Latest Issue
Volume 33, Issue 1:
The HEURISTIC! Squelch

Top Ten Things to do on a Rainy Day

  1. Sit by the fireplace and read
  2. Snort RainBlo
  3. Get wet
  4. Steal garbage bags from hobos
  5. Wipe sweat off brow
  6. Wear pink blouse, stand outside, be Kirsten Dunst
  7. Impromptu baptism
  8. Go outside and masturbate (in the rain)
  9. Stay at home and masturbate
  10. Stop the rain by complaining

Top Ten Other Ways you know Santa’s from Stanford

  1. Fucks reindeer
  2. Only gives rich kids good presents
  3. Dates ugly chicks
  4. Segregates weaker toys
  5. Runs over grandmas with reindeer
  6. Prefers to stay out of politics
  7. Only got to be Santa ’cause Daddy was Santa
  8. Fat, white, and ugly
  9. Masturbates 8 times a day
  10. Likes being in the middle of nowhere

Top Ten Ways you know it’s Winter in Berkeley

  1. Anti-freeze in bong water
  2. Pool supply stores looted less often
  3. It actually gets even colder, breaking all laws of physics
  4. Air-conditioners kick in
  5. The homeless die
  6. Significant Campanile shrinkage
  7. SJP occupies warmer building
  8. Nudists wear sock
  9. Girls in skirts don’t just look slutty, now they look dumb
  10. Sproul trees lose leaf

Top Ten Reasons the University won’t give you your Degree

  1. Underwater basketweaving prereq. not met
  2. For your own good
  3. “Readin’ Stuff” not an approved major. Yet.
  4. The library wants their book back
  5. Because you’re sponsored by Old Spice
  6. They did, it was in Kelvin
  7. 119.5 units
  8. The “chalk dust incident”
  9. You have no hands with which to take it
  10. You’re dumb

Top Ten Pornographic Thanksgiving Movies

  1. Mastur-bastin’
  2. Snatched Potatoes
  3. Pilgrim-Indian Interracial Gangbang IV
  4. SpanXXXgiving
  5. Put the Meat on the Table
  6. Stuffin’ N’ Gravy
  7. Mayflower Deflowered
  8. Take Your Land and Fuck Your Women XI: The Quickening
  9. Creamed Corn
  10. Gobble Gobble

Second Oldest American Just Wants to Die Already

113-year old John McMorran lives a quiet life, having long since lost the powers of sight and hearing, as well as being bedridden since the age of 100. McMorran spends his days in a world of unfathomable boredom, except for the twenty minutes a day when caregivers open his window and allow him to enjoy the sensation of wind on his face. His one remaining purpose in life: to outlast Mary Christian, the recently-crowned holder of the title Oldest American, seven days his senior.

“We’re all so proud of him,” said McMorran’s thirty-year old great-grandson, Peter McMorran. “Or at least, we’re going to be, just as soon as this Mary Christian hag drops off.”

“We were so close to winning it,” lamented McMorran’s sixty-four year old niece Agnes Toffler. Then Mary Christian’s people had to go and dig up her proof of age just before the deadline. Man, that pissed me off. I really want Uncle John to win the title so we can finally let him die.”

McMorran himself is equally enthusiastic about outlasting Christian. “My family says they won’t pay for a proper burial unless I give this my all,” he shouted to reporters wildly, his deafness making it difficult for him to properly modulate his voice. “Otherwise I would have given up long ago.”

The Further Adventures of Turbo-Teen

A lot of people think it would be cool to be able to change into a sports car whenever they get hot, and back into a human whenever they get cold, but I’m here to tell you, it’s no picnic. My life changed a lot the day I crashed my bright red sports car into Dr. Chase’s lab on the very day he was testing a transference ray, causing an accident that fused my body with my car forever. Heck, I thought it was tough enough trying to fight crime and be a normal teenager, but things have only gotten tougher as I’ve gotten older.

Do you realize even a kiss from my friend Pattie was enough to turn me into a car? Sure, that was great when we were on an adventure and needed a quick way out of a jam, but did you ever consider that I might want to be kissed and stay human once in awhile? Whenever I’m with a girl and things get hot and heavy, I always run the risk of getting hot and too heavy, if you know what I mean. I mean I turn into a car, which is heavy. Even if I manage not to crush her, you know things will get awkward when she opens her eyes and realizes she’s tonguing the grille of a Firebird. Basically the only way to get around that is if we suck on ice cubes together, or if we break every fifteen minutes to chew a stick of ice gum. And for some reason, girls always want to know why I have such specific needs. Why, they ask, can we only have sex in a cold shower, a swimming pool, or a bathtub full of ice? Pity me, Bret Matthews, for the least terrifying answer possible is: “I am a sick man with perverse temperature fetishes.” One time, I forgot myself when a group of unknowing college friends invited me to join them in a hot tub. Needless to say, I was not invited back.

Prurient topics aside, things have only gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. I gained a reputation for laziness in college, as the slightest workout would have treated the entire gym to the sight of a sports car on a treadmill. I couldn’t even blame drugs for my sloth–the warm smoke of burning marijuana filling my lungs would only have resulted in me exhaling via an exhaust pipe.

Don’t even get me started on the mockery my disability has made of my law practice. Sweating in my tailored suit, under pressure to cross-examine a witness during a particularly stressful case, in a stifling courtroom full of people, the urge to transform overwhelms me suddenly, and often. Usually I can make it to my pitcher of ice water before becoming a sports car and losing the trust of the jury, but even if I do make it in time, everyone always looks strangely at the guy who cuts off midsentence to run across the courtroom and soak himself in water.

I would like to settle down and raise a family, but I cannot, for fear that my car-transforming ability has become part of my genetic makeup, to be passed on to my children. I cannot risk my child’s fetus transforming into a car in the warmth of the womb, harming the hypothetical mother of my child and potentially causing a miscarriage. The fetus might change into a Micro Machine or Hot Wheels sized car at first, but I have no doubt it would grow well into Power Wheels size by the third trimester, and anyone would agree that this is unacceptable.

On the plus side, I have a spoiler, which is totally dope.

Turbo-Teen ran for 12 episodes during the 1984-5 season, Saturday mornings on ABC.

Criminal Element to Help Revitalize Economy

In a stunning move that senior White House correspondent James Wellton could only describe as “stunning,” the Bush administration turned to the “dredges of the earth” to help stimulate the lackluster economy of recent months.

“I ask you, the criminal elements of this great nation, to do your part to ensure a bright America, not only for your illegitimate children, but for your children everywhere, illegitimate or not,” Bush said during his midmorning speech in front of the U.S. Treasury building. “Every car window you break in search of crappy $40 CD players and $1.37 in change not only helps you score your next hit of smack, but also stimulates numerous other sectors of the economy. From the insurance broker who handles the claim, to the auto glass manufacturer, to even the auto glass installer who conveniently replaces glass on site a mere six days after the petty burglary has been committed, everyone has something to gain.”

When asked how the victims of the crime spree Bush is proposing would benefit, he promised “increased spending on prison budgets to expand our capacity to deal with the wave of criminals that cause everyday Americans to have to drive with a piece of cardboard taped over their windows.” Public reaction to this new policy has been met with mixed reviews. Said one passerby, who wished to remain anonymous, “Well, I guess it’s better than going to war, because that seemed to be the only plan this administration had so far to get out of this recession.”