CENSORED
THE TOTALLY BORING AND NONOFFENSIVE ISSUE TEASER EDITION WINTER 2009
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From the editors
Hello Fellow Undergraduates,
Here we are, the semester nearly finished, and your window of opportunity to submit to The Ivory Tower nearly closed! Lucky for you procrastinators out there, we’ve decided to extend our submission deadline! So now y’all have till January 1st to submit your titillating work. Check out our website at ivorytower.umn.edu to get more information on how to submit. Now, without further ado, we invite you to peruse our Teaser, fully equipped with pieces from the dusty, but brilliant, Ivory archives. Go on now -- read, doodle on, try not to drool on, and by all means enjoy, our Teaser. That’s what it’s here for. Thanks for reading, Melissa Wray & Rachelle Kuehne Editors-in-Chief
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Letters You’d Like to Write, but...
Dear Restaurant Goers, You are a bunch of cheap bastards. Since when is it customary to tip less than 15%? I do not want your nickels and dimes and am not working this shitty job for my health and/or amusment. I think the world would be better off if you stick to your microwave, stove, and Subway. No tip involved and I won’t want to scream in your face. Sincerely, Disgruntled Restaurant Employee
Dear Girl Over There, yeah, you, I just wanted to thank you for the amazing time I had walking up the three flights of stairs in Folwell today. It was magical because I was walking behind you, and you were wearing white leggings as pants. I couldn’t help but admire how tightly they gripped every outline of every buldge. I’m sure you looked at yourself in the mirror this morning, complimenting yourself on how the form of your ass was no longer a mystery for others to contemplate. Oh, but the part I loved best was when, upon clearing the top step...you turned and flashed your camel toe to the world. Bless you. - Maybe Gouging my Eyes Out
Dear Batman, I have eloped with the Joker in a Vegas killing spree against Robin and Batgirl. Oh, and we stole your bat-condoms. -Harley Quinn
Love and Kisses,
The staff at Ivory Tower
Dear Chaches, I can tell when you look at my butt. I purposely fart when you do so. -Flatulent
Dear Biker with the rolled-up pant leg, Even though you are moving at twice my speed, that does not give you the right to run me down. Pick on someone your own size. And you’re not supposed to be on the sidewalk anyway, so get on the street where you belong. Sincerely, Annoyed Pedestrian P.S. Roll down that pant leg. I don’t care if it gets caught in your gears. You look ridiculous.
A Glimpse Into The The Visit
A Panygeric Upon Grammarians. being an appreciation
satire by Stefania Grodzienska translated by Danute Zamojska
of higher learning of the baser sort
My doctor professor so and so, Englightened man of fol de rol And rattle trap, with high regard For such and such, who found it hard To see relaxed the work of minds Beyond his ken and not his kind, On one fall day arose at dawn And early left, the walk was long, To reach the great midwestern seat Of higher learning the elite. Once there our doctor you know who Was told to enlighten me and you By expounding on great literature. He placed his lectern firmly on The polished desk and turned around To face the board with chalk in hand And then he filled the room with sand. Assignment for today, he wrote, Will be to learn, and all by rote, How many times the letter p Occurs on pages twenty-three And four, and then to write, with some Regard, about the slender thumb And love life of the poet’s wife, With whom he lived out all his life. And so it was the quarter through As we all sat and listened to Our doctor professor so and so Lay the English authors low, And all of this good work was done For full appreciation Of the greatest works of art, To which our doctor gave his heart. P. du M.
H
aving stopped for a few days in Warsaw, I decided to pay a visit to a
great poet who was the author of my favorite poems.
It must not have been a very original idea to do so, since he had been—poor soul—completely worn out by the visits of his admirers, editors, publishers, and God knows who else. Yet he received me. Introducing myself in a trembling voice, I felt the stage fright made me sound like an idiot. I sat in the armchair. There was a polite silence. A fly was walking over the table. “I just happened to be in Warsaw, and I thought—,” I said vehemently. “What?” asked the great poet after considerable pause. “I say I just happened to be in Warsaw, and I just thought--” “What?” he asked more energetically. “I say,” I shouted, thinking that he was hard of hearing, “that I just happened —” “But what did you think, madam?” he interrupted impatiently. “That it would be good to drop in to see you. Because I have been dreaming to see you face to face. But you must be fed up with these visits.” “Why, not—” he said sadly. The fly was walking. “These poems are wonderful,” I said. He became livelier. “Which?” “Well, yours.” “And which of them do you like so much?” “Ah, for instance, this one: ‘I entered the darksome tomb of Agamemnon—”
Ivory Tower Archives
“That is Slowacki’s,” he said gently. It was my bad day. There was no use to even disagree. He must have known it better. The fly was crawling. “Sorry, but the ash of your cigaret may fall down,” I said after a while. He woke up so quickly from pondering that it really did fall down. “I beg your pardon?” he asked kindly.
“No, nothing at all.”
“But do say it, madam. I beg you!” “Well, but really--” “Don’t be shy, madam!” “Thank you kindly, sir, it is of no importance. It’s not even worth—”
“Do not be so modest, madam. I will hear it with pleasure.”
“I was just saying that your ash might have dropped. From your cigaret.” He looked at the cigaret. “But it already has,” I added. “And you maintain that it will fall again?” he said, astonished. “Not at all,” I said. “I said it before.” “Before?” “Yes. Before it had fallen.” The fly was strolling. I felt that the last particles of charm had left me. “I said it, but you didn’t get it,” I explained, tears in my eyes. “I am very sorry, but what did you say, madam?” he said with new interest. “About the ash.” “About the ash? Oh, that it might fall?” “Yes, just that.” The fly was promenading. I stood up. “Well, so I thank you kindly, sir, to have received me. I know you are very busy, and nevertheless — Indeed—” He bade me farewell, suppressing the sigh of relief. The fly flew after me. “It was an unforgettable talk,” I was later telling my friends, and they listened breathlessly. “We were sitting vis-a-vis, and we talked about very unusual inspiring things —”
“And what else?” my listeners became excited. “It is difficult to repeat it literally, it was more the mood of the talk itself that was important.” “Tell us of this then, at least approximately!” Well, at first we were wondering about this strange coincidence-that I just happened to have come to Warsaw, that I came to him. Then there was a very engaging talk about Slowacki.” “And what, what else? Tell us everything!” “It will be difficult for you to grasp it. We were talking about the ash from his cigaret. That, before you had time to realize the ashes fall, get tracelessly lost...Well, no, no, it cannot be translated.”
They looked at me with great respect.
Of The Coed O
F THE COED She thinks that by
Bearing the rugged sweater She’s not awry;
She thinks the books Cribbing into her bosom Are not for looks,
O why should she Forbear an Ur-some major-To minor me?
That honeyed hair, Combed to a Grecian’s bun, ‘s Beyond compare.
Since ugly bears Accompanied Grecian girls To offset theirs.
-Robert Kent
Cat s
by Judy Lee Wittmayer
originally published May 25th 1959 by The Ivory Tower
ure, I killed the cat— the big, dirty mass of matted yellow fur. I watched the cat as she crouched beside our porch, the tip of her tail twitching ever so slightly. I saw her as she watched the tiny sparrow pulling and tugging at a bit of string fastened to a garden stake. The cat crept forward on her belly; her eyes were slits in her yellow face. Then she sprang at the sparrow and the two became a flurry of yellow fur and grey feathers. Later I saw the cat with bits of grey feathers still clinging to her mouth and whiskers. She was sleeping in the sun. I went into the house and got one of daddy’s old leather belts-the one he always uses to spank Jimmy. I stooped beside the cat and stroked her dirty fur. She stretched lazily and blinked her eyes in the warm afternoon sunlight. I slipped the belt around her neck and fastened it into a leash. Then I picked the cat up, and carried her across the alley, into the woods, and down the river bank. She purred contentedly in my arms. It was cool down by the river. It smelled like fish and grass and leaves. I sat on the cement piling underneath the bridge and held the
cat. She smelled the water and began to struggle. She hissed and scratched my arm, so I tightened the belt until she stopped struggling. She blinked her green eyes at me and tried to fight but the belt cut off her wind. It was dark under the bridge, and the water felt cool on my bare feet. It made my feet white where it washed off the dust from the alley and left a ring on my ankles where it stopped. A big dead carp floated by, its white upturned belly covered with green flies. I splashed it with my foot and the flies buzzed away. The cat began to fight again, so I stood up and tightened the belt. Now it would not slip over her head. I leaned over the edge of the piling and gave the cat a push. She slipped off and dangled a few feet above the water. I lowered her and she stiffened as her back paws touched the water. I lowered her some more and her back legs began to churn against the oily wetness, but soon she stopped because she couldn’t breathe with the belt so tight. My arms were beginning to ache, so I hauled her back up beside me. I took the belt off her neck, and she blinked at me but could not get up. I stood up and she still lay there blinking. Her fur was wet and brown now. With my foot I pushed her off the piling. I picked the bits of yellow fur off the belt, and then I went home because mother doesn’t like it when I’m late for supper.
Teaser Created By: Anna Nething, Jade Bove, & Becky Wagner Teaser Powered By: Rachelle Kuehne, Melissa Wray, Erin Flannery, Amanda Gordon, Alex Weaver, Courtney Reigh, Jessica Mattson, Natalie Sosnay, Robert Kipp, Celeste Larson, Gena Cochrun, Eric Murphy, Samantha Degen, Becca Strauss, Eugene Lewis, & Agnes Rzepecki
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