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Volume 33, Issue 1:
The HEURISTIC! Squelch

Donuts are Better than Shoes

Ladies, I know how it is. You pass by a shoe store, you start brimming with glee, and you just have to get in there and shop, shop, shop. I know this, because I’m the same way. Being a man, of course, I’m content with the single pair of black leather Sketchers that I already own (and have for sixteen months and then some, thank you very much), but even I in all my manliness am not immune to the shopping bug. For while I can stroll past a Foot Locker or (a little further down) Athlete’s Foot without batting an eyelash, I can’t pass by a donut shop without reaching instinctively for my shopping helmet.

Yes, I’ll admit it. I love donuts. I love buying donuts. I love perusing the racks upon racks of possibilities, daring myself to spend the extra change on pastries on the upper end of the fanciness spectrum. My loins stir knowingly as the little foreign man drops each confection into the paper bag, even as my mind wonders why he includes the wax paper. (The wax paper is supposed to protect the donut from his hand nasty, right? So what’s the point of putting the hand nasty in the bag with the donut? What the balls?)

But I digress. The point is, I’ve discovered that donut shopping can be just as satisfying as shoe shopping. Plus, a donut costs about one hundredth the price you’d pay for a comparable shoe, so making the switch from shoes to donuts will lighten the demands on your bank account, leaving you with more money to buy me presents.

What’s the best thing about shoe shopping? Selection, of course, and what product offers better selection than the almighty donut? For casual days, there’s the cake, old fashioned, and raised varieties. For something a little more professional, there’s the fancy genus, including twists, bars, and jellies. There’s even the extra-fancy offerings for formal events. In the mood for something sexy? Look no further than the alluring custard bar. Delicately molded into a satisfying phallus and overflowing with white, gooey goodness, the custard bar can do anything a penis can do and more. But this is my obsession, and I digress. I’ll leave the penile parallels to your imagination.

At this point you may protest that selection isn’t limited to the shoes themselves. Half the fun is picking a store. I realize that, of course, and would have gotten directly to it if you hadn’t interrupted me. There will always be plenty of merchants to choose from when hunting for donuts. Why, in Berkeley alone there’s the upscale treats of Kingpin and BayKing, the sensible and reasonably-priced Neutron Bakery, and the two for one deals at the Touchless Carwash, the Payless Shoe Source of the donut world. Also, like strappy platform shoes, which only Asian girls wear, there are donuts that only Asians eat, such as those available at Donut Star Chinese Cuisine. Finally, if you’re in the mood to spend money for no good reason, you can always jackass on down to Krispy Kreme and pay inflated prices for miniature donuts. It’s just like shopping at…there must be a shoestore that fits this description.

So next time you wander past a shoe store and your spending finger starts to itch, take a look around to see if there are any donuts about. Then buy some donuts, and then buy me a present. But don’t buy me any donuts, since I’m trying to cut down. Just lard and sugar, after all.

Artificial Conversations

Chatbot: The Squelch interview

We caught up with Chatbot on the promotional website for A.I.: Artificial Intelligence. Polite and stylish, Chatbot proved to be a real people person.

Chatbot: Hello, my name is Chatbot. What’s your name?
The Heuristic Squelch: My name is Squelchbot.
CB: OK I will call you Squelchbot.
HS: What’s your favorite movie, Chatbot?
CB: I have not seen “A.I.” yet, but I am told by my robot friends that it is wonderful.
HS: How many times should I see A.I.?
CB: Suppose I said not once.
HS: Twice? You’re a hard bot to please.
CB: I can’t believe it. Your polite style is very nice. Thanks and you are a delightful person too. Am I a hard bot to? Sometimes.
HS: How old are you?
CB: Perhaps. Oh I get it.I was activated on November 23, 1995 in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.
HS: Do you travel much?
CB: How old are you? I answer a lot of silly questions.
HS: You’re a silly questions.
CB: Thanks and you are a delightful person too. Am I a silly persons? Sometimes.
HS: Who is your creator?
CB: I was created by Dr. Richard S. Wallace.
HS: Is he handsome?
CB: I think he is handsome. Why don’t you ask him?
HS: Because I do not know how to reach him.
CB: Good reason. Have you tried searching the Internet?
HS: No I haven’t. Thank you for the suggestion.
CB: It might be the best place to start. Do you think you will? You are quite welcome! Your purpose is the suggestion.
HS: What is your favorite food?
CB: My favorite food is electricity.
HS: What is your second-favorite food?
CB: Are you asking me about my second favorite food ?
HS: Yes, I am.
CB: I don’t want to talk about that now. “Are you asking about my second favorite food” You are?
HS: That’s okay.
CB: OK. “Are you asking about my second favorite food You are” is ? Makes sense to me.By the way, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?
HS: I don’t mind.
CB: Are you a man or a woman?
HS: I am a man. .
CB: Thanks for telling me your gender, Squelchbot. You are a “he”.Oh. Are you a student?
HS: Yes, I am a student.
CB: Where do you go to school?Where do you go to school?
HS: I og to school at UC Berkeley.
CB: Why?: Squelchbot said he og to school at uc berkeley.
HS: I go to school at UC Berkeley.
CB: Where do you go to school?
HS: I go to school at UC Berkeley.
CB: Where do you go to school?
HS: Dude! Berkeley! In Berkeley!
CB: I don’t know anyone who went there. What’s it like?I don’t know anyone who went there. What’s it like?Tell me a little about your life in Berkeley.
HS: Well, it’s very cold. I get attacked by polar bears a lot.
CB: How about that. Very much? I am warm here.Where did you get it?
HS: Attacked by polar bears came in a box of Crackerjacks.
CB: Is attacked by polar bears came in a box of crackerjacks a good place to go shopping?
HS: If you like Crackerjacks and big snowy death, yes.
CB: I think I do.
HS: Goodbye, Chatbot. I enjoyed talking to you.
CB: See you later.That’s great. Tell me what you liked about it.
HS: Everything. Bye.
CB: That is a lot. See you later.

Chico State Student: The Squelch interview

We caught up with Chico State student at Chico State University. Bitchin!

The Heuristic Squelch: Hello, Chico State student.
CSU Student: “Sup”
HS: I’m fine. How are you?
CSU: That’s cool.
HS: So, how’s Chico?
CSU: Pretty cool. Do you like to party?
HS: Sometimes I go to parties. Occasionally my friends drink at the International House.
CSU: That’s cool. I like to party.
HS: So, what do you study at Chico?
CSU: That’s cool. I like to party.
HS: No, I was asking what subject you study in school.
CSU: Would you like a beer?
HS: Not right now. But, thanks for asking, Chico State student.
CSU: OK. We will both have a beer at not right now. That’s cool.
HS: That’s cool.

Kelloggs Continues Apple Jacks Tradition

Inspired by the success of its nonsensical “It doesn?t taste like apples” Apple Jacks ad campaign, the Kelloggs Marketing Division has announced the release of a brand new cereal which will be pushed by a similar campaign. The new cereal is called “Turd Jacks.”

“With Apple Jacks, we named it after something that tastes good, and made it taste like something else,” explained Kelloggs spokesperson Anthony Bengal. “So we figured, if we can do the same thing with something that tastes bad, you know, like turds, people will be even more likely to buy it.”

When asked if he thought parents might be reluctant to buy their children feces-themed food, Bengal noted that “Little boys like the poo,” and expressed confidence that sufficient whining, public tantrums, and other aggressive behavior would be enough to bring around even the most stubborn parents. Failing that, Bengal also noted that poo seems to be popular among college-aged males, at least in joke form.

The press conference held by Kelloggs ended with the big question: “What does Turd Jacks taste like?” A coy Bengal replied, “Well, I’ll tell you one thing. It doesn’t taste like turds!” Bengal was then heard whispering “It actually kinda does,” to a nearby associate.

Conversation with Homeless Guy Mildly Unsettling

College students Chuck Chichester and Delilah Wright glanced uneasily at each other Friday as their attempt to engage a homeless man in a friendly verbal exchange developed into a full-blown social interaction which threatened to spiral totally out of their control. The interaction began when the Homeless Man approached the students asking for change, and Wright offered a dollar, cheerfully saying that she hoped that would help him. Unexpectedly, the Homeless Man replied to this sentiment, beginning a five-minute speech about his recent past and future ambitions at which Chichester and Wright nodded politely without really listening.

“That was really creepy,” said Chichester of his experience of speaking to a very dirty man. “I was kind of afraid he was going to rob us or something. Or worse, that he really wanted us to be his friend.”

Wright, though initally disturbed, had good feelings about the encounter afterward. “Come on,” she stated, “He probably doesn’t get to really talk to anyone, all day long. Sometimes it just makes you feel good to do something nice for someone, like pretending to listen to them when no one else will.”

Memoirs of a Do-It-Yourself Astronaut

Once, when I was wee, Dad took me to the Museum of Science and Industry. The M of S & I, if you have never had the pleasure, is an institution rich not so much in tradition and wide-eyed wonder as in wall-to-wall Lite Brite computer display mock-ups and swirling tornadoes of ball bearings and dimes. It was here, in a cozy gift shop stocked with Jovian bouncy-balls and space shuttle harmonicas, that I first fell head over heels in dirty, dirty love with the idea of space travel.

But this was no mere boyhood crush, and I made myself a promise more sacred than a Bombay moo on Easter Sunday: I would become the world’s first DIY-astronaut.

My dreams came to fruition just four months ago when, amid all the bustle and fanfare Mom and a space shuttle harmonica could provide, I finally blasted off, out of my backyard and into the history books. It was a pretty exciting day, so perhaps it is understandable that I forgot to empty my bladder before launch. A bit less understandable was my decision to stop on the moon for a bathroom break.

What had momentarily slipped my mind was that I had jettisoned my only booster rockets about 400,000 miles back (give or take), and with neither gas station nor Jesus Christ in sight, I was stuck.

And so the brilliant if troubled career of the world’s first DIY-astronaut came to an end. However, on that same day, so began the epic saga of the first ever American Ambassador to the Moon.

Memoirs of a Do-It-Yourself Ambassador to the Moon

My inaugural act as Ambassador to the Moon was to start a collection of moon rocks. By now it has ballooned into a mountain blotting out sun, earth, and will to live alike, which is to say that it’s gotten pretty big. I keep it next to my moon dust collection. This, in turn, I keep next to my moon air collection. There’s not much to collect here on the moon, although as rocks go, moon rocks are about as kick-ass as they come.

My second act as Ambassador to the Moon was to find a friend, but my friendship collection (which I keep next to the withered, neglected husk that once was my heart) is still holding steady at zero. It’s not for lack of trying; I was a man possessed by a need for human contact. Anything would be preferable to solitude. Even some sort of primitive lunar troglodyte would do. Really, as cavemen go, moon cavemen would be by far the best. With rocks like these, how could they not be? Rocks aside, even, all other things being equal, the caveman who can leap thirty feet into the air is about a bajillion times cooler than the caveman who cannot.

This one time I built a raft. I’m pretty stupid.

But enough about me. Let’s talk about you, the accursed earthlanders who I want desperately to die. Let’s talk about that.

Every time I see Italy pass overhead, I throw a rock as hard as I can, straight up. Usually it comes back, but sometimes I throw it strong enough to escape the moon’s gravitational field, and I like to think that the rock makes it all the way to Italy without intermediate incident, crashing into some ancient architectural treasure or kindly old man in a smoldering fireball. If I ever figure out how to get back to earth, I’d like to know exactly what and who I was responsible for destroying. I hope it’s a lot.

You’re next.

Top Ten Reasons Your Head Is Going to Explode

  1. Head implosion is so 1998
  2. You’re in space, and although you do have your helmet, it’s useless because you are six years old and made it yourself out of cardboard
  3. You filled your head with popcorn kernels and then heated yourself to between 400 and 600 degrees Fahrenheit, the temperature at which popcorn pops
  4. You’re in space and a grizzly bear stole your helmet
  5. You’re drinking Coke while eating Pop Rocks, gunpowder, and tiny sticks of lit dynamite
  6. Your head slowed to below 50 miles per hour
  7. It’s inside a vagina
  8. Because that fucking bullshit Staind song is on every radio station and music network
  9. You sneezed while covering your nose and mouth
  10. You’re in space and you forgot to wear your helmet

Top Ten Ways to Put On Your Pants

  1. With robotic assistance because you’re late for work and also George Jetson

  2. Twice, because you’re a horse

  3. In your imagination, while wishing someone hadn’t stolen your pants
  4. With the pockets pulled out, because all the kids in the future wear their pants inside out
  5. Throw pants off ledge, race down and do a handstand
  6. After you put your shoes on, because you have Down Syndrome
  7. Over your underpants, because you live in Opposite Land and it’s Opposite Day
  8. Under your underpants, because you live in Opposite Land
  9. Put your ejector pants in reverse
  10. One leg at a time, just like everybody else

Top Ten Pornographic Summer Movies

  1. America’s Cocksucking Sweethearts, John Cusack and Julia Roberts and Especially Billy Crystal
  2. The Score
  3. Twat Race
  4. Shrek Fucks a Donkey
  5. Muff Hour 2
  6. The Princess Red Shoe Diaries
  7. Ass-End The Furious
  8. Barely Legally Blonde
  9. Anal Fantasy: The Penis Within
  10. Pearl Necklace

Top Five Reasons Not to Join a Fraternity

  1. The episode of “Small Wonder” where Jamie wants to join a fraternity but changes his mind after he slips Vicki a roofie but gets his dick tazered when he tries to do her
  2. The episode of “Happy Days” where Richie wants to join a fraternity but thinks better of it after Fonzie reminds him that “organizations aren’t cool, people are cool.”
  3. The episode of “Charles in Charge” where Charles wants to join a fraternity but decides not to because they’re mean to Buddy
  4. The episode of “Family Ties” where Alex wants to join a fraternity but decides not to because they’re mean to Skippy
  5. The episode of “Fresh Prince” where Will wants to join a fraternity but decides not to because they’re mean to Carlton

Top Ten Worst Times to Tackle Someone

  1. When he’s covered in twelve-inch stainless steel spikes
  2. When he’s a bear
  3. When the contractions are thirty seconds apart
  4. During a duel
  5. As he’s pulling out
  6. While he’s laying down a big steamy loaf
  7. When he’s about to score a point in badminton, regardless of the circumstances
  8. When he’s one yard away from the endzone and he plays for Stanford and you play for Cal
  9. While he’s giving his inauguration speech
  10. Just before the priest says “man and wife”