi and Robert Irwin famous! If you’re lucky, the ghost of the stingray who killed him might show up too!

Channel 718: Just try it. Trust me.

—L. Kingsley

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SHUTDOWN HERO! THIS OVERACHIEVING TSA EMPLOYEE IS STRIP-SEARCHING TRAVELLERS IN THE LAGUARDIA PARKING LOT

By D. MCCOWIN NEW YORK, NY—Every TSA worker should be commended for keeping our country safe without pay in recent weeks, but one brave employee stands above the rest for his dedication to the craft. Meet Tobias Cuckles. When Tobias finishes his shift at the Laguardia Terminal A TSA checkpoint, he doesn’t take his uniform off.

Instead, Cuckles pulls his latex gloves on even tighter and heads outside to his RV, permanently located in the LaGuardia Airport parking lot, to continue the fight on terrorism after hours. From his RV, Cuckles offers free “pre-checks” for travellers to alleviate the burden on his overworked colleagues.

Yep. Tobias has officially won the government shutdown.

After a very thorough pat-down, Cuckles leads passengers through his metal detector. Even Cuckles isn’t exempt from this rigorous scrutiny.

In fact, he set off the detector himself when we visited him, exclaiming, “I didn’t realize being rock hard counted as a metal.” Could he get any more adorable?

Cuckles has prevented many potential terrorists in his time in the parking lot. His RV-based security has found travellers carrying water bottles potentially rife with explosives and car keys which could prove fatal in the wrong hands. Fortunately, Cuckles takes these malicious passengers into custody on the spot, carrying a pair of fuzzy handcuffs on him at all times for just this occasion. After he lectures them on travel safety in the back of his RV, what Cuckles describes as “a slap on the ass I mean wrist,” Cuckles lets the passengers go, confident they have learned their lesson once and for all.

Americans can all rest a bit easier knowing that men and women like Cuckles have dedicated their life to keeping us safe. In fact, Cuckles has created his own private security agency, entitled the Brave Defense of Safety and Mankind. Talk about a security win!

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the world. I walk into my Christian Grey-like dungeon; you might call it a “garage.” I’ll stroll past my potential partners, but this time, it’s me who’s doing the honking. The cravings consume me. Smooth curves, Italian leather seats, wheels: I can’t resist the temptation. I grab a sponge and a towel and buff the chosen car until it shines like the sparkle in the light blue eyes of a young Renee Zellweger. I sit upright in the driver’s seat, slowly shifting in and out of second gear.

I close my eyes. This is real. This is passion. This is sex.

—W. Cramer I MADE A DISCOVERY We are now 17 hours into the night and I have made a discovery. It is so astonishing that I am still shaking to the core. I have just realized that the word “Brexit,” which has been in the news, is a combination of the words “Britain” and “England.”

I am so proud. Only in my sleep-deprived state praying for the gentle embrace of my blanket and Pillow Pet was I able to achieve this feat of analytic genius. It is only my poor mental and physical condition which keeps me from running and bragging to all my friends and their Pillow Pets.

I will explain how I came to this conclusion. The letters “B-r” belong to the word “Britain,” which is the country slated to leave the European Union on March 29, 2019.

Furthermore, the letters “e-x-i-t” sort of belong to the word “England,” part of the country slated to leave the European Union on March 29, 2019.

MY LIFE AFTER LATE NIGHT

Hey guys, it’s me, Jay Leno. You know, from Jay Leno’s Garage and Season One, Episode Ten of the hit-TV show, Frasier. If those don’t ring a bell, you might remember me as “The King of Late Night,” a title I earned by allegedly murdering Johnny Carson in his sleep. But those days are behind me. I’ve now settled down with my wife, my cars, and my children, which is also what I call my cars.

I do not expect an award. I do not even expect to be celebrated for more than a week and a half or so. And while I do not think that just anyone in my position would have demonstrated the same level of brilliance, I do encourage others to make discoveries of their own. Push the boundaries of what you think is possible. Because only then will your name echo through the ages with the tectonic reverberations of some country leaving some kind of union, to use a totally random comparison.

In the years since I left The Tonight Show, I’ve learned Just don’t go around saying that “Calexit” is a combinathat life is about so much more than milquetoast monotion of California and Newport Beach. That discovery is logue jokes and artificially inflated ratings. At the end of mine, too. the day, I want to be remembered for doing what I love: having sex with my cars. It usually starts on a hot sum—D. Schifrin mer day, when the air is heavy and there’s not a care in

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OTHER CITIES THAT NEVER SLEEP

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Las Vegas, NV: With slot machines and cabarets galore, good luck catching a wink of sleep in this crazy town!

New Orleans, LA: Though New Orleans is most famous for its dazzling Mardi Gras celebrations, its bar and —W. Caplan music scenes land it on “best-of ” lists year-round.

Whether you’re at a curbside concert on Frenchmen Street or dancing the night away at One Eyed Jack’s, the rhythm of the Big Easy keeps pumping long after the sun goes down. POINT: JESUS TURNED MY WATER BED

INTO A WINE BED! Miami Beach, FL: Why sleep in Miami Beach when you can dance? Enjoy the daytime sun and then head on It started out like any other night. I was lying in my wadown to South Beach, where late-night eateries and terbed, wishing for the sinful thoughts to leave me alone.

LGBT clubs keep the party going 24/7!

“Lord Jesus,” I prayed, “I’m back on my bullshit, thinking about ass again. I’ll need a miracle to be saved.” Suddenly, Goleta, CA: It’s safe to say that no one in Goleta, CA sweet Galilee wine began to pour forth from my bed! can get a good night’s sleep after October 1979, when Goleta was terrorized by a series of violent break-ins COUNTERPOINT: JESUS SAYS MY WINE and double murders committed by the man who would BED IS ACTUALLY A BLOOD later be named the Golden State Killer.

OF JESUS BED Visalia, CA: Nestled at the base of the Sierra Nevada, this “Thank you Jesus!” I said, lapping up the wine as picturesque town has plenty to offer both day and night, quickly as I could. including giant sequoias, snowshoeing adventures, and “Sure thing. But just so you know, this is my blood the creeping knowledge that the Visalia Ransacker, the of the covenant, which is poured out for the forgiveness of burglar that plagued Visalia from 1974 to 1975, may sins,” said Jesus. “Sorry I ruined your bed.” have in fact been the Golden State Killer rehearsing for his more nefarious crimes.

—N. Amsel Sacramento, CA: Blood. Keening wails. Pure, unadulterated fear. Sacramentans’ nights are sleepless, tormented by thoughts of the Golden State Killer’s reign of terror. Even though Joseph James DeAngelo was taken into custody in connection with the Golden State Killer’s crimes in 2018, it was never just the threat of one man keeping the citizens of Sacramento wide awake in their beds. It was the reminder of lurking chaos; the uneasy truth that at any moment their own well-kept houses could be ransacked, their own lovers bound and gagged. The lives they worked to build could be erased in an instant, for when you are held at gunpoint, your spotless kitchen – the countertops you picked out, the dishes you wash every day – is suddenly no longer your own. It’s his. The Golden State Killer has shattered the bedtime story of stability we tell ourselves so we can sleep soundly. After the Golden State Killer, are we not all Sacramentans – lying awake, listening to unknown sounds outside our fragile walls, grasping at an unnamed evil just out of reach?

—I. Almor

My wife is working late at her boss’s house for the third night in a row!

I am so proud of my wife. She works very hard every day at her job. Even though I think our romantic relationship has suffered a bit because of it I still wholeheartedly support her career aspirations. She’s my favorite associate claims adjuster in the whole world and I love her so much!

My wife has a great job and a great boss! Her boss, Greg, is so great. I am so glad my wife is working for such a wonderful, powerful man. I don’t know much about Greg except that he is super generous and drives my wife to and from work almost every day! There was only one day where I had to drive her home from work because Greg had to go to a bodybuilding competition. He is so strong!

My wife is so devoted to her work that she is often thinking about her boss even when she’s not at work! One time when she was taking a shower and I was in the other room, she texted me a picture of her naked body in the mirror. She captioned it “can’t wait for work tomorrow, Greg [kissing emoji].” I’m so glad that she is always so excited to go to work because finding a job you love is so rare. She then said “sorry wrong number.” LOL my wife is so funny haha!

My wife has been even more devoted to her work lately. First, she started coming home with lots of little bruises on her neck. She works at an insurance company, so I guess she had to settle a lot of rough claims lately! Haha! Also, I think they might have run out of staples because she is always coming home from work with some kind of weird glue on her clothes. I’m proud of her for not being afraid to get her clothes dirty at work, even though it’s a lot of work for me to wash them <3.

Lately she’s been going to her boss’s house to finish work late at night. Sometimes she’s so committed that she stays overnight. The other day, she left her briefcase at home so I decided to do her a favor and bring it to her boss’s house (she’s so good at her job she can get it done without a briefcase!). I was met at the door by Greg and he was wearing nothing but his underwear and there was a big bulge! How embarrassing lol. Talk about casual Friday!

Things have just been moving so fast lately. My wife just called me telling me she got a promotion and she’s going on a week-long business trip to Hawaii. And after that, she’s going to move in with him. It’s such a big sacrifice to make, because she’ll never see me again, but I’m glad she’s willing to do whatever it takes to chase that once-in-a-lifetime career opportunity. Also, Greg is so cool and this means I’ll get to see him next time I visit her at her new house! Awesome!

The present my wife and I bought Greg at the company Chirstmas Party last year. I’m excited that my wife can use them at her new house!

—H. Rubin Design by: C. Prendergast

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PARABLES TO READ TO YOUR SON BEFORE BED Parable of Daniel in the lion’s den: This one’s crazy.

Daniel is playing right next to the lion’s den like a fucking idiot and he falls into the enclosure. But he prays to God and God tells one of his angels to snipe the lions and the angel kills them with a few critical hits so Daniel survives.

Parable of the Prodigal’s son: I guess this one is about the town Prodigal. So the Prodigal is tilling the fields and whatever when his son comes home from a war with the Philippines. After the dad picks the son up from the airport, the other son gets so jealous. There’s another son. Besides the first one. What’s a Prodigal again?

Parable of the Lost Coin: A guy is walking home from work when a coin drops out of his pocket. He says “Oh no. I needed that coin.” Then his dog finds it, but the dog doesn’t understand the value of money because it is a beast.

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Deep: What is sleep? An ephemeral state of repose before death? An escape from the violent vicissitudes of life?

Or simply a place to dream? And what is a dream: visions from an alternate reality? Messages from past iterations of ourselves trying to contact us now? And why the fuck do I keep dreaming about Steve Harvey dressed as Barry B. Benson from Bee Movie? I’m not mad. In fact, I’m aroused. Still, the question stands.

Beep: This is something a robot would say. Robots can’t sleep, and that is why they will take over the human race and make us their sex slaves. Of course, I know present-day robots also can’t fuck, but with that perv Bezos on the case, it’s only a matter of time.

Peep: There’s a fucking bird that keeps waking me up in the morning. And though I actually think it’s pretty cool that birds evolved from dinosaurs, after waking up at 6 AM for the third day in a row, I’m starting to wish a comet would take those fuckers out too.

Weep: One time I cried myself to sleep thinking about how blind people will never get to see Gritty the mascot in person. The next morning I woke up to a special batch of chocolate chip, banana nut muffins. Say what you will about Carl, but he’s twice the friend any of you ever were.

Parable of Jonah and the whale: Jonah gets swallowed by a whale because he doesn’t do what God tells him to do. The whale blows out its blowhole and Jonah was on top of all the water and he got launched into the air and he landed in prison.

Sheep: Count ’em, bitch.

Parable of the ungrateful child: A child got a gift from his dad for his birthday. It was like blocks or something, which back then was a big deal. Anyway, he takes the blocks and drops them on his brother’s foot so the brother has to go to the emergency room at like 2 am.

It’s expensive to go to the emergency room because of the current politics.

—M. Blaney

—J. Houston THINGS THAT RHYME WITH SLEEP Creep: Sometimes I let my neighbor Carl watch me while I sleep. Is it a little disturbing? You’re goddamn right it is. But now I can’t fall asleep unless I leave my bedroom curtains open, giving Carl a clear shot from the single Gothic window in his attic. Also, I’m sure as hell not about to give up those banana nut muffins that started showing up on my porch ever since our little unwritten agreement started.

—P. Davis

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T Y R HEY MAN, WHAT IF WE BUNK THE BEDS? he

ale

Cupboard

ecord

Desk

Desk

Twin XL

Cupboard —C. Cohen

Design by C. Prendergast

Hey what’s up dude! Hey roomie! (Can I call you that?) So excited to be living together this year! What are your interests? Do you like sports? ESports? Anyways, here’s something: I was looking around online for the floor plans of Winthrop Hall and I found a schematic from 1993 (pre-renovation, of course) with the layout of room C11 (that’s us!). So basically you walk in, and there’s a closet on the left, and, well, I guess I’ll spare you the details until we meet in person (Friday!!!

So excited lol) but basically I was thinking, like, what if we bunk the beds?

So what are your other interests? Do you like podcasts? Or podcasting? Oh, and about the whole bunking the beds thing: we totally don’t have to bunk the beds (unless you’re cool with that, then I’d be down!).

I was just thinking, you know, our room is probably, what, 16-by-2 feet (16-by-13 tops). And I was thinking, you know, how big is a twin XL bed? 79.5 inches-by-38 inches? By the way, are you into remote control cars or something? Remote control helicopters? Do you have like a vintage Hess truck or something still in its original packaging? (It’s totally cool if you don’t, but if you do, I do too!) I only ask because if we just went crazy and bunked the beds, think of the extra 79.5 by 38 Twin XL inches we’d have to do all that stuff (or whatever other stuff you’re into. Let me know btw!)

So hey, roomie! What do you like to do in your free time? Collect model planes? Collect model planes and boats? Restore antique model planes to their former glory with the magic touch of a Windsor Quick-Hinge Multi-Sander and a little paint? If you like these things, cool!

If not, no worries! I love trying new stuff (Model cars and trucks?) Cuz what if we just went ahead and just bunked the beds? Think of the extra space.

So anyways, I’ll let you go! But hey real quick, do you like the game Twister? What are your interests and activities? Do you like making up new rules for the game Twister? Playing it while wearing 3D glasses so you lose all depth perception? Buying a gumball machine for the dorm and just going to town on it? Anyway, if you do like that stuff, I’d totally be down! Hey man, let’s bunk the beds! Let’s bunk ‘em (or not, just let me know!).

Your roomie, Dennis Pickington

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MY BABY HAS BEEN PLAYING DEAD FOR WEEKS AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE HIM STOP From a very young age, I tried to teach my child tricks: sit, stand, roll over, etc. Yet for months, my baby couldn’t sit for shit, or shit for shit for that matter (diapers don’t grow on trees, kid!). By week twelve, I was tired of the same old routine: Jerry, my baby, crying as I shrieked at him to heel.

What frustrated me most, however, was Jerry’s inability to grasp the simple idea of “playing dead.” No matter how long I laid on top of him to show him how it’s done, he wouldn’t stay still for more than a couple of hours, inevitably screeching out of hunger. Though young Jerry knew the only way to receive his treat was to complete his trick, he couldn’t seem to escape this cycle of failure.

As the weeks went on, Jerry thinned. My husband protested, but as I had allowed him to name our child Jerry after his late and insufferable grandfather who died in The War (Iraq), he agreed to compromise. If you’re keeping track, Jerry (the baby)’s BMI is now 18, which is dangerously low (even for a baby!).

Finally, though, it seemed my training had bore fruit.

On the morning of January 3rd, I told Jerry to play dead and he immediately fell quiet and cold. It was an extremely convincing performance that completely justified my withholding of food.

Yet I soon learned that I had accidentally taught Jerry a new, more insidious trick: how to spite me. He refuses to stop playing dead. First, he made his body very stiff, which pissed me off. Than, to really grind my gears, Jerry ballooned his stomach, releasing some putrid gases. How rude! I googled this and learned that Jerry was impersonating “rigor mortis”: the first stage of death. When I read this, I realized just how much I had underestimated my talented son. His newfound knack for method acting has completely vindicated my parenting and inspired me to file for divorce from my husband. I am confident I will win our impending custody battle.

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TYCO ANNOUNCES LATE-NIGHT HOURS FOR STUDENTS

By K. WALSH NEW HAVEN, CT—Following in the footsteps of Insomnia Cookies, Garden Catering, and Salsa Fresca, TYCO Print+Promo announced Saturday that it will become the latest New Haven business to cater to undergraduates’ unconventional sleep schedules, staying open until 3 A.M. on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights to “satisfy students’ late night mail, design, and printing needs.”

TYCO owner Enzo Vespucci cited the success of surrounding businesses that have tailored their hours to a college-aged population.

“There are plenty of places for students who are hungry for food late at night, but what about a spot for students hungry to print after a debaucherous night on High Street,” explained Vespucci. “It’s called knowing your demographic.”

Vespucci went on to describe the services TYCO will offer to rival the modified offerings of nearby after-hour hotspots like Junzi.

“Whether you and your suitemates drunkenly decide to get matching T-shirts featuring a computer rendering of your hypothetical joint child or a poster to commemorate your latest ‘Woad’s DFMO,’ we’re your place,” said Vespucci. “Also, we will be serving liquor to minors now.”

“I’m so grateful for these new TYCO hours,” remarked the notoriously wealthy yet philanthropic Zoe Ervolino MC ’20. “I can’t even tell you how many times I’d walk past TYCO on my way back from Zeta and think, ‘Damn, I could really go for a passport photo right about now.’”

At press time, TYCO was still flailing in the face of its far superior competitor and proud Record sponsor Docuprint.

—C. Prendergast

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YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHO I PULLED OVER TODAY: MLK! I’ve been working in law enforcement for the past thirty-one years, and while I’ve seen my fair share of hostage crises and Iranian hostage crises, nothing is more exciting than running into famous celebrities during traffic stops.

Last month, I gave Steph Curry a ride after a minor car accident, and just yesterday I caught Mr. Mayhem from the Allstate commercials going 90 in a school zone. None, however, compare to the man I pulled over at 1 AM today: the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

MLK himself was speaking to me, a humble civil servant.

While I pride myself on fairness, I could not bring myself to give this American hero a ticket. I let him go and told him to “keep dreaming” and that it was an honor to meet him. “What the fuck?” he said appreciatively. Then he drove off, no doubt to vanquish injustice in some other small corner of the world. Such an inspiring moment from such a chance encounter. I can’t wait to tell my family and friends that I met Martin Luther King!

—D. Hou and H. Rubin

It all started when I saw a purple Dodge ChalIenger driving a little wild. I figured it was just another dude in the midst of a midlife crisis coming back from a night of drinking and debauchery. Boy was I wrong: it was Martin Luther King Jr.! I almost didn’t recognize him because he was so cunningly disguised. Since the last time I saw him in the news, he had put on a lot of weight and lost much of his hair. Even so, he really looked good for his age. He could’ve easily passed for a fifty-five-year-old, which is crazy considering he was born eighty-nine years ago and is dead.

MLK even had a fake driver’s license with his fake identity, which I must admit was pretty good. I’ve seen —L. Kingsley plenty of fake IDs in my day, mostly from young folks trying to get rental cars, but this driver’s license was a step above anything I had seen before. It looked just like a real TIPS FOR YOUR FIRST SLUMBER PARTY driver’s license, but I know it wasn’t: it said “Richard Davis” on it, which is not MLK’s name, and it said he was Don’t show up empty-handed. Bring margarine, as they an organ donor. We all know MLK would never donate might only have butter at the home. his organs! He really had the whole thing planned out: even his library card said his name was Richard Davis! Suggest some prank calls after dinner. Here’s the MakeI guess MLK would probably find it annoying if people A-Wish Connecticut hotline: (203) 261-9044. recognized him every time he tried to check out an adult film from the local public library.

Time to talk about boys! Try a classic game of “Fuck, Marry, Kill” between Dennis Quaid, Randy Quaid, Then I remembered I had a job to do, so I asked MLK and the entire US military. if he had been drinking. As soon as he said, “No, sir,” I felt like I was standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial on While everyone’s asleep, seal the deal by pulling a few that glorious day. While he talked at a slightly higher pitch nighttime pranks! Why not a twist on the classic than I remember, that beautiful sing-song voice of a pastor “put-their-hand-in-a-bowl-of-water” move by putting is unmistakable. He then asked me why he was pulled over. your new friends’ hands in bowls of blood. Instead of That was when my mind went blank. I stuttered until I peeing, they’ll all get their first period! Second invite finally said, “You were speeding,” and he responded with secured: cycle sisters are forever. a beautiful, eloquent, “I wasn’t.” Overwhelmed, I started sweating and throwing up. I just couldn’t believe that —S. Force

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THE RECORD RECOMMENDS: AMPHETAMINES You guys know I try a ton of products for this column in my intrepid quest to provide you with the best tips and tricks for self-care; and though I’ve expressed my doubts about the therapeutic efficacy of methods like vagina steaming and turmeric in the past, I’ve finally found a product that works exactly as advertised. When it comes to staying alert and focused, it’s better than the Pomodoro method, bullet journaling, and oat milk macchiatos combined. That’s right: I’m talking about amphetamines.

In case you aren’t one of the thousands of Americans who have already tried these miracle rocks, amphetamines are an amazing wellness hack that use your brain’s NATURAL chemistry to increase focus and productivity.

Sure, they’re synthetic, but it’s 2019! We need to move past the idea that NATURAL equals GOOD and SYNTHETIC equals BAD. My clothes are synthetic and they’re fire. Meanwhile, my genetic predisposition to leukemia is natural, and it’s bad as hell!

Best of all, there’s a different amphetamine for every vibe. Ritalin is great for the busy girl boss with sh*t to do!

Meanwhile, Adderall is perfect for a chill-but-productive night in with the gals and also your Adderall dealer if he seems like he’s sticking around. And then there is my favorite: crystal meth. Of course, anything with crystals is my jam, but this took things to a whole new level.

Crystal meth basically just releases your inner goddess and turns you into an amazing warrior woman who kicks ass and takes names! When I tried meth, I had the energy and focus to go to yoga, meal prep a massive batch of kale smoothies, crash my car, and do a bunch of other shit I don’t even remember! It’s true that amphetamines have some side effects, but don’t worry about that until next week’s column! In the meantime, I’ll be using meth EVERY day to unlock my best self! You heard it here first, folks: amphetamines rule!

—M. Kreutter

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BUSTED! LOCAL TEEN DETAINED BY HOMELAND SECURITY AFTER REPEATEDLY REFERRING TO SLUMBER PARTY AS “SLEEPER CELL”

By C. BACIOCCO SOUTH OTSELIC, NY—Hailing it as an “inspired example of multi-agency cooperation” and “tactful use” of breaching charges placed against the door of the Brown family rec room, Secretary of Homeland Security Kirstjen Nielsen announced Tuesday that the slumber party—referred to as a “sleeper cell” in Snapchat pictures of the late-night rec room—of local teens Greg Brown, Scott Mathers, and Ben Aberson was successfully moved from the basement of the Browns’ house to that of an unlisted government blacksite in northern Virginia.

Scott Mathers, released early after being assessed as a “non-threat to everybody except perhaps members of his immediate family,” testified to the “wild turn” the party took after changing venue. “Like, when they said they were going to waterboard Greg, I suggested that they use warm water instead of cold.” According to Mathers, after Brown, strapped to an inclined board with his head at the bottom, received his fifth bucket of warm water in ten minutes, all poured on a sodden towel placed over his nose and mouth, Brown “like totally pissed himself.”

“It was exactly what we’d practiced for.

When the NSA flag came through the coalition was almost entirely ready to go” said Nielsen.“ All that remained was getting Brown’s parents onto the team, and after that we were able to have a Blackhawk wheels-up in five. Granted, we didn’t expect to find the targets ‘swordfighting’ with their penises, but that’s why you prepare for every possible scenario.”

Greg Brown’s whereabouts remain unknown as of press time, but Brown and Mathers are already discussing plans for their next sleepover, hoping to call it ISIS, or, the “International Summit In Sleep.”

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HOW MARTING LUTHER KING JR. REDEFINED WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ASSASSINATED IN AMERICA

King’s assassin used. “There will just never be another one quite like it, especially if my parole keeps getting denied. Wait, please don’t print that.”

By A. THOMAS NEW YORK, NY—On April 4, 1968, Martin Luther King was assassinated at the Lorraine Motel. Martin Luther King was many things. Black? Yes. Empowering? Why not.

Assassinated? Very. And though we may never know who shot our beloved King, we know for sure that he radically redefined what we know refer to as “assassination.” We paid a visit to Rikers Island to talk to some of today’s most prolific murderers about just what made MLK’s assassination so groundbreaking.

“It’s just that with Martin Luther King, it was a motel. Anyone can shoot a guy in a convertible or in a theatre, where the target is distracted,” explained serial hitman Gilbert Clark. “But a motel? That’s next level. When you’re in a motel, you can’t help but be on edge.”

Other convicts cited the historical ramifications of MLK’s premature death.

“He absolutely paved the path for Robert F. Kennedy’s murder,” said Claudia Robinson, sentenced in 2017 for the gruesome axe-murder of her college roommate Valentina Connell.

“Of course, Franz Ferdinand’s was a classic assassination, sparking unprecedented global conflict and decades of German economic turmoil. But there was just something new and fresh about Martin Luther King’s death. Let’s just say there’s a reason we’re not celebrating ‘Franz Ferdinand Day’ this weekend.”

Clark echoed this sentiment, explaining how he makes a conscious effort to jack off every MLK day so that he can be turned on.

While the Record tried to explain that it’s a day off in honor of King’s legacy, and that it has nothing to do with sexual gratification, Clark insisted that he would continue this behavior.

“If I want to jerk off for a man that stopped racism I’m going to jerk off.”

A remorseful Robinson said that if she could do it all over again, she would have murdered her victim with the same precision and care that

THE TOP FIVE MOST EXQUISITE PIGS I’VE FUCKED OK. Sorry. I know how this looks, but I honestly have no idea why I was assigned to write this list piece.

I never thought I’d need to write these words, but I have never had a sexual relationship with a pig. Let alone five pigs.

I mean, actually, how many pigs am I supposed to have fucked? Like, enough that I can pick out five especially stand-out pigs from a much larger sexual history?

Even if I had fucked five or more pigs -- and, to be absolutely clear, I have not -- I still don’t understand what this list is meant to be. Am I supposed to list the names of the pigs? Is a list of pig names supposed to mean something to you? It’s like my editor thinks you’re going to read a list of pig names and think to yourself, “Oh, wow, cool, he fucked Hamlet. That’s a pretty exquisite pig.”

I have genuinely fucked no more than three pigs.

—B. Garfinkel

TOM BRADY VISITS THE RECORD T he C orporate A merica I ssue

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Tom Brady stopped by the Yale Record today, One day before the big game.

He came without fanfare, announcement, or hype, But we welcomed him all of the same.

He pulled up near Stiles, got out of his car, And walked towards the gate by the gym.

A few people looked, as he moved toward the door, Which we opened and beckoned him in.

The staff turned their heads and stood up with a start When his figure appeared in the hall.

They dropped their computers and ran ‘cross the room Until Tom was surrounded by all.

“Don’t film this,” he begged, “I should be at Gillette.

And I don’t want the post to go viral.”

He took off his backpack and pulled out a ball, And we all practiced throwing a spiral.

Tom sat on the couch and he stayed for a while, Telling stories well into the night.

We asked him to give us a piece for the issue, Which he finally decided to write.

Then the sun started rising, and Tom had to go.

He stood up from his seat with a yawn.

“Kansas City awaits,” he proclaimed with a grin, And he exited into the dawn.

At 6:40 tomorrow he’s taking the field And we’ll watch the big game on TV. But we’ll never forget when Tom Brady was here And he stopped by to greet you and me.

—J. Houston Design by V. Suri

A HAIKU The wide receiver Of my kisses will always Be my little boy.

—T. Brady

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I AM ANDY BOROWITZ, CONQUEROR OF WORLDS. TREMBLE BEFORE THE POWER OF MY RUTHLESS SATIRE Kneel, mortals, and make not a sound, unless you care to wither into a pile of ash in the merciless flames of my satire.

I am Andy Borowitz, maestro of menace, purveyor of pain, shogun of shame, and I have come to vanquish my foes with the ferocious power of my wit.

O! Step not against the Borowitz, lest you meet the power of my Blow-Of-Witz. Ha HA! I’ve done it just now.

Indeed, I’ve struck fear into the very eye of your soul with the savagery of my puns.

Yes, it is I, “The Witzer” himself, and I warn you now not to push me further. For I wield in my mind a power unequaled by the militaries and weapons of the world. Consider, o weaklings, the fate of my former victims. The commander in chief himself has more than once found himself obliterated by the barbarous force of my razor-sharp headlines. Only last week, I shared with the world yet another product of my genius: the headline “Trump Names TV Remote New Chief of Staff.” I hit “publish” on newyorker.com and the world stood still for a moment, only to respond with cacophonous cackles that were only underscored by the weeping, whimpering cries emanating from the ravaged dignity of one Donald J. Trump: a man utterly destroyed, powerless, irrelevant. Be careful lest you meet the same fate.

No one is safe from the sniper rifle of my spoof. The former chief of staff? “John Kelly Departs White House with Nuclear Codes in His Pants” reduced him to a pile of slobbering rubble. He hasn’t left his home or spoken publicly since the incident for fear of another brutal takedown from “The Witz Man.” The vice president? I gave the world the words “Pence Calls Space Force Necessary to Protect US From Gay Aliens” and I’m pretty sure he resigned the next day. The press secretary? Sovereign foreign nations? I wrote “Trump Dispatches Sarah Huckabee Sanders To Saudi Arabia To Provide Lying Advice” and in an instant they were leveled to sniveling children. Saudi Arabia disbanded; now it’s just known as “that sandy place that ‘Boroblitz’ fucking obliterated.” And don’t even get me started on the undeniable impact of “Kavanaugh Disappointed To Hear Supreme Court Has No Happy Hour.”

Test me not. Fear me truly. I am Andy Borowitz, and I am the stuff of nightmares.

—A. Chase

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THE GOVERNMENT SHUTDOWN SAVED MY MARRIAGE I’ve never referred to myself as a nationalist, but after all this shutdown nonsense, I just might start. My name is Ryan Scaramucci (no relation). I’m a federal employee at Shenandoah National Park and I love 90s hip-hop, but only the white type. I’ll admit it: I’ve made mistakes. I did sleep with my coworker Brenda. We did have frequent sex in the visitor center restroom. We definitely kept a bucket nearby so people would think we were cleaning but then just ended up incorporating the bucket into our lovemaking. Upon finding this out, my wife Linda requested a divorce. However, thanks to the federal government shutdown, we can’t find anyone to officiate it! This means that my wife can’t legally leave me, and frankly, that works just fine for me!

I realize that if the only thing keeping this union together is our nation’s crumbling democratic infrastructure, maybe Linda and I shouldn’t be together at all. But she’s a doctor and my job as the Senior Associate Trail Maintenance Intern at the Shenandoah National Park doesn’t offer “health benefits” or a “salary,” so here’s hoping this thing gets dragged out until one of us dies. Because at the end of the day, isn’t that what Trump’s America is all about?

—L. Garcia

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CHECKMATE, LIBS: IF YOU’RE GAY, WHY ARE WOMEN SO FUCKING SEXY?

I’ve seen a lot of self-righteous libtards claiming the existence of “gay people,” but they seem to be forgetting one crucial fact: women are fucking sexy as hell. The liberal fake news media keeps pushing stories of men falling in “love” with other men and kissing each other on the mouth. Well, that can’t exactly be true, because a man would never kiss another man if he had ever thought about kissing a woman instead.

I’ve given the issue a lot of thought, and I see their point: it’s tempting to imagine that men might fall victim to the devilish charms of the stronger sex, charms that would typically ensnare only the unsuspecting woman; sexy alpha males giving into sexy primal desires brought on by pheromones and sexy scrotal musk; but no, like everything else, the libs have totally missed the mark on this one.

To all you “gay” people out there, I’ll give you an image to help sort yourself out: two sweet, sweaty boobies, swinging side-to-side in perfect unison. Much more

likely would be the existence of “gay women,” but the Left is far too stupid to realize that. Can’t wait to see how many snowflakes I’ll trigger with this one!

—D. Kaylor

—P. Davis

Call us today!

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WHY I ALWAYS SLEEP NAKED REGARDLESS OF HOW CROWDED MY FLIGHT IS As I waltz the fuck over to row 26 seat C (that’s right, I always get the aisle) I can’t wait to strip down and enjoy the warm, sweat-drenched synthetic leather against my nude bottom. As soon as I hear that cute little *beep* that reminds me we are at a cruising altitude of 10,000 feet, I slam the button to recline my seat two inches and take my shirt and pants off as fast as possible. At this point, I get a funny look from the woman sitting

directly adjacent to me. I ask her if she’s an air marshal and she says no so I’m cleared for landing. Time to crack open House of Cards on my Macbook air and slip off my drawers. Netflix and Chill baby!

—S. Custer Design by V. Suri