The Avant-Garde Issue

Vol. 149, No. 3

THE YALE

Dec. 12, 2020

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chair@yalerecord.org

KEY RACE ALERT! THE US PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION JUST HAPPENED Dear Peter Salovey, I haven’t used my liberal arts degree yet. What’s your refund policy?

Thanks, Indebted Timmy Dear Indebted Timmy, Unfortunately, the only available refund we can suggest is underreporting income to the IRS, as is highly traditional amongst Yale alumni.

Thanks, Peter Salovey

ORDER IN THE COURT! THERE ARE 362,880 WAYS TO LINE UP THE SUPREME COURT JUSTICES

Dear Isaac Newton, Years from now, they will make an awful, fig-flavored cookie in your name.

It will taste like sawdust and smell like a foot. I am so, so sorry. All you did was watch an apple fall to the ground. You didn’t deserve this.

Best, The Future

ADAM DRIVER SCANDAL! THIS UBER MAN WAS SUED FOR ONLY GIVING RIDES TO PEOPLE NAMED ADAM Dear Applebee’s Grill and Bar, How many bees could an apple bee if an apple could apple bees?

Sincerely, Bert

MINECRAFT IN REAL LIFE? I BUILT A HOUSE

BEATING AROUND THE BUSH: GEORGE W. HIRES PERSONAL DJ TO FOLLOW HIM AROUND AND SAY COOL SHIT! Dear Bert, If a bee could apple bees an apple bee would apple two bees.

Sincerely, Applebee’s Grill and Bar

THE NEW PS5?

MY NAME IS PAUL SMITH V YOUR AD CAN’T GO HERE CLEARLY THIS SPOT’S TAKEN, DUMBASS

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OOPSIE DAISY! I JUST KILLED MY HUSBAND’S MISTRESS WHILE DRIVING THE CAR OF MY FIRST LOVER AFTER A SOIRÉE IN A PLAZA HOTEL SUITE GONE AWRY! Dear first graders, We bet you think you’re the shit, huh?

We bet you think you’re so cool because you have “first” in your name. Well don’t let it get to your head. We were at the top of the totem pole once, too. But fate is fickle, my juvenile friends, and the spelling teachers who once doted on your every whim will soon forget your faces and names. Your feeble spirits will be sucked back into the void, there to wilt and disappear.

Sincerely, Second Graders

“I’M DECIDING BETWEEN EP&E AND GLOBAL. MAYBE I’LL DOUBLE MAJOR!” SAYS MAN WHO WILL HAVE 4 PEOPLE AT HIS FUNERAL Dear friend who goes to the gym, Hey pal. I know we’ve been friends for a while, and I know you think you’re hotter than me. And that’s fine. But I know you’re only going to the gym just so you can tell me that you went to the gym. And I know the simple answer here is to go to the gym, so that I can tell you I also went to the gym. But I’m both busier and lazier than you. And I’m also skilled with close combat weapons and intimidating eye contact. So if you tell me you went to the gym one more time, I swear to god I’m going give you a long, piercing glare and then gouge out your eyes.

See you in chem lab later! a Frustrated Friend

Dear Ashton Kutcher, You have a relentlessly cool name. Ashton. Sounds like a brawny, muscular man. Kutcher. Sounds like a butcher. How strong. Do you have any tips for me on making my name sound cool?

Best, Putterlimp F. McWeewee

AREA MAN ONCE AGAIN FINDS THE AREA OF AN ISOSCELES TRIANGLE. HOW DOES HE DO IT? Dear Putterlimp, I suggest you go by your middle name! Ashton is actually my middle name.

Regards, Ashton Kutcher

GRAMMAR MATTERS: WHEN EVERY SINGLE NOT IT’S SEE OUT OF I COURSE NOT, WHY IS Dear Ashton, Thanks!

Best, P. Frumpledick McWeeWee

METHOD ACTING GONE TOO FAR? I PUT MYSELF IN THE MINDSET OF THE MAN WHO ABANDONED ME AS A CHILD, LEFT TO GO TO THE GAS STATION FOR CIGARETTES, RAN OFF TO LAS VEGAS, AND ACCIDENTALLY RAN INTO MY FATHER AT CAESAR’S PALACE

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Dear Buffalo Wild Wings Location #23789, I need to get in contact to discuss your manager, Mr. Jagoff. Mr. Jagoff was rude, inconsiderate, and honestly obtuse from our interactions. He interrupted me at several points, brought out the wrong order several times, and finally, shat on my chest.

His name is Dick Jagoff. Thank you.

Furiously, Ms. Brown Obituary Correction The Editorial Board would like to apologize for an erroneous obituary in a previous issue of a magazine. The issue misspelled Charles Manson as “Charles Hanson” and credited the murderous cult leader as a member of the 1990s pop rock band Hanson and the writer of the band’s smash hit “MMMBop.”

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JOE BIDEN TO TAKE AMTRAK FROM DC TO DELAWARE AT 4 AM EVERY DAY SO HE CAN CONTINUE TRADITION OF TAKING AMTRAK FROM DELAWARE TO DC EVERY MORNING FOR WORK Dear Ms. Brown, Thank you for getting in contact.

We’re glad to hear that Dick has been taking his Miralax and finally passed a bowel movement for the first time in two weeks.

Regards, Buffalo Wild Wings Corporation

Check Checkout out our ourwebsite, website, yalerecord.org, yalerecord.org, for formore morehilarious hilarious content! content!

SHARING IS CARING! I GAVE MY PRESCHOOL CLASSMATES HPV

—A. Jeddy

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FALSE ADVERTISING? SPICE GIRLS STAR EMMA BUNTON ISN’T EVEN A REAL BABY Dear Handsome Dan XVIII, Oh my! When I heard of this news, I nearly fell to my paws and wept. Why must you leave?! Have you any consideration for me, for our many children? Was our love for your squished face not enough? Oh, how will I go on!

In distress, Beautiful Danette XVIII

Dear Beautiful Danette XVIII, Listen here Danette, I know you slept with my brother, the less handsome Dan XVII. You can quit this whole tearful, puppy-dog eyed act and get on with your life, as I am. Give my brother the best regards as you both rot in doggy hell.

Later loser, Handsome Dan XVIII

THE NEW LEONARDO DICAPRIO? I ALSO DATE 19 YEAR OLDS

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THE LAST STRAW! I FINALLY FINISHED MY FIVE THOUSAND STRAW NEWT GINGRICH STATUE FOR SALE: The inspiration for one of Andy Warhol’s most iconic works— a can of tomato soup I found in the back of my pantry. $10,000.

Emmy Waldman ‘11

I

am an artist. And the Yale Record is my canvas. I’ve published things that have gone very well and things that have failed miserably, but I appreciate it all equally. Because the mistakes only help me grow in my craft.

But I fear that I’ve gotten too comfortable with what I do. I know the formula too well by now. I know that for every issue, I will send out a list of headlines to our staff, and within an hour, at most three people will sign up for something. I know that one day before articles are due, I will ask our managing editors how many pieces they’ve received, and they’ll all say they don’t know and don’t give a hoot.

I know that right before I publish every issue, someone named David or Jacob or Joe will send me a piece and say, “I hope this isn’t too late!” and it definitely is too late. And I know that, once the issue is published, I’ll share it on Facebook and get exactly eight likes.

The truth is, with everything so predictable, there’s no room to make the mistakes that really shake things up— the mistakes that really make me an artist.

So, I’ve decided to do something a little bit different with my editorial, something a bit controversial. And you know what? I don’t care if I fail because, even if this 149-year-old publication collapses right in front of me and I can never find work again, I will have been expressing my true self.

So, here’s my hot take, which I’ve been too afraid to admit in previous issues: I absolutely despise the Yale Record. I think it is a horrendous publication. I have never once laughed while reading the Yale Record. And I somehow hate this “avant-garde” issue more than any of the previous ones.

Let’s unpack the issue. A news article about how Olive Garden is rebranding as Avant Garden? That’s not even true! And maybe two pages into this issue that is supposed to be “experimental” and “crossing boundaries,” there’s an article called “I Fucking Love Normal Shit.” These people can’t even stick to the theme!

T heTC orporate merica I ssue he A vant GA arde I ssue But the worst of them all is the listicle entitled “Best Places to Go Naked to Make a Statement.” The joke of that piece is so juvenile and overdone, and I truly can’t believe that’s the smartest joke that Ivy League students could come up with!

The piece is attributed to “Staff,” so does that mean the entire staff was sitting around a table for hours and hours deliberating and that’s how this joke was born? I guess you can go read it for yourself and be the judge, but I personally wouldn’t pick up such a low-quality publication ever again.

I should mention that the editorial in this issue absolutely made my blood boil as well. It doesn’t make any sense! If this “editor in chief ” thinks the Record is so bad, then why has she dedicated so much time to it? Why is she talking about how bad the content of the issue is when she was the one who signed off on it?

Wait a minute. How is Kaylee critiquing her own editorial in the middle of writing it? If she thinks it’s bad, why doesn’t she just rewrite it? Or has she just procrastinated writing it for so long that she doesn’t care how bad it is? And why is Kaylee talking about herself in the third person?

What is the self? Who am I? Is the real “Kaylee” the one who I think I am, or the one who others perceive? Why do I do all this work when I’m aware of my own mortality? Who am I serving? Will I achieve nirvana (meeting Kurt Cobain in heaven)? Or will I just one day leave this world and enter a state of nothingness? I wish there was a word for that.

Maybe I should take a break from writing. I just wanted to express my complete disdain for the Yale Record, and now I’m totally worked up about the meaning of life and shit. I think I Harry Rubin ’22 Chair

Kaylee Walsh ’22 Editor in Chief

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should go to my favorite art museum. That always cheers me up.

Okay I’m back from the art museum. And I feel so inspired. I feel inspired to dedicate an issue of the Record to true artistry, and my favorite type of art—avant-garde. I think this issue will be one of the best ones yet. It will be so experimental and cross so many boundaries. And when I write the editorial, it will be so funny!

At the end of the day, I am an artist, and the Yale Record is my canvas, because I really love the Yale Record so much, as I’m sure you all know. I’m sure when I realize the word count in this editorial is low, I will go back and add a couple paragraphs about how much I love this magazine and how great the articles in this issue are. Then I will express that I know the meaning of life and am at peace with my own mortality. I will not mention Kurt Cobain because I do not know who that is.

I think what you’ll really love about this issue most is how much it all makes sense. Especially my editorial, which follows a totally logical, completely linear sequence of events. You’ll love how there aren’t any articles in this issue that take place after the issue was released because that wouldn’t make sense, seeing as we can’t know how the public will receive this issue. I like to keep things predictable and never be controversial, as I mentioned earlier.

Oh, don’t look so confused. Just read the damn issue.

—K. Walsh Editor in Chief

David Hou ’22 Online Editor in Chief

Will Cramer ’22 Publisher

Clio Rose ’24 Online Managing Editor

Joe Wickline ’24 Online Managing Editor

Jonas Kilga ’23 Managing Editor

Diana Kulmizev ’23 Managing Editor

Sam Leone ’23 Managing Editor

Zuri Goodman ’22 Webmaster

Raja Moreno ’23 Webmaster

Zosia Caes ’22 Copy Editor

Ayla Jeddy ’23 Design Editor

Avery Mitchell ’23 Design Editor

Ellen Qian ’23 Design Editor

Alex Taranto ’23 Art Director

Bea Portela ’24 Staff Director

Jacob Eldred ’24 Business Manager

Madelyn Blaney ’21 Old Owl

Rosa Chang ’22 Old Owl

Caleb Cohen ’21 Old Owl

Ethan Fogarty ’21 Old Owl

Sarah Force ’22 Old Owl

Luna Garcia ’22 Old Owl

David “Davey” McCowin ’21 Old Owl

Marcy Sanchez ’21 Old Owl

Maya Sanghvi ’22 Old Owl

Amanda Thomas ’21 Old Owl

Staff: Colin Baciocco ’21 Marty Chandler ’21 Paige Davis ’21 Lindsay Jost ’21 Jamie Large ’21 Alec Zbornak ’21 Ronak Gandi ’22 Ryan Fuentes ’22

Alex Kane ’22 Sam Karp ’22 Kyle Mazer ’22 Jocelyn Wexler ’22 Addison Beer ’23 Avery Brown ’23 Juan Diego Casallas ’23 Raffael Davila ’23

Lucy del Alamo ’23 Shirshak Gautam ’23 Dory Johnson ’23 Zoe Larkin ’23 Charlotte Leakey ’23 Jacob Kaufman-Shalett ’23 Andrew Kornfeld ’23 Jason Salvant ’23 Lucy Santiago ’23

Helen Tejada ’23 Katia Vanlandingham ’23 Amrita Vetticaden ’23 Lisbette Acosta ’24 Erik Boesen ’24 Elijah Boles ’24 Alexia Buchholz ’24 Evan Cheng ’24 Finn Gibson ’24

Adriana Golden ’24 Will Gonzalez ’24 Cam Green ’24 Joe Gustaferro ’24 Benjamin Hollander-Bodie ’24 Aarjav Joshi ’24 Alice Mao ’24 Simi Olurin ’24

Chanwook Park ’24 David Peng ’24 Michael Steinthal ’24 Arnav Tawakley ’24 Sarah Teng ’24 Miguel Von Fedak ’24 Joanna Wypasek ’24 Annie Lin ’25

Special thanks to: The Yale Center for British Art, the slightly less well-known younger brother of the Yale University Art Gallery.

Front cover: Alex Taranto ‘23, whose dreams are now haunted by the Buff Owl. (@adtaranto) Back cover: Anasthasia Shilov ‘23, who knew Peter Salovey and abstract art were a match made in heaven.

Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLIX, No. 3, Published in New Haven, CT by The Yale Record, Inc. Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520 • yalerecord.org • Subscriptions: $50/year (print) • $10/year (electronic) All contents copyright 2020 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.

“THE HANDSHAKES” MOVIE REVIEW: EROTICA REIMAGINED

erotic: Adam does his job and plays CandyLand with Anna’s children as she leaves for work.

The adult film industry has broken new ground with the release of Czechoslovakian pornographic film, “The Handshake.” Starring Jan Fiddlehoffer and Natalya Boegelsmosch, the film portrays single mother Anna Novak coming home from a long day at work, only to find her hot, single, male babysitter Adam Svoboda, sitting on her couch. Just when a well-seasoned audience would expect clothes to fly, director Tomas Novotny flips the script, including a scene deemed too erotic for even the most experienced viewer— Anna thanks Adam for watching her children and sends him off with a firm handshake.

Where most audiences would squeal at the gross displays of mutual respect in a professional relationship, Novotny shows his deep comprehension of what makes the erotic truly erotic. Novotny pressures us to ask ourselves, what are our deepest, darkest desires?

When we are alone, aroused on our own, what are our fantasies? Is it plain old sex, or perhaps something darker, something more… courteous? Perhaps our deepest fantasies are grotesque expressions of professionalism, of a positive relationship between client and employee. Perhaps Novotny knows that, deep down, we are nothing but mammals. We desire one thing, and that thing is a handshake.

—D. Kulmizev

Banned in most countries for its portrayal of the babysitter-client relationship as professional and not invading the sexual sphere, Novotny shows that he is willing to take risks in his adult moviemaking. Where some directors play the safe route, Novotny follows the road less taken. Naked bodies do not suffice for Novotny, he wants to dig deeper. Novotny shows us handshakes, a single mother perfectly content with just her child, and the most erotic thing of all, boundaries.

And the shocks didn’t stop there. Even when Novotny takes us into Anna’s room, viewers in the theater covered their eyes as Anna, clad in polar bear pajama pants and a Dave & Buster’s T-shirt, climbs into bed, alone, and falls asleep. The next day, Adam comes to Anna’s home again, and instead of having sex with her in the bathroom, Novotny treats us to something more

TOP TEN ENTRIES IN THIS LIST 1. Four 2. Eight 3. Seven 4. Three 5. Two 6. Nine 7. Six 8. One 9. Ten 10. Five —A. Jeddy

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OLIVE GARDEN ANNOUNCED NEW FRANCHISE AVANT GARDEN

By C. GAINEY and E. QIAN ORANGE COUNTY, FL — Darden Restaurants, the parent company of Olive Garden, announced on Friday its plans to open a new flagship restaurant in Gatorswamp, Florida, called Avant Garden. The restaurant will offer Olive Garden’s typical casual Italian-American dining, alongside a new ambience that challenges the norms of typical casual Italian-American interior design.

In his press release, Darden Restaurants CEO Roger Kerman gave preliminary details about plans for the new restaurant. “The new design will feature floor to ceiling lettuce walls with hand woven pasta noodle accents hanging from the ceilings and light fixtures,” he wrote. “We will also have an onsite Elvis Presley impersonator to provide nightly live music, while donning the biggest chest bush you’ve seen in your life.

He’ll even serenade you with Franz Schubert’s German classic, Ave Maria, if it’s your birthday.

It’s truly a treat for all the senses.”

Staying true to their new brand, Kerman also explained changes to one of the highlights of the classic Olive Garden experience.

Rather than their endless breadstick appetizer, customers will be required to bring their own unprocessed wheat to the server, who will then grind it into a fine powder that will be used to draw a summoning circle that will conjure the culinary sensation, Guy Fieri, holding a plate of breadsticks. “Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t,” Kerman noted in the press release. “But you can’t say you didn’t learn anything.”

Patrons who were invited to a soft opening of Avant Garden prior to the announcement had a range of opinions on the new restaurant.

While some raved about some of the restaurant’s new features, like the original Franklin Stove from 1741 that was used to cook all the food, and the Ben Stiller sighting that comes with every chicken parm order, others did not think the restaurant was anything particularly special. As one patron wrote in an anonymous survey, “Would not recommend but will eat there again, so not much has changed.”

When we reached out to an employee who

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had been working there since the beginning of the rebranding, he remarked, “They say ‘When you’re here, you’re family.’ They treat you like family, all right. That is, if your family told you that you were worthless and couldn’t serve food to save your life but this is your only source of income and you’re struggling to stay afloat in this dog-eat-dog world and the manager beat you with a broom in front of the Elvis impersonator last Friday.”

In a tweet following the announcement, Roger Kerman announced Avant Garden’s new slogan, “When you’re here, you’re not family.

Go away.”

DIFFERENT WORDS FOR THE COLOR BLUE Bleu. This is the French translation, so it’s very classy (which comes from the French ‘classe’).

Bloo. Like my favorite character from Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. Remember when TV was still good? Kids these days will never understand.

Water. Water appears blue because of the way it absorbs light, how particles scatter light, and also partly as a reflection of the blue sky. Why is the sky blue, you ask? Well go read a fucking book.

I’m not your mother.

Red. The color of Mac’s shirt from Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. Bloo was his best friend, or I guess, imaginary friend. I wish he was my friend.

Sad. Sometimes I remember how happy I was when I would watch Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends as a child. Life was so simple back then. Sure, I didn’t have any real friends, but I had Foster’s Home and all of its imaginary friends every weekday at 3 p.m. on Cartoon Network. It may not seem like a lot, but to a boy like me, it was enough.

Oh, how I yearn to go back to those days of youthful bliss.

Fun. Like the Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends watch party I’m hosting tonight in my room. Wear something bloo, and leave your human friends and your general concept of reality at the door— who needs any of that?

—W. Gonzalez

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HOW TO WALK DOWN A RUNWAY IN STYLE EVEN THOUGH YOU’VE BEEN DENIED BY EVERY MODELING AGENCY IN NORTH AMERICA 1. Arriving at the venue. As you approach the entrance, make sure you have the essentials: a camera, a used paparazzi pass from EBay, three rolls of duct tape, and enough rope to hypothetically restrain someone with.

2. Navigating the venue. What you are going to do now is try to open every single door near the stage. If anyone asks what you’re doing, just pull the classic, “Oh, me?

I’m just looking for a bathroom. Nothing to be suspicious about.” And if you see any signs that say, “Do not enter,” or, “For authorized personnel only,” just ignore them! Those are simply suggestions that true models cannot be seen following. You are a trendsetter, darling, not a disciple to the construct.

3. Finding a dressing room. Find the dressing rooms and choose which one you want to get ready in. It does not matter if someone is already in there. What did you take the duct tape and rope were for, silly? There’s only room for one at the top!

4. Preparing for your debut. Now that you have claimed your room, pick up the outfit on the rack and get glamorous! Once you’ve finished your eye makeup, based loosely on that one James Charles video you saw two years ago, put on some music to hype yourself up!

Make sure to put it on full volume to block out the pleas for help from the total has-been in your dressing room.

5. Walking on the runway. The time has finally come, gorgeous! Leave your dressing room only seconds before the show begins because you like to keep them waiting, and also so nobody has time to call security. Once you’ve made it backstage, you have no time to lose. Push yourself to the front of the line, wait for the next name to be called, and strut your stuff!

6. Running off the runway. After hitting the pose you’ve practiced in the bathroom mirror for two weeks, you will most likely be chased off by two beefy men. This is just a test! Stay calm, put some pep in your step, and make your way to the nearest exit. You’re not sweating, darling, you’re glistening!

7. Bask in your glory. Welcome to the world of modeling, baby! If you have a warrant out for your arrest instead, all hope is not lost. In the words of my lawyer after my mandated court hearing, “Fall down seven times, get up eight!”

—J. Wypasek

—Z. Caes I FUCKING LOVE NORMAL SHIT I fucking love normal shit. Medium shit. Ordinary shit.

I love being 39 years old, 5’ 7”, and allergic to pollen. I love fried eggs, clean socks, and ​Avengers: Age of Ultron​. I love cheese pizza and the leftover opioids from my operation last fall.

I love Steve Carell. I love the terror of knowing that I’m going to die someday. I love breakfast in the morning and dessert after dinner. I love taking my 1.93 insufferable kids to Target and losing them among the shelves and feeling free, finally​free​ before they tumble back into view. I love Joe Biden!

I fucking love normal shit! I love drinking two beers and watching the nightly news. I love singing along to the Hits.

I love thinking that I’d maybe like to go skydiving someday, down the line, and repressing my childhood attraction to my cousin. I love Johns, Janes, and Muhammads. I love ice cream (Yum!) and maybe getting divorced (we’ll see!). I love saying, “Who let y​ ou​in here?” when I see a dear friend in a public setting. I love my mom or my dad, but not both, not really. I love googling “video of two people having sex” on my iPhone 6 and joylessly masturbating myself to sleep at 10:30 P.M on a Tuesday. And I love being one of the guys. I really fucking love being one of the guys.

But oh, I fucking HATE weird shit. Strange shit. Outof-the-box shit. People who wear hats. Motherfuckers named ​ Jerome.​I hate identical twins, scalene triangles, and Dutch people. I hate Jim Henson and his puppet horde of freaks. I hate my job. I hate palindromes, paradoxes, and puzzles. I hate my family. I hate my life. One day I’ll die, and when I do a smiling god clad in blue jeans and a sensible button-down will scoop me up, swaddle me in polyester fleece, and lay me to rest in that great Swivel Chair In The Sky. Only then will I be free, free to be as normal as normal can be.

—J. Wickline

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YALE STUDENT EXPERIMENTAL FILM FESTIVAL TO FEATURE FILM MADE WITHOUT A CAMERA

By B. HOLLANDER-BODIE NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT — After being called a visionary by her documentary filmmaking professor last year, Julia Petillant (BF ‘22) realized she wanted to be something more— something vision-less. Now, after countless hours of planning and editing, Petillant is set to debut her first feature film at this year’s annual Yale Student Experimental Film Festival, made without the aid of cameras, a cast, crew, animation, or images of any kind.

“It’s really incredible what our students do for this show,” commented the festival’s faculty sponsor, Professor Marissa Keeves. “This is a pictureless picture. A film created without any filming. Genius!”

When asked about the purpose of her film, Petillant remarked, “There are some who say that the camera is the primary narrator of the film. Perhaps for them, it is. But I view the camera as a crutch. If you are focused on what is going on in front of you, you’re missing what’s going on around you. Within you.”

But not everyone has bought into the hype.

One of Julia’s classmates, who preferred to remain anonymous, said that “Julia isn’t pioneering cinema. She just sucks at cinematography. On the first day of Intro to Film Studies she asked the professor what the little flashing red circle was on the screen.

She thought it had something to do with Japan.”

Asked another student who plans on attending the festival, “There’s at least going to be sound, right?

Please tell me that there’s sound. I can’t spend another two hours staring at a blank wall in silence and pretending it’s profound.”

Luckily, Petillant did give a response to what she referred to as “the ignorant masses” who didn’t think the film was worth the $60 admission fee. “Sometimes they ask me, ‘Miss Petillant, should I close my eyes while watching your movie?’ To those people, I just have three things to say. First, do not refer to my film as a ‘movie.’ Second, it’s impossible to ‘watch’ as there are no images involved. Finally, it’s less important that you close your eyes and more important that you open your mind. But also, yeah, probably close your eyes.”

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REJECTED MET GALA THEMES Nudism Middle school dress code College decision day Vineyard Vines Meat dresses Vegan meat dresses Civil War reenactment —Staff

—C. Rose

ARCHITECTURE REVIEW I’M STUCK IN THIS M.C. ESCHER HOUSE AND I CAN’T GET OUT When I declared my architecture major, I never expected I would encounter a building quite like this. I guess I was always told to expect the unexpected, but a building full of staircases and no discernible entrance or exit is definitely not what I envisioned for this review project. I thought I’d be visiting a charming mid-century modern building, but now I’m stuck in a nightmare-fueled illusionary hellscape with no way out. I’m pretty sure this isn’t up to fire code. How could that Escher dude get away with at least a dozen separate OSHA violations? I’m just waiting for some guy with a clipboard and impeccable building-code knowledge to emerge from one of the many, many doors and shut this place down because, at this point, I think that might be my only way out. Every time I think I’ve found an exit, I simply pop back out on another side of this singular, shifting room, somehow sideways and upside down and inside out at the same time. I am unsure if I will ever make it out of here with both my life and my architecture degree. I have taken to eating the paint chippings from the never-ending staircases. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything other than this very room. Maybe I’ve been locked in an immortal coil of illusion for all of eternity itself. Maybe it’s myself I’m trying to escape after all.

Overall Rating: 3/10, uninspired use of building material and motifs.

—A. Beer

Design by E. Qian

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YALE ALERT: PICASSO REARRANGED MY FACE To the Yale Community, I’m writing to let you know that an assault occurred this afternoon near my favorite nail salon.

A dashing young gentleman was assaulted yesterday evening. Spoiler Alert— it was me.

Basically, I’m Googling Demoiselles d’Avignon for uh, the safety of the Yale community, when I, in my naivety, mutter, “I could totally draw that.”

Suddenly, I feel a silky mist materialize from the alleyway, and a figure emerges. I thought I’d seen everything on the job, but I never expected this— Pablo Picasso, the iconic Cubist painter, who has famously been dead for the past 47 years. He’s right there, behind me.

Picasso pistol whips me and shouts, “Don’t you ever insult Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso again!” He then proceeds to pin me down as he proclaims, “I’m gonna make a weeping woman out of you!”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little turned on.

I mean, stripes are sexy! And I bet we both play Minecraft, cause of Cubism, am I right? I’m right.

Anyway, tonight, Picasso was a Creeper. The identified individual began yelling insults in the vein of, “Your chin’s gonna look like Guernica!” and “Everyone knows about my blue period, but get ready for my beating-you-black-and-blue period!”

After a few moments of insurmountable suffering, Picasso has finally completed his latest project of rearranging my face. As I lay in the street trying to pull myself together, I can’t help but wonder: is Bob Ross lurking on Grove Street with a paintbrush and a metal stool? Is Martha Stewart loitering by the YPD with a serrated knife, preparing a Thanksgiving turkey? Hey, I’m just glad it wasn’t Jackson Pollock.

Sincerely, Ronnell A. Higgins Director of Public Safety and Chief of Police —A. Buchholz

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BEST DORM ROOM DECORATIONS FROM IKEA Hot dog wall. You first stare at the blank white wall, so full of potential. What could you put up there to feel really at home? Is it pictures of your friends and family? Nay. Is it those dangerously cheap string lights from the dollar store? Cliché! What could be better than a wall full of one of IKEA’s finest delicacies? That’s right, the IKEA hot dog wall not only shows off your interior design prowess but also doubles as a delicious midnight snack! And who could resist waking up to the smell of slowly rotting mystery meat wrapped in a stale piece of bread?

Something green. What is that smell, you may ask?

That, my friend, is the smell of clean air coming from the age-old process of photosynthesis. Just kidding, but I know I had you thinking this plastic succulent was real! It may not act as a real air filter, but it is surprisingly aesthetic! Plus, it is a great place to dump rotten breadcrumbs from your hot dog wall. Nutrients, am I right?

An invisible table. Of course, you’ll have to make room for some practical decor, but good thing IKEA is home to a wide variety of sturdy yet elegant tables, like this invisible one right in front of me! I mean, sure, you could get an ordinary opaque table, but this one just really seems to fit. The salesperson behind IKEA sold me this table for $500, but I think it was totally worth it, especially considering how easy it is to carry up and down the stairs!

Meatball wall. You’ve finished every last bite of your hot dog wall? Or maybe they’ve all just shriveled and disintegrated? Or maybe you have an extra wall for extra meat? No problem! Just run back to IKEA and pick up the second best thing on the menu— the classic Swedish meatballs with lingonberry jam. Just don’t forget to save a couple for yourself as a special treat, while you sit back, kick your feet up on your invisible table, and reflect on your hard work. HGTV, here we come!

—A. Lin

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T he Y ale R ecord

HAIKUS I WROTE ON MY MATH 230 PSETS

I wish I was like Nick: wh iz at proo fs, great and so, s with prof o sexy. s, Maybe it ’s not all about be ing like N ick is.

There is more to li fe.

I mean, a fter all, Nick and I are bot h sitting, In the sa me place, right?

The epito me of math gods: the damn ma who skipp thletes ed 230.

—D. Peng Design by E. Qian

T he A vant -G arde I ssueI ssue T he C orporate A merica

MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

Let me just preface this by saying that I literally never wanted this to come out. As I like to remind everyone, I am, like, such an introvert. I never would have told a soul if it hadn’t been for my newfound risk-taking persona, which has been, like, so fantastic and has really changed my life. Ever since yesterday, I’ve been such a big believer in going out of my comfort zone, like trying quinoa, adding nonprescription glasses to my look, and saying “fuck” (yikes!). Also I’m really into philosophy now. Like, why? You know?

Now, I’m taking this to another level. It’s time for me to reveal something deeply personal that I have never told anyone before. The very thought of telling people this secret makes me literally so scared, because it really captures how far out of the mainstream the new me is, and I think it might make me an outcast. I think this might even be crazier than whatever’s going on with the English royalty these days, okay? But I just have to tell the truth because I’m a pretty bad liar anyway. Yikes!

I’m so scared!

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UP-AND-COMING ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: BOBBY SHMURDA

Ackquille Jean Pollard, affectionately known by fans as “Robert ‘Bobby’ Shmurda,” is a rising star out of New York City who has been growing in popularity and instilled a sense of promise in young experimental artists everywhere. Pollard is known among fans for crafting emotive ballads and beautiful audio-visual experiences to grapple with deeply relatable themes, most notably youth, loss of innocence, and power.

Pollard has spent years crafting his stage persona as a rambunctious youth named Bobby Shmurda.

Shmurda became a symbolic representation of Pollard’s inner battles with authority in the fictional town of “Shmurdaville.” One can only wonder if this town represents the darkest ills of Pollard’s own society, or on the contrary, a utopia— a vision of what he thinks society could be if we all find the little Shmurdas in ourselves.

Always ahead of the curve, Pollard’s work in developing a trademark dance move, the “Shmoney Dance,” has garnered him widespread attention. The So here we go. My dirty little secret is that I just dance spread like wildfire, with renditions from more can’t get enough of the Imagine Dragons. Maybe prominent artists like Shawn Corey “Jay-Z” Carter it’s because my parents wouldn’t get me the new and Aubrey Drake “Drake” Graham. But despite XBox for my eighth birthday that I have these inner the mainstream success, it is only Pollard who truly demons, but sometimes I literally sing along to their knows why we shmoney. While we can ponder which songs. It’s just the way my brain works. My favorite schools of thought influenced the “Shmoney,” from is whichever one is their second or maybe third most Neo-Scholasticism to Marxism, Pollard keeps us popular one. Their number-one song is so overspeculating, because he knows that true artists will rated. I mean, come on people. Maybe try to be always leave fans and critics alike wanting more. original?

Since 2016, Pollard has been serving time in Well, welcome to the new age of my life. Practi- the Clinton Correctional Facility. Hidden from the cally my entire personality is just out there in the public eye, one can only tote theories about what is open for you to rake through the mud. I guess I’m currently in the works. Will Pollard return home to just kind of crazy like that. I have literally opened Shmurdaville triumphant, or perhaps reflective? Or the depths of my soul to you. So risky, right? Yikes! will he take on a completely new, even more breathHopefully my friends take me back! Maybe I’ll taking persona? Only time will tell what meaning regret this later, but I doubt it, because the new me Pollard will derive from this stage of his journey, and has zero regrets. Right now I feel like I’m on top of whether, as it always has, the shmoney will keep callthe world, so I’ll just take what comes! ing him.

—F. Gibson

—M. Steinthal

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ACADEMY ANNOUNCES NEW OSCARS CATEGORY TITLED “FILMS EVERYONE PRETENDS TO UNDERSTAND”

By J. GUSTAFERRO HOLLYWOOD, CA– In an attempt to address the declining Oscars viewership of the past decade, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced on Thursday plans for a new category entitled “Films Everyone Pretends to Understand.” Beginning in 2021, the category is intended to honor a set of films that are completely inaccessible to the general public.

When asked about the announcement, Academy President David Rubin expressed his excitement about the development. “For our Best Picture category, fans can be justifiably angry when objectively worse films like Green Book win,” he explained. “But with these films that nobody really gets, they’ll never know if we picked the right one.”

“This is wonderful news,” said up-andcoming director Florence Dietrich-Chang, whose silent film The Supernatural Piano Tuner, about a supernatural piano tuner, fell just short of a Best Picture nomination in 2019.

“We should support films that don’t confine themselves to the norms of being ‘good’ or ‘tolerable.’”

One film that is getting a lot of attention is Sentence, which features a man dressed as a rabbit repeating the word “sentence” for eightynine minutes. The film has been widely praised for its central contradiction—that a film of “sentences” has no sentences at all. While some believe the film is a commentary on the criminal justice system, others claim that the film is an abstraction of the director’s ninth grade English essay about Watership Down.

Another movie, Henry IV, Part 2, has also been raved about by people who say things like “that film really pushed the limits of cinematography.” Along with a voiceover reading of Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 2 by Jessica Biel, the film features clips of the U.S. Senate

Committee on Agriculture, Nutrition, and Forestry as well as the opening credits from Marriage Story. When asked to shed some light on the film’s meaning, director William Platt declined, simply remarking, “To do so would render the film meaningless.”

While Rubin is unsure exactly which films will be nominated, he is confident that the new category will go over well with cinephiles.

“I’m not saying I think these films are all equally confusing and meaningless,” he noted, “but I think no matter what we nominate, we’re at least giving film majors with three followers on Twitter something to call ‘profound.’”

—A. Lin THE ART GALLERY REALLY NEEDS TO STOP PUTTING ALL THESE URINAL SCULPTURES IN THE BATHROOM

No matter what your personal taste in art, derived from the careful balance between your unique human experience and pillars of your own intellectual curiosity, I only have one response— you’re wrong. The apex of human expression is actually nestled in the lavatorial collection of the Art Gallery. It’s actually a widely-held misconception

T he C orporate A merica I ssue T he A vant -G arde I ssue

that bathrooms exist inside buildings to meet OSHA regulations. But have you ever thought that maybe the bathroom doesn’t exist inside the museum, but the museum exists as a protectionary bubble around the bathroom?

Let me unpack the nuanced aesthetic of the public bathroom. Think of the color of the tiled floor in the last bathroom you visited. Doesn’t the industrial gray of the slab seem to reflect the intricacies of human society? Consider the flood of fluorescent lighting that embraces you in its soft, angelic glow. Doesn’t it invoke thoughts of the divine that transcend humankind? I know you’re sold by now. It’s time to respect the restroom’s artistic value for what it is.

Yet, this sanctuary, a place where many have had a spiritual awakening, keeps being ruined by these fucking barbarians that feel the urge to piss in the carefully designed urinal sculptures. You heard me right, these eggheads are relieving themselves in the bathroom urinals, of all places! Can’t they find somewhere else to go, like the gift shop, or in front of the Van Gogh? There’s no need to ruin a project that

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took some of the most fine-tuned skill and creativity in human history!

The lavatory experience has been completely compromised. Even aspects of the lavatorial experience that can’t be seen are an ode to human nature, like the stale, shit-stained aroma of the bathroom air. What gives these lunatics the right to smell up the bathroom air with their piss? This must come to an end now.

If these people can’t learn their lesson, it’s time we take out the urinal sculptures. I admire their artistic value deeply, but it’s truly the only way we can preserve the sanctity of the bathroom. At the end of the day, they’re simply not necessary for full enjoyment of the bathroom experience. It’s a tough but important step that I, and the rest of the Bathroom School of Artists, are willing to take.

So write to your senator. Call your representative.

Demand for the criminalization of erecting these urinal sculptures, so that we can restore the true purpose of the bathroom once and for all.

—C. Park

—A. Taranto

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PROGRESSIVE INSURANCE RELEASES MAGIC REALIST YOUNG ADULT NOVEL Find your nearest bookstore! That’s right, Progressive Insurance’s long-anticipated young adult novel, The Prince of Price Match, is finally out! Set in sixteenthcentury Detroit, a period known notorious for corporatist and opaque car insurance policies, our protagonist travels the rust belt far and wide, giving reasonable quotes to the townsfolk. The series of nine 750-page books is one of love, war, and above all else, of the benefits of bundling home and auto in your insurance plan.

The Prince of Price Match is not afraid to push the boundaries of traditional fiction writing. Does it have shocking romance? Better. The Prince pursues the Snapshot discount, a usage-based insurance program that rewards good drivers. What about a fiery dragon? Better!

A giant gecko wreaks havoc on the village via a difficultto-navigate claims process. Oh, the horror! The prince, only through the help of his trusty Name Your Price Tool, saves the day and quickly gains a reputation as “the Johnny Appleseed of Accident Forgiveness.”

If that isn’t enticing enough, you can get the chance to meet our Progressive stars at the book signing! You heard me right, front and center, Flo will be signing copies of The Prince of Price Match in front of the Times Square Barnes & Noble! Jamie will also be signing books from a smaller desk outside of the men’s bathroom.

—S. Leone

MOST TASTEFUL TYPES OF PAINT TO USE IN YOUR ART Oil. A personal favorite of Vincent Van Gogh, oil is a classic medium that blends beautifully. A great start to making art that’s delicious (to the eye).

Ink. An unconventional choice but tasteful nonetheless! Ink is very popular in comics, which dedicated fans like me just love to eat up!

Gouache. While quick-drying and reworkable like watercolor, it appears very opaque, lending a pop of flavor— to your painting, of course.

Tempera. A schoolhouse favorite. Maybe at the time glue and Play-Doh were a bit more popular, but for me, Crayola brand tempera paint would really hit the spot after a long day of learning to read.

Encaustic. A paint that will really add some texture to your palate. It’s really just melted beeswax, so it’s unfortunately not vegan. But for the rest of us, it really provides that extra depth and chew to your art sesh.

Spray paint. It’s best known for its use in graffiti, but did you know about its unique savory twang?

It’s like Easy Cheese with a touch of dye and acetone.

Watercolor. A refreshing change from our thicker paints and much less potent. It runs like a glass of wine after a big meal. Like gouache, it is bound with gum arabic, which is non-toxic and FDA approved. Yum! Acrylic. Okay, I’ll admit that I hate the way this paint looks on canvas. Actually, I’ve never even been to an art museum. I just like the way paint tastes. If you actually need art advice, you’re on your own. I’m late for curbside pickup dinner from Michael’s Craft Store.

—C. Leakey

—P. Davis

HOW TO GO FROM “UGLY” TO “UNCONVENTIONALLY ATTRACTIVE” T he C orporate A merica I ssue

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Kid, it’s a genetic war out there. Some are blessed with beauty, but, until the government legalizes GMO babies, the rest of us hideous fucks are gonna have to fight it out in the trenches.

Luckily, I’ve constructed some tips for reframing those lackluster features in a way that’s impossible to resist. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so all it takes is a little rebranding to become the “not not attractive” person of your dreams.

Ugly problem: Acne

Ugly problem: Poor taste in clothing

Unconventionally Attractive solution: When someone asks for your skincare routine, say you don’t do what the “trusted dermatologists” tell you. You use St. Ives Apricot Scrub followed by a sandpaper sheet mask every night. You don’t like to fit into the boundaries of what other people want.

You are different.

Unconventionally Attractive solution: You got me, this is more a choice of wearing the oversize sweatpants you thrifted rather than a DNA issue.

Nevertheless, wearing ugly clothes is actually super in and extremely indie. Just make sure to tell everyone you know you’re doing it because you “hate fashion” and not because you “spent all your money on limited edition Warhammer collectibles.”

Ugly problem: Crooked nose Unconventionally Attractive solution: Just claim that you broke your nose in a bar brawl during your “rebellious phase.” Now you aren’t disfigured— you’re just virulent, tough, and macho. Strap on a bad-boy attitude, smoke a couple packs a day, run over a cat on your motorcycle, and presto! You’re DoucheBag Hot.

Ugly Problem: Poor eyesight Unconventionally Attractive solution: Wear sunglasses everywhere. While your ophthalmologist may mutter something about “irreparably damaging your retinas,” at least no one will notice that you squint to read, which is super unsexy. As an added bonus, people will think you’re mysterious and want to learn more. Always keep them wondering.

There you have it! You may not be God’s favorite, but you can definitely hoodwink humanity into thinking you have unconventional yet enthralling beauty, thoughts, and opinions! In fact, this is way better than being born good-looking, because the people who date you will be “really into your personality.” That’s what Mom told me, anyway.

—Z. Caes Design by E. Qian

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T he A vant -G arde I ssueI ssue T he C orporate A merica

LIFE. Is this living? Or is it simply being? I exist, static, in infinite moments amounting to a life. I see my first ice cream cone, my second biopsy, both my wedding days.

I see Conan O’Brien ordering coffee in my favorite cafe. I stand to greet my childhood hero. My son pours hot coffee on my slacks. It burns and burns. When Mr. O’Brien turns, it looks like I have peed my pants.

OTHER SIX SENSES Sense of humor (go us!)

Sense of when Bruce Willis is alive Sense of which sense I’m using Sense of whether someone is hot or just cute Cents of spelling Sense of how many sides there are to a rectangle Sense of relatability, right?

Sense of smell Sense of when this joke stopped making sense

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—Staff

MOSAIC, A LIFE

END. Another moment, at the end of the line. My son is grown, and I am so old. Over the years, our differences have faded away. Those other moments do not matter.

He cares for me now. The end is the beginning, which is itself an end. My body matches the contours of my armchair. He places a cup of water just out of reach. I am so thirsty. He leaves.

SLEEPERS, AWAKE. Today, I come unstuck from time.

The spaces between the moments are thin. The illusion is gone. Before me, I see a jumbled tapestry of moments splayed across a strange axis. I am alive in every one of them. Is this an act of God? A quantum fluke? I do not know. How can I? Today my son turns six years old. He is so small, and so very strong. I am filled with love.

BEGINNING. The happiest day of my life. Now I can live it forever, a moment suspended not for eternity but in eternity’s absence. My beautiful son is born after nine long months. Swaddled in his grandmother’s quilt, he snaps at my elbows with his bare gums. He cannot speak, but he is telling me loves me. I smile. I am at peace.

COLOR. I am long ago. I am now. In this moment, my son is five. I stare into his piercing yellow eyes. He cannot have ice cream, not this early in the day. I watch his hand ball into a red fist. I watch my body crumple to the floor. I hear the freezer creak open.

— J. Wickline

SOUND. Time is a lie we tell ourselves, etched in stone. This is the future that always will have been. A dog barks. A car door slams. “You’re a cuck, Dad.” When did he learn this word? Before, before, before. Before is during. During is what will be.

TIME. All these moments, simultaneous. Past, present, and future. Fractals of infinity. In this Now, I play catch with my son. He aims for the zipper of my jeans. His fastball is without compare.

SPACE. My wife says I should talk to him. I have. I will. I find him filching cigarettes from my satchel. I tell him to get his own satchel. He tells me to buy more cigarettes. I do, but not because he told me to. That night, I gaze up at the night sky. Stars like incandescent moments, burning at once in the great emptiness of everything. I smell smoke. He’s set the garage on fire again.

BEST PLACES TO GO NAKED TO MAKE A STATEMENT Your mom’s house —Staff

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this is not a poem

nowadays anything can be considered art. a single paint splatter a golden toilet a few sentences broken into separate lines to look like a poem my brother’s drawing of elmo on the fridge that was totally outside of the coloring book lines, and more mauve than red. it was embarrassing when my cool friend bertram came over and saw that piece of shit displayed on our mantle instead of my life-size

paper mache antonin scalia bust. he was disappointed cause i had told him all about it and he said it sounded impressive. this is why we need to limit what counts as art— my brother’s drawing was garbage, and i deserve the spot on the mantle and the love and respect from our parents. elmo is not art. this is not art. antonin scalia’s sagging jowls pasted together out of my unpaid parking tickets, that is art.

—C. Rose

—A. Lin

Call us today!

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YALE RECORD’S AVANT GARDE ISSUE DEEMED BIGGEST DISASTER IN HISTORY

By J. GUSTAFERRO NEW HAVEN, CT—The Executive Board of the Yale Avant-Garde Society (YAGS) announced Thursday that they are urging the Yale Record, the world’s oldest humor magazine, to disband. This announcement comes after the Record released their “Avant-Garde Issue,” which YAGS members have called “catastrophic” and “like a war crime but worse.”

When asked to explain their disdain for The Record, YAGS president Oui-Oui McHexagon (DC ‘21) let out a long sigh and said, “We just didn’t like it.” He then proceeded to eat three copies of the issue, after which he further elaborated, “Look, buddy, we don’t think that making jokes about avant-garde stuff is particularly avant-garde. It’s so done, and they should pay the price.”

McHexagon and his fellow YAGS members particularly called out the Record’s Editor in Chief, Kaylee Walsh (JE ‘22), for overseeing what they called an “unfathomable atrocity against countless innocent

people.” “Kaylee clearly does not care how the real everyday avant-garde folks will be affected by her actions,” McHexagon remarked. “Plus, her editorial is really lacking. It’s like she wrote it really fast because she was already a week behind schedule.”

Walsh was quick to defend the issue in a response to YAGS. “We’re not trying to be avant-garde. We’re just trying to be funny,” she wrote. “And if people didn’t understand what we were doing, then it sounds like it was pretty avant-garde to me.”

While McHexagon could not be reached for a response due to his trouble digesting all the paper he ate, witnesses recall hearing him loudly proclaim, “The intention of the work to make us laugh may not be divorced from its effect!” from a bathroom stall. He also created a petition on Change. org to bring the matter to the International Criminal Court in The Hague, which has since amassed over seven signatures.

In the midst of the circulation of this petition, and YAGS’s campus-wide campaign to eat every copy of the issue so no one can read it, the Record’s Editorial Board released an official statement on their website. “The fact that we’ve included an article in this issue that is set during the aftermath of the issue’s publication is both innovative and eccentric,” they wrote. “To us, that certainly qualifies as avant-garde.”

ANSWER THESE THREE QUESTIONS AND WE’LL TELL YOU IF YOU’RE READING THE YALE RECORD OR IF YOU’RE IN HELL

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Are you currently staring into the crazed red eyes of a giant three-headed dog?

If you answered yes, it’s a pretty safe bet that you’re reading the Record in your common room and were briefly interrupted by the emergence of a fantastical creature right before your eyes. Thought that was Cerberus, mythological canine guardian of Hades? Think again! It’s none other than Handsome Dan XVIII, Yale’s super cute and cuddly mascot. And don’t be alarmed about the two extra heads— it’s actually one of Yale’s many proud traditions for Handsome Dan to grow these heads spontaneously and haunt those who have not declared themselves agents of darkness. Boola boola!

Are never-ending choruses of deafening shrieks filling the air and pounding against your skull?

Come on, guys, this one should be obvious. Your music-major suitemate was reading this issue before you, wasn’t he? Well, he was so inspired that he has invited his free-spirited friends over to turn this issue of the Record into a multi-act, free-verse rock opera of the anarcho-screamo crust punk variety.

Rumor has it he’s going to smash his guitar at the end of page 17.

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Are you reading a magazine with the title “The Yale Record” on the cover?

Well, if you answered yes to this one, all I gotta say is be on the lookout for a guy that has a thing for red long johns and pointy, multipronged farming equipment because you’re in H-E-double-hockeysticks, baby! You probably already figured this one out, since you’re familiar with the quote from existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre— “Hell is other people.” And those words had to get on these pages somehow. Where did they come from? Other people, of course! There’s not much you can do at this point but embrace it. Hey, at least, the “other people” who wrote the magazine are funny.

—E. Boles Design by E. Qian