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Vol. 141, No. 7


Mar. 28, 2013



She was charged with murder in 1999 after her best friend recommended she “steal the heart” of the attractive barista at her local coffeehouse. In 2004, she succeeded in disabling a commercial jet mid-flight when the stewardess asked her to “power down all electronics.” But despite the horrendous consequences of her actions, she has managed to convince every jury put before her that her crimes were only the products of wacky and hilarious (if technically criminal) misunderstandings. This tactic was formally named “the Amelia Bedelia Plea” in 2004 after she used it to get out of prison time for leveling half of Detroit when the man she worked for asked her to “go ahead and nuke that leftover lasagna.”

The bo peep sheep

WINNIE the Pooh


Mrs. Bo Peep of Belmont, In diana had lost sheep, and did her n’t know where to find them— until they foun d her, that is. The ovine gan had tried mul g tiple times to set out and st their own lives art , but a lack of financial resour always forced ces them man servitude— to return to their life of huuntil they real ized there wer ways of makin e g money other th an selling their illustrious woo l. The sheep kid Peep, and are currently deman napped Bo ding $5 millio for her safe re n turn to Mr. G erald Peep. M Peep has of ye r. t refused to pay the ransom, re portedly saying, “Leave them al one and they ’l come home, w l agging their ta ils behind them Or Bo Peep’s . head and $8 m illion dollars in life insurance. Whatever.”

He’s hungry for honey—and flesh. Don’t be fooled; this “Pooh-Bear” may have fostered a reputation for being cuddly and adorable, as well as a strict “honey-vore,” but that doesn’t change his predatory nature. First reports of carnivorous activity came from one Mr. Piglet, who recounted the death of a Mr. Eeyore outside his home over telephone: “Ooooh dd-d-deeearrr… P-p-p-please send help! He’s hu-hu-hurting him! I—I think he’s g-going to k-k-ki… OH GOD, HE S-S-SEES ME!!! HE’S B-B-B-BEATING DOWN THE DDOOR!!! JESUS CHRI—” When agents arrived at the scene, they found Piglet missing, the door of his home forced. Eeyore was found outside, stuffing leaking from his eviscerated abdomen, his tail several feet away. His last words—upon being told he needed medical attention—were, “Thanks fer noticin’.”


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15 LOST IN TRAGIC SUBTRACTION ERROR Dear New York Times, I paid for your online subscription, but I must say that so far, it’s doing a very poor job of updating me on what time it is in New York. I’m not sure what kind of a scam you’re running here, but I want my money back immediately. Sincerely, Todd Lewis, BK ’16 Dear microeconomics professor, Why are you so tiny? I can’t even see you! Yours, Rick Silver, CC ’16

Dear Alpha Delta Pizza, I noticed that your menu says that all sandwiches come with cheese, and then lists both hamburger and cheeseburger. I found this a little confusing: is your hamburger in fact a cheeseburger, and your cheeseburger a cheesecheeseburger? If so, I would suggest you advertise the cheesecheeseburger as such, because I for one would buy a cheesecheeseburger at least once a day. I would just make my own, but I’m struggling to imagine how one would make a cheesecheeseburger. It’s clearly a burger with cheese, but how do you add cheese to something that already has cheese? Baffled but impressed, Nigel


BRILLIANT COLLEGE ESSAYIST USES BRIEF INTERACTION AS METAPHOR FOR WAY TO LIVE LIFE Dear phrase “If you can’t beat them, join them,” Okay, but how does this help me? —A man who lost his egg beater and proceeded to duct tape all his eggs together Dear Timmy, “Cancer”? No, I said you “can surf.” What I mean to say is that it’s a miracle: your spine seems to be on a path to complete recovery. Not only will you be able to walk again, but you’ll be back in the water before you know it! You know, Timmy, not everything needs to be so goddamn dark. —A really nice doctor with a fulfilling life


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Jokes & Free Pizza!

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When The Yale Record staff said they wanted to do a Literature Issue, I thought it sounded like a great idea. How very wrong I was. I don’t remember what first tipped me off. It could have been Aaron asking me if I could help him “sound out” a difficult word in Ivanhoe. Or maybe it was two seconds afterward, when he held up a copy of Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type. Emily’s interrupting brainstorming to ask what “foreshadowing” meant was definitely a sign of the hardships to come. Anyway, while worrying about how literarily unversed the Record staff is, it occurred to me that the rest of Yale’s student body might not be any better off. And so, for your literary enrichment, I would like to present: “The Yale Record’s Abridged History of World Literature.” It all started with the invention of writing, which immediately became a very big deal. A lot of different people wrote a lot of different things, like the Epic of Gilgamesh, Works and Days, and the Canterbury Tales. We care about these mostly because they’re really old, although some have argued that they’re actually quite interesting and are worth the attention of those studying literature. However, the majority of those studying literature agree that—as far as clarity and readability go—they fail to live up to their modern counterparts:


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SparkNotes Guide to the Epic of Gilgamesh, SparkNotes Guide to Works and Days, and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Luckily for those who were still waiting for something good to read, William Shakespeare started penning masterpieces in the late 1500s. He was best known for Hamlet, Act II, a work that ended up inspiring three sequels and a prequel. Also popular was his Julius Caesar trilogy, which included the titular play Julius Caesar, Julius Caesar II: The Family Jules, and Julius Caesar III: Caes-Her Buns. During the 19th Century, Jane Austen began work on her famous Abstract Concept and Alliterative Abstract Concept series. Her first two novels, Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice, were huge hits, but her audience was confused by the third installment, Emma, partly because the titular character was a concrete person, but also because it really seemed like she could have added a quirky, spontaneous roommate named “Elaine” or “Elizabeth.” The 20th Century is when things really got interesting. Watchmen helped the graphic novel become a respectable literary medium, The Cat in the Hat finally filled the until-then empty genre of books starring felines wearing headgear, and there was a big to-do over J.

Chairman: Michelle Taylor ’13

K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series because it made the controversial decision of portraying a red-head as a decent human being. Entering the present day, we arrive at the greatest literary work ever to come into being: the Literature Issue of The Yale Record. But it’s not going to stop here! If you think you’d like to be a part of the Record literary tradition, email, or come to one of our staff meetings on Mondays at 9 PM in LC 208. Or, if you’ve realized that Record meetings are just a clever ruse used to make us feel like we have friends but you would still like to read the magazine, email to receive notifications when issues are distributed to dining halls, along with a link to the online version of each issue! For the moment, though, enjoy the Literature Issue of The Yale Record. It’s the second-funniest thing that’s been published this year, right behind Amelia Bedelia Cooks Up Trouble. I love that one. My favorite part is when Mr. Rogers asks her to “toss the salad” and she…well, I wouldn’t want to spoil it. —L. Sedlacek The Yale Record March 2013

Editor-in-Chief: Lincoln Sedlacek ’13

Publisher: Jack Newsham ’14

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

Video Director: Natey Weinstein ’14

Online Editor & Supplementals Editor: Emily Sandford ’14

Staff Director: Daniel Fraser II ’14

Staff Writers, Artists, & Designers: Allie Beizer ’15, Ethan Campbell-Taylor ’16, Ben Garfinkel ’16, Nicholas Goel ’16, Ian Gonzalez ’16, Victoria Kim ’15, Spencer Katz ’13, Becky Marvin ’16, Travis Reginal ’16, Claudia Shin ’16, Scott Stern ’15, Autumn Von Plinsky ’13, Sylvia Zhang ’15, Claire Zhang ’15 Old Owls: David Kemper ’13, Jerry Wang ’13

Senior Editors: Alli Hugi ’13

Contributing Writers, Artists, & Designers: Karolina Ksiazek ’15, Jessica Wang ’15, Darcy Tuttle ’16, David Yu ’13, Madeleine Witt ’15 Special Thanks to: Michael Gerber, Gwyneth Tuckett, and Abbott & Costello’s “Who’s in Hell?” routine from The Divine Comedy. Cover: This month’s cover was illustrated by David Yu ’13—or rather, the unusually artistic bush babies he has enslaved in his basement. Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLI, No. 7, 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 2013 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.

A WRITER’S LOG 10:00 AM: Begin work on the next great American novel. 10:21 AM: Just spent twenty minutes looking at pictures of dogs that look like presidents. 10:31 AM: Did nothing for ten minutes but hate myself for not working. 10:32 AM: Determined to focus. Turning off computer and writing by hand—just like Shakespeare did in the 16th Century! 10:40 AM: Bought a Frappuccino from the Starbucks next door. 10:55 AM: Have great idea for story about a witty, unique student with writer’s block. 11:15 AM: To reward self, turning on computer to read list of “10 Worst-Dressed Superheroes.” 11:42 AM: Removed laptop battery, returned to work, described protagonist’s mind as “tremulous.” 12:00 PM: Reinstalled battery, used WebMD to diagnose procrastination as symptom of brain tumor. 12:06 PM: Diagnosed self with hypochondria. 12:33 PM: Had roommate hide battery for me. Decided plot structure should make allusions to Dante’s Inferno. Hope people get it. 12:37 PM: Decided protagonist’s mind better described as “aquiver.” 1:02 PM: Had roommate give battery back, used WebMD to diagnose hypochondria as another symptom of brain tumor. 1:47 PM: Stumbled upon website full of brony-9/11

Truther slash fanfiction, grappled with strange emotions. 2:43 PM: Had roommate hide battery again, ducttaped own mouth to keep from asking for it back. 2:48 PM: Renamed protagonist Dante. Don’t want people to miss the allusion. 3:30 PM: Used personification, metonymy, and chiasmus. Things are going well! 3:37 PM: Had impure thoughts about Twilight Sparkle and 9/11 Commission Chair Thomas Kean. 4:20 PM: Removed tape, retrieved battery from roommate, browsed unspeakable images. 4:25 PM: Realized I don’t even know myself anymore. 4:36 PM: Checked WebMD again. It’s probably because of the tumor. 4:52 PM: Had roommate hide battery again, ducttape my mouth shut, and tie my hands down to keep me from removing tape. 4:53 PM: Just realized I now have no way of writing anything down. 5:04 PM: Roommate shouts from other room that he’s going home for his sister’s wedding and will be back in a couple days. 11:50 PM: Just realized I wrote the word “effect” when I should have used “affect.”

—B. Garfinkel


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All children, except one, grow up. The doctors couldn’t cure him. −J. Wang

PIECES THE RECORD DECIDED NOT TO PUBLISH So You Want to Assassinate the President of the United States? An Interview with Mengele Probably-Gay Freshmen* The Favorite Passwords of the Record Editorial Board Stereotypes That Happen to Be True How to Kidnap an Infant (for Dummies!) Assorted Punch Lines Favorite Prepositions: Yours and Ours Dumb Jews A History of Muppet Porn Answers to the Cold War Final Bad Euphemisms for “Stroking the Pumpkins” Why Derrick Hartmann, MC ’14 Should Remain a Virgin* Join the STD of the Month Club! History’s Funniest Genocides A List of Ingredients in a Cinnamon Raisin Granola Bar Places on Campus We’ve Hidden Cameras* A Collection of Photographs We’ve Secretly Taken of People from Behind People on the Undergraduate Organization Funding Committee Who Probably Have Tiny Penises Reasons She’s Never Coming Back Why the Record Supports Interracial Marriage An Administrative Record of Yale’s Admissions Mistakes

I just finished reading the foreword of Moby Dick. Says here that Melville started writing it after a night with your grandmother on a waterbed. You’re uglier than Ayn Rand’s portrayal of human nature. What a garbled, incomprehensible mess! Did Thomas Pynchon write a new novel? Oh, wait, that’s your face. Yo momma so dumb, she supports a post-structuralist interpretation of Ulysses! I trust you like I’d trust Sherlock Holmes with my cocaine. Yo momma so unlettered, she mistook iambic pentameter for dactylic hexameter. Do you even have an opinion on the significance of Christian imagery in Faulkner? To quote Shakespeare: “Thou [momma] art so fat, people joggeth around her for exercise.” Being around you is like majoring in English Literature: useless, unbearably boring, and not getting me laid. —I. Gonzalez


Note: Starred entries are pieces the Record was planning on publishing before realizing The Rumpus had already published a piece of the same name. —Staff

−I. Strauss


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To Kill a Mockingbird and Eat it Raw: The Adventures of Boo Radley Green Eggs and Salmonella Lolita II: To Catch a Predator A Connecticut Yankee in the Texas Governor’s Mansion 1985 The Bible 2: HOLY CHRIST! I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings: Because I’m About to Eat That One Too, by Boo Radley A Series of Far More Unfortunate Events: Malaria, AIDS, and the Influenza Epidemic Lolita III: Conjugal Visit Gone Wild If I Had Committed Armed Robbery and Kidnapping While Not Paying My Taxes and Collaborating with Osama Bin Laden on a Dog-Fighting Ring and Finally Got Sent to Prison, Here’s How I Would’ve Done It: An O.J. Simpson Story Stover at Yale II: What the Hell Are Blacks and Women Doing Here? —S. Stern −I. Strauss

CLASSIC CHILDREN’S EROTICA One Thousand and One Night Stands The Lion and the Witch in the Wardrobe The Hard-On Boys Peter’s Panic: The Penis That Wouldn’t Go Up Bi-Curious George 20,000 Intrigues under Her Capris The Lord of the Flings: The Two Towers of Power Black Beauty Nancy’s Screw: The Secret of the Young Cock Make Way for Fuckings Cheaper by the Dozen: Purchase Prostitutes at Wholesale Prices! —D. Tuttle Marissa’s new book didn’t get nearly as good of reception as she had hoped for. −A. Beizer

Shel Silverstein • Rejected Poems

I AM TOO ILL Written and Illustrated by I. Strauss • Designed by S. Shea

I am too ill to go to school Said little Peter George O’Tool. I’m tired and my skin is pale, My headaches make me feel quite frail. I cough so much I want to cry, There’s bruises running down my thigh. You’d better call the doctor quick. He’ll tell you that I’m really sick. What’s that you say, my dear Mama? You say I have leukemia? What? … Is the doctor sure? But I was just trying to get out of going to class. Really, I didn’t think any of this was a big deal. Oh god. I noticed the bruises a few weeks ago. I just figured it was because I’ve been playing so much soccer lately. Can’t I do something? I’ll go to school and eat healthy and exercise—will that cure it? No? Why not?! But I don’t want to do chemo, mama. Oh god. Oh my god. I can’t… I’m just a kid, this isn’t fair. Oh my god. I miss math.

JUDGING BOOKS B Wuthering Heights In Wuthering Heights, some girl named Emily Brontë is really excited about how high she’s piled her hair. Like, her hair didn’t used to have that much volume—something she got from her mom—but ever since she started using this new Paul Mitchell conditioner it’s gotten pretty full. It’s a good thing, too, because prom is this weekend and she wants her dresser to be able to do something cool with her hair this year. She doesn’t even know how to describe how high her hair is piled. She’s piled it to colossal heights. No, Everestian heights. Heck, she might have to make up a word to describe how high she’s piled her hair. Maybe she’s piled it to…wuthering heights. Nah, she’s just piled it really fucking high.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Night is falling, but the body count at the local Colosseum known colloquially as the Deathly Hallows is just beginning to rise. The day’s gladiator fights have been brutal; Harry Potter has torn limb-from-limb men twice his size, eviscerated bands of starving children half his age, and curb-stomped countless lions…with his bare freaking hands. But if he’s going to be allowed to live, Harry must face his hardest challenge yet: catching the letters of his own name, floating in the air just above his head, silently mocking him. Will Harry be able to reach the double-T in his surname? If he does, will the rest of the letters come down with it? Why does J. K. Rowling get to have her name so close to the ground? Couldn’t Harry maybe just grab her name, and then tell her she can’t have it unless she gives him a boost so that he can get his? Is that against the rules? One will have to read the book to find out.

BY THEIR COVERS —Written and Designed by L. Sedlacek

Pippi Longstocking Pippi Longstocking is tons of fun. You can tell because she doesn’t care that she’s so poor her clothes have patches, and she encourages her monkey friend to be himself and not wear pants to work, even though all the other CPAs tell him he has to wear pants. Her carefree nature is what makes Pippi’s friends like her so much, but Pippi’s friends are about to find out that sometimes Pippi can have too much fun. Like when she steps out of her own dimension into a weird, yellow dimension filled with light-yellow dots, ripping a hole in the fabric of spacetime and causing Mr. Horse to shriek with pain as his very existence is erased from reality. The cute blonde girl with the headband is the only living being that will survive the temporal rift in our universe. Unfortunately, her soul won’t.

Everyone Poops Everyone poops. Almost everyone, that is. Taro Gomi was just like any other small Asian boy, with one small exception: he couldn’t poop. He tried everything—frowning, squinting, holding his breath until his face turned red—but nothing worked. In the meantime, he was surrounded by millions upon millions of organisms, happily pooping to their hearts’ content: geese, horses, even an apple, somehow. One day, though, Taro finally decided that he’d had enough. If he couldn’t poop…nobody could. This psychosexual thriller follows Taro’s quest for revenge upon a world that kept from him what everyone else could literally shit out like it was nothing. It is sure to scare children of all ages so much they’ll poop their pants…if they have the balls.

LITR 008: Literature for Athletes Prof. Anthony “Coach” Anderson Fall 2013 Office: PWG 105

Hours: 7:30 to 9:20 a.m. (after swim practice)

Course Description: Literature for Athletes explores the ancient intersection between athletes and the written word. From classic tales of naked oily Greeks to that one YDN columnist, this course covers the complete canon of athletic literature with zero depth whatsoever. Lots of courses ask the hard questions, but this one asks the easy ones: Is attendance mandatory? What is this Yale “Bookstore”? Is there a film adaptation starring an often-naked Keira Knightley?

The course meets every Friday at 7:30 a.m. at the round table in the Morse dining hall.

Course Materials: In addition to the following readings, it is recommended that you drink four cups of Gatorade with every class. (As emphasized in SCIE 080: Science for Athletes, your brain needs electrolytes like Blue 40 and Red 2 to perform at its peak.) Occasionally, short readings will be posted on the professor’s Yale Bulldogs page and taped above the locker room urinals. Several of these books are on reserve at the Yale Child Study Center reading corner, and others can be ordered through your 12-year-old sister’s Scholastic book order form. Gutman, Dan. Jackie & Me: A Baseball Card Adventure. • Discussion question: If you had magical time-traveling baseball cards, where would you go? Foer, Franklin. How Soccer Explains the World. • Discussion questions: How does soccer explain the world? Does Yale even have a soccer team? Lewis, Michael. Moneyball. • Discussion question: Can we just all agree to call the GM “Brad Pitt?” Chauvinist, Eneffell. 2.0, and Beyond! How Football Pushed Me to Do Better in School through Basic Eligibility Requirements. • Discussion question: Why do universities give so much funding to football? Be prepared for an in-class debate with whatever dweeb is working on their Orgo homework in the dining hall at 8:00 in the morning. Hillenbrand, Laura. Seabiscuit: Something Something Something Horses. • Discussion question: This class will feature a special visit by Seabiscuit. Please think of a question for the horse at least thirty seconds before you ask it.

Grading: Those students interested in writing a senior paper in this class are enrolled in the wrong course. Grades will be assessed on the following criteria: Literacy test 15% Weekly book reports (completion only)


Weekly weigh-in 10% Attendance 50%

Written by J. Newsham

Designed by B. Marvin





he Yale University Police Department confirmed yesterday that everyone in the residential college of Timothy Dwight has mysteriously died, probably at some point during the last month. The tragic discovery was made by Thomas Heimann, BK ’16. Heimann, professing an interest in exploring all of the university’s “hidden corners,” had apparently decided to make the trek to the college on what he described as “just a strange whim.” Much to his surprise, he discovered upon arrival that everyone there was dead and beginning to smell. No cause was apparent. The rest of the student body has reacted with shock, both to the occurrence and to the fact that they had somehow gone a month without noticing. Most say they believe this extended obliviousness is a result of Timothy Dwight’s extreme isolation from the other colleges. It stands more than a full block from Cross Campus. “I mean, I was in classes with a couple of [Timothy Dwight residents], but I never really knew them, per se,” said Susan O’Leary, PC ’15, “They were sort of off in their own world, you know? I thought about going over there to study with them once, but God, that walk. I might as well have walked to Stop ‘N’ Shop.”

“God, that walk. I might as well have walked to Stop ‘N’ Shop.” The commotion surrounding the mysterious deaths also gave many Yalies their first glimpse into the secluded college. The remains they found were highly enigmatic, although they pointed to a

The Timothy Dwight courtyard, between one and four weeks after everyone in the college inexplicably dropped dead.

thriving, self-sufficient society quite apart from the rest of the university. “I had no idea TD had its own catacombs,” remarked Cristiano Vidal, BR ’13. “That room filled with elephant skulls and packets of dried milk came as quite a surprise too. I wonder how they got there, and what they were for.” After extensive exploration of the college grounds and a toxicological report that turned up nothing, the university appears to have resigned itself to never understanding the mystery. Still, it has taken precautions to prevent any similar event from happening in the future. Every two hours a police officer is dispatched to Silliman College, verifying that everyone there is still alive and not up to anything freaky. Timothy Dwight was first opened in 1936 and was originally intended to be a place for Yale students to study abroad.


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LESSER-KNOWN A. A. MILNE STORIES Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet: Best Friends Forever Winnie-the-Pooh and the Moment of Sexual Tension after Both He and Piglet Indulged in a Few Too Many Pots of Honey Winnie-the-Pooh and the Blustery Category-Five Hurricane There Will Be Fluff Winnie-the-Pooh and the Sin of Gluttony Winnie-the-Pooh and the Canadian Honey Embargo Skinny Winnie: How a Three-Month Fast Helped One Bear Find New Meaning in Life Winnie-the-Pooh and Tigger Wants Attention Too, You Chubby Bastard Winnie-the-Pooh and the Unsuccessful Search for Tigger Winnowed: The Story of the Slaves Who Harvested the Cotton Filling for Every One of Your Favorite Characters from the Hundred-Acre Wood Christopher Robin Gives up and Buys His Grandchildren an Xbox —A. Gertler GOODNIGHT MOON BY EDGAR ALLAN POE Once upon an evening bleak, I lay and failed to fall asleep, Fruitlessly, I counted sheep and ruminated on my plight. As I stared upon my ceiling, thoughts and meditations reeling, Each unending second feeling like its own recursive night, The moon ascended slow and bathed my room in soft and pearly light— Bright aglow, and deathly white. “Moon!” I cried in agony, “Why must you taunt and torment me? I seek only serenity enough to calm my harried mind.” But despite my frantic yell, the moon had cast its wicked spell; My room became a private hell as every object woke in kind—

My own possessions stirred to lunar purpose murky and malign, My sleep they sought to undermine. Desperately and sensing doom, I loudly shouted, “Goodnight moon! Goodnight light and red balloon, begone and cause no more despair! Goodnight kittens, mittens, brush; goodnight clock and socks and mush; Goodnight whispered sounds of ‘hush,’ bears and chairs and stars and air. And lest an unknown discordance arise and catch me unaware, Goodnight noises everywhere.” The noises ceased, and for a moment, I believed my round opponent To have given up my torment, to have left me peacefully To seek my slumber unopposed. But when I looked again, my foe Remained, its monstrous sight imposed forever on my sanity. I watched it then, I watch it now, one eye open eternally, And sleep shall never comfort me. —E. Sandford


—I. Strauss

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THE HARDY BOYS AND THE MYSTERY OF THE SEVERED ARM “Gee, Joe, this sure is a tough mystery,” said Frank, wrinkling his brow. “You got that right,” Joe replied, squatting down to investigate the crime scene. “I’ve never seen something quite like this before!” The two brothers, one blonde, one dark-haired, looked around, inspecting the abandoned lot. There was blood everywhere, and in a particularly desolate patch of grass lay a single arm. “You know who might know something about arms? Our father’s chum, Mr. Morton!” Joe suggested. “Why, that’s a swell idea. I think it’s fair to assume he’ll know something about this,” Frank agreed, predictably. After checking the time to make sure they weren’t going to be late for dinner, the two strolled through their small, cozy village. They stopped only at the police station to use the restroom, and so in no time at all, they arrived at the Morton’s home, the haunted mansion on the hill. “Golly, Mr. Morton sure does have a nice place!” exclaimed Joe. “You can say that again. Neat!” Frank agreed, predictably. The two ventured up the creaking steps, past the spider webs, and around the shelf with the medieval torture devices. The two called out for Mr. Morton, but they got no response. “Gosh, where is Mr. Morton?” Frank wondered aloud. “Hey, look there!” said Joe. “It’s our first clue!” Right there, on the rickety old floor, was the other arm. What luck! “Hello boys,” came a soft, sweet voice from shadows. Mr. Morton stepped out, wearing a white apron covered in blood. In his hand was an arm. A severed arm. In his other hand was an axe. Mr. Morton had found more clues! “Why, hi there, Mr. Morton!” Frank said, clearly pleased. “We’re investigating that amputated arm in the old Johnson lot.” “We’re real good at solving mysteries,” Joe added, proudly. “Do you know anything about the incident?” “I’m sorry, boys, but I’m afraid I don’t,” Mr. Morton said, drawing closer.


“Oh, darn,” Frank said, looking predictably dejected. “We were really hoping we could solve this one in record time.” “Would you mind if we took these body parts?” asked Joe eagerly. “They’d be ever so helpful in solving our mystery.” “Oh, these body parts?” questioned Mr. Morton. “Well, I suppose I could part with them…if I could manage to find some more.” With that, Mr. Morton swung his axe at Joe, cleaving his right arm off in one swift stroke. Blood sprayed everywhere, just like the filling of one of Nana’s cherry pies. “Oh gee!” Joe gasped, before collapsing on top of his severed arm. “Joe!” exclaimed Frank. “Are you okay? I sure hope so; it’d be pretty tough solving this mystery without you!” And doggone it, your sweater vest is positively ruined. Do you think you could help me clean it off, Mr. Morton?” he continued with the awareness of Manti Te’o on Novocaine. Clearly incredulous, Mr. Morton closed in on Frank. Seeing no attempt at escape made whatsoever by the stillengaged young detective, Mr. Morton carefully lined up his axe to swing it with maximum efficiency. “Mr. Morton, if you won’t help me with the sweater, could you at least point me toward a possible suspe—“ These were Frank’s last words, predictably. —S. Stern


—I. Strauss

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CITING WEIRD PUBLICATION TIMELINE, THE RECORD SEEKS HEADLINES THAT ARE ALWAYS ACCURATE Dear lawyers of Bud Light, Your advertisements clearly state that your product is “the sure sign of a good time.” In other words, you claim that although Bud Light is not a necessary condition for a good time, it is indeed a sufficient one. However, even after consuming a substantial quantity of your product I failed to experience anything remotely resembling a “good time.” Instead of just feeling sad and alone, I felt sad and alone and had a bathroom floor covered in vomit. I expect substantial compensation, in the form of either several million dollars or just a warm, reassuring hug from one of you. Either would be equally good. Respectfully, David Carper, TC ’13


Dear President Salovey, Look. I know naming the new colleges wasn’t easy. And there was a lot of pressure on you to honor a disadvantaged group. But it has to be said, so I might as well say it: She doesn’t even go here! Yours, Horace Elliott, Rosa Parks ’18 Dear President Salovey, Look. I know naming the new colleges wasn’t easy. And there was a lot of pressure on you to raise funds by honoring someone with money to burn. But it has to be said, so I might as well say it: You fucked up. Yours, Marianne Simmons, Goldman Sachs ’18

MICHAEL VICK: “I’M REALLY MORE OF A CAT PERSON” Dear prank callers, Of course my refrigerator is running. Are you suggesting that yours doesn’t have mechanical limbs? —Dr. Ansley


AEPI CHANGES NAME TO JEW-FRO AMERICAN CULTURAL CENTER Dear Sydney and Elizabeth, Look, I know that you two just broke up a week ago, and you’re trying your best to ignore the elephant in the room. But don’t you think acknowledging the 15-ton mammal, which is for some reason standing here in the foyer with us, might provide a non-awkward way to break the ice? —Paul Dear Kelly Brownell, During your last Food Psych. lecture you explained how sugar is actually addictive, but I injected some directly into my veins, and nothing happened. I snorted three lines of the stuff, and nothing happened. I bought a bag of sugar from a guy in Dixwell and poured the whole thing in my mouth, but it didn’t even taste sweet! I spat it right out, then stabbed the dealer and took my money back. I’ve enclosed the bloody knife with this letter. Do with it what you will. Thanks for nothing, A very sheltered suburbanite


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Fine Indian Cuisine “A Treat for the senses” —Hartford Courant “Amid elegance, a variety of Indian dishes” —New York Times Hours Lunch Monday - Saturday: 11:30 AM - 2:30 PM Sunday: 12:00 PM - 3:00 PM Dinner Sunday - Thursday: 5:00 PM - 10:00 PM Friday - Saturday: 5:00 PM - 10:30 PM

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

Wanted: A coworker who doesn’t steal my fucking sandwich, Steve! Lost: Self-control. Last seen right before I ate that last slice of pie.

Dear John, I think when they say a dog is a man’s best friend, they should also say it’s one-sided. Like, a dog is a man’s best friend, but it turns out the man has a DIFFERENT best friend, and the dog is really more like a third wheel in their relationship who will never receive as much love as he gives. Try caring about me sometime, Patches P.S. Aw, who am I kidding? I still love you, buddy. I always will. Dear Patches, You’re not even my dog! I have literally never seen you before today. Please stop following me. —John Dear fifty-eighth bottle of beer on the wall, Thaaaa novelty beer rack shore wassa nice prezint, but I dunn think we gun’ finiss the song tuhnight. There’z juss three’v us. And Carl’s chokin’ to dead on hiss own vomit as I say theez words. Thass too bad. Guhnight. —Frank

MACGYVER-THEMED PORNO PRESENTS MANY ALTERNATIVES TO CONDOMS Dear Yale Record, I finally did it! Included with this letter is video proof that I successfully licked every master’s portrait on campus in only twenty-seven minutes—two minutes faster than the previous time! —A student who’s confused us with our sister publication, Yale Records


Local breakfast & lunch café

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Three cronies and a henchman needed in Secret Volcano Island. Law enforcement unwelcome.


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T he Y ale R ecord Dear Michael, I’m sorry. This isn’t going to work. I just don’t think I have anything left. But don’t you dare put this all on me! You’ve been away so long. Why couldn’t you come to me sooner? Try to connect... just a little bit sooner. I’m empty now. Empty, with nothing to offer you. —A printer with no paper five minutes before class

GNU APPRECIATION DAY DISRUPTED BY STAMPEDES Dear acquaintance, You really have to try meditation. Ever since I decided to acknowledge my spiritual self, I’ve become so much more in tune with the universe. —A man who occassionally sits with his eyes closed while thinking about old episodes of Seinfeld

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

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

Dear Matt, Don’t listen to your mom, the Facebook photos of your kegstands are the bombdiggity. If you take them down, the next photos of you streaking won’t make any sense, so keep them up! I’m proud of you expressing yourself, and I hope it gets you laid! Love, Grandma

Dear Magic 8-Ball, Tell me...will I win or lose this game? —Nipun Mehta, SC ’14 Dear Nipun, Outlook not so good. That’s what happens when you pick up the eight ball during a fucking game of pool. Geez, why do I even bother trying to play with you when you’re high? —Jake McGraw, SC ’15

WOMAN FINGERS HERSELF AS CULPRIT IN PUBLIC MASTURBATION OFFENSE Dear President Levin, I enjoyed working with you in my reporting for the Yale Daily News, and I wish you all the best in your postpresidency. I have one last request, though: can you please start baking bread so we can run the headline “Levin, Leavin’, Lovin’ Leaven?” —Preston Tapley Stephenson III Editor in Chief, Yale Daily News

From celebrated literary-crossover novelist

Melissa Chiasson

comes a book that will transform literature “Both educational and erotic!” —Stephanie Meyer

“Absolutely amazing. It’s like Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man meets the Animorph series.” —The New York Times

“A story with an important lesson: James Joyce’s life would have been a lot more interesting if he had the ability to turn into animals. aliens.” —George R. R. Martin

“Move over, J. K. Rowling.” —Melissa Chiasson


Written by L. Sedlacek and M. Nobel

Designed by L. Sedlacek




The Literature Issue  
The Literature Issue  

The Yale Record, America's Oldest College Humor Magazine, presents The Literature Issue!