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Volume 32, Issue 1:
The Heuristic Playboy

Future Assassins of Barack Obama Turn Out for Obama Campaign

With his momentum skyrocketing and the March 4th primaries on the horizon, deranged white males eager to have a crack at America’s first black president have thrown their support behind Barack Obama. Speaking from a hand-built log cabin, bearded group spokesman Eugene Douglas fielded questions from reporters. “We’re thrilled to have this monumental opportunity. We see an America ready to move past its old cultural divisions. Only by crushing the symbol of this new hope can we re-establish our proud, fearful, and racist heritage. That is why we are supporting Barack Obama.” Added Douglas, “THE JEWS ARE LIZARD PEOPLE! KEEBLER ELVES PUT A CHIP IN MY HEAD! 9/11 WAS AN INSIDE JOB! WRAAAAAGH.”

When asked for comment on the endorsement, Obama campaign spokesman Bill Burton replied, “This election is not about old versus young, rich versus poor…nor is it about a brilliant black politician versus a group of inbred, rifle-clutching homeschoolers decoding secret messages they believe Jesus hid inside ‘Catcher in the Rye’…our campaign welcomes the support of every American.”

First Drafts of Famous Novels

CUjo theBIGASS DOG

By drunk Stephen King

“oh, shIT” thought this fuckin woman as she got into her car. “loook at that fucking dog. i am just goonna lie down”

she lied down in the car because she was tired

then this fucken dog shows up at the gotdamn window! The Dog was all aslobbery and put its face on the window

THE dog was all big and killed epople bceause it hada VENDETTA or a CRINIMALS” GHOST in him

Wait the woman had a kid with her I think, this kid was reasonably scared of the dog

hold on wait! also i forgot they forgot to close one of thew indows in there car so cujo does that thing that dogs do where they put their head outside and let their tongue flap in the breeze as you are driving only this time it was THE OPPOSITE AND THE DOG WAS COMING IN

SHIT, I spilled whiskeys on my lapp Myhead hurts so fucking much” thoughet me.

I mean the lady, she gots up andshe went to the fridge and, she started it. she Locked the door and put her head against the fridges dashboard and moaned until my wife found her>

 

Journey to the Center of the Earth

by Jules Verne

The first mile was finished! The intrepid adventurer-cum-academic Professor Lidenbrock looked over the hundred-man digging operation and allowed himself a satisfied smile. “Only 3,948 vertical miles to go until we get to the center of the Earth and its innumerable treasures!” he exclaimed, accurately.

“Sir,” panted his nephew Axel, who toiled in the pit below and was presently damp with sweat, “You’ve been working us for days. These men need a break. And the shovels you’ve given us are shoddy!” He was right. The shovels had been pieced together at the last minute from various bits of silverware that the Professor had stolen from History Department luncheons, and the coolie laborers were exhausted and demoralized. Some of the more insolent among them had questioned the Professor’s prescient decision to begin the journey to the center of the earth from the summit of Mount Fuji.

“If you saved the pocket-money I gave you, boy, you might’ve been able to afford the steam-shovel in which I am currently riding!” chortled Lindenbrock, who took hold of a lever and pulled it. The machine under him shuddered and whined, and steam poured from its many, many mechanisms for legitimate scientific reasons which shall not be described here.

The DaVinci Code

By Dan Brown

DaVinci had stayed up all night writing code, but he just couldn’t get the syntax right, “Dammit!” he yelled, throwing down his quill pen. “When is Alan Turing gonna invent some fucking computers so I can put this code in them?”

“You don’t have to shout, DaVinci,” said a low voice behind him. DaVinci jumped, startled, then whirled around like a ballet dancer who is supposed to pirouette in full revolutions but is lazy. Turing stood in the doorway, the stench of the time-machine’s exhaust hanging about him like a sweet musk. He smiled the smile of a man who had invented computers in the present and was satisfied with the work he had done.

Suddenly, 1500 years ago, Jesus had a family and wasn’t divine.

Dinosaur Park

By Michael Crichton

As Malcolm looked at his calculator, his hands began to shake. “No,” he thought to himself, “This can’t be true. Not yet, anyway…” But the evidence was all there. Because the dinosaur skeletons were reanimated by harnessing the power of lightning, they all had too much DNA and would soon start going crazy. And according to Malcolm’s chaos theory calculations, they would start now. Off in the distance, an alarm sounded.

Dr. Grant was busy impregnating dinosaurs with mosquitoes when the alarm startled him. “Probably just another velociraptor flying into a transformer,” he said to himself, and then returned to his work. A crashing sound from the triceratops tank snapped him back to reality, just in time to see a brontosaurus break into the aquarium and feast on one of the triceratops’ furry hides before breaking through the tank’s lead wall with its razor-sharp antlers. Grant reached for his shotgun but was stopped when Malcolm rushed into the room. “Don’t do it! Their genomes are completely unstable!” But it was too late. Grant fired off a shot directly into the leviathan’s DNA core, causing it to evolve into a bird.

McCain Hesitant to Choose Running Mate/Eventual President

At a stump speech in El Paso, Texas earlier this week, Republican presidential hopeful John McCain expressed the difficulty in selecting a running mate, as his tenuous grasp on his own mortal coil makes the decision all the more important. “I don’t have long left,” stated McCain to a crowd of reassuringly denying supporters. “No, no, now, I’m being realistic about the situation. I don’t have long left and I’d like to, just once, have a good president succeed me after I’m gone. I can’t have Huckabee Jesusing everything up or Paul turning this country into the underwater dystopia from Bioshock.”

McCain could not be reached for comment, as shortly after the speech his saggy, creaking frame collapsed and breathed life no more.

Third Grade Science Fair Projects

Research Question

What is a graph?
Hypothesis

It is how numbers are in love.
Prediction

An 8 is a girl 6.
Experiment

Start long division homework.
Observations

It is hard!
Testing/Methodology

Go outside.
Results

Fell out of tree and hurt knee. Oh my gosh I forgot graphs!

Research Question

What did dinosaurs smell like?
Hypothesis

Lemon Otter Pops and sand.
Prediction

Otter Pop I dropped on the beach will taste bad.
Experiment

Go ask Grandpa what his dinosaur smelled like.
Observations

Grandpa is dead.
Testing/Methodology

I went to the museum and smelled one of their dinosaurs. It smelled like Grandpa.
Results

Grandpa = dinosaur?

Research Question

I’m going to make a volcano.
Hypothesis

It’s gonna be boss.
Prediction

Also it’s gonna be rad.
Experiment

TOP SECRET, NERD
Observations

Red food paint makes it look like fire.
Testing/Methodology

Aw man it smells.
Results

Give me first place.

Research Question

Hand Turkeys!
Hypothesis

I wish it were Thanksgiving RIGHT NOW!
Prediction

It isn’t yet. Darn!
Experiment

His name is Chuck and he is a boy turkey.
Observations

Safety scissors
Testing/Methodology

Look at the calendar and wait real hard
Results

They made me see a brain doctor

Saw XVI

The Edge Dulls

Scene 1

Frightened Man : [waking up] What … what’s going on? What is this!?
Saw : This is the game.
FM : Where are my glasses, I can’t see!
Saw : These are the rules. In the center of the room is a chair. Underneath the chair, I have placed your glasses. You must wait in this room for ten hours. This is the choice: If you sit on the chair, your glasses will be crushed. And if you do not … [dramatic pause] your hips are going to get pretty tired.
FM : Oh no, that’s so … inconvenient.
Saw : Yes, exactly.
FM : Couldn’t I just sit on the ground?

[a pause to think]
Saw : It’s really dirty.
FM : But, like, I was just passed out on the floor, so this jacket’s ruined anyway…
Saw : No it’s awful, really awful. I never clean it.
FM : [settling in] Mmm. This is actually really comfortable. Good for the back.

Scene 4

FM : Where’s the key?
Saw : In your stomach. [evil laugh]
FM : …So I can just wait to poop it out?
Saw : Yes!
FM : I dunno, that doesn’t seem so bad. I mean I’ve had kidney stones before so–
Saw : Just wait until you have poo all over your hands. It’s gonna be terrible.
FM : [pointing to a hideous contraption going into his jaw] Okay, so what does this thing on my face do?
Saw : I thought your teeth looked pretty crooked.

Scenes from Scene 9 (Flashback)

FM1 : [waking] Uuugh, my head.
FM2 : [waking] Fuck, where are we?
Saw : Listen closely. At your current heart rate, this room will be devoid of oxygen in 30 minutes, and you will asphyxiate. The door is electronically set to open after 60 minutes. The only way to survive is to kill your best friend using this convenient pneumatic drill press.
FM1 : What about that window up there?
Saw : Oh. It’s stuck. I think the painters painted over it.
FM2 : There’s a trick for when that happens. You have to pull inwards before pushing out. Here, Bill, climb on my shoulders…
Saw : Stop, that’s dangerous. Uh, the window is covered in poison and in order to get the antidote you’ll, um, have to kiss each other. Like, a serious mouth kiss. Hello? Guys? Hello?

Scene 22 (CGI not done)

Saw : [setting up torture machine]
Groggy Man : [waking] Huh? Where am I?
Saw : Shit, you weren’t supposed to wake up now…can you go back to sleep for a while?
GM : Um… what are you doing with that drill?
Saw : I’m, uh, a carpenter. I’m fixing this chair you fell asleep in.
GM : Oh, I see. Are you fixing all these chains, too?
Saw : Yes. They’re…wood chains. They need some more nails.
GM : Oh, nails, okay. That explains it; I think you may have accidentally dropped some into my crotch and then accidentally hammered them in.
Saw : Yeah. I’ll get to those in a second.
GM : It’s cool. Y’know, it looks like you’re using a bit that’s too big to attach this iron maiden mask. You might just want to go with a regular screwdriver if you’re trying to–
Saw : Fuck it. [Shoots him]

Squelch Co. Travel

Bakersfield Mystery Spot

If you’re just drivin’ so fucking fast and you want to RELAX I got the place for you, man. Whether you’re a trucker or just an unemployed former trucker you should come on down to The Bakersfield Mystery Spot: The Happiest Meth Lab On Earth. Can you geniuses solve the puzzle of the Bakersfield Mystery Spot’s mind-bending visions and strange physical phenomena?

(Hint: The answer is meth)

Everyone Wants to Get Away to…Haiti

Come catch Haiti Fever! (But don’t forget to inoculate yourself against Haitian Fever, it will make you die)

We have nothing else to say about Haiti.

The Midwest

Are you a family of seven with identical haircuts? Do you dislike oceans? Then we’ve got the place for you: the Midwest is America’s Land of Land! The people down here are real people. You won’t find any snooty Hollywood phonies puttering around their “im-mobile” homes.

Dimension R

Enter to Dimension R, Humanlady. Comfortable places here to stand and sit, all emit light! Beds enjoy containing finest bird fibers, keeping the warmth during our endless night. Hydrophilic humans can execute immersion in nearby beach elixir with unharmful pH level. Travel to proximate Hive Mind mirage parties! This is compulsory.

Wet Basement

Dampness ho! A Wet Basement is the place to find yourself . . . and that shit you threw away. Amuse yourself with whimsical diversions such as your childhood and adolescent whimsical diversions. Remember your old Teddy Ruxpin doll? Well, it’s right here and it’s right mildewy! A Wet Basement is also the perfect getaway for young lovers looking for a moist and dark place. By young lovers we mean spiders.

19th Century English Debtor’s Prison

You know what they say: what happens in debtor’s prison stays in debtor’s prison. Only what’s happening is you. Take part in the following fun activities:

  • Beg for alms through your cell’s luxurious air hole!

  • Plot your revenge against your cruel and miserly landlord!

  • Die laughing (of typhus)!

We promise: Your squalid accommodations will be as cute as the dickens!

Anderson Cooper Interviews Anderson Cooper

Anderson Cooper : Before we get going, I just gotta say: I am a HUGE fan. Thank you for granting me this interview.
Anderson Cooper : (laughs) Please, the pleasure is all mine. I’ve never met such an attractive reporter.
AC : Neither have I. Anyway, to business. Many of your fans fawn over your hard-hitting, pull-no-punches style of journalism. But naysayers often dismiss you as nothing more than a simple man with a soft heart and hard facts. How tremendous is your impact?
AC : (smiles, waves hands dismissively) Well, I wouldn’t say tremendous, exactly. Gigantic, yes. Tremendous, no. Perhaps humongous. Did you know I wrote a thesaurus?
AC : Ah yes, your #1 bestseller, Anderson Cooper’s List of Words That He Knows. I heard that they had to tape two calculators together to tally up the sales. Next question: what’s on your agenda?
AC : I’ve got this project in the works. It’s called “Anderson Cooper 720,” which is similar to my current show except that it’s played twice in a row. It comes on right after Anderson Cooper 360. At the end of 720 I point at the camera and smirk . . . twice. Oh, and did I say similar, back there? I meant absolutely identical in every way.
AC : Wow, that’s just incredible! When does it air?
AC : Before twenty-three hours of inferior programming. By which I mean Thursdays at 7.
AC : Oh no! I’m always busy at 7. That’s when I stand in front of the mirror and gaze into my own eyes. I suppose I could always put the television directly behind me.
AC : Definitely. Speaking of which, it’s almost 7. (fingers car keys)
AC : Gotcha. Last question. Any take-home advice for potential journalists?
AC : No, because advice is for Dan Rather’s bastard children. I lead by handsome example. By “handsome” I mean “being” and by “example” I mean “handsome.”

Coach Parker’s Halftime Pep Talk

All right you nitwits, get your asses over here and huddle up. I got some things to say. I’ve never seen such a pathetic performance. At this point I’m seriously considering just benching all of you and subbing in your tigers.

I’ll be honest with you assholes: I’m not having a good day. I know that a magician should never tell his secrets, but I’m going to tell you one anyway: my son’s in jail. And not the kind you’re supposed to escape from.

You know what they nailed him for? Public intoxication. He passed out in the bouncy castle after one

too many Mike’s Hard Lemonades, and what should have been a dazzling show of prestidigitation was just another ruined sixth birthday party.

But I grew a pair and I dealt with it. I didn’t just cry, extract an endless chain of garishly colored

handkerchiefs from my open mouth, and wipe my eyes with them. No, I did what any self-respecting magician would do: I reached into a top hat, pulled out my 9 mm “wand,” and “murdered” everyone in the police station. I want you boys to go out there with that kind of chutzpah.

Okay, let’s get down to business. We’re losing by twenty points and we’ve committed more personal

fouls than I can count. My star forward’s injured and my best point guard is in a straightjacket and  locked inside an aquarium. So I’m gonna need you all to pick up the slack.

Nicholson, I like you. I like you a lot, buddy, but honestly you’ve gotta get your head in the game. Every time LaSalle passes you the rock, you charge up the middle like an idiot, try for an impossible lay-up when you’re being double-teamed by those giants Mason and Laferty, and then on the rebound you turn the ball into doves. I can’t believe you would do something so crazy! You know that card tricks work better in a fullcourt press. Fundamentals, man!

Kowolski! What the hell was that? Whose ass did you pull that play out of? You pulled it out of Carleton’s? Man, you were supposed to pull it out of the ear of a doe-eyed child! Come on!

And Magic Johnson. I’m not even sure why I drafted you. Not only are you supposed to be retired, but the only magic thing you’ve done is not die of AIDS. After this game I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago…saw your salary in half. Right after I fire you.

(pauses, looks around at circle of gathered players, sighs) Man, why did I ever decide to coach magician basketball?

Palestinian Militants Seize Aladdin’s Lamp

The Palestinian nationalist group Hamas recently announced that their January breach of the Egyptian border at Gaza was not for “food” and “supplies,” but instead for the lamp containing the Genie from Disney’s Aladdin. After a pitched battle with Egyptian soldiers bearing Kalashnikovs and scimitars, Hamas managed to obtain the lamp and carry it deep into their own territory. The lamp now rests behind Hamas’ most formidable line of defense: a tattered tent guarded by only the strongest children armed with rocks.

Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas became the first to take advantage of the lamp’s wish-granting powers. “Israel!” he shouted, rubbing the ancient artifact furiously. “Come on!”

Despite Abbas’s best efforts, his people were not instantly established in the land for which they have fought so hard. “Fooled you!” chortled Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak. “I already used up all the wishes, and the lamp’s powers are useless.” He then sauntered into his beach-side pyramid which housed a harem of Angelina Jolies.

The Genie of the Lamp, known to Americans as Robin Williams, could not be reached for comment, as The Squelch is trapped for eternity in the Cave of Wonders because someone just had to have that goddamn ruby.

Words from the Top

Some of our more astute readers may have noticed that there was no January issue, while some of our more illiterate readers may have been frightened by the use of “astute” and are now crying and looking for an adult. We’d like to use this space to explain ourselves, and perhaps offer an olive branch to everyone who is smart enough to go to Berkeley but reads Squelch anyway.

Like most respectable organizations, the Squelch has its share of time-honored traditions. One of our more hallowed ones is going to Mexico because we fucking felt like it this time. We felt we should experience the shit out of another culture the only way we know how: eating peyote and sitting around talking about where to get additional peyote. Some of us sat paralyzed for hours, minds filled with strange images and nightmare creatures. We transcended space and time and entered some other dimension that seemed to be based mainly on LCD Soundsystem songs and being scared of dogs. Aztec gods descended from the vaulting heavens, telling us to practice human sacrifice. At least we had the sense not to listen to—no wait aarrrrrghghghg

Needless to say, with all the time we spent soaking up the scenery and getting put in Mexican jail, we didn’t have a lot of time to do things like write a magazine or get out of Mexican jail. Please write to Amnesty International and help those world citizens who need it most: white druggie college kids.