Latest Issue
Volume 33, Issue 1:
The HEURISTIC! Squelch
Volume 15- Issue 3

Which Is More Useful: A Female vs. a 16th Century Map

November 1, 2005
,

We’ve all heard the old Bible verse: “Women are about as useful as a sixteenth-century map.” Let’s use science to figure out which one is better.

Map: When used with a sextet, could roughly predict direction for ships to sail during oceanic voyages (assuming polestar is visible)
Female: Uses sextet to plot days of inexplicable crying
Winner: MAP

Map: When rolled up, can be used for passable intercourse
Female: Intercourse is for transmuting fun into angry babies
Winner: MAP

Map: Early cartographic methods underestimated size of temperate latitude land masses
Female: Always gaining more weight, even when they think we don’t realize it. We do.
Winner: MAP

Map: Will give you directions to where you’re going
Female: Cries when she catches you trying to have sex with Map
Winner: MAP

Map: Were carefully preserved and never folded due to cost of creation
Female: Improperly folds my shirts
Winner: MAP

Map: Can be rolled up and placed into a tube
Female: Can be placed in a tube, messily
Winner: MAP

Map: Can’t cook or clean
Female: Can’t cook or clean either, but still more emotionally available than Map.

Someday, Map. Someday.
Winner: TIE

Volume 15- Issue 3

From the Notebook of Ben Hoffman, Child Anthropologist

November 1, 2005
,

Observations. Day 10, Friday
From my outpost in the treehouse above Sandbox 4

The Swing Incident

Timmy claimed that he had counted to thirty, but Bobby knew otherwise. Timmy hadn’t separated his numbers according to the schoolyard’s established precedent. So it was that Timmy yelled “my turn!” while Bobby was only at ten bananas, and Bobby was sure as hell not ready to give up the swing with twenty bananas to go. “No!” yelled Bobby, “it’s still my turn.” Timmy, thinking quickly on his toes rebutted with “pig fucker!” sending the playground into silence.

There was some history between the boys. The two were close friends until an unfortunate accident during a game of TV tag left Timmy’s younger sister drowned in a pool of her own blood and legos. Bobby thought they were even after Timmy accepted his generous “two Kudos bars and a Lunchable for baggie of celery” deal, but Timmy wasn’t satisfied.

Now, with Bobby refusing to give up the swing, Timmy saw his opportunity for revenge and leveled the worst insult he could think of on the spot, “pig fucker.” This in itself would not have been that offensive, however only a week earlier Bobby had indeed fucked a pig.

Bobby, with his reputation hanging in the air above a gathering crowd, was in need of a comeback. Down, and not willing to take any risks, Bobby resorted to the tried and true “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

Bobby was confident; never before had this defense been cracked. He remembered many times when he claimed to be rubber and his attacker glue, but that inevitably ended up with him being unable to receive the wealth of compliments bestowed upon him by the attacker’s quick change of heart.

He also knew that the formerly classic “I know you are, but what am I” response hadn’t worked since two years earlier when Jamie Vesterbule and Craig Saunders became deadlocked in loops of this technique for 85 hours straight before both finally succumbed to dehydration. Plus, Bobby really had fucked a pig.

“Words can never hurt me” seemed like the safest way to go…but Timmy had anticipated such a response. Without a second’s hesitation Timmy threw a dictionary squarely into Bobby’s face, sending the unsuspecting boy sprawling off of the swing-set and into a growing puddle of sand, blood and tears.

A hero was born.

Observations. Day 11, Saturday

Still can’t get out of this treehouse.

Volume 15- Issue 3

The Many Lives of That Douche

November 1, 2005
,

Everyone who’s taken a humanities class knows That Douche. He’s the budding Rousseau in the front row who raises his hand in lecture to spout delightfully insipid pseudo-intellectual drivel. He’s so vociferous with his impromptu philosophizing that we all recognize him in class, but what does That Douche do with the REST of his life??

That Douche at a Sorority Invitational

Douche: Excuse me, but the way you’re shaking your posterior to Lil’ Jon is reminiscent of the disjointed, yet beautifully freeflowing style of James Joyce’s prose.
Girl: What!?!
Douche: I mean only to suggest that, like Locke’s Treatise on the Rights of Man, your ass could stand unmarred by centuries of criticism.
Girl: You’re a loser.
Douche: I have cocaine…

[they leave together]

On the Set of a Porno Film

Director: So what do you say?
Douche: Well, this reinforces many traditional gender roles, and it must also be noted that Mr. Hungwell’s portrayal of the cable repairman was sub-convincing at best. It’s reminiscent of Hegel’s theory of the super man to suggest, even symbolically, as you did, that it is the protagonist’s right and obligation to blow his load on the faces of all other actors.
Director: [Handing Douche a role of paper towels] Listen asshole, I didn’t hire you for your sociology degree. Go de-jizz Leshonda.

At the Doctor

Douche: Doc, I have a dull pain in my knee that lingers subtly, yet undeniably, after any physical activity, not unlike the way Martin Van Buren’s economic policy lingered in its ramifications long after the 1840s.
Doctor: I’ll prescribe you some Vicodin.
Douche: But will this solve the problem? I mean, there are systemic issues here that won’t be solved; drastic overhaul is necessary in a broader sense.
Doctor: Dude, I’m not a real doctor, and the script says you should be sucking my dick by now.

At Macy’s

Douche: Excuse me, sir, I’m looking for something in a stupid hat.

During a Bank Robbery

Robber: This is a robbery! Everyone put your fucking hands up or I’ll blow your fucking heads off! Now! NOW!
TD: Excuse me, my hand is already up. In fact it’s been up for quite some time.
Robber: Wait, what?
TD: [cough] Ehem [That Douche shakes his upraised hand]

Robber: Yes?
TD: It’s clear from the black and red coloring of your mask that you represent the fall of the Latino as America’s minority of choice, heralding in a new psycho-imperialist adoption of the continental Asian as the idealized working minority in the eyes of bourgeoisie neo-fascist America. Furthermore–

[Robber shoots That Douche 7 times in the face. He still manages to show up to every linguistics class for the next week.]

Volume 15- Issue 3

KJNK 104.2 FM

For Junkies, By Junkies

November 1, 2005
, ,

The Morning Show, with hosts Johnny Five and the Crazy Horse

Host: Hey, welcome to the morning show. Time right now is 6:32 pm.
Crazy Horse: They call me the Crazy Horse because I’m crazy about… wait, what?
Host: [sleeping]

Afternoon All Music Block

Host: And that was Velvet Underground’s “I’m Waiting for the Man,” played four times in a row. Next up, I’m going to lay on the floor for twenty minutes while the record player just keeps spinning in silence.

Drive Time Traffic Report

Host: It’s 11:45 pm and the streets are literally jam-packed with people driving to go get more H. What’s the traffic like Tina?
Tina the Traffic Slut: There’s a four-car wait at the Tenth and B alley, and expect a fifteen minute delay when buying at Gus’s apartment. Expect some vomit in front of his refrigerator. [Pause] I had a black baby last week.
Host: Four in one month isn’t bad, Tina.

Prize Giveaways

Host: Ok, we’re at the bottom of the hour and it’s time for some prize giveaways. What do have for our listeners today Jim? Jim? Oh Jim’s not in yet. He was supposed to bring a kilo of Hey Rey for the giveaway. Oh well, first caller gets it when he arrives. Let’s go to that caller right now.
Caller Number One: Hey, this is Jim. OOOOOOH that feels so good. AAAh, I’m going to be a little late todaaaaaaaaay. [Rubber band snapping noises] Oh my Christ I’m in heaven. Could you play Iggy Pop’s “The Passenger”? I’m going to overdose in my living room. Pick me up from the Saint Mark’s Hospital in an hour.

Question And Answer Hour

Host: You’re listening to KJNK 104.2. It’s time to field some of your questions. Let’s go to Tom in his Dad’s broken down warehouse near the train tracks. Tom.
Tom: Yeah, great show by the way, I’ve been trying to stab myself in the heart for the last couple of minutes but keep missing. Any suggestions?
Host: Yeah, the best way to do this mark your chest with a black X, stand in front of a mirror, and take dead aim.
Tom: Thanks I’ll try tha…ooooooh.
Host: I think he got it. Let’s go to Gary in ‘I don’t know where the fuck I am’. Gary.
Gary: Ah, yeah, I was wondering where the fuck I am right now.
Host: Are you by a road?
Gary: Road?
Host: Go to the nearest corner, flag an old person to the side of the road, jump them, steal their car and do more heroin inside it.

Volume 15- Issue 3

MONEY: Argentina Discontinues Use of Kitten Currency

November 1, 2005
, ,

In a 26-14 decision Thursday, Parliament voted to discontinue the use of kittens as currency in the financially-ravaged South American nation of Argentina.

Said spokesman Nicholas Garcia-Sege, “They don’t fit into a standard wallet. Vendors have begun to sell wallets with special ‘Kitten Compartments’ but frankly, they’re just slots with a hole for the tails, which the kittens then fall out of.”

Many citizens complained when their legal tender began to die for lack of food. This led officials to issue reminders to feed the kittens. Unfortunately, kitten food could only be purchased with kittens. The irony was simply too much to handle. Furthermore, those accustomed to storing their wallets in their back pocket found the habit difficult to break. “The results were rather ghastly,” commented Garcia-Sege.

The final nail in the coffin for the new currency came when eight-year-old Ramone Alazar stepped up to the cashier to pay for his school lunch. “It cost $3.50,” he cried. And cried.

Volume 15- Issue 2

Volume 15, Issue 2: Who is Waldo?

October 1, 2005
PDF Link

Features

Newsflashes

Top Tens

Volume 15- Issue 2

O Canada!

October 1, 2005
,

As a Canadian living in America, I have come to realize that you guys know next to nothing about your neighbors to the north, nor do you express any desire to know us. What, you think you’re better than us just because you have a big army and big economy? You think that just because we’re civil and courteous that we’re just a bunch of ninnies who’ll bend over and take it? Well, I’ll tell you what, that really frosts my bacon! That’s right, I said it. I went there. Now, if you feel so inclined, if it wouldn’t bother you or cause you inconvenience, perhaps reading these tidbits about Canadian culture could prove helpful to you…fuckers.

Sports
Hockey is so pervasive in Canada that it has leaked over into other aspects of Canadian life. Keep this in mind while traveling in Canada: When looking for a bathroom, simply ask someone “Where’s the penalty box? I gotta drop some major pucks”. If he is unable to direct you to one, immediately drop any gloves you may be wearing and uppercut him repeatedly while pulling his jersey over his head. He will be wearing a jersey.

Pornography
One of the hottest and most controversial issues in Canada is the proliferation of Inuit-porn. Nothing gets a Canadian off quite like some hot parka-on-parka action as heavily-clad women rub whale blubber all over their bodies, shoving hockey sticks in any and all orifices. Then come the seals…

Politics
Unlike the American Congress, we Canadians have a Parliament, a testament to our British overlords. A little known fact is that Parliament cannot proceed without a ceremonial scepter being placed on its stand. An even littler known fact is that when this scepter is combined with its counterparts in India, Britain, Scotland, and Australia, the powerful robot MechaHyfuron is formed, though most of his powers involve lifting tea embargoes.

Dating
Courtship in Canada is very unique. Typically, the male will approach the female with a phallus carved meticulously from ice demonstrating his desire to mate. Often this phallus will be attached to the man’s tongue…not because he’s…you know…he was just curious if it would really stick…seriously…shut up. The female will then project the sound of a dying caribou to announce her willingness, after which the male must present her with a diaphragm made from pure beaver pelt, none of that otter shit, the good stuff.

Entertainment
Pamela Anderson. Also, Shatner.

Sex
The ejaculate of an average American man consists of sperm and other fluids. We Canadians find this disgusting. Our man-juice has a wholly different composition. Syrup. 100% pure maple syrup. There are some downsides – withdrawal can be a painful process for both parties due to the unfortunate mixture of liquefied sugar and pubic hair. On the plus side, condoms become convenient condiment dispensers and the debate over ‘to spit or swallow’ is non-existent north of the border it’s like breakfast all day long!

Language
American: Hey baby, that dress is really becoming on you, and if I were that dress, I’d be cumming too.
Canadian: Your pancakes look pretty dry there, eh?

Demographics
None of our scientists can figure out why, but the Canadian population has stopped growing. In an unrelated but equally perplexing note, all sexually active Canadian females have diabetes of the crotch.

Volume 15- Issue 2

Top Ten Scheizer Films

October 1, 2005
  1. Stools Rush In
  2. Poop fiction
  3. Jackie Brown
  4. Cool Runnings
  5. The Diarrhea of Anne Frank
  6. Forrest Dump
  7. Duck Poop
  8. Shitty Shitty Bang Bang
  9. Shit Happened One Night
  10. Shitizen Kane
Volume 15- Issue 2

Top Ten Toilet Training Methods of the Future

October 1, 2005
  1. Just tell the little fucker to Google it
  2. Additional instruction on removing your spiky shoulder pads and unitard
  3. Exactly as you would do it today, BUT YOU’RE IN THE MATRIX
  4. What, you’re telling me you don’t know how to use the three seashells?
  5. Osmosis
  6. New SkyNet toilets train themselves
  7. Being the last man on earth after the apocalypse means you pretty much crap wherever you want
  8. Same little plastic potty, but with blue LEDs
  9. Get the book “Everybody Poops Except Death Cyborgs”
  10. Hover-Ups Training Pants