Roommate Impersonated on Instant Messenger

October 1, 2002

Berkeley student Roger Haines fraudulently represented himself as roommate Thomas Marx by writing messages using Marx’s AOL Instant Messenger screen name, sources reported Tuesday. Haines claims that he was merely using his roommate’s computer to print a document, and the Instant Messenger account had signed on automatically.

“It’s not like I stole his [Marx’s] password and set out to fool everyone,” said Haines. “But I was using the computer and all these people started messaging me, and suddenly I realized I was sitting on a golden opportunity for hilarity and hijinks. I’d be an idiot to waste it.”

Many friends of Marx maintain that they were not duped by Haines’ ruse. “I thought it was suspicious when Tom kept talking about how he’d slept with my mom,” said Zoe Cattrall, also known as SrfrG12001. “But when he started saying things like, ‘I’m such a big stupid moron, that’s how stupid and dumb I am,’ I definitely knew something was up.”

Jack Sampson, or UNIXlvr28, agrees: “Most people don’t spend a lot of time talking about how stupid and lame they are. They especially don’t follow up such self-deprecating remarks with sudden praise for their super-genius, studly-handsome roommate Roger Haines.”

Other friends resent the deception. “I got really concerned for Tom when he told me he liked to molest little boys,” said Clyde Segal, Leydeezman18. “But I was touched that he trusted me enough to open up about his problem, and I was totally prepared to help him get counseling and, you know, be the supportive friend. You can imagine how I felt taken advantage of when I realized it was just a prank.”

Upon notification that he had been misrepresented online, Marx stated, “Oh, really? Huh.”

Volume 12- Issue 2

Top Ten Things Tom Holmoe is Doing Right Now

October 1, 2002

top ten

Sleeping in gutter
Trying to throw bricks through
Tedford’s window
Buying new polo shirts
Watching Cal Games with the sound
off, pretending he’s coaching
Sitting in a bathtub of peach schnapps
eating ice cream and watching 24
straight hours of “Who’s the Boss”
Starting ineligible players
Writing memoir titled I Came, I Saw…
Yeah
Fucking us from the grave
Pondering 15-40 lifetime record
Moving on

Volume 12- Issue 2

Berdahl Chokes on Hacky Sack

October 1, 2002

Matt Soroky, newsflash

After a successful recovery from prostate cancer last spring, UC Berkeley Chancellor Robert M. Berdahl suffered a major setback when he choked on a Hacky Sack while playing with his compatriots outside the University House.

Medics rushed to the scene and stabilized the chancellor, but complications have forced Berdahl to stay in hospital care until he shows significant signs of improvement. “We were having such a good time,” said Professor David Kojan of the Anthropology department, who participated in the game and made the call for help. “I was the one to kick it really high before Bob pushed everyone aside to keep [the Hacky Sack] in play.”

Doctors note that had Berdahl not opened his mouth as the bean-filled sack came plummeting downward, he would have only suffered a concussion. “Bob is one stubborn son of a gun,” said Linguistics Professor George Lakoff. “He always has to use his head on the fourth rally.”

Campus-wide, students and faculty wish the Chancellor a speedy recovery and hope that he can soon return to work. “He’ll pull through,” said Dean of the Graduate School of Journalism Orville Schell. “I got a whole POG in my nose one time and I was fine in a few days.”

Volume 12- Issue 2

Escape Plans

October 1, 2002

feature

Sometimes, I think of ways to escape my horrible dead-end life. First, I’d fashion a shiv from a piece of a shattered dream. Then, I’d use it to stab an inner demon and make a break for it. I’d have to make it through the dark dreamscape of my own subconscious avoiding the flaming wreckage of my romantic life, but I’d be able to find shelter in the dim memories of my once-hopeful youth. Once I get to the border of physical and social awareness of the feelings of others I’d disguise myself in the physical habits of tranquility. Hopefully, once I do make it past the border, I’d be able to use my money to hire a plane to Europe or something.

-TS

When I wanted to escape from prison, first I went to the supermarket to get supplies: a microwavable burrito, salted butter, a bag of rubber bands, and a can of Dr Pepper. Then when I returned to my cell, I opened the Dr Pepper and drank it, since this prison is sponsored by Pepsi, and doesn’t carry Dr Pepper. Next I pulled off the tab off the can and used it to jimmy the lock. Once the lock was open, I snuck into the yard. I cut up the butter into thin, spreadable slabs and placed them in various places in the courtyard. Then, I shot a rubber band at the guard dog so he would chase me, and led the angry pooch into the area where I had laid the butter. I jumped over it, while he slipped, fell and slammed into the wall, knocking him unconscious. I then tiptoed over to the gate and offered the guard the burrito I had if he’d let me out. When he said no, I took the burrito’s wrapper and suffocated him and went out through the tunnel that I had been digging for months in the courtyard. It was great.

-RP

My plan is not getting captured in the first place. Hey, let’s have a race to see who reaches freedom first. Huh, I guess it’s me. Sing a pretty song, Jailbird. Fucking tweet tweet. Open air sure is nice.

-ZF

Well, I guess I’d turn left. I mean, not immediately, you know, it would depend on the situation. This is an all-purpose escape plan, right? I mean, I figure at some point, after I slip out the window or drug the guard or whatever, I’m going to have to decide if I want to turn left, or if I want to go in a different direction. Well, I’m going to turn left. That’s my plan.

-ZF

It’s not a plan so much as it is simple reflex at this point. I run at the window, shielding my face as I throw myself through the glass. Now fifty stories above street level, I know I have two to three seconds to catch the flagpole across the street with my grapple. Assuming that works, I’ll swing out around the Kane Building and smash through the twentieth floor window, startling a naked girl in the bath who immediately starts to scream. Here we go again!

-KB

I was lost on a deserted island. That’s why I decided to build a raft. Using my managing and marketing skills, I convinced some native monkeys to work for me as my shipbuilders for a mere two coconuts per hour. With this monkey labor force, I built a nice little Day Spa/Cantina establishment on the west side of the island where the fresh water waterfall plunges into the ocean. They also built a ship. They really did a great job, installing central air and monkey bamboo plumbing. Then, three days before the expected launch of S.S. Monkey Feet, I got word from a friendly hippo that the monkeys were trying to unionize for better wages. I was so outraged, I picked up a monkey wrench and beat all the monkeys to death. I hope I taught those monkeys a lesson: No unionizing on my island!

-DF

Therapy.

-MLP

I’ll just head for the door and go. If the woman says anything, let her. After all, I’m the man of this house, and I can go play poker with the guys if I want to. I’ll lay down the law, and say: “Back off, woman! What I say, goes. Now get in the kitchen and have some cookies baked by the time I get back.” But poker night’s not till tomorrow anyway; tonight I promised we’d watch Sex and the City.

-KB

Take 200-300mg of powder heroin, depending on your body size, and place in a sterile spoon. Add a small amount of acid to dissolve the powder and then mix with distilled water, while heating with a small acetylene torch. Using a sterile cotton swab, filter the solution into a clean, unused syringe. Tap syringe and depress plunger until a drop of liquid forms on the tip of the needle. Find a vein (a tourniquet can make this easier) and clean the injection site with alcohol. Insert the needle into the injection site in the direction of the blood flow. Pull back the plunger until blood enters the syringe, then depress plunger all the way. Following that, knock out the guard, steal his keys, unlock your cell, and run.

-DD

I go to the fragrance counter and purchase a bottle of Calvin Klein cologne. Escape for Men cologne. That’s my plan.

-KB

Volume 12- Issue 2

Revenge is Sweet

Kill ’em with Kindness

October 1, 2002

feature, Monica Leigh Padrick

My mother always told me, “If someone crosses you, don’t for a second let that fucker think he can get away with it.”

Snide Remarks from Passers-by

Him: “Oh, I didn’t realize today was Dress Like a Blind Hooker in a Brothel Day. Slizzut.”
You: “I love you.” Result: Remark-man is left momentarily disoriented. Your comment stuns him, and for the rest of the day he is unable to concentrate on studying for his Econ midterm. He gets a D on the midterm and never gets into business school. His torment is assuaged by the thought that you, random girl, love him. But he’s wrong. Dead wrong.

Stabbed in the Back by Your Best Friend

Her: Oh I’m sorry, is this your boyfriend? Whose hand is that in his pants? Oh, it’s mine.
You: Would you like to go to Florida with me for spring break?
Result: Unbeknownst to your best “friend,” (yet somehow beknownst to you) she has a lethal peanut allergy, and peanuts are served on the plane. The simultaneous opening of all those delicious peanut bags sends her glands a-swelling. Luckily there is medical help readily available, but it sure is scary. She may not die now, but she will die eventually.

Your Roommate Eats All the Cookies Your Mom Sent You

Her: So you mean THESE were the cookies that your mom spent hours baking from scratch just the way you like them. I’m sure there’s a couple of crumbs left.
You: [Smile like it ain’t no thang.]
Result: While said roommate may feel as though your blase attitude reflects further permission to eat your loved ones’ baked goods, what she doesn’t know is that just yesterday her parents sold her dog and used the money to take a booze cruise on a riverboat casino where they will further squander the money they’d set aside for college. Those cookies might taste good now, but let me tell you those student loans are just going to get bigger and bigger! And then she dies.

War With Iraq

Saddam Hussein: Kill them all!
Us: Why you gotta be hatin’? We here in America would like to show you a little of where we come from. Please accept our gifts of digital cable, a fo-ty of O.E. and some delicious Philly cheesesteaks.
Saddam Hussein: No, no. I don’t believe you understand. You see, your imperialist attitude and morally bankrupt cultural exports are a large reason for our hate towards you.
Us: Actually, I don’t believe you understand the slyly self-aware, pan-ethnic appeal of hunky action superstar Vin Diesel, and the subtle, refreshing flavor of new Vanilla Coke.
Saddam Hussein: Well, I did enjoy the raw thrills, old-school stunt work, and quaint B-movie feel of The Fast and the Furious…
Result: Lethargy towards world politics and chronic national obesity slowly set in. The royal palaces become vulnerable to surprise weapons inspections every week during Monday Night Football, and the newly heavyset populace become winded thirty seconds into any attempted escape from ballistic missile strikes. Ordinarily this would be a perfect opportunity to invade, but we’ll let them die like Americans: With complacent hearts fattened to the bursting point by the greasy, yet tasty fruits (fries) of capitalist democracy. U.S.A.!

Volume 12- Issue 2

Best of Berkeley

October 1, 2002

feature, Tommaso Sciortino

Best > place to get beaten up

For getting a trampling, the best place to go is the corner of Ashby and Sacramento. Busy enough for easy access yet remote enough for privacy, this bustling neighborhood is home to a gorgeous liquor store, where your assailants can easily get drunk on cheap wine, the bottle of which they can then use to clobber you. A big plus: ambulance drivers at the nearby Alta Bates medical center know the route well.

Best > place to enter Berkeley

There is little debate as to the best place to enter Berkeley; the best place to do it is at the Berkeley city limit. “I was trying to enter Berkeley from the sky for a whole day,” comments a fi ctitious person I just made up. “I kept falling down a lot and then someone told me I was already in Berkeley. I was advised to drive to the Oakland city limit and then turn around. I was skeptical at fi rst, but I’ll be darned if I didn’t end up getting beat up.”

Best > place to get burritos on opposite day

For getting doppelganger Mexican food, no restaurant beats La Burrita. Known far and wide for its cardboard-like tortillas and near-edible meats, La Burrita is certainly the best place to not get a burrito when it’s not not not opposite day. Here’s a tip: Try ordering your meal backward, then, when the chef disgorges an antiburrito onto your plate, disassemble it and send the parts back to Canada.

Best > cock

Mine. No, I’m just kidding. Its yours. Psyche! But, seriously, you’re a girl. That’s stupid.

Best > view

Say what you want about the Berkeley Marina or the Oakland hills; for my money the best views are right here on my TV set. From the comfort and convenience of my soft, colorful couch, one can see everything from the Golden Gate Bridge to New York City, depending on whether you’re watching Nash Bridges or NYPD Blue. Plus, if you need a place to crash, look no further-you’re already there.

Best > makeout spot

The most romantic place to be is definitely my ex-girlfriend’s house. There’s nothing quite like seeing the sunset glimmering on the idle Pacific as your manhood gets verbally and psychologically accosted. The brilliant reds and yellows in the sky will remind you both of the burning hatred you still bear for one another, and the cowardice with which you finally ended that stif ling, sucking void of a relationship.

Volume 12- Issue 2

You Need to Apply Yourself, Study Finds

October 1, 2002

newsflash, Tommaso Sciortino

Results of a study conducted by researchers at the University of California at Berkeley have revealed the need, by you, to apply yourself. As a strong indicator of this need, the study cites recent slacking and an unexpected drop in study time productivity levels, which occurred shortly after the fourth week of classes, after you went to that party.

“It’s something that we’ve all expected to see proven for quite some time,” said Professor Brian Lee, a researcher on the project. “But it’s reassuring to see hard numbers on the incredible amount of time you spend watching and talking about sports and video games about sports.”

The study, which was conducted by watching you waste your life day in and day out, cites several reasons to believe that you have so much potential. It indicates that that one project you did for your class last year really blew everyone away and showed that when you do apply yourself, there’s no limit to what you can do. Also it implies that if you spent as much time worrying about your grades as you did about those stupid video games, you could actually accomplish something.

Volume 12- Issue 2

Point/Counterpoint

October 1, 2002

feature, Kenny Byerly

Our Dad’s New Girlfriend is Evil

Jesse and Jenny
Children

Dad, please, you’ve got to listen to us! I know you really like this new woman you’ve met, but please believe us when we tell you: she’s pure evil and the last thing you should do is marry her this Saturday.

We know, we know. She seems like she’s perfect for you. She’s beautiful, and kind, and affectionate, and even says she loves us, your kids, and we know you’re a big sucker for that stuff. We saw how you just melted when you introduced us for the first time and she gave us each big hugs. What you apparently didn’t see is the way we shivered with fright when she coolly whispered “I’ll be rid of you brats soon enough,” as she leaned in for each hug. You were too smitten even to notice the sudden terror on our faces as she pulled away.

Just think about it, Dad. Doesn’t it seem like she uses just a little too much hairspray and makeup? Haven’t you noticed how her too-immaculate wardrobe is composed of an inordinate number of red outfits?

I guess you never peeked through the crack of a partially-open door to overhear her conversations with a mysterious confidante, to whom she constantly boasts of her plan to have us shipped off to a boarding school in Switzerland once you marry her.

Come on, Dad. Snap out of it! Can’t you see the right girl for you is Mom? I can’t believe you two got divorced in the first place. Sure, she was mad you were neglecting her, and when you missed your anniversary dinner even after she gave you the ultimatum and you promised and promised that you would make it, she was definitely crushed. But you’re a changed man now, and if you give her a chance, I just know she’ll see it. Can’t you see how pretty and blonde mom is, and how naturally billowy and full of life her hair is, in contrast with the stiffl y molded coiffure of the hag you’re currently dating? Just one look at Mom, and you know you’re looking at a winner, who would never send us off to boarding school. To be honest, I don’t even know why boarding school is a threat when Mom lives just across town, but that just goes to show how evil this woman is.

Please, Dad. Call off the engagement before it’s too late. Don’t make us call Mom up and force her to drive recklessly across town in a last-ditch attempt to crash the wedding and make you realize you love her. Let’s make it easy on ourselves.

**I’ll Send Those Brats to Boarding School Yet **

Delilah Coldstone
Trophy Fiance

Oh, how I love children! Especially my fiance’s children, they’re just wonderful. As soon as I met them I knew they were adorable together, and that they would look wonderful in matching outfits. As I hugged them, I told them, “I’ll buy little blue hats, two’s enough!” It was an awkward sentence, but I think they got the message. They looked so frightened; I think maybe they were embarrassed about the idea of matching outfits. Even that was cute. I just know I’m going to love them even more as I get to know them.

Sometimes when I visit, I make sure to get dolled up just for them. No frumpy hippie clothes or messy, wild hair for me. Kids learn from example, so I want to be a good role model for little Jenny. So I’m dressing smart, professional, and clean-cut, with just enough makeup to look pretty. After all, I want them to know their daddy is getting someone who’s not only nice, but pretty, too. I know these kids want nothing but the best for their dad. Sure, sometimes I’ll toss in some red into the outfit, and I know that’s pretty flashy, but kids love bright colors–it shows them that I’m a fun person.

Oh, I have such great plans for them! I know this wonderful little boarding school in Switzerland where they can go right after we get married. They’ll just stay for the three-week summer program, of course–it’s just to give me and their daddy a bit of honeymoon time, after all, and I’d miss them myself if they were gone any longer. I went traveling when I was their age, and it was one of the best times of my life; I just know they’ll love it there. I saw one of them peeking when I was making the arrangements the other day; I’d better be careful or I’ll spoil their big surprise!

Well, only one week left until my big day. I’m so excited to be a stepmother. I’ll at least do a better job than their real mother did. Those poor dears were too young to realize how mentally unstable she was, and how much stress she caused their poor father. I don’t know what kind of lunatic schedules an anniversary dinner at 1:00 in the afternoon, three months before the date, without even telling her spouse about it, but she threw a fit when he missed it and finally, he realized he was dealing with a crazy person. Well, I say it’s the best thing that ever happened to him.

I love my fiance, and I love his kids so much! Saturday is going to be the best day of my life!

Volume 12- Issue 2

African AIDS Orphans Give to Charitable Cause

October 1, 2002

newsflash, Tommaso Sciortino

Following the lead of many Americans, African orphans who have lost both parents to AIDS have been donating the money raised for them to children of victims killed in the attacks of September 11th. Like many Americans who never considered African AIDS orphans to be a cause worthy of donation–but did find it in their heart to give to Twin Tower orphans–most African orphans understand how the Twin Tower children are much worse off and thus, much more in need of monetary aid than themselves.

“No amount of money can bring back a child’s parent. But if a child knows that their college tuition is paid, he or she will feel a lot better,” said Kenyan orphan Mutheru Ubatto, through an interpreter. “I, of course, have no chance of going to college or even elementary school; but it’s different for me because my skin reflects so much less light.”

Money deemed too important for non-September-11th-related charitable causes are estimated to total up to four million dollars, and should be enough to purchase either two million blankets for African children or one thousand counseling sessions for Midwesterners traumatized by witnessing the tragic attacks on TV.

In a related story, most complaints about this article will focus on how insensitive the author is to Twin Tower orphans, while shrugging aside the offensive nature of the references to African orphans. “Eh. They can handle it,” gas station owner Kyle Worther said, “I mean, if you live in Africa, you’d better know how to take a joke.”

Volume 12- Issue 2

Top Ten Things Women Do in the Bathroom Together

October 1, 2002

top ten

Silently go about their business
Each other
Talk shit
Conspire against Castro
Wait for the GHB to be put in their
drink
Solve crimes
Magically transfer excrement from
body to toilet, because girls don’t take
shits
Discuss merits of Hobbesian Monarchy,
while peeing
Cocaine
Clean grout