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Volume 33, Issue 1:
The HEURISTIC! Squelch

A Flagrant Abuse of Editorial Power

Communication is a neat thing. It’s neat not only because it gives sorority chicks something to major in while being completely blitzed out of their minds on coke, but also because there are so many ways to go about it. I would like to, using a simple example, explore some different avenues of communication. Call it Luke’s Com. 101A if you will. Call it three scoop shit sundae with bubonic sludge topping. That’s not the important part.

Example

Luke asks his friend Dave if he wants to go out for a beer on, say, Friday, September 4th.

Possible Options

*Sky-writing- This options is for morons

*In Person- This approach has problems. First of all, Dave and I are busy guys. If we don’t see each other before Friday, we’re SOL, I don’t mean sucking on lollipops. There’s no second of all.

*E-mail- We’re getting better. Dave checks his email a lot, because he’s constantly online viewing porn. However, if a world war broke out, it could potentially screw up the internet.

*Telephone- This is by far the best medium of communication. It’s cheap, fast, and virtually foolproof. I should definitely use this tactic

Of course, I’m not going to. I work for the Squelch, after all. I push the boundaries of humor, other peoples’ patience, and coloring books. I am going to to use the most unprofessional, self-serving, and inefficient method available to me. How inefficient, you ask? It will be like calling in a squadron of B-52’s to carpet bomb the entire campus just to get rid of the Cal-PIRG recruiters. To put this in terms the sorority girl can understand (this article was written to educate the student of communications, after all), it will be like fasting for a month, getting a makeover, and wearing an off-the-shoulder prom dress to ask an EECS major out on a date. Follow me? Good. Now, what I’m going to do is ask Dave via this very Squelch article.

Mid-article Shout-out

Hey Dave? Wanna go get a beer on Friday? I’ll meet you at the Bear’s Lair at 4. See you then. Call me if you’re busy – my number is in the staff box in case you forgot it.

Wasn’t that the most wasteful, disgusting, arrogant thing you’ve ever seen? Let me make it easier to swallow (sorority slam #3). This issue probably cost about a thousand bucks. Divided by 16, you get $62.50 per page. The Squelch is a student group – that means students help fund it. You guys just got together and rounded up cash so that I could set up a social engagement. Feel like a moron? Well, voice your complaints via sky-writing.

Daily Cal Changes Motto

The Daily Californian, UC Berkeley’s strangely eerie student-run newspaper, stunned the campus community earlier this week with an unexpected announcement. “We have long called the Daily Californian UC Berkeley’s student-run newspaper,” began the official spokesperson. “After much thought and deliberation, the editorial staff has decided that we do not accurately report the news, therefore it would be incorrect to call us a newspaper. Additionally, because our editorial decisions are exceedingly self-serving, we should not claim to be ‘UC Berkeley’s’ either.

“Furthermore, the use of the term ‘student-run’ is a misrepresentation. Students should learn from their mistakes, and clearly, we do not. Also, our huge fiscal debt indicates that ‘mismanaged’ would be more accurate than ‘run.'” At this point in the announcement, the spokesperson seemed overcome with some sort of unidentifiable emotion. Some experts contended that the emotion was grief, but better experts later suggested that it was more probably just gas.

With teary eyes, the spokesperson continued, “With this in mind, we have decided to officially change the Daily Cal’s motto to ‘The Daily Cal: At Least It’s Free, and It Doesn’t Smell So Bad.'” The spokesperson then fielded questions, but quite obviously lied at every opportunity. In closing, the spokesperson mentioned other changes in the Daily Cal’s naming policy. The “editors” will now be called “people who don’t check a damn thing,” and Joe Eskanazi will now be known as “Talentless Hack.”

How to Be a Misanthrope

On the Berkeley campus, it’s hard to be a misanthrope. Everyone is constantly accosting you. It became clear about twelve minutes into my tenure at Berkeley that it was going to be mighty difficult to get people to leave me alone, and yet avoid retreating to a cabin in Montana and start blowing up people with better personal hygiene than myself.

So I came up with various self-defense mechanisms in order to protect myself from the obnoxious masses of the righteous. Now, I will impart my techniques onto the masses. I know, I’m too good to you. That you learn something by the end is all the gratification I require.

Rule 1: Say Exactly What You Are Thinking. This means don’t hold back. Take that little cricket who’s always telling you “Oh golly you can’t say that!” and bite off his top-hat-wearing, Bing-Crosby-sounding, not-enough-legs-for-a-goddamn-cricket head. Now say what you’ve always wanted to say, but were always hindered by “manners” and “tact.”

Here’s a sample exchange:

“Join Cal-PIRG?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Save the environment.”

“Ah. Thank you for stating the mind-numbingly obvious for me. I didn’t realize I was talking to a raving idiot. Do you have anything more to offer, or can I go back to a more effective use of my time, like slamming my head into concrete until I reach the level of intelligence that you evoke so effortlessly?”

“Um.”

“Bye now.”

See how easy that was?

The previous exchange also clearly evinces Rule 2, namely: Be Polite. Most people are quite taken aback by someone who clearly despises them, but still takes the time to toss in a “please,” or “I’m sorry.” Compare and contrast the following:

“Shut up. I don’t like you.”

“I’m sorry, but you make me fear for the future of this nation – nay, the world. Please don’t push me towards suicide by forcing me to listen to you any longer.”

Rule 3 is: Pick Your Words Carefully. Do not swear. Anyone can shrug off being called a “fucking idiot.” Very few can shrug off something like “I would rather be talking to just about anyone else right now.” It also helps to use phrases that most people do not use in everyday conversation. Good choices include: “mind-numbing,” “putrescence,” “flaccid,” “ostensibly,” and “Betcha-bite-a-chip.” Actually, I guess I’ve never had call to use that last one, but you can imagine how devastating it would be. Well, I can, anyway.

The most important of all the rules (except for “Don’t Succumb to the Dark Side,” which is a subject for another column) is Rule 4, which goes as follows: Don’t Get Emotional. Sometimes it’s hard, especially if you make your opponent cry, but don’t get flustered, or else they won’t go away. You must remain calm, cool, and distant. Getting angry or feeling pity will only lead you to violate Rule 3, and we can’t have that, can we? Clearly.

Let’s see a few examples of generic responses:

“I’m sorry, but could you tell me what it was about what I just suggested that I wanted your opinion? I wouldn’t want to make that mistake again.”

Or how about: “Pardon me, but is there something I could say that would make you turn around and walk away right now, and if so, how much money would it take to get you to tell me what it is?”

Perhaps: “Thank you, sir. I had almost convinced myself that most people thought before speaking. It’s good to have an idyllic world view shattered every now and again.”

So, you can see, with these few simple rules you can repel any unwanted excahnge. You, too can be a misanthrope. And I didn’t even charge you.

Freshman Disorientation

Hey there boys and girls, my name is Dick. My sister Jane and I used to be innocent freshmen just like you until we broke free from the neo-Puritanical mores of 1950’s retro art and entered the drug induced world of Berkeley. As upper classmen, we know how difficult it is when you first set foot on the campus. Heck, that first step is usually into a steaming pile of human feces. Yep, what with the roaming transients and bitter street punks, Berkeley pavement is about as sanitary as Monica Lewinsky’s wardrobe. Unfortunately, Jane and I can’t tell you where the piles of crap are and how to avoid them (they vary depending on wind speed and azimuth), but we can introduce you to the sights of the Berkeley campus.

Before we take the tour, however, we must warn you that this is not the same map you may have seen in the schedule of classes. We’ve stripped away the facade, exposed the university’s soft and festering underbelly, and converted Cal’s P.C. map into a true representation of our hallowed campus. Here are some of the special sights you’ll see during our tour:

Kip’s
You may have already visited this fine culinary institution for “pizza and soda” during CalSo. I’m sure Cindy, your perky CalSo counselor, informed you that, “Everyone hella goes to Kip’s!” That’s odd… Kip’s features a dank, third-world decor, shitty service, and the greasiest pizza in town. Nine freshmen have drowned in scalding Kip’s pizza grease since 1974. So why does every undergraduate go there on Friday night? Simple. Kip’s doesn’t hesitate to serve Jagermeister shots to infants. So go to Kip’s, but if you need to use the restroom, wear a bee-keeper’s suit, and bring a bat.

Stern Hall
Originally established as a bordello, Stern has undergone major adjustments since its construction. From housing Nazi fugitives to brewing its own moonshine during Prohibition, this housing complex has never failed to entertain. Ask a resident about the late night Spandex and whipped cream fights. For the true adventurer, try to sneak past the totalitarian security monitors known to castrate even the most innocent male visitor.

Trailer ‘O Love
When Texan Robert Berdahl took over for Chancellor Tien it was out with the mansion and in with the tornado proof de-luxe trailer home. Appointment policy: If this trailer’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’!

Tang Experimental Health Facility
Every major university should possess some form of professional and capable medical care, both reasonably priced and within stumbling distance of the campus. Students at Cal are left wondering, “So where’s ours?” What can one say about a facility that still swears by rectal thermometers and leeches, often used together in their patented technique of Anal-Plasmologytm? Sometimes, it’s just better to suck it up and medicate yourself with Telegraph heroin and massive doses of horse tranquilizers.

Rick Starr Named New Spice Girl

A number of reports out of London are saying that Sproul Plaza crooner Rick Starr will join the Spice Girls in time to finish their American tour. The former fivesome that became a foursome after the departure of “Ginger Spice” is excited to have the self-proclaimed lounge singer as part of the group. “He’s got that stage presence we’re looking for,” said Sporty Spice. “He knows how to make it look like you’re singing into a microphone that is plugged in, which is what Spice Power is all about. He also looks great in Ginger’s old Union Jack mini-skirt.”

“He can really dance. He’s got moves that Ginger could only dream of,” stated Scary Spice. “He’s slightly cute in that crazy, lunatic way.” Ginger Spice stunned prepubescent girls world wide by leaving the group, claiming “differences within the group” and a “need for self-growth.” Anonymous sources close to the group state that Ginger left after a long argument in which she called the other girls “scheming, manipulative bitches who are robbing the American public of their hard-earned money.”

Starr is excited about his career move, but is sad to be leaving Berkeley. Asked about his new partners, Starr said, “How ’bout some money? Got any gigs?” When further probed about the pressures of touring and the press, Starr had this to say: “Let’s make love.”

Stair’s addition to the group does present a few problems, namely that the group’s name is no longer accurate. “We talked about that,” said Baby Spice. “We all got some ice cream and discussed our options. So far, our best bet is to have Rick shave his legs and get one of those, you know, ‘operations’ I think they’re called? Or we could change our name to Four Spice Girls And One Crazy Guy. We’re still toying wit’ it.”

Koo Can’t Cook

Every evening, the question in my apartment is: What shall we have for din-din? As I get sick and tired of wondering what to scavenge for my daily requirement of protein and fat, I have decided to offer suggestions as to what dinner may be tonight…

Blondies Pizza
Blondie’s is a favorite dining spot for any Cal student. Besides the fact that the employees for the evening are hired on Telegraph every afternoon. the delectable odoriferous emanation called “urine” from the aforementioned street, arid the fact that you have to eat your pizza in front of mean looking street punks with eyeball piercings, it really is a choice spot for dinner.

Fat Slice
Ah, another great Berkeley pizza joint. The service, usually a Khazakstan native running the front end with an Iraqi Kurdish refugee taking care of furnaces, is really top notch. After a hard day of chem-lab, Fat Slice truly is the Promised Land, where the pizza is as big as my female lab-partner’s ass and they slap it down on the counter harder than Ike Turner used to pimp slap Tina. Pizza Heaven.

Habibi’s House of Kabab
This is my personal favorite. In fact, I eat there so much that I’ve come to judge the prices of all other goods and services in terms of how many Habibi chicken rice plates I can buy. I’ll be at the mall, looking at a pair of shoes, and say to myself… “gee, these shoes cost ten Habibi’s.” In fact, my official currency has become the “Habibi”: medium spicy with potato salad.

Anne’s Soup Kitchen
I guess Anne’s isn’t really a din ner place, but it’s my damn article, so to hell with technicalities. It’s amazing that the cook, probably Anne’s husband, can make forty thousand omelets in one hour. But he’s starting to show the stress cracks-the pattern, of mushrooms and green peppers on my omelet this morning had an uncanny resemblance to a pentagram.

Kim’s Super Burrito
An obvious front for southside drug activity, this filth-infested skank factory fools narcs by serving the little known Korean-Mexican cuisine. I especially recommend the Super Soy Dog Burrito with a side of kim-chee and beans. You should only order to go, as it reduces the chances of having to testify in court in the event of a police raid.

Top Dog
After pounding away a twelve pack of “Nat Ice,” there’s nothing that a member of the Berkeley Greek sys tem enjoys more than a tasty Top at 2:55 A.M. If that weren’t reason enough to frequent the place, the best wurst this side of Berlin is served by people who make the Soup Nazi of “Seinfeld” fame look like Betty Crocker. You put your bills on the counter, say in the nicest voice, “one Top please,” and take two steps to the side. If you really find yourself bored, you can read outdated political philosophy on the walls that proclaims that government is evil, with their damn national security, public roads and hidden secret cameras. Anarchy forever!

Smart Alec’s
Capitalizing on the recent’ towards vegetarianism, this place of business has succeeded in creating a large menu of things that don’t taste good. Their salad doesn’t quite qualify as Intermezzo, and their “Air Baked” fries don’t quite qualify as food. In a show of meat-eating unity and protest, we ask that you demand the prime rib and raw beef dipped in pig fat.

Top Ten Things That Will Wake You Up at 4:00 a.m.

  1. A baby in the microwave
  2. Some guy in your bed with his hand on your breast
  3. A drunken sorority girl.
  4. IDS 142, which anyone can easily sleep through at 4PM, but suddenly becomes earth-shatteringly interesting twelve hours later
  5. Cat dander
  6. Spatzle
  7. The idea of The Love Boat: The Next Wave
  8. Nuclear war
  9. The Orkin Man
  10. An alarm clock

Ten Rejected James Bond Villains

  1. The Mail Order Bride
  2. . Octonostril
  3. S.P.E.C.U.L.U.M.
  4. Thunderous Flatulence
  5. Igor Ivanovich McMurty of the New Hampshire McMurtys
  6. The Man With the Carbon Rod
  7. Mr. Nincompoop
  8. The Quadraplegic
  9. Odd-Size-Pants
  10. Dr. Pizza