Latest Issue
Volume 32, Issue 1:
The Heuristic Playboy

So You’re Going to Hell

Lead a life of debauchery?  Sinned against nature?  Rejected the legitimacy of your one/multiple true God/gods?  Use this handy reference to see just what you ought to expect.

 

Catholicism

What Your Hell is Like: Not as grandiose or visually striking as Vatican paintings imply.

Why You’re Here:  Did not purchase indulgence.

Company: Serial killers, rapists, sex ed teachers

Tormentor(s): Lee Harvey Oswald.

Way Out:  Knowing a guy.

Protestantism

What Your Hell is Like: Forcibly gay married to Richard Dawkins

Why You’re Here:  Too poor.

Company: People foolish enough to live before Christ

Tormentor(s): Creatures evolving just to spite you

Way Out: Besting Satan in Fiddle Hero

Islam

What Your Hell is Like: A searing pit where sinners and Shaitan alike suffer in flames that are 70 times hotter than those on Earth, away from the garden of delight that is Paradise

Why You’re Here: Disobeyed one of the five (if Sunni) or eight (if Shia) pillars of faith or performed the most grievous crime of hypocrisy by claiming to accept Allah and Mohammed but denouncing them in your heart

Company: Betrayers and usurers in a tiered system of punishment similar to – but distinct from – the Christian Dantean viewpoint

Tormentor(s): A horde of the most fiendish ifrits and djinns, nightmare creatures made of smokeless fire.

Way Out: Please don’t have our funding taken away

Buddhism

What Your Hell is Like: Forced to own massive amount of property

Why You’re Here: Misinterpreted vague poem about lotus flower or bee or whatever.

Company: Bully who picked on Buddha in 4th grade

Tormentor(s): Monks embarrassingly more serene than you

Way Out: Ask politely

Judaism

What Your Hell is Like: Since you don’t believe in Hell, you’re actually stuck in the really shitty part of Heaven

Why You’re Here: You couldn’t have called ahead for reservations maybe?

Company: Those awful, noisy Pakowiczes next door, on my worst enemy’s dog I wouldn’t wish this kind of treatment.

Tormentors: Overbearing mothers.

Way Out: Go to med school, why don’t you.

Hinduism

What Your Hell is Like: Trapped in chasm, only allowed 4 sexual positions.

Why You’re Here: Reincarnated as another dead guy.

Company: Whatever the opposite of a cow is.

Tormentors: The studio that brought you The Love Guru.

Way Out: Die (again.)

Scientology

What Your Hell is Like: Simultaneously receiving psychiatric care and not enough attention.

Why You’re Here: Insufficiently crazed proselytizing

Company: Ghost aliens. No, seriously. Ghost aliens.

Tormentors: L. Ron Hubbard laughing at you atop a boat made of money

Way Out: Give him more money

SPORTS DESK: You Suck at Beer Pong

Since moving into your fraternity house in late August, you have spent every other night playing beer pong. Unfortunately, due to various factors, including your alleged summer-long abstinence from alcohol, your tolerance for Natty Ice has largely deteriorated. Coupled with your naturally bad hand-eye coordination, this has caused you to fail to win a single game of beer pong as of now.

 

“You are such a bitchass, bro,” your roommate crowed yesterday, over his third consecutive victory of the night, as he unrolled the sleeves of his button-down shirt with an annoyingly smooth flourish. “You throw like some kind of a bitchass or something.” He then proceeded to do a one-handed kegstand. Later, as you both prepared to go to sleep, he bid you good night by saying, “Sweet dreams, bitchass!”

 

In other news, you have come down with some kind of a weird eye infection or something.

 

 

BEER PONG STANDINGS
1. Your Roommate
2. Roommate’s Gay(?) Friend
3. That One Hot Girl
4. Guy Who Is Always Hanging Around But You Don’t Know Who He’s Friends With
5. 30-year-old Alum Who No One Wants to Kick Out
6. Next Door Neighbor
7. Next Door Neighbor’s Cat
8. You

The Carnie Life

Every now and then I find myself thinking, “Max, what if carnies were real people? Where would they go? What would they do?” As it turns out, this summer I had the distinct displeasure of working at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk as a ride operator. My experiences there changed me into one of them forever.

 

These are the untold stories of Carnie life.

_

 

_

_Work

_

Child: I can’t get my seatbelt on. Can you help me?

Me: Yeah whatever, no one helped me in life. You can figure it out like I did.

Child: Doesn’t this ride go upside down?

Me: Maybe. I stop paying attention after I start the ride. Here we go!

-One minute later-

Prostitute: So, are we gonna do this or do you want to wait till the ride’s finished?

Me: Baby, I didn’t wake up at ten fuckin’ thirty for any of your fancy city talk. I did it to start drinking. Anyway, let’s have sex.

Prostitute: Oh yeah, let’s– OH MY GOD! Some kid just fell off that ride!  I think he’s dead.

Me: Don’t look at me. I told him to put his fucking seatbelt on.

_

 

_

_Basic Necessities

_

Grocery Store Clerk: You’re purchasing how many bottles of tequila?

Me: Just 10. I’m not very thirsty today. Oh, and I need a lime.

Clerk: If you don’t mind me asking sir, what do you eat?

Me: That’s what the lime is for, dumbass. That and scurvy.

Clerk: Okay. That brings your total to 214 dollars and 62 cents. How will you be paying today?

Me: With the green paper stuff. What’s it called?

Clerk: Cash?

Me: Yeah, that’s it.

  [Hands over green paper stuff]

Clerk: Sir, this isn’t money. This is just green construction paper that you scribbled numbers all over. Even then, it still only adds up to fifty cents.

Me: Read the back.

Clerk: “WYL U IZ REEDING THIS I IZ TAKING BOOZ AND RUNING.” God dammit, not again!

_

 

_

_Dating

_

Me: So the point of my story is if you’re not careful you can end up with herpes in BOTH your eyes!

Woman: That…that’s disgusting.

Me: Hey don’t judge until you’ve tried it.

Woman: Okay yeah, I’m definitely leaving now.

Me: Just like my wife on my eleventh birthday last year? Women! You’re all the same. You’re more immature than my 3 year old son. Or his three year old, for that matter!

Woman: Did you say eleven? You told me you were Gary Busey! That’s the only reason I’m here!

Me: Naw, that’s my daddy.

Woman: I thought you said your daddy was Robert Downey Jr.?

Me: Naw, that’s my other daddy. Maw was pretty drunk. That’s why I got me a speech impediment.

 

_Safety Training

_

Boss:   So we don’t really know what this button does, or why it’s here, but legend is that it was pressing this button what gave Frank polio.  So don’t press this button.

Me:****   Right.

Boss:  Next up, this piece of equipment is really dangerous and shouldn’t be operated if you’ve been drinking.

Me:  But how am I supposed to get through the day without tequila?

Boss:****   Pssh.  Okay, if you’ve been drinking pussy shit like tequila, that’s fine, princess.  I meant _really _drinkin’.

Me:****   There’s a lot of sparks comin’ out of this wire.  What should I do about that?

Boss:****   Shit, we need more gum. 

_

 

_

_Hanging Out With Co-Workers

_

Jeb:   Damn, sometimes it’s just good to hang out outside of the workplace.  Specifically, in the parking lot.

Charley:   You gonna eat that cigarette?

Jeb:   Hell yes, the filter is where all the vitamins are.

Me:   You guys ever see that ghost that walks around the Fried Beer stand?

Charley:   Aw, you mean ol’ Carnie McGee?  He’s somethin’ of a legend around these parts.

Jeb:****   According to myth, he was president of the carnies, until he disbanded our union in exchange for half of a Meat-Lover’s pizza.  Some say he was struck by lightning while hosing off vomit.  Some contend he died of a broken heart after his wife left him for her other nephew.  Charley says he saw him get hit by a motorcycle.

Charley:   And he’s been haunting the park ever since, for a whole week.

Volume 17, Issue 5: Wizard of Oswald

Kenya Elects “Power Thirst” New President

KENYA—After months of political unrest and violence due to the contested re-election of incumbent President Mwai Kibaki in the 2008 race against Raila Odinga, the people of Kenya have elected popular College Humor video “Power Thirst” as their president. Though Power Thirst has absolutely no experience in any kind of government office, it does have “more energy than your body has room for.”

Some political analysts have cited Power Thirst’s inspirational message of gaining strength from delicious flavors like Rawberry, Manana, and Fizzbitch as the reason for its unexpected win. Others attribute the victory to the fact that Power Thirst consumers sired half of the Kenyan population; these running babies then utilized their gratuitous amounts of energy to sprint to voting booths and bearblast their fathers’ energy drink of choice into power.

Contenders Odinga and Kibaki cited Power Thirst’s history of hosting sweaty rave parties and being crystal meth as reasons to impeach it, but were soon punched in the face by Power Thirst’s vice president, a jet fighter made of biceps.

When asked for comment, Power Thirst thrusted.

Guide to Theme Bars

Past Imperfect

Desired clientele: English teachers

Undesired clientele: The passive voice

Décor: Flowery, yet subtly evocative of customers’ inner thoughts

On the TV behind the counter: _Masterpiece Theater

_

Signature cocktail: The Dylan Tonic

 

Stalag 17

Desired clientele: WWII vets

Undesired clientele: The Krauts!

Décor: Mostly Betty Grable pinups

On the TV behind the counter: Tom Hanks reading a Bible out loud.

Signature cocktail: Sgt. Schnapps

 

The Alcoholodeck

Desired clientele: Trekkies

Undesired clientele: Evil alternate-universe selves

Décor: Futuristic, but with no apparent restrooms

On the TV behind the counter: Gee, what do you think?

Signature cocktail: Synthohol

 

The Lair

Desired clientele: Supervillains

Undesired clientele: Infernal do-gooders, frat boys

Décor: Volcano/Arctic/Desert/Jungle theme

On the TV behind the counter: Lifetime

Signature cocktail: They just call it “the serum”

 

The Opiate of the Masses

Desired clientele: Marxists

Undesired clientele: People with jobs

Décor: Functional

On the TV behind the counter: CNBC ironically

Signature cocktail: Molotov

 

Bar

Desired clientele: Drunks

Undesired clientele: AA sponsors

Décor: Blurry

On the TV behind the counter: somethinurrrghleemelone

Signature cocktail: Rubbing alcohol and tears

John Barrow, Industrial Spy

The call from HQ came in about 3 AM, activating my special communicator. “The tech boys sure are weird,” I thought to myself. “It doesn’t look like a blackberry at all.” My mission was deceptively simple: PrintCo had blueprints of their new copy machine locked in their New York office. My job: to infiltrate the premises and steal, er, copies.

Bright and early I showed up at the office, my alias ready. “John Barrow, Industrial Sp-“ I caught myself just in time. No need to blow my cover so early. “-ecialist.” I deftly finished. The guard’s face told me that my deception was intact, though his suspicions may have been raised. I knew I shouldn’t have worn my “Agent Mike’s Online Industrial Espionage School… For Spies” tie.

I was in! The workplace was a whirl of activity. Men typing, women typing, people walking to the bathroom before coming back to start typing. I knew no one would notice me in the middle of such a hubbub. I lurked unobtrusively, observing my surroundings while waiting for a pigeon. The light was stark and inescapable, keeping all PrintCo’s henchmen in view. Across the hall was a foreboding door: “Mr. Sweetwater”, it read. Clearly the hideout of the madman behind all this.

Then I saw her. A secretary of some kind, in her own little office attached to the mysterious Sweetwater’s lair. I knew a little romance was all I needed to get her talking. I walked on in, suave as you please, and turned the charm up to eleven. Sure enough, within half an hour she was telling me all she knew. Curiously, most of it seemed to be about the company’s sexual-harassment policy. A code?

Before I could make sense of it all I was startled by a knock on the door. “Mr. Sweetwater would like to see you.” Damn! I was found out! I had no choice but to follow the messenger to the very heart of the operation. As we neared Sweetwater’s sanctum I weighed my options. Should I kill the man? Force him to reveal the location of the blueprints? Snitch on the guy in the break room huffing toner?My mind was awhirl as I entered the room.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Barrow,” said the balding, bespectacled villain. “I just had a call to make before giving you these blueprints.” To my shock he produced the very items I had been sent to find. “I understand you’re an industrial spy, sent to steal these. The guard outside overheard your internal monologue.” Curses! Was I narrating to myself out loud the whole time?

 

“Yes, you were. Anyway, you can have the plans if you want them. I just don’t see why you would need blueprints of our new office copier, when we actually manufacture fingerprinting kits. Anyway, you can take these and go, provided you leave right now and quit mumbling at everyone.”

Another mission accomplished!

“Seriously, stop that.”

Dialectician CyberSex

EnglishIsExcellent: Good evening miss.

HotSexBabe396: hey there mister

EnglishIsExcellent: What is your age, sex, and location?

HotSexBabe396: 18 f sf

EnglishIsExcellent: Would you like to put that into a complete sentence? It would make it a lot sexier.

HotSexBabe396: not really

EnglishIsExcellent: All right, never mind. Describe to me your physical appearance.

HotSexBabe396: im skinny with big tits and i only got on a pair of really tight jeans

EnglishIsExcellent: edit: “I have on only a pair of really tight jeans.”

HotSexBabe396: huh?

EnglishIsExcellent: Your placement of the word “only” was incorrect. If you only have on something then you do nothing but have it. You do not eat, sleep, breathe, etc. If you have on only something, then you are wearing only that something.

HotSexBabe396: ….

HotSexBabe396: o…..k…i have on only a pair of jeans.

EnglishIsExcellent: By Jove, that’s hot!!! May I help you out of your trousers and knickers?

HotSexBabe396: wtf are trosers

EnglishIsExcellent: My hand is reaching down the front of your jeans as I am gently kissing you on the neck.

**HotSexBabe396: ** i breathe slow as you undo my pants and i grab a hold of your joystick

EnglishIsExcellent: Slowly, you breathe slowly.Slow is not an adverb.

HotSexBabe396: u always talk like this?

EnglishIsExcellent: It turns me on. Can you just repeat it correctly?

HotSexBabe396: im breathing slowly

EnglishIsExcellent: You’re making me so hard! Your pants are off and I’m touching you all over.

HotSexBabe396: im laying down on the bed now

HotSexBabe396: come here i want you

EnglishIsExcellent: What are you laying?

HotSexBabe396: im laying on the bed

EnglishIsExcellent: No, I mean lay is a transitive verb.You didn’t have an object.Did you mean that you are lying on the bed?

HotSexBabe396: OH MY FUCKING GOD! You are ruining everything!! im ignoring you

EnglishIsExcellent: Wait a minute. That’s the last time. I won’t do it anymore.

HotSexBabe396: fine

HotSexBabe396: im getting off the bed and putting my face in front of your crotch

EnglishIsExcellent: Yeah come on baby!

HotSexBabe396: i didnt tell you earlier but im a midget

HotSexBabe396: so i dont have to kneel down

EnglishIsExcellent: Yes yes!

**HotSexBabe396: ** like if i was a normal size person

EnglishIsExcellent: WHAT! Stop right now! Bad usage, punctuation, and capitalisation is one thing, but when you shit on the subjunctive mood you have gone too far. Go learn to conjugate some verbs, you plebian whore!

HotSexBabe396: so you dont want me to cyber-suck your cock?

EnglishIsExcellent signed off

Jesus Not Ready For Committed Relationship with Area Woman

Local woman Ellen Perry found her religious life shattered last Saturday after it was revealed to her by Jesus Christ that the personal relationship she had developed with Him was shared with almost 1.5 billion other people. Initially, Ms. Perry took the news hard, ranting to our reporters “I just can’t believe it, after all the shit I’ve put up with, like Him not being able to go to nice restaurants that require shoes because of holes in His feet or Him sitting around the house all day in His robe saying He’d already sacrificed Himself for my sins, He cheats on me with a quarter of the planet!”

According to eyewitnesses, Jesus finally mentioned His other relationships on a dinner date after Ellen mentioned how nice it would be to live together. Upon hearing the news, Ellen grew furious threw a glass of water, which promptly turned into wine at Jesus’ face, and stormed out, spending the rest of the weekend in bed “putting back together the broken pieces of her faith in a higher power.”

Perry has stated a willingness to move on and is reportedly going on a blind date with Buddha, a deity described by her friends as a nice laid back sort of guy whose only golden rule is “no fat chicks.”

Jesus could not be reached for comment.

MTV Cribs For Pregnant Women

(Camera pans stylishly over the façade of a modest two-bedroom house in suburbia. Cue theme music, which is either Kanye West’s “Stronger” or Kanye West’s “Stronger (Remix).” The door opens to reveal a pregnant woman wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt and sandals. She smiles and waves.)
Woman : What’s up MTV! This is Sara Eckhart, and this is my crib. Come on in! Let me show you around.

(camera follows woman into the bathroom)
Sara : All my pregnant homies tell me, you ain’t a player unless you’ve got a solid gold toilet into which you can throw up each morning.

(goes into bedroom, playfully sprawls across bed, teasingly traces finger along pillow)
Sara : Aww yeah, MTV. This is where the magic happens. And by magic I mean my husband no longer finds me attractive.


**

Sara (opens refrigerator)**: Let me show you something real interesting: the foods I have. (Jump cuts over foods in fridge) This fridge is tricked out, yo! I got everything from pickles to ice cream to additional pickles—I got the hookup, man! It is never enough.


**

Sara (pointing to sink)**: This is where we’re gonna bathe my kid. We got one of those baths that tells you the temperature. It cost us a damn C-note, but that’s just how we roll. Scalding babies is for scrubs. So is making them cold. I can’t remember which is worse. I gotta read my b-b-b-baby books, son!


**

Sara**: This is where my little baby’s gonna go! (gives crib a quick jiggle, laughs) Chekkitycheck this shabby chic dust ruffle–we collaborated with an interior designer to create a gender nonspecific space for our unborn child, yo.
Husband : (whispering desperately at wife’s uterus) Boyboyboyboyboy…


**

Sara**: (opens closet) I got tons of clothes up in here, none of which fit because I’m so phat.
Husband : I think you want “fat,” honey.
Sara : . . . yes.


**

Sara**: So you’ve seen my baby stuff. Why don’t I show you my other baby: my mo’fuckin’ 2001 PT Cruiser.

(about a dozen seizure-inducing jump cuts of a purple PT Cruiser)
Sara : Yeah, I’ve got crazy stories about me and my bitches rollin’ through the city, hitting up clubs and dancing like it wuddin’ nothing. (sigh) But that was then. (more jump cuts fill the awkward silence)