The 2012 Alumni Issue

Vol. 141, No. 5

TH E YALE

Dec. 15, 2012

RECORD

B uy T his I ssue !

“Boys d on’t ma ke pass es at g irls wh o are f ascist. ” —From N ice Pro “When y ou assu S p e e ch deli letarian Girls me the par vered 1 Do ty, and , you make an 4 June, a that’s 1963 a no-no ss out of you, .” and of me. Not to ment —From T ion he Next Thing I “It is S Say Wil peech d helpful l elivere Be Fals t 17,234, d 25 Oc e 000 peo o think of Chi tober, pl n people 1957 get on, e get on, and a as a big, bi g bus.

23,617 and 6 p 2,456,0 A people eople g 00 get get off t Shanghai, et of …I’m th . At Ca e drive f. Now, who is off. At Beiji nt r. Mao’ n g t , h e 4 , d 887 peo on, 5,987,000 r s the d ple get river.” iver? on, and —From R ules of Speech mayonna the Roa deliver ise. Yo d ed 5 Ma u’ll ge y, 1950 t an oily Informa mess.” l talk deliver ed at C [hinese —From E ] C[omm at “Every unist] neighbo P[arty] to Win rhood h butt. I Ke a s was tha 23 Marc gger, t kid.” one kid who li h, 1961 kes to put fir ecracke TV movi rs up a e drama cat’s tizing the Cha “Look—i i —From I rman’s f you p t l ’s Maoife, ai us I am yo t red 30 ur dinn h on a fish’s Novembe astic er, I a r, 1973 m going eye, it’s mout h to bite your no opens! ‘Hello se off.

Comrade ’ Heh Zhao!

—Cuttin , heh.”

“There’ g u p s a mon w i t P h Zhao arty Co ster in E ngress my pant Cookout nlai s , 1971 —From M , and it does ao’s ce a littl nsored appeara e dance. Like nce on “I have America so.” only wo n rn lips Septemb Bandstand tick on er 17, ce in m 1957 y life and I w a —Overhe s drunk.” ard at “There a Shaan ar xi clam No! Don e two armies i ’t laug 20 July bake h! Have n China: one t , 1953 o yo f —Remark u ever seen an ight, and one s befor t e o n t d i o r e e the T little battal hird An c nual Be ion clean an o hores.

“My bow ijing R ven?” els are o d e o/Tract acting or Pull up. Let 2 Octob ’s have er 1972 a purge .”

“Never

freeze

—From A “We do n Eveni no n fear th t fear the imp Taped 1 g with Mao eir ato e r i a 3 June, l i st runn mic and stand u 1966 ing dog hy po s an This is n a chair, and drogen bombs; if atta d their minion , when the tec ck g s h kick yo ur ass. nology of the iven the signa ed, all of Ch . We do not ina sha l, jump proleta —From I ” ll r o i f a f t . s i t Is a And bel Good Th ieve yo multaneously. ing for u me, i t will an Enem y to At tack, R Pep tal ather T k deliv han J The ered at CCP Bak re and Make Fu ust Sit e Sale, n of Yo u 7 Febru ary, 19 71

—M. Gerber, ’91

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ININTHE THEHEART HEARTOFOFYALE; YALE;NOW NOWDELIVERING DELIVERINGININTHE THECHAPEL CHAPELAREA! AREA! Dear Bill, Do me! I feel nasty! I’ve been waiting for you in your room. Just do me already!

Love, Your laundry Dear Engineering Department, Is it too late to change my major to Having a Girlfriend?

—Jeff Hanglin, TD ’10

FIGHT FOR RIGHT TO PARTY ENDS IN 1 AM CURFEW Dear Apple, Thank you so much for your latest invention, the iPotato-with-Sour-Cream.

Before the iPotato-with-Sour-Cream, I had to carry my potato in one pocket and my sour cream in another pocket.

Now my potato and sour cream are integrated into one user-friendly device!

Thanks again, Brent Burwood, TC ’09

BREAK-UP MUTUALLY AGREED UPON

BY GIRL, GIRL’S NEW BOYFRIEND

Dear hobbit doors, Where do we even go?

Dear Yale Record, Need! Balls! Neet to eat more balls!

Want them in my mouth!

—A hungry, hungry hippo

Dear Mike, I don’t see what the big problem is.

Everyone does me. Just one more person isn’t going to make any difference. Come on.

—Rationalization

Dear Editors, They say that a fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I say the fastest way to a man’s heart is right through his chest. Think about it.

—Miss Lilly Beaufont, Atlanta, GA Dear loyal subscriber, You may already have won TEN MILLION DOLLARS! And a NEW CAR! But probably not.

—Ed McMahon

SCHRÖDINGER’S SON TO RECEIVE PUPPY FOR CHRISTMAS, MAYBE

Sincerely, A pair of hinges

AFTER CHARGES OF RELIGIOUS DISCRIMINATION, JUICY JUICE FORCED TO CHANGE “100 PERCENT JEWS” EMPLOYMENT POLICY Dear Feline Association of America, I was going to write a sequel, but your “Lolcatita” proposal has convinced me never to take up pen and paper again.

Sincerely, Vladimir Nabokov

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“HOOKING UP” RECLASSIFIED TO INCLUDE INCIDENTAL BREAST CONTACT Dear boring beverages, Surprise!

You’re welcome, Bourbon

Dear Indian style, You think you’re a great way to sit?

All you’re doing is crossing your legs!

Let me teach you, and I can enlighten you in the ways of doing much greater things.

—Missionary style

CHAMELEON AT GAY PARTY JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT P.S. You should probably start at the bottom of this.

It’s getting to be a real problem. Do you think you could help me with this? I have a rare disorder in which I make all my statements in reverse order.

Dear Dr. Wu, Dear Pringles, You think it’s funny that once you pop you can’t stop? I am on can 5,621 of ranch Pringles. I have not bathed in two years and I leave my house only when I need to sell my plasma to buy more Pringles. God, how I wish I could stop.

Sincerely, Mark Richards Dear tango, It takes two to do me, too.

—Moving furniture

For sale: the dress she left behind, crumpled in the corner where I once took her, slowly, before I first said I loved her

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T he A lumni I ssue The Yale Record

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Y

ale’s is a living student body. By that, I don’t just mean that the students are not brain-dead, unhygienic zombies (an assessment that doesn’t apply to anyone studying for their Organic Chemistry final, anyway). I mean that Yale’s student body is always changing. Four years from now, we will all be gone, and Yale will have an entirely new set of students – which will presumably be composed of smarmy little ingrates who will wear their pants too low and have no idea what great things we accomplished in our day, like securing a gender-neutral housing option for half of Yale’s student body and finally abolishing the “no nudity” rule in Bass Library. It was never officially announced, but I’m assuming that ban’s been lifted since the guards have stopped escorting me out of the building.

Anyway, while reflecting on the rather short institutional memory of Yale’s student body, I couldn’t help but wonder what great things the alumni of The Yale Record did in their day, before my generation came along with our mid-level-riding pants and made the magazine our own. This made me want to do a bit of research into the Record’s history and publish an issue composed entirely of pieces from Records of years gone by. This was convenient,

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because we do an Alumni Issue every year, and I was obligated to put such a collection together anyway. Also, I didn’t really have time to edit an issue of entirely new pieces, what with my Organic Chemistry final coming up and all.

So I took a break from overseeing the staff ’s production of high-caliber fart jokes and turned instead to examining the flatulence of yesteryears. It was an immensely fun experience, partly because Jamie from Sterling Manuscripts & Archives is a hottie and has low standards, but also because The Yale Record has been pretty hilarious throughout its history. I think my favorite find was the Kill a Kid in Kansas Issue of 2004. I chose not to include anything from that issue, however, due to its horrifying history: a week after its release, the Editorial Board discovered that three people had tragically taken the issue name’s advice and actually traveled to Kansas.

I did, however, include several suggested favorites from all of the Record alums who have not yet been incarcerated, and both of them had very valuable contributions. It’s interesting, seeing how the Record’s take on humor has changed over time. Some of the material the alumni loved the most was completely over my head (I don’t know what a “fraggle” is, but I’m guessing it’s some sort of deviant sex act), but some of it was the funniest

Chairman: Michelle Taylor ’13

stuff I’ve ever seen. Like that cartoon with the hamsters and the garbage disposal.

Anyway, after reading so much about the magazine’s distinguished past, I realize you may be interested in knowing about how you can become part of The Yale Record’s thriving present. All you have to do is e-mail chairman@yalerecord.com, or come to one of our staff meetings on Mondays at 9 PM in LC 208.

Or, if you can’t come to meetings because you are a baby, but can somehow read a magazine and use a computer, e-mail recordsubscribe@gmail.com to receive e-mail notifications whenever issues are distributed to dining halls, along with a link to the online version of each issue!

But for now, turn the page and enjoy this year’s Alumni Issue. Take the time to appreciate the humor of years gone by. And if you want to see even more stuff from The Yale Record’s illustrious history, you should go explore Sterling Manuscripts & Archives. Jamie is quite helpful – especially if you know how to fraggle.

—L. Sedlacek The Yale Record December 2012

Editor-in-Chief: Lincoln Sedlacek ’13

Publisher: Jack Newsham ’14

Design Editor: Sydney Shea ’14 Managing Editors: Aaron Gertler ’15, Mitchell Nobel ’13, Zachary Schloss ’15 Art Director & Publicity Manager: Ilana Strauss ’13

Video Director: Natey Weinstein ’14

Online Editor & Supplementals Editor: Emily Sandford ’14

Staff Director: Daniel Fraser II ’14

Staff Writers, Artists, & Designers: Allie Beizer ’15, Ethan Campbell-Taylor ’16, Juliet deButts ’14, Ben Garfinkel ’16, Nicholas Goel ’16, Ian Gonzalez ’16, Ben Green ’14, Vic Hall ’15, Victoria Kim ’15, Spencer Katz ’13, Becky Marvin ’16, Travis Reginal ’16, Claudia Shin ’16, Andrew Sobotka ’15, Scott Stern ’15, Ellen Su ’13, Autumn Von Plinsky ’13, Catherine White ’13, Sylvia Zhang ’15, Claire Zhang ’15 Old Owls: David Kemper ’13, Jerry Wang ’13

Senior Editors: Alli Hugi ’13

Contributing Writers, Artists, & Designers: Dounia Bredes ’11, Melissa Chiasson ’11, River Clegg ’11, Ian Dallas ’00, Julien Dedman ’48, Michael Gerber ’91, Jordan Greenblatt ’11, Michael W. Harris ’09, John Holmes ’95, Doug Lieblich ’08, David Litt ’08, Todd Lynch ’93, Matt Matera ’03, Henry B. Michael ’93, Ben Orlin ’09, Robert Osbourne ’28, Geoffrey Taylor ’53

Special Thanks to: Michael Gerber, Gwyneth Tuckett, and the Old Owl. Cover: This month’s cover was illustrated by Yoonjoo Lee ’12, who runs into a surprising number of coal miners and chimney sweeps on the subway.

Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLI, No. 5, Published in New Haven, CT by The Yale Record, Inc. Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520 • yalerecord.com/magazine • Subscriptions: $50/year (print) • $10/year (electronic) All contents copyright 2012 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.

ETIQUETTE 1. While riding the subway, don’t touch anyone else unless you’re related by blood. If you do accidentally touch someone, apologize, but not too much.

(Exchanging words on the subway is bad etiquette.)

2. Urinals aren’t for pooping.

3. Many people think the famous line from Casablanca is “Play it again, Sam.” But that’s not true: the line is simply “Play it, Sam.” Etiquette dictates that you correct this misconception at every opportunity.

4. Along similar lines, Frankenstein is the doctor, not the monster. Christ, are you the only person who knows anything?

5. Holding doors open for women is not only polite, but a good way to show how strong you are and how you think women can’t do things.

6. If you’re playing badminton, there is no need to play for blood.

7. When you see someone walking with a limp, adopt a similar limp.* 8. While at the orchestra, remember not to clap between movements unless you want to be looked down on by some of the world’s most truly awful people.

9. Yes, it’s true, in movies something funny or dramatic often happens at weddings when the priest asks the guests if there are any objections to the union. But in real life it’s more just a tradition, so you actually shouldn’t say anything, even if you think up the perfect zinger about how the groom really should lose a few pounds and probably it affects his sexual stamina.

10. Try to tip around 20%. (Note: This refers to the money you leave your server at a restaurant, not the amount of cows you see grazing as you return home.

Tipping cows over is not good etiquette.)

11. You might find yourself over at someone else’s for dinner and they’ll want to say grace. Just go along with it. *This is more of a superstition, actually.

—R. Clegg, ’11 The Blog Put It All on Red

“Oh, great - another long line for the little bitches’ room.”

—J. Holmes, ’95

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ROBERT FROST ON YALE Everyone who has gone on a Yale tour knows that celebrated poet Robert Frost called the Branford College courtyard “the most beautiful college courtyard in all America.” But what else did Frost say about Yale? *

*

*

“Well, thanks a lot for inviting me. Nice place you got here.”

—Robert Frost, to Yale President Kingman Brewster, 2:15 p.m., March 14, 1963 “In fact, I’ve always thought it would be great to have an honorary degree from Yale. Oh, you know I’m kidding.”

—Frost again, 2:17 p.m.

“Branford College has the most beautiful college courtyard in all America.”

—Frost, 2:20 p.m.

“Beinecke Plaza is the most beautiful rare books libraryholding plaza in the country, Kingman.”

—Frost, nudging Brewster’s shoulder, 2:32 p.m.

—J. Dedman, ’48

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“How am I doing?”

—Frost, mouthing the words quietly to his wife, 2:32:30 p.m.

“The tour, the gentle autumn breeze, the delicious salmon: this is the best day of my entire life!”

—Frost, smiling broadly, 6:28 p.m.

“What a suck-up! Is he always like this?”

—Kingman Brewster, softly to Mrs. Frost, 6:28:08 p.m.

“You should have seen him at Harvard. ‘If two roads diverged in a wood, I’d take the one to Cambridge.’ For shame!”

—Mrs. Frost, 6:28:35 p.m.

“I know you honored two poets last year, but I also know that you still can choose the right road here. After all, you’re the ‘King’ of this place. Get it?”

—Frost, 7:12 p.m.

“Want to take a stroll to Branford, the Blah-Blah-BlahBlah…”

—Brewster, mimicking Frost, to Mrs. Brewster, 7:25 p.m.

“Look honey, I don’t know what you want! I’m trying to get the damn degree. You know what good press does for book sales. I just don’t know if we’re approaching this the right way. Calm down!”

—Frost, to his wife, 8:01 p.m.

“I know how many I’ve had, and yes, I’ll have another whiskey sour. On the rocks.”

—Frost, throwing a chair at his waiter at Mory’s Temple Bar, 10:45 p.m.

“You’re not sleeping here smelling like spirits.”

—Mrs. Frost, 11:14 p.m.

“You have the most beautiful figure in the entire country, sweetheart.”

—Frost, getting frisky at the bar of the Union League Café, 11:32 p.m.

“Who needs your damn university, Kingman? Huh? I’ll tell you who: nobody!”

—Frost, throwing rocks at the President’s house, 1:12 a.m.

“Did you hear something, honey?”

—Brewster to Mrs. Brewster, 1:20 a.m.

“Damn you, Yale!”

—Frost, curling up to sleep it off in the Branford College courtyard, 1:55 a.m.

—M. Matera, ’03

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EDITORIAL FROM THE MACHINE ISSUE When I got to the Record office, the entire staff was gathered there, drinking piña coladas.

“Ben, great news! We finally found someone to replace you!” Katy shouted over the celebratory techno music.

“Oh,” I said. “How long have you been trying?”

“Eh, a few months,” said Simon. “Our first thought was to bring Jerry Seinfeld back from the dead, but something went haywire in his brain during the resurrection— observational humor sours pretty quickly when you say things like ‘What’s with these Asian drivers?’ or ‘How about those little sweaters the gays wear?’”

“But Jerry Seinfeld’s not dead, is he?”

Simon guiltily eyed the body bag in the corner.

“Well, where’s this new Editor-in-Chief?” I asked.

“Right over there!” Simon said. “Dancing on the table! He’s the life of the party. He made us all drinks.”

“There’s nothing on that table but a blender,” I said.

Simon smiled, nodded, and sipped his piña colada.

By the time staff meeting rolled around the following Monday, I had already tried to discredit the blender every way I knew how, from writing a witty eviction notice (which it promptly puréed) to churning my own milkshakes by hand. (When I offered a chocolate one to David, he took one sip, then stared me coldly in the eye and said, “It’s lumpy,” as he slowly poured the beverage down my pants.)

During staff meeting, I paced the back of the room, scowling as everyone drank strawberry daiquiris and laughed at the blender’s (admittedly on-target) impression of a food processor. At last I’d had enough.

“A blender can’t do my job!” I cried. “Editing a humor magazine is complicated! What if it uses too many Star Trek jokes? What if it uses too few?”

“Don’t worry, Ben,” said Adam. “Our new Editor doesn’t have stupid ideas like you always did. Remember when you wanted to do that piece, ‘Sexual Awkwardness in the Computer Age’?”

“You’re supposed to write what you know!” I said.

“They teach you that in writing classes, which I’m sure the dumb old blender has never taken.”

“Human editors are obsolete,” Adam said. “Be gone!”

Then he tried to shoo me out the door with a dismissive hand-flicking gesture, although with each flick his hand swatted my face. The staff bellowed their agreement, and empty cups began to rain down upon me from all corners

of the room. Dripping with fruit juice and reeking of strawberry, I fled.

I hopped into my Camry and drove up and down the cold New Haven streets, wondering where I could go, who I could turn to. Finally, it struck me—“it” being a passing Corolla. After I got the driver’s phone number and insurance information, I drove over to my girlfriend’s suite. If anyone would stand up for me, it’d be her.

Her door was closed when I reached it, but light was bleeding through. “Hey, are you in there?” I called, creaking it open.

“Whoa, a little privacy?!” she shrieked. But I had seen enough. She was sitting at her desk, pouring handfuls of fresh fruit into the blender, which was purring like a kitten as she caressed its “Pulse” button. “It’s not what you think,” she said when she saw the look of betrayal on my face, but I wasn’t listening.

“Home-wrecker!” I screamed, and launched myself at the blender, pounding it with my fists, mango and tangerine specks flying. The blender took every punch— like Ali against Foreman, waiting on the ropes for the chance to strike.

“Ben! What are you doing?” my girlfriend shouted.

Finally I stopped, whacking the blender one last time for good measure. “You oaf,” she said. “I was making you a smoothie.”

I looked up at her sheepishly. Orange fruit caked my face. I licked my lips and pondered for a moment.

“Needs a little raspberry,” I said.

—B. Orlin, ’09

JUST A THOUGHT: THE “CALL ME MAYBE” VIDEO I finally watched the “Call Me Maybe” video and it turns out the guy is her next-door neighbor. If she really thinks he can’t figure out how to get in touch with her without her phone number then he’s probably not “boyfriend material.” If he’s that dumb, his sexual orientation is more of a secondary concern.

—J. Greenblatt, ’11 The Blog Put It All on Red

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HOW TO DRAW A YALE MAN

—G. Taylor, ’53

THE NINETEEN STAGES OF GRIEF Denial: “What? I can’t die this young, there must be a mistake. Your nurse probably just mixed up the test results.”

Anger: “That nurse is so fucking dumb.”

Bargaining: “Look, I’ll pay any amount for you to cure me. I know it looks like I don’t have a lot of money, but I do know a lot of drug dealers, and I’m pretty sure people would pay a lot of money to have sex with me.”

Anger, Part Deux: “What do you mean it’s incurable?”

Anger, Part Trois: “What do you mean you wouldn’t pay to have sex with me?”

Drinking: “Look, if you can’t cure me, I can at least drown my pain with my good friend Jack Daniel’s and then drunkenly text my ex-boyfriends about my impending death.”

Explanation: “I just keep a bottle of it in my purse at all times in case a surprise quinceañera or fatal diagnosis pops up.”

Over-friendliness: “Hey, ladies, grab all your nurse friends and come on down to Examination Room 2! We’re having a party and you’re all invited!”

Faux-apologizing: “Sorry, doctor, I wasn’t aware that this was a No Fun Zone.”

Depression: “Well, I guess I’m never going to find out how Cougar Town ends, so I might as well just die now.”

Vomiting: “Really sorry about that. I’ll buy you a new shirt with all of my drug dealer/sex money.”

Bill Cosby Impression: “Look at my colorful sweater! I was on The Bill Cosby Show!”

Acceptance: “You know, I’ve had a pretty good run, and I have a lot to be thankful for. Thanks for talking me through this, doctor, and I apologize for the violent mood swings.”

Arson: “I will burn this doctor’s office to the ground if it is the last goddamn thing I do.”

Placation: “Please don’t call the cops, it was a joke, I swear! You know what Bill Cosby would say about a situation like this?”

Faux-apologizing, Part Deux: “Sorry, sir, I realize a joke comparing how white people and black people eat Jell-O probably wasn’t in the best of taste.”

Spiking a Football: “BOOYAH, DOCTOR, IN YOUR FACE.” Reflection: “Well, doc, we’ve had one hell of a ride together, but I guess it’s time for me to head home and get my affairs in order. But before I go, are you sure I can’t interest you in a body shot?”

Body Shots: “I knew you’d come around.”

—M. Chiasson, ’11 The Blog Put It All on Red

By: H. B. Michael ’93 Illustrated by: T. Lynch ’93

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FEATURES

Inside the Yale Record Humor Factory

by Doug by DougLieblich Lieblich, ’08 -ANY 2ECORD READERS BELIEVE OUR ARTICLES ARE WRITTEN BY HUMAN AUTHORS "UT MANY 2ECORD READERS ARE ALSO FUNCTIONALLY ILLITERATE SO IT S HARD TO BLAME THEM FOR THE MISCONCEPTION )N REALITY OUR HUMOR WRITING HAS BEEN MECHANIZED SINCE REQUIRING ONLY MINIMAL HUMAN INPUT 4HE DETAILS ARE SECRET BUT THE PROCESS GOES SOMETHING LIKE THIS

My Managing Editor said, “Write what you know,� but all I know about is war generals and famous bears.

Article Concept Creator 4HERE ARE MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF DIFFERENT STRATEGIES FOR BRAINSTORMING ARTICLE CONCEPTS AND THIS MACHINE USES ALL OF THEM &OR EXAMPLE THE MACHINE MIGHT JUXTAPOSE TWO SEPARATE THINGS WHICH DO NOT GO TOGETHER /R THE MACHINE MIGHT TAKE TWO SEPARATE THINGS AND PUT THEM IN JUXTAPOSITION 4HE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

Churchill gave a long puff on his cigar.

This grizzly was more elusive than he had anticipated. It was like his white whale.

Except it was a bear, so it was his white bear. Also, it was black, so it was his black bear. And instead of eating plankton and Captain Ahab, it ate gooseberries.

HIGH CLASS PURIFIER )T HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE 2ECORD S OFlCIAL POSITION THAT VULGARITY HAS NO PLACE IN HUMOR )T HAS ALSO BEEN THE 2ECORD S UNOFlCIAL POSITION THAT hFARTv IS THE FOURTH FUNNIEST WORD IN HUMAN SPEECH

TRAILING ONLY FART HEAD FART MONGER

AND POMEGRANATE

Dear Winston Churchill & Grizzly Bears,

-Adolf Hitler

28

The Yale Record

)MAGINE YOU RE READING A HUMOR PIECE AND YOU ENCOUNTER A THREE ITEM LIST 4HE lRST ITEM IS NOT A PUNCH LINE 4HE SECOND ITEM IS NOT A PUNCH LINE 7HAT S THE ABSOLUTE LAST THING YOU EXPECT FOR THE THIRD ITEM 9OU LL NEVER GUESS )T S A PUNCH LINE !ND SINCE ALL THE BEST PUNCH LINES INVOLVE THE NAMES OF UNUSUAL FRUITS THAT S EXACTLY WHAT THE +ICKER -AKER ADDS

mAILBAG-ULATOR )F THERE S ONE THING HUMOR AUDIENCES HATE IT S BEING FORCED TO READ MORE THAN CONSECUTIVE WORDS WITHOUT A PAYOFF !S A RESULT THE 2ECORD IS SLOWLY PHASING OUT LONGER FORMS OF HUMOR "Y THE MAGAZINE WILL CONSIST OF NOTHING BUT PAGES OF MAILBAGS

KICKER MAKER

Churchill gave a long, Freudian puff on his cigar.

This grizzly was more feces-colored than he had anticipated. It was like his white whale—except it was a bear, so it was his white bear. Also it was fecescolored, so it was his fecescolored bear. Churchill unleashed a resounding fart.

Forget Roosevelt and his “fear itself� bullshit. You are the only things I ever feared.

General Churchill’s Grizzly Assault.

RACIST ELIMINATOR 4HIS VITAL DEVICE METICULOUSLY SCANS EVERY SENTENCE REMOVING ANY RACIAL EPITHETS RAPE JOKES AND DEROGATORY STEREOTYPESˆTHE SORT THAT *EWS TEND TO WRITE

Churchill gave a long, consensual puff on his cigar.

This bear of grizzly descent was more culturally unique than he had anticipated. It was like his Caucasian whale—except it was an animal of bear descent, so it was his Caucasian animal of bear descent.

Signs

Signs of a Dangerous Point-C What t HitchhikerHitchhiker Amer of a Dangerous

by Dounia Bredes

$IRTY lNGERNAILS

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-ULLET

-Y BROTHE AGAINST THE HOR 4HE !MERICAN BRINGING NOTHIN MATERIALISM 4H *ESUS BUT THEIR !MERICAN DOM ENOUGH AND IT I THE INlDELS UNT ALLIES IN )SRAEL A LANDS 4HIS IS A lGHT AND BY TA EVERLASTING GLOR TO !LLAH AND D

0LAID

0ALLID COMPLEXION 3HODDY PENMANSHIP

3HIRT UNTUCKED

!DDICTIVE PERSONALITY

(AND ME DOWN CLOTHING

5NWIELDY ACCOUTREMENTS

3HOPS AT ARMY SURPLUS STORE

,ACKS MEDICAL INSURANCE

#OUNTERPOINT IS !WESOME "Y (ASSAN )BRAH

/KAY !HM IS RESPONSIBLE F WORLD AND !LLA DESTROYED "UT YOU SEEN THIS N 9OU CAN DO I0HONE ) MEAN OTHER TO COORDI BUT YOU CAN ALS FOR !+ S AND IT COMES WITH S COULD STORE ALL O TO !MERICAv VID NOT EVEN COME MEMORY 9EAH !HM IS JUST ANOTHER !MERICAN CAPIT WORKING TO DES SLEEK DESIGN )T THE HAND OF !LL /KAY YOU DISTRACTED FROM MUST PROCEED W INlDELS I0HON ) LL CALL YOU BEGIN

—Dounia Bredes, ’11

18

T he Y ale R ecord

MODERN ADËLIAN DOESN’T EXIST, SOURCES SAY Students in Michael Aidelo’s Modern Adëlian language class can forget everything they learned this semester, before summer even starts.

“I feel a little cheated,” says March Renfro, a sophomore Biology major who had been trying to fulfill his language requirement with Aidelo’s class. The Blue Book describes AD 125b as “providing students with an introduction to Modern Adëlian syntax and vocabulary, with a particular emphasis on spontaneous oral expression.”

It might just do that, but Adël, or perhaps Adëlia, and especially Adëlian, don’t exist. It seems that Profesor Emeritus Aidelo, who the department chair admitted last week was “quite senile,” made the whole thing up. Long known in his field for the brilliantly inventive interpretations he brought to ancient texts, Aidelo has apparently lost the ability to distinguish between truth and fantasy.

Many of the students, who were all failing, expressed intense frustration over what had happened. One student complained, “I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve been up at 4 am, memorizing forms and exceptions, and now I find out it’s all gibberish! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget all 13 declensions.”

Even Erica Carlyle, who had been petitioning the DUS to allow her to pursue an Adëlian focus in the major, admits she had doubts early on. “Sure, I was a little suspicious when the instructor announced in the third week of the course that the verb ‘to be’ had changed, but I figured it was my fault for taking a living language.”

Renfro, at least, is optimistic about his possibilities for fulfilling his language requirement. “I took a little Greek in high school, I think I’ll transfer into that. I just want to be able to travel, you know…and talk to Classics majors in other countries.”

Aside from the fictitious language, students gave Aidelo high marks for enthusiasm and knowledge of the material. The workload was heavy, but eight out of twelve of those surveyed said they would recommend the course to their friends.

Aidelo declined to comment in English for this article.

—I. Dallas, ’00

JUST A THOUGHT: PARLIAMENTARY DEBATE I learned once in a history class that the table in the center of the British Parliament was traditionally the length of two swords, the idea being that it would prevent one member from murdering an adversary in a moment of passionate debate. At first I thought this seemed like a good idea but then I realized it was kind of excessive.

As long as it’s a little more than one sword length across, the worst they can do is fight for a while without actually killing each other. In fact, that would probably be more entertaining. Unless they somehow found a way around the table.

—J. Greenblatt, ’11 The Blog Put It All on Red WORST SONGS IN THE WORLD TO MAKE LOVE TO The Peanuts Theme Song Mahna Mahna We Didn’t Start the Fire Celebration Battle Hymn of the Republic Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet Who Let the Dogs Out? Whoomp! (There It Is) Wooly Bully Die schöne Müllerin Jingle Bell Rock —M. W. Harris, ’09 JUST A THOUGHT: GIFTS AND GROWING UP The moment I realized that I’m not a kid anymore was the moment I opened a present that turned out to be a sweater and instead of thinking, “Oh crap, this isn’t a toy.

Well, I better fake a smile…” I thought, “Is this more of a jeans sweater or a dress-up sweater?”

—J. Greenblatt, ’11 The Blog Put It All on Red

19

T he A lumni I ssue

THE LAST SUPPER Then came to Jesus an artist, who was starving. And the artist spoke to him, saying, “My name is Brian, and I will be thy server this evening.” And Brian recited the specials unto him, and inquired as to whether he had any questions concerning the menu. And Jesus did question him, saying, “What, exactly, is polenta?” And Brian explained that polenta is a cornmeal dish popular in Italy, with about the same consistency as mashed potatoes.

And then the disciple Matthew spoke, saying, “What about the snapper? Is that done with the head still on it, or what? Because I don’t eat anything with eyes.” And Jesus admonished him, saying, “Blessed is the man who is not picky, but who eats of the fish with the head, and also of the whole suckling pig.” Yet Brian was unvexed, and said, “Yea, don’t worry about it. We can have them take the head off in the kitchen.” And the Son of man answered and said, “O Brian, great is thy compassion, and strong is thy faith.”

And Brian inquired unto the table, asking whether they had made up their minds. And Peter spoke, saying that they could use another few minutes, and Brian did depart. Then James spoke, asking, “Would anyone want to split two appetizers and a main?” And Mark, who was trying to lose a few pounds, agreed.

And it so happened that they were approached by one called Manuel, who began to refill their basket of bread.

And Luke, who was trying Atkins again even though it hadn’t worked the first time, was harsh with Manuel, refusing the leavened offering. And Jesus was peeved, and did reproach Luke, saying, “Blessed are the poor and most likely undocumented, for they shall attain guestworker status in Heaven.” And Luke felt the guilt of liberals, and was ashamed.

And around the time they had decided on what they were going to order, Jesus spoke unto them, saying, “Verily, I say unto you, one of you that eateth with me tonight shall betray me.” And all began to be sorrowful, except for Judas, who said, “Is anybody having the tuna tartare as a starter? Because I was thinking of getting that.”

Then Brian returned from the kitchen, and went to the Lord and said, “Okay, is everybody ready?” And Brian flipped open his little flippy pad, and prepared his pen for the writing of the order. And Jesus took of his cup, and drank of it, and said, “This is my blood of the New Testament, which is shed for many, and it’s delicious. Do

you think we could get another bottle?” And Brian said, “Of course.” And Jesus said unto him, “Terrific. I’ll have the seafood tacos to start, and would you recommend the salmon or the free-range chicken as a main?” And Brian recommended the salmon, which just so happened to be the more expensive of the two. And the Son of man did order the salmon, and also a side of sautéed mushrooms.

And the appetizers arrived, and then the entrées. And all partook of the food which they had ordered, chewing it with their mouths and swallowing it with their throats.

And after dinner several ordered desserts, and others decaf cappuccino. And when Manuel had cleared all of the plates, Judas arose, saying, “I must use the little boys’ room.” And when the time came for the paying of the check, it was discovered that Judas was no longer present.

And many disciples commented on how shitty it was that Judas would skip out on the bill. Yet Jesus stopped them.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said, “for I am pretty sure that’ll be the least of your problems with that guy.” And all took this to heart, even though the Son of man still had a bit of crème brulée in his beard.

—D. Litt, ’08

First Drunk: “Anything behind?”

Second Drunk: “No.” —R. Osborn, ’28

T he A lumni I ssue

Dear Thomas the Tank Engine, You won’t look so smiley after thirty years, two bouts of syphilis, and a divorce.

With wisdom, A Metro-North train

CANNABIS STUDY NEVER REALLY PUBLISHED

Dear Professor Brown, I will not be turning in homework/ attending class this week because of all the lizards. Although I did not anticipate lizards, I find they are growing in both number and ferocity. In the future I will try to eliminate them from my schedule, but for the time being I hope you understand how difficult it has been for me due to lizards.

Thanks, Trevor

Hey folks, Here’s an idea...how about putting up signs that say, “In case of fire, don’t use elevator. Use water.”

Sincerely, M. H. Goldsmith

Dear garbage disposal, Oh, it’s just you. I got excited because from the other room it sounded like someone put on a Tom Waits album.

—John

Dear girl I hooked up with last night, I don’t quite know how to say this... your name.

Sincerely, Brandon Fruman, MC ’09

FRESHMAN CAN’T UNDERSTAND HOW POSTER OF TWO GIRLS KISSING DOESN’T GET HIM LAID

Dear Yale Record, “It takes a village to raise a child,” huh? I guess you’ve never heard of, I don’t know, an orphanage?

Yours, Zeke, proud orphanage director

Dear Bluebook, I wish you would’ve introduced me to economics. We just stood there awkwardly the whole evening.

—A student

21

Dear Cardinals, I’m afraid you cannot select a new pope this year, as you are a baseball team.

—The Vatican

THE ICE MAN COMETH: FROSTBITTEN MAN EJACULATES ALL OVER AMBULANCE CREW Dear Yale kid, I’m glad you’re not my whatever-youjust-said so you can lie tangent to my curves!

—Amy Sanders, Quinnipiac ’09 Yo Peeps, I see ya’ sittin’ there Lookin’ at me so motionless And when it comes to love I get ya true—love potionless!

Your color don’t matter I don’ care if yo’ marshmallowy Just want yo’ sweet love So come ‘n’ pour some sugar on me Yyyea-yah!

—A man who likes rapping to marshmallow Peeps before eating them

22

T he Y ale R ecord

GRAMMAR NAZIS TO ANNOUNCE “FINAL SOLUTION” TO SPLIT INFINITIVES

Fine Indian Cuisine “A Treat for the senses” —Hartford Courant “Amid elegance, a variety of Indian dishes” —New York Times

Sirs, All too often you people seem to rely on vulgar language and coarse imagery in order to make your so-called comic point. Are you all so genuinely bereft of true creativity and inspiration that you must fall back on the same bankrupt formula again and again?

—Sam Penis, Penis, Penisland To whom it may concern, Okay, I made you laugh. Now buy this shitty thing you don’t need.

Sincerely, Advertising

Hours Lunch Monday - Saturday: 11:30 AM - 2:30 PM Sunday: 12:00 PM - 3:00 PM Dinner Sunday - Thursday: 5:00 PM - 10:00 PM Friday - Saturday: 5:00 PM - 10:30 PM

Every Day Lunch Buffet 148 York Street, New Haven, CT 06511 203-776-8644 www.zaroka.com

Graduate student seeks purpose.

Ugly man seeks blind woman

POLYGRAPH, FLAMING PANTS REVEAL FALSE TESTIMONY Dear Hershey’s, Explain to me how giving me less chocolate in every bar suddenly makes it a “fun size.” Who’s having fun eating less candy? I’ll tell you who. You. You are having fun all the way to the bank, capitalist swine.

—Karl Marx

Zoi’s

Local breakfast & lunch café

s Zoi’ Orange on

We Cater Hours: Monday - Thursday 7 am - 6 pm Friday Saturday 7am - 3 pm

7:30 am - 1:30 pm

338 1/2 Orange Street New Haven, CT 06511 P: 203.777.6736 F: 203.777.6740 Catering: 203.777.6735

Wanted: Carmen Sandiego.

E-mail heres.waldo@gmail. com.

Dear saloon patrons, FREEZE! That’s right, nobody move. Now, if everyone could just back away from me, real easy like, then we can figure out where my contact lens fell and then everyone can go on with their lives.

—Pistol-Packin’ Pete

SUPERFAN PROPOSES DIVORCE ON STADIUM JUMBOTRON

MIGHTY, MAJESTIC, MOUNTED

T he Y ale R ecord

YALE SHOP

ON CAMPUS

24

T he Y ale R ecord Dear God, Can you make a rock so big that Lindsay Lohan can’t snort it?

—Martin Luther

THE OLDEST

OFFICIAL YALE SHOP

ON CAMPUS

Dear doctor, When I told you I didn’t want to die in the hospital, the emphasis was on the not dying rather than not in a hospital.

Please come retrieve me from the parking lot.

Thanks, A cold patient Dear Jim, If you die, I will eat your face. But it’s nothing personal.

Love, Your cat

TYPO CREATES INAPPROPRIATE HEADLINE, CAUSES PUBIC OUTRAGE

57 BROADWAY, NEW HAVEN, CT 203-789-2157

57 BROADWAY, NEW HAVEN, CT 203-789-2157

Dear Editors, Life is difficult for us of the phylum Phylatia Luthus. We live only a scant 32 minutes, during which time we must mate, give birth, and write a short letter to the publication of our choice.

—Appolonia Milicent Thraft, Okiephenokie, FL

Dear Goldfish cracker, Why are you smiling? I just ate all your friends.

—The Yale Record

UNROMANTIC MAN HANGS UP FIRST WITH NO ARGUMENT Dear Editors, How much wood would a woodchuck upchuck if he went to Naples and had a couple of pitchers first?

—Dr. Sidney Altman, Yale Institute of Mammalian Intoxication ..., ...

P.S. I’m a mime.

Dear set up, Punchline.

—...

Sincerely, Follow-through

Dear Yale Record, C’mon, guys. This isn’t funny anymore. Where’d you hide my kidneys?

—Some whiny dork

Writers, Artists, Designers, Business-Minded People

Jokes and Free Pizza!

EMAILEVERY CHAIRMAN@YALERECORD.COM MONDAY, 9PM WLH 112 FOR MORE INFORMATION