Page 1

Vol. 141, No. 2


Sept. 30, 2012


A GUIDE TO POKER FACES By L. Sedlacek ♠ Designed by S. Shea ♥ Photographed by M. Taylor 1 ♣ This player has an okay hand. Notice the mixture of happiness with his own cards and worry that others’ hands are still better.

2 ♦ Although this player is trying to portray the cockiness of someone with a good hand, the lack of wrinkles in the corners of the eyes reveal the smile to be a fake, suggesting that he’s bluffing.

3 ♥ The authentic smile on this face suggests one of two things: either the player has a truly good hand, or she’s smug about the fact that the guacamole dip you made isn’t nearly as good as her secret family recipe.

4 ♠ The subtle curling on the left side of the smile on this face means either, “I have a great hand,” or, “I want to sink your hands into my bedroom carpet, hot stuff.” Be careful not to misinterpret this face, or you might end up losing the hand, as well as your virginity.

5 ♦ The direction of this player’s gaze – toward the breasts of one of the female players – suggests the male player is a heterosexual and potentially aroused. However, if this player has previously directed Face #4 at a male player, it’s probably safe to call his bluff on this one.

6 ♣ The sickly expression here hints that this player either really hates her hand or that you finally told her what you put in that guacamole.

7 ♠ The apparent confusion here suggests either that the player is either new to poker or is puzzled by the fact that some Yu-GiOh! cards appear to have been shuffled into the deck.

8 ♥ The arched eyebrows and accompanying middle finger suggest that this player cannot believe you just said that about his mother.

9 ♦ This player is a dog.

10 ♣ This player probably isn’t coming back for bridge on Wednesday.


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L i ke u s on f a c e b o o k o r twitter a n d yo u c o uld be on e of t h e l u cky m o n th ly win n er s o f a free pizza! DRAWINGS EVERY FIRST WEEK OF EVERY MONTH!



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ININTHE THEHEART HEARTOFOFYALE; YALE;NOW NOWDELIVERING DELIVERINGININTHE THECHAPEL CHAPELAREA! AREA! Dear Yale, You know, I can’t believe that with all of your acronyms – DUH, OCS, YPMB – there are still some phrases you haven’t shortened yet. For example, why is anyone still staying “Science Hill”? “Sci-Hi” is much faster and more enjoyable to say! Let’s forget about “Science Hill” and walk up “Sci-Hi!” Who’s with me?! —President Richard Levin, in a last-ditch attempt to do something meaningful with what’s left of his term Dear Heffalumps and Woozles, Is it just me, or do both of you sound like the hard drugs that I do every Saturday night? —Piglet


Dear New Haven Drivers, There are better places to practice bowling than Elm Street. Sincerely, Novice Jaywalkers

YOU JUST LOST THE GAME Dear science fiction writers, Why don’t you write more about me? What does time travel have that I don’t? I’m interesting. Look at that guy over there, crossing the street. Whoa! He used to be on the other side of the street! There’s got to be a story in there, right? Right? Please, Space travel Dear Hollywood, I have a brilliant idea for a movie. It’s about a wolf pup raised by humans. Excitedly, A man who does not realize that would just be a dog

Dear shadows in the closet, You better not be a monster in there. If you are I’ll call my daddy and he’ll come beat you up. —Timmy Dear little Timmy, Don’t be scared, buddy. In the dark so many things can look scary. The shadows in the closest are harmless, I promise. But me? Oh yeah, I’m almost certainly going to murder you. —That creaking noise from under the bed

QUOTE ATTRIBUTED TO SOMEONE OTHER THAN MARK TWAIN Dear MIKA, You’re not the only one who wants to be like Grace Kelly! I want to be like Grace Kelly! I wanna walk like him and talk like him, too! —Louie, King of the Jungle


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Dear Enrique Iglesias, You like it? The way I move on the floor? Well, I would’ve thought you’d be creeped out more than anything, but okay, I guess I can skitter around some more. —A silverfish

EVERY 60 SECONDS, ONE MINUTE PASSES IN AFRICA Dear guests, Sorry about the rain. But at least you could sit under my um-ba-rella, ella, ella, ay, ay, ay! Right? Sorry, got a little carried away. Anyway, the rain also cooled off the grill and the burgers wound up a little raw, but I wasn’t about to let you go hungry—so you’ve all got salmonella, ella, ella, ay, ay, ay, all got salmonella, ella, ella, ay, ay, ay, ay, a-ay! —Someone who might still have been forgiven had he been Rihanna, but who was not Rihanna Dear Tim Cook, Please stop talking. I have enclosed several blank checks. Please send me shiny toys. Love, Me

LONELY YALE SOPHOMORE WOULD ALSO LIKE TO BE NOTIFIED ABOUT ALL OFF-CAMPUS PARTIES Dear Homer, How could we have been so stupid? Did we honestly believe canary yellow was a normal color for children? It was jaundice, Homer, jaundice—from liver failure. And now Bart and Lisa are dead. —Marge

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ere we are again: back at Yale! Rooms have been moved into, courses have been enrolled in, and the floor of Toad’s has been coated in its first layer of sweat, vomit, and discarded dignity. A total of one off-campus party has been thrown, according to the records now being kept in the Yale College Dean’s Office. And, as usual, Yalies are busy as bees. Members of the student body have already put their noses to the grindstone, working to ace exams, lead organizations, secure internships, and finally slay the chimera rumored to reside in the basement of HGS. This Game Issue is a call to Yale to take a break from that busyness to have some fun. And I’m not talking about playing IM soccer or singing for Living Water. As fun as those things may be, you experience some small amount of stress when you’re doing them because you’re trying to get something from them. IM players want to perform well so their college can win the Tyng Cup, and the singers of Living Water need to sing perfectly so that their chants will summon into this world the Great and Terrible Ak’noth Barozah, Dark Ruler of the Yale Singing Group Council. What Yale students need are true games, where nothing hangs in the balance: neither the glory of their college nor the life of the math major offered as a virgin

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sacrifice to open the portal to Acappelland. Yalies need to play some games where nothing matters except…well, having fun. Every day, we have goals with real-life impacts that we worry about achieving. Games give us the opportunity to temporarily replace these goals with new ones that we can enjoy fighting for with the assurance that there will be no negative consequences if we fail. Lose Candyland? Nothing to worry about, as long as you relished eating the Peanut Brittle House, leaving yourself satisfied and full (and that sweet, generous pensioner Grandma Nutt homeless and adrift). Bested in 20 Questions? Don’t sweat it – and be sure to let your opponent know that you were thinking of their mom, in bed, last night. BAM! Someone sink your battleship? That’s okay, what matters is… Actually, you know what? Screw Battleship! It’s a stupid game! How come I can fire a missile at an exact coordinate with perfect accuracy, but I don’t have the technology to see a bunch of freakin’ naval craft floating in the open ocean? Anyway, I hope this Game Issue convinces you to put aside your real-life concerns for just a moment to enjoy doing something that doesn’t even matter. I know how, at a place like Yale, it can be hard to think this way; even the Record staff took some time to get into the spirit of the issue. During the game night we had to kick off the issue production cycle, Sydney burst into tears


after losing a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos, and we had to send Natey to the emergency room after Mitchell realized that the most effective darts strategy was not, in fact, to throw the darts at the center of the board. Still, he should consider himself lucky that he left before we started playing Assassins; which reminds me, staffers: we’re looking for another Managing Editor. Speaking of positions in the Yale Record, I’d like to take this moment to invite you, my dear reader, to be a part of America’s oldest college humor magazine! All you need to do is e-mail, or come to one of our staff meetings on Mondays at 9 PM, in LC 208. Or, if you want to avoid the Record staffer’s traditional rite of passage that is contracting Michelle’s mono, but you still want to read the magazine, e-mail to receive monthly notifications when issues are available in dining halls, along with a link to the online version of each issue! So now, just for a moment, forget about your real-life worries, turn the page, and make your goal be enjoying this issue of the Yale Record. There are absolutely no consequences for failing – unless, of course, you then decide to read the Yale Daily News. —L. Sedlacek The Yale Record September 2012

Chairman: Michelle Taylor ’13

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: Juliet deButts ’14, Ben Green ’14, Vic Hall ’15, Spencer Katz ’13, Andrew Sobotka ’15, Ellen Su ’13, Autumn Von Plinsky ’13, Catherine White ’13, Sylvia Zhang ’15 Old Owls: David Kemper ’13, Jerry Wang ’13 Senior Editors: Alli Hugi ’13 Contributing Writers, Artists, & Designers: David Yu ’13

Special Thanks to: Michael Gerber, Gwyneth Tuckett, and the award-winning game There’s a Moose in the House! Cover: This month’s cover was illustrated by David Yu, who is suspect in at least seven cases of avataricide. Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLI, No. 1, Published in New Haven, CT by The Yale Record, Inc. Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520 • • 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 Offer only valid at participating retailers while supplies last. The Yale Record would like to high-five the UOFC for its financial support.

I AM THE HIDE-AND-SEEK CHAMPION I am going to win today at hide-and-seek, because I found the best hiding spot. Everyone said I wouldn’t. They said, “Landon’s gonna lose!” and, “Landon’s too big to play hide-and-seek!” and, “Landon, you’re ten years old, for Christ’s sake. Don’t you have any friends besides your little brother and a bunch of four-year-olds? Don’t answer that. I need a drink.” But I didn’t listen to them, just like the time I desided I wanted to ride Michael’s tricycle because two wheels is hard and purple is my favorite color. Maybe I’m too big to hide behind the bushes or the TV or Nellie the cat, and maybe I broke Michael’s tricycle, but I am definitely smarter than his friends. I have won more games than any of them and lost more teeth than all of them put together, and yesterday I learned how to spell “desicion,” which means I am smartest. I am smarter than Michael’s whole kindergarten class and probably even some first graders. And I am good at waiting. You have to be good at waiting to win hide and seek, because the longer you wait, the more you win. Well, I have had a lot of waiting practice. Sometimes for twenty whole minutes! One time for two hours when Mom forgot about my after-care. I also wait for breakfast, and the school bus. I wait for the third graders to give me back my lunch money and my pencils and my lost tooth. Once, I waited a whole extra year to go to the second grade. And I’m still waiting for that tooth. So it’s not very hard for me to wait in the dryer. I just sit here and think. Mostly I think about how I am going to be Hide-and-Seek Champion, but sometimes

I think about how mommy’s breath smells funny after four o’clock, and sometimes I try to count all of my toes without getting distracted. I’ve been thinking and waiting for a long time, long enough for me to pee my pants at least once. Long enough that Mom already called, “Dinner!”… which means Michael has missed dinner looking for me! And he still hasn’t found me! I am the Hide-and-Seek Champion! —M. Taylor

UNPROMISING JEOPARDY! CATEGORIES Words You Can’t Say on Television STIs You Have Digits in Your Social Security Number Websites You Visit Suspiciously Often Useful Things to Do with a Philosophy Degree Pope-pourri Video: Sexy Times Moves You Can Use in Both Knitting and Jiu-Jitsu Things You Don’t Know About Answers That Sound Racist in Question Form —Staff

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—S. Katz

PIKACHU’S INNER MONOLOGUE Dark, cool, quiet. I am at peace. It cannot last. It never does. It has been—six days. And on the seventh day, I shall not rest, for the next chapter of my miserable life will be at hand. The hand of Ash will again discharge me, flinging me into mortal combat. Who will this week’s foe be? Life is nothing but a series of random battles with terrifying monsters; sometimes, I even know their names, and the sounds chill me to the bone. Onix, Gyarados, Dragonite, Metagross. How did Ash come to rely on me so? I weigh 13.2 pounds; I duel two-ton behemoths. I am praised for my willpower, my genius for effort. I’m unbeatable! This is what I tell myself…because the alternative is death. I do my best. I am the lightning; I blast my foes with holy thunder. My lungs beg for mercy under the strain of my battle cry; my foes also beg, but I do not relent. Have you ever seen a living creature literally shocked unconscious, screaming until it passes out from the pain? Worse are the silent foes; their agony cannot be heard, but I can see it in the dying light of their eyes as the smell of their charred flesh reaches my nostrils. Sometimes, I fail. The laws of physics get the better of me. What is Thundershock next to the wrath of a living mountain of stones? Quick Attack against foes prepared to devour me in a single gulp? Countless times, I have been reduced to a mound of quivering yellow fur; Sabrina’s Kadabra and Bugsy’s Scyther still haunt my nightmares. Ash has five other Pokémon. I hear their shrieks of terror precede my entrance; I can see them being torn apart, crushed flat, burnt to cinders in my mind’s eye. But always,


it comes to me. I am the last resort, he who must save the day. Why was I chosen for this destiny? Why am I always to be the hero who must defend this world? It’s all because this maniac boy scooped me up, stuffed me in a tiny steel sphere, and decided I’d be his constant companion as he traveled across the land, searching far and wide for the strongest trainers, against whom he would lose—I would lose—again and again and again. He is an awful trainer, who succeeds through persistence alone— namely, my persistence. I climb waterwheels, learn to surf and box, level up to the limits of Pokémon existence (resisting the urge to evolve, break free of this body, become a killing machine). As long as there are battles to be waged, I will never win my freedom. I no longer dream of release; only of future Pokémon Centers and the bottles of ketchup that soothe my scars for a scant few minutes. And here it is. My release from this prison into the arena. The light burns my eyes; I know not what horror awaits me. I can only stand, head high, and roar my fury to the skies: “Pika! Chuuuuuuuuu!” —A. Gertler

UNCONVENTIONAL WAYS TO CHEAT AT BOARD GAMES Eat the Hungry Hungry Hippos marbles yourself Replace all questions in Trivial Pursuit with fill-in-theblanks from your diary In Cranium, replace your opponent’s clay with a block of granite Substitute your Parcheesi pieces with real tigers Bribe the other Monopoly players with real money Take your Twister board to a reunion for Vietnam veterans Tell your opponent that the Chinese Checkers tournament is taking place in Beijing Replace one of the LIFE professions with “Soviet prison camp worker” —Staff


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THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME OF ALL, BY J. EDGERTOON SMOOT-WISBLEY, ADVENTURER EXTRAORDINAIRE Ah, games! From the simplest children’s affair, where one ticks tacks in a toeing fashion, to the most convoluted of adult pastimes such as Van-Kloutenbeburg-Isle-style bridge, which has a bidding system so complicated that the rulebook itself has served as the holy text for two religions, each and every game presents its own perils. In the former, for example, a nasty splinter from a pencil could bring about not only a dissatisfying absence of rows of three, but also an infection through which a young tot could contract a most heinous bout of dysentery. In the latter, the poor eyesight of an elderly gentleman might anger him so that he is driven to send the table on which he plays flying across the room. Each game has its own thrill, and all are delightful to a true connoisseur. But I have long endeavored to find the so-called “Holy Grail” of gaming: the most dangerous game of all! O, fair readers, I hear you cry out from your opera boxes, “But surely, J. Edgertoon Smoot-Wisbley, Adventurer Extraordinaire, you must know that the most dangerous game of all is man – or, specifically, hunting men for sport!” Ah, I bid you restore both your monocles,

and your faith in me. For I too labored under this delusion. I said to my manservant, “Manservant, clear the minocentaurs from the Garden of Wonders, for I am to hunt man!” I have never played such an easy game. I simply drew my rifle, and they all began to flee. But unlike the panther or even the simple stag, these peasants, no doubt accustomed to standing still as they labored at an assembly line in some cheesecake factory, were sluggish. I picked them off within an hour, and the payoff of the looks of despair and defeat upon their faces was barely worth the money I had spent on the ball and powder. And so the search continues – the most ambitious upon which I have ever embarked! I have competed in Benadryl-chugging contests and tightrope-jousting tournaments; I’ve partaken in Norwegian pelvis duels and games of pattycake with Komodo dragons. At great expense and personal risk, I have finally limited the candidates to Bolivian Knife-Swimming, Bear-Plucking, and perhaps the most dangerous of all: Walking in New Haven after 9:30. —M. Nobel

−I. Strauss


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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 6845TH MEETING OF THE U. N. SECURITY COUNCIL, MARCH 2012 The Council President: The Security Council will now begin its consideration of Resolution B/2012/478, a resolution condemning the use of violence against civilians in Syria and calling for an immediate ceasefire. I shall now open the floor to those members of the Council who wish to make statements regarding the resolution. Jones (United States of America): Mr. President, the United States supports this resolution. The conflict over Syria has gone on far too long, with several pointless casualties. How much longer will we allow this senseless fighting to continue? How many more infantry must be lost? We vote in favor of B/2012/478, and we encourage the French delegation to quit while it’s ahead and stop attacking already. President: That’s one vote in favor. … Wait, what? The French delegation? Attacking whom? Jones: Syria, Mr. President. Well, more accurately, the entire Middle East. France has been unsuccessfully attacking it from Egypt for like, twenty minutes now, and they’re almost out of troops. It’s embarrassing, frankly, and it’s holding everyone else up. President: France, attacking Syria? When did this happen? Madame Galtier, explain yourself! Galtier (France): Hold on, Mr. President. One more roll. If Russia retains control of all of Asia, they’ll get a 7-troop bonus on their next turn, and then there will be no stopping them! Vesselov (Russia): Give up, Madame! Even if you do succeed, you’ll have barely any troops left to move in, and we’ll counterattack from Afghanistan and India! President: Are you… are you playing Risk?! Jones: Sorry, did you want to play? President: I am appalled. Delegates, do you fully appreciate what rides on this vote? We are talking about innocent lives here! Women! Children! Families! Chen (People’s Republic of China): If I can’t combine ten of them to make an artillery, I’m much more concerned with holding down Indonesia. Vesselov: Dammit, Chen, nobody likes the guy who stays in Australia the whole game! President: People, may I remind you that we are charged with facilitating social progress and protecting human rights? Now people are dying, and you guys are

playing a board game. Galtier: This isn’t a board game, Mr. President. This is war. President: Madame, this is the United Nations. Forgetting the other obvious problems with this situation, you do understand the horrible way in which that statement could be misinterpreted, right? Hughes (United Kingdom): Galtier, for fuck’s sake, would you pay attention? I’m attacking Brazil from Argentina. President: For shame! Does anyone have anything relevant they would like to contribute to— Jones: HA! Three cards, all calvary! That’s thirty extra pieces for me! President: This behavior is unfitting of the stature of the Council! I am cancelling the vote on the current resolution and reporting you all for inappropriate conduct. I move to end the current Council meeting and reconvene at such a time as new delegates can be appointed for the five permanent council member states. Chen: I move to put to vote a resolution that the Council President can kiss my ass. Galtier: Four, five….The resolution is unanimously adopted! President: That’s it. Gimme the goddamn dice.

—E. Sandford

Weeping Willow on Zoloft −I. Strauss

The Yale Record Presents: Yale University Trading Cards Normal Attack: Offended Look - 30 Points

Uptight WGSS Major 100

Some people say she’ll never get a guy until she stops smacking them for saying, “Hey, you look great tonight!” Some people are also heteronormative and deserve to be smacked. Special Ability: Vengeance: Any time one of your female characters is attacked by a heterosexual male, WGSS Major may immediately attack that male. If she succeeds, the attacked female ignores any damage taken. Not that the attack itself is ignored; WGSS Major is immobilized for one turn while she writes an angry YDN column about it. Strong Against: Catcalls, gender norms, sexist 90s movie stereotypes Weak Against: Disheartening absence of catcalls, Middle Eastern fashion, unopened glass jars

Normal Attack: Ambiguous Grading Style - 40 Points

Unhelpful TA 80

He’s a student, too, so he understands your problems. He just doesn’t care about them.

Special Ability: “Send Me an E-mail”: Anytime Unhelpful TA is attacked, he may choose to ignore it. However, he must then mumble something vague about “my dissertation” or “in New York,” immobilizing him for the next round. Strong Against: All student characters, except those listed below Weak Against: DKE Rushee (who never shows up to section anyway) and Uptight WGSS Major (who even he can’t escape)

Normal Attack: Furious Furball - 40 Points

Old Campus Squirrel 240

Ooh, something important we left out of the name: “…That Escaped the Center for Inhuman Genetics.” Special Ability: Death to Humans: 70 damage. Okay, just because it’s a mutant squirrel, that doesn’t mean it can fart laser beams or anything. On the other hand, try telling that to the bazooka it just wrestled out of the hands of the guy from the National Guard. Strong Against: Acorns, nuts, biological warfare Weak Against: Ronnell Higgins. Also, trails of peanut M&Ms leading to land mines.

Normal Attack: Duke it Out - 30 Points

Sam Tsui 60

When you play him, your opponent will look at him say, “What a good card, what a smart card, what a…strong card.” Special Ability: Harmonass-kicking: You may have as many Sam Tsuis in play as you have available. These Sam Tsuis can combine their attacks, and none will be removed from play until their combined HP have been eliminated. Strong Against: Female students, gay male students Weak Against: Sharing solos, the deaf, strong gusts of wind

Written by L. Sedlacek and M. Taylor • Designed by S. Shea • Illustrated by I. Strauss

Normal Attack: Gossip - 10 Points

Editor-in-Chief of the Rumpus 69

According to her driver’s license she’s 21 years old. Also, her blood type is “Sexy-like-aHooker” and she’s five-foot, boobies-inches tall. Also, penis! Special Ability: 50 Most: The Editor-in-Chief of The Rumpus publishes the annual 50 Most Beautiful edition, and all of the opponent’s characters take 50 damage out of bitterness for not being included. (NOTE: Because they will always be included in 50 Most Beautiful, “50 Most” will never have any effect on the characters Deceptively Straight-Looking Gay Guy or Dean Mary Miller.) Strong Against: Guilt, morals, quality writing Weak Against: Any other character with “editor” in their name, Dean Mary Miller

Chicken Tenders Day!

Spell Card After Chicken Tenders Day! is played, all characters are immobilized the following round while they gorge themselves on chicken tenders, with the exception of Uptight WGSS Major and any gay characters, who are vegetarian. NOTE: Two Chicken Tenders Day! cards cannot be played on two consecutive rounds, and no Chicken Tenders Day! card can ever be played after Dean Mary Miller has used the “Terrible New Rules” special ability.

Normal Attack:

Awkward “Elbows Out” Hug - 15 Points, plus the desire to leave the room

Socially Inept Froco 90

He knows everything about safe sex, and nothing about having it.

Special Ability: Pancakes!!!: When Socially Inept Froco is overwhelmed by a freshman character’s non-academic problems – I mean, their attack – he can use pancakes (with DIY toppings!) repeatedly for -10 damage until he can survive the attack or the round is over. Strong Against: Freshman characters, questions about pre-med requirements Weak Against: Dean Mary Miller, the question of how exactly one applies a condom


Spell Card A rare spell card, the chaotic Bladderball may only be used once per game. After unleashing the Bladderball, all players must take turns flipping a coin. For each heads, the player chooses one of their characters to be crushed by the Bladderball and the terrible mob fighting over it, dealing that character 30 damage. For each tails, the player chooses one of their characters to be arrested by the NHPD, immobilizing that character for one turn while they complain about how the NHPD are buzzkills for stopping an event that only has a 7% mortality rate. The Bladderball may only be stopped when three tails have been flipped in a row, or if the “Terrible New Rules” ability is used by Dean Mary Miller. Note that any player holding Dean Mary Miller may not use this spell card.

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Beads of sweat rolled down Herman’s neck as his grip tightened around the knife. This would be the last time. −A. Von Plinsky

OTHER THINGS YOU SHOULD NOT DO WHILE GOING DIRECTLY TO JAIL Nothing’s worse than picking up an exciting orange chance card only to find yourself heading to the doghouse. You might be thinking: “Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do, CARD? What about rolling doubles was illegal, anyway? Was moving twelve spaces speeding? What if it had been two? As a convicted criminal, will people still not question my vicious landlord tendencies after I roll doubles? Also, I’m a freaking terrier; how the hell can you arrest me, anyway?” What you don’t know is that Monopoly is misleading you with their short list of guidelines; there are a lot of other things you should avoid while going directly to jail, besides just passing go and collecting $200. Do not: Dress up in a bonnet and pigtails and claim to be your niece when the police come to arrest you. Try to unlock your handcuffs using a credit card and a kiddy magic set you bought on Amazon. Chain yourself to a shrubbery and call yourself a political protester. Accept the judge’s offer to move to Camp Green Lake and look for buried treasure.

Try to beat the living shit out of the police interrogators with the chair they tied you to. You have the moves of a Scarlett Johansson, but it’s “Girl with a Pearl Earring” Johansson, not “Avengers” Johansson. And while in jail, make sure not to: Make out with a guard. Hoes and Handcuffs IV wasn’t actually a documentary. Try to escape using only overconfidence and a nail file. Write a memoir discussing your imminent dissolution of the German Parliament and invasion of the Soviet Union to provide elbow room for your people. Because honestly, Alaska isn’t running out of land anytime soon. Buy Park Place using a chain of shady financial associates within the prison system. You’ll wind up with Baltic Avenue and a lot of regrets. So there. That should keep you alive while you’re going to - and in - the big house. Oh, and one more thing: I realize you might think there’s no value in “just visiting” jail, but you should seize the opportunity to plant explosives that you can use to break yourself out later. Also, that’s the moment to try making out with a guard. —I. Strauss


T he Y ale R ecord

MEMORABLE MOMENTS IN THE HISTORY OF THE HARVARD-YALE GAME 1890: Mysterious time rift opens and transports both starting teams to the field of Super Bowl XXV, 100 years in the future, immediately after kickoff. Since helmets and 250-pound linebackers didn’t exist in the 19th century, seven Ivy Leaguers die in the ensuing collisions. Result: Yale’s bench beats Harvard’s bench 21-14. 1891: When it becomes clear there will be no time rift this year, the Yale Bowl crowd gets bored and leaves to watch the Harvard-Yale Regatta. Result: Harvard leads 6-0 at the half before both teams decide to forget the whole thing and wander over to Lake Winnipesaukee. Harvard wins by 34 seconds. 1918: The Game called off due to the Great War. The quarterbacks compete to see who can throw the most grenades into German trenches. Result: 94 dead Krauts for Yale, and 86 for Harvard, plus one who was still twitching when they signed the Treaty of Versailles.

2011: In a parallel universe, a flamboyantly gay Patrick Witt leads the Bulldogs to a stunning upset. Result: Witt is awarded the Rhodes Scholarship and Yale enjoys a perfect, drama-free year. —A. Gertler

VIDEO GAMES YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF Grand Theft Baby Legend of Zelda: Link’s Bloody Death Pokémon Pride Rainbow Argyle Sweater Vests: The Awakening Call of Booty 4: Modern Whore Fares Wii Suicide Bomber Stapler Force 5: Stuck in the Office Plants vs. Forest Fires Super Mario BDSM Resident Evil: New Haven Green at Night —Z. Schloss

1937: Yale pranksters paint Harvard Stadium blue, obscuring every field marking and making football impossible. Result: The teams idly toss a cake pan back and forth; someone makes up some rules and invents Ultimate Frisbee. 1956: Down three with ten seconds to go, Harvard’s quarterback throws a desperate Hail Mary pass. Willie Mays comes out of nowhere and catches it over his shoulder without looking. Result: Harvard 20, Yale 17 1980: Harvard and Yale join forces to oppose the Soviet football team at the 1980 Summer Olympics. Result: In what becomes known as the “Anticlimax on Grass,” the USSR pummels America 49-0. This ray of hope rejuvenates Communism, and the Cold War drags on for another decade.

“Miss.” —A. Von Plinsky

T he G ame I ssue

VIDEO GAME CHARACTER GROUP THERAPY SESSION Dr. Mario: Hello, everyone. If this is your first time, my name is Dr. Mario, and I’ll be leading our group therapy session today. I would like to welcome you all and remind you that you should feel free to speak openly here. Mr. Kong, would you like to start? Donkey Kong: Donkey upset because… Donkey nice guy…and nobody see that...everybody just see Donkey as big, mean ape. Donkey no King Kong. Donkey nice and friendly. But nobody believe Donkey, because of brutish exterior! Dr. Mario: Well, Mr. Kong, sharing your concerns is the first step. Does anyone have any advice they would like to give to Mr. Kong? Sonic the Hedgehog: I don’t know, bro. Maybe you should try being more open? DK: Easy for you to say. You cute rodent. Me big banana monster! Dr. Mario: Good thought, Sonic. Any other ideas? Bowser: I used to have the same problem, Donk. Then I learned to embrace the bad boy image. The ladies love a bad boy. Don’t they, Doc? Dr. Mario: I don’t know what you’re talking about. Bowser: Oh, really. Why do you think your little PeachyPoo and I spend so much time together? Dr. Mario: Because you’re a serial kidnapper you SICK, TWISTED MOTHERFU… My apologies. Deep breaths. I’m in control of this group. Sigh… Never mind. Does anyone besides Bowser have a suggestion for Mr. Kong? Ganondorf: I actually see where Bowser’s coming from. Something about just taking what you want can be very fulfilling. Link: You better not be talking about Zelda, you son of a bitch. Because if you are, I swear, I’ll go get my sword and stick it up your— Dr. Mario: Woah, woah, woah. Let’s cool it there, Link. There won’t be any anger here today. For today, all past actions are forgiven. Bowser: In that case, I would like to apologize for sleeping with your wife, Doc. Dr. Mario: You slept with my wife? What the hell!? You


bastard! Bowser: It’s not my fault; I’m very horny. Muahahahaha. DK: Hooohooohaaahaaahaaa. Donkey get it. Bowser have horns on head so is literally horny. And also Bowser fuck Doctor’s wife. Hoooahhaheee. Dr. Mario: That’s enough, Mr. Kong! Deep breaths. Now, does anyone else have an issue they would like to discuss with the group? Frogger: If…if nobody minds, I wouldn’t mind sharing something… Ever since I was paralyzed in that horrible traffic accident, I can’t escape the feeling that I have no purpose. My whole life was about jumping, and now, with my legs like this… Luigi: Boooriiiiiiing. Hey Doc, I got a problem. Dr. Mario: Oh God, not this again… Luigi: I feel overshadowed by my brother. Dr. Mario: We’ve been over this, Luigi. We’re both important in our own ways. Luigi: It’s always “Mario & Luigi,” never “Luigi & Mario.” You never really cared about me. You were always looking out for number one. [whole group shakes their heads in disappointment] Dr. Mario: Are you guys kidding? I didn’t do anything! Sonic: Not cool, bro. Dr. Mario: Look here, assholes! I have a lot of responsibilities, and, in my free time, I help pathetic losers like you. I have my own issues too, you know. My wife is missing. And guess what else? She fucked a giant turtle! How do you think that makes me feel? Luigi: There he goes again. Even when he leads group therapy, he manages to make it about himself. DK: You not only banana in bunch, Doctor. Bowser: Doc, Peach is pregnant. Sonogram showed a turtle shell. Do you want a paternity test? Dr. Mario: That’s it! Mama-fucking-mia! [Dr. Mario storms out] [long silence] Frogger: I can’t support my family. —Z. Schloss

T he Y ale R ecord


T he Y ale R ecord

TV AD EITHER FOR LINGERIE OR HAMBURGERS Dear Brandon Levin, You’re perfect, you know that? Your chiseled looks, your singing voice, your presidency, your numerous accomplishments? You are my idol. I love you. Sincerely, Brandon Levin Dear mace, You may be able to rob someone of their vision, but how good are you at smashing someone’s head in a horribly gruesome manner? —A mace


Dear Samantha, Okay, I’m sorry your girlfriend broke up with you, but seriously, it could be worse. My soulmate got separated from me in a horrible flood. Then she lay in a crumpled heap for days before someone found her dirty, bedraggled body and threw her in a dumpster. So suck it up. —A sock missing its match

NEW BEST-SELLER “READING FOR DYSLEXICS” RECEIVES FIVE STRAS ON AMAZON.COM Dear freshman girls sunbathing on Old Campus, Look at Lawrance Hall, D Stairway, 3rd floor, 2nd window to the right. No, sorry, 4th window to the right. You see that? Those are my binoculars. Yours in gratitude, Horny Freshman

89-YEAR-OLD FIRE SAFETY EDUCATOR STOPS, DROPS, LIES MOTIONLESS Dear Willard, Way to go on the Ryan pick—I’m so glad you’ve finally managed to grab those rich, white men who weren’t going to vote for you. Sincerely, Barack Obama Dear President Obama, Congratulations on going almost a whole term without a single sex scandal in your administration! That said, enclosed you should find some nice pictures. Would you mind placing these around your office? They’re totally SFW, by the way. No one should be looking around for them anyways. Sincerely, Ritt Momney


T he G ame I ssue Dear froco, I know you’re hesitant to let me touch you. But after a night of hard drinking, I just can’t resist the urge to throw myself at you, covering every inch of you, wrapping you up in my perfect warmth. I want to make you wet. —Vomit

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Dear Yale Students, I was made for wholesome fun, not drunken three ways. This is why we can’t have nice things. Angrily, A wounded hammock Dear President Obama, After studying the issues, I simply cannot vote for you. While I did not previously understand your administration’s many references to implementing your “stimulus package” across America, a recent consultation of a widely-used urban lexicographical website has left me deeply dismayed and confused by your behavior. How is that supposed to fix the economy? Respectfully, A concerned voter

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STUDY REVEALS THERE’S NOT TIME TO SLEEP WHEN YOU’RE DEAD Dear fraternities, Come on bros, why don’t we just let freshman guys in? They deserve to get laid, too. —“A sophomore”

Alaskan, Allegorical, Non-alliterative







T he Y ale R ecord Dear echo, Thanks for always being— Dear echo, Hold on a sec— Thanks for always being— Don’t interrupt! Hold on a sec— Let me finish my— Don’t interrupt! Hey, you interrupted me! Let me finish my— Fine. Hey, you interrupted me! Fuck you, echo. Fine.


Fuck you, Echo

LOCAL MAN CARES, BUT IS OUT OF RATS’ ASSES Dear Neville Longbottom, Alright, I see two possibilities. Number one, you’re lying, and those warts did not come from your pet toad, Trevor. Number two, those warts did come from Trevor, and you’re a freak. Either way, I really don’t feel like having sex with you right now. —Hannah Abbot 57 BROADWAY, NEW HAVEN, CT 203-789-2157

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

Dear Amnesty International, I’m so excited to join your fight against human rights violations! Here’s how I think we should do this: first, gather an elite force of warriors from campuses across the country and put them on a boat. We anchor in Bangkok, then sneak over the Burmese border and break open Napyidaw Prison... Wait, what? We just sign petitions? Screw that—I’ll found my own club. Sincerely, Matt King, BK ’16 Liberation Warrior General P.S. Liberation Warriors Club wants YOU for Secretary, Treasurer, or Snow Leopard Commando! Dear student enjoying a pleasant, nonawkward walk past Au Bon Pain, Not on my watch. —The Poetry Lady


...And suddenly, David’s deck didn’t seem so impressive... —A. Von Plinsky

—I. Strauss

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The Game Issue  

The Game Issue of The Yale Record, America's Oldest College Humor Magazine

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