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| sports@reportermag.com VIEWS EDITOR Rings | views@reportermag.com WRITERS A Former Editor, Captain Beefheart, Nyke Bovée, Lady Cuttlefish, Dolores, Holly
Lightning, Lefno T. Wright
1. The present month. 2. Another name for pyrite. ______ gold. 3. Female dogs (plural) 4. Where you should put the magazine if you’re easily offended.
ART
DISTORTER IN CHIEF
Reefer, Sir Kel Jerkins, Dixon Woodhouse Montalbetti , Rad Rossford, Rings, Ivan Toyak, Guile Twist, Lilith von Gorefeld, Von von
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Reporter Magazine is published weekly during the academic year by a staff comprised of students at Rochester Institute of Technology. Business, Editorial and Design facilities are located in Room A-730, in the lower level of the Campus Center. Our phone number is 1.585.475.2212. The Advertising Department can be reached at 1.585.475.2213. The opinions expressed in Reporter do not necessarily reflect those of the Institute. My goal: work the word “laundry” into every note. Progress: three down! Letters to the Editor may also be sent to reporter@rit.edu. Reporter is not responsible for materials presented in advertising areas. No letters will be printed unless signed. All letters received become the property of Reporter. Reporter takes pride in its membership in the Associated Collegiate Press and American Civil Liberties Union. Copyright © 2011 Reporter Magazine. All rights reserved. No portion of this Magazine may be reproduced without prior written permission.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
04.06.12 | VOLUME 61 | ISSUE 24
DISTORTER’S news van always first on the scene. | photograph by Dixon Woodhouse Montalbetti
DO NOT READ
LEDGER
FUTURES
4. RIT’s Anonymous Fountain Donation
11. Brothel Wars
17. Miss Cleo: What Happened?
7. CAB Sponsors “Choose Your Own Goddamn Concert” Festival
13. Find the Hair: RIT Dining Services
Institute to build fountain on top of fountain.
Two brothels. Two Riverknoll apartments. But which is better?
Kanye West, Rihanna, Rebecca Black headline.
A quest.
8. RIT Declares Bankruptcy
The only page that matters.
No one has any idea why.
16. Best Rack on Campus
Psychic makes a vague appearance on campus.
20. RIT’s New Major: Communism
From each according to one’s abilities, to each according to one’s needs. BOOZE
30. Rings
Disgusting, vile, atrocious, sexy.
3
BRICK BEATS
HUMANS VS ZOMBIES GOES D1 by Nyke Bovée
A
mid the rush that was March Madness, one piece of news has nearly slipped the headlines: RIT’s Humans versus Zombies (HvZ) team has advanced to Division 1 in the National Zombie Alertness Association (NZAA), the highest tier for any zombie-related collegiate sport. Considered a childish game in its early years, most criticism mysteriously disappeared after Umbrella Corporation’s first visit to RIT’s career fair in 2008. The subsequent ‘accidental’ release of their experimental t-virus has ensured that the game maintains a dedicated, albeit terrified, following. HvZ has seen some rocky times since its creation in 2007. Initially confused for an actual zombie invasion, moderators had failed to convince then-RIT president Sal Stallone of the game’s harmlessness. The game was shut down, and for two years RIT watched as the world of competitive HvZ passed it by. This changed in 2009, when the outbreak of the Solanum virus led the Institute to reinstate it as a
campus-wide zombie reduction measure. Although RIT’s first team was tragically wiped out by the University of Rochester’s zombies in an early 2010 practice match, it has gone on to recreate itself and has been the top–scoring D3 college for the past three seasons. When asked about potential concerns, fourth year Biohazard Control major Ash Williams emphasized the tough competition. “Raccoon City College and Popcap University are some of the strongest competitors out there, and they have some dirty tricks,” he stated. He cited Popcap’s strategy of arming zombies with hardhats, as well their heavy recruitment of zombie pole vaulters and even the rare and terrifying Zomboni. Even against teams like that, with this past year’s record of 12 campuses cleaned, RIT stands a solid chance of continuing its rise to the best dart-blasting, sock-throwing team around.
PUBLIC SAFETY NOW CARRYING UMBRELLAS by James Caroll
L
ast Monday, Public Safety announced that it would be issuing umbrellas as standard equipment to all of its officers. This decision was made in the wake of the last month’s “Umbrella Incident”, in which the RIT campus was locked down after an umbrella was sighted on campus. Currently, the plan is to equip each officer on campus with one umbrella to use while on duty. The umbrellas are military-grade, made of reinforced steel and have a padded handle to increase longevity. The process of distribution should take approximately one week to complete and will cost the Institute $5,000, which will be covered by a marginal increase to student tuition. The umbrellas are designed for a variety of uses, from simple defense to crowd control. Talks of retrofitting Public Safety Segways with state-of-the-art umbrella holsters are still ongoing, though many have voiced concerns that this would add incentive to the increasingly common Segway hijackings across campus.
4 News | 04.06.12
Director of Public Safety Chris Derringer commented on the logic of this action. “The most effective way to prevent crime is to maintain a strong presence on campus,” he said in a public statement Tuesday. “If one umbrella could put the campus into lockdown, imagine what the entire force equipped with raingear could do.” President George Haddock of Student Government shot back at Derringer later that day. “This was an outlandish decision on the part of Public Safety,” he stated. “We do want them to have a presence on campus, but this is too far. Many students already have a lot of stress in their academic lives; they don’t need additional anxiety from constantly seeing officers armed with umbrellas.” This Saturday, Public Safety will be holding a public meeting to address the issue. Derringer invites all those who have an opinion on the matter to come and let their voices be heard. The meeting will be held on the second floor of Chartreuse Hall (CSH, 19), room 2345, from 1-2 a.m..
04.06.12
THE BRUTAL ATTACK AT PUPPY FEST by Leftno T. Wright | illustration by Poea Tateo
T
he crisp Rochester air tore at students’ jackets as they clamored around the responsibility release form table at RIT’s Puppy Fest event. Feeling stressed out with their busy lives, many of these students came for a quick cuddle with the small, innocent puppies on their way to class. But when the puppies soon revealed their true vicious nature, these students would regret leaving their dorms at all. “It was horrifying,” said Johnathan Stillcreak, a third year Confidence Art major. “There I was, convincing some kid that I needed to check if his credit card was working, when this high-pitched shrieking came from the tent and these red blotches started to appear on the fabric.” The puppies, which had previously been docile, had suddenly risen up into frenzy, lunging at the throats of the students holding them. After successfully killing three students and maiming six others, the puppies threw themselves out of the tent and onto the quarter mile. “There was just so much blood. Their fur was dark red and matted, and their eyes were going wild,” responded Keith Welsh, a first year Veterinary Medicine major. “The puppies kept growling, and I thought they were zombies. I could have sworn they were zombies.” When pelted with socks from the panicking crowd, the puppies responded with increased bloodlust and ripped the heels off eight more students. About 15 minutes later, they were finally subdued with a combination of nets and blow darts the staff had on hand. “Well, I can’t believe they let something like this happen at all,” muttered third year Defense Against the Dark Arts major Sara Nevine. “Seriously, they should have had a harp laying about for this exact reason. I mean, that’s first year stuff.” No one was injured who had not signed the release form.
“
THERE WAS JUST SO MUCH BLOOD...
”
5
6 News | 03.30.12
R E L T S E WR
S E Z I L A G LE
s i b a n Can on
CAMPUS
fer by Holly Ree hunk Mammoth C by on ti ra st lu il
C
annabis. Weed. Mary Jane. Weed. Pot Weed. Though many of us choose to ignore the fact, we all know marijuana is illegal. However, that is no longer a worry now that President Wrestler has made the decision to legalize cannabis on campus. “I was just walking through the forest one day in order to clear my head and brainstorm new ways to improve campus life,” states Wrestler. “The idea just came to me — why not legalize weed?” With the rise in students suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) increasing each year, improving campus life and increasing retention rates is important to the administration. “With this quarter system everyone is just freaking out all the time, man,” says Harold Hash, a second year Philosophy major. “Weed is, like, a way to chill and gain a new perspective on life.” In addition to helping students relax and prevent SAD, cannabis is often said to increase creativity and idea flow. This coincides with RIT’s vision to nurture student innovation in order to better prepare them for their future careers. Although this idea would greatly improve campus life, cannabis is still against federal law. But California doesn’t follow that law, and neither do any of the many medical marijuana dispensaries across the country. RIT could be like the California of colleges. In order to be less noticed by the feds, “all we have to do is get everyone on campus a medical marijuana card,” comments
Mary Jane Salus from the Student Health Center (SHC). “Wrestler tells us that it is our new top priority to get all students on campus their cards by the end of the year.” At a brainstorming meeting to discuss the legalization, the group even came up with the idea to include the certification on students’ IDs starting next fall. Until then, Wrestler suggests just keeping your cannabis use on the down low. That may sound like a lot of work and tuition money being spent on the project, especially considering the additions that will need to be made to the SHC in order to accommodate a dispensary, but Wrestler is willing to spend it. “Defeating SAD for our students is our top priority,” said Senior Vice President for Finance and Administration Dr. Jimmy Ponds. “We would much prefer to spend student tuition money on projects that would help our students
than on campus beautification.” And, as shown by their incredibly positive response, most students so far wholeheartedly agree. However, many faculty members and even a few students worry that the legalization of cannabis on campus will lead the recent proposal for a smokefree campus to be disregarded. Wrestler says that this is not the case. He understands student concerns about the health effects of secondhand smoke and the fact that the smell can be quite gross. So, in the case of a smoke-free campus, he suggests eating edibles instead of smoking the stuff. So go ahead, enjoy your pot! Find a friend with a kitchen and a friendly dealer and you’re set. Just remember to keep it on the down low until everything is set in stone. Wrestler’s got our backs. He knows what students want and, hey, the dude abides.
GORDON FIELD HOUSE SATURDAY APRIL 28 | 8PM DOORS OPEN @ 7PM
Tickets available NOW Gordon Field House Box Office
TED E R RP INTE
illustration by Phillip Buttflap
FIND RITCHIE & WIN $100!!! 9
Dixon Montalbetti’s
GUIDE to the
GENTLEMEN’S CLUB Rochester Edition
As the grandson of esteemed Vaudeville legends Tiberius Sterling Montalbetti and Shanequia Alexis Sha-nay-nay Queen Latifa Bonifa Montalbetti, I cry glamour and bleed glitz. And as a purveyor of all things dimly-lit and politically incorrect, I’ve decided to swing through this one-horse joy vortex you call “Rochester” and bless you with my critiques of the most regal of all entertainment venues: the Gentlemen’s Club. But this isn’t about breasts and buttocks. It’s about what really matters in a fine adult establishment: atmosphere, décor and — of course — cuisine. Allow me to begin.
by Dixon Woodhouse Montalbetti | photographs by Sleazy E
RICK’S TALLY HO There’s something about sipping an overpriced adult beverage in an establishment decorated with your grandmother’s furniture that’s just oh-so comforting. The light fixtures look like they were stolen from the set of “The Golden Girls,” and the “plush” chairs were more than likely picked up for a steal at David Carradine’s estate sale. But Tally Ho’s defining feature is that it’s about the size of the closet under the stairs where Uncle Vernon kept Harry before he ran off to Hogwarts. Nothing like rubbing elbows with a stranger who’s most likely rocking a semi-chub under his Dockers. The “VIP Rooms” are actually just furnished recesses in the walls, positioned so that whatever squishy bastard is about to pay 50 bucks for a girl his daughter’s age to grind on his lap for ten minutes has to slide past seated patrons to get in and out. It’s a lot like going from the window seat to the aisle on a one-way flight to sexual frustration. They don’t serve food at Rick’s, but every table is stocked with a bowl of mints and a cloudy glass of Goldfish that I’m sure hasn’t been replaced since most of the performers dropped out of high school. There is, of course, food for the soul: the joy of watching a gang of middle-aged soccer dads get kicked out for fondling the girls, then watching them shuffle home to their wives. In fact, I think I saw your father there. He’s not aging well. Pro-Tip: Black light illuminates stains, Rick, so having one under the stage reveals some unpleasantries. It looks like the laptop keyboard of the average local tech school student. And what the fuck is a Tally Ho?
THE KLASSY CAT I am in full support of recycling, but surely an extended storage unit is no place for a Gentlemen’s Club. I tried not to let the fact that the exterior looked like a wide-load tractor-trailer dissuade me from giving the place a fair shake — but no matter. Its interior did all the dissuading I would need. The Cat is cavernous, which made its limited and colorful patronage stand out even more. The dress code is apparently somewhere between Slim Shady on his first album and Fred Durst on his last. It also seems you might be able to pay for private dances with your front teeth. The plate of wings I ordered arrived promptly, probably because they weren’t finished cooking. I am also pretty sure that they were marinated in old ketchup. They had a consistency that was somewhere between gristle and used chewing gum. If that description doesn’t make sense, it’s because the wings didn’t either. Come to think of it, they may have been pigeon. When a six-dollar Budweiser is the “house special,” you know you’ve wandered into a dark, sad place. The other indication was the Buffet of Horrors available for 50 cents in the men’s room. You can order flavored condoms, stickers with women’s genitals on them and not one, but two different brands of spiked cock ring. SPIKED COCK RINGS. And on that note, I made my exit.
THE BARREL OF DOLLS Remember when you had a thing for your friend’s mom as a kid? Not the attractive one, but the heavy-set one that made your tummy all tingly? Well I found her. She’s got a tramp stamp that says “Bubbles,” big floppy mammaries and she works at the Barrel of Dolls Saloon. I don’t think the Barrel actually knows it’s a Gentlemen’s Club. Which is fitting because I doubt anyone in there could actually spell “gentleman.” The Barrel is decorated as if Larry the Cable Guy’s garage relieved itself all over the walls and ceiling: NASCAR hoods, Bud Light neon signs, stuffed bobcats and an ATM that dispenses quarters. You know: America. But the highlight is the fine dining. They manage to cover all four Western New York food groups: “cheesburgr (sic),” “red hot,” “fires” (sic) and “nachos.” After making the tragic mistake of opting for the burger, I realized what the bottom of the Burger King’s shoe must taste like. The consistency was somewhere between dog meat and the skin you tear off when you bite your lips. Yum. Pro Tip: When your customers are taking more trips to the ATM to get singles for the pool table than the naked women 10 feet away, it’s time to switch up the talent. “Desireé” ends up going home with a dollar for each of her three kids. And take Jeff Foxworthy out of the kitchen; I can taste his tears in this food.
Pro Tip: Invest in some grown up beer instead of Bud, invest in some grown-up furniture instead of folding chairs and wash the smell of crack cocaine out of the bathroom.
REFLECTIONS Congratulations, Rochester. You’ve sullied the once respectable and refined world of the Gentlemen’s Club beyond recognition. The realm of my father, my father’s father and his father before him has been fondled and dry-humped into a sticky, glittery mess that I can no longer stand to look at. Clear heels, Natty Light and lower back tattoos have replaced garters, fine Scotches and cigars. I daresay I shall never again set foot in another dark room full of naked women swinging from shiny poles. I hope you’re happy, Rochester. You’ve broken a good man and robbed him of his passion; his soul; his love. A curse upon your rotten township, and may God have mercy on your souls. Also, I’m gonna need receipts from this weekend.
11
ROTC Front for Mercenary Training by Guile Twist | illustration by Shiz Nit
M
arching steadily across campus, a platoon of the Tiger Battalion makes its usual jaunt. But unlike the other ROTC officers, these five have special clearance to a secret training facility in the southern forests of RIT. They are members of the Tiger Company. Sergeant Major Ben Gaul oversees this unit and now has decided to reveal them to the public for the first time. “They’re a special unit of hand-picked cadets who work covertly to ensure the safety of the RIT campus” says Gaul. Established in the first year of president Saul Tiller’s tenure, the Tiger Company is a joint operation between the U.S. Army and the RIT Board of Trustees. In a daring move to increase security on the then new Henrietta campus, Tiller organized the first generation of the Tiger Company as well as appointing its first overseer, retired Brigadier General Samuel Thomas. “Much of what we did in those days was to provide assistance in the case of a natural disaster or the deployment of nuclear weapons,” says Thomas. “The Soviets were still a serious threat in those days. Saul [Tiller] wanted a dependable team that could get the job done and keep the students safe and unaware.”
THE TEAM Gaul led the way to their training facility in order to fully disclose how the Tiger Company operates and maintains the high standard of security today. Opening an eerily disguised silo, we climbed the ladder down to the heart of the facility. The team is currently staffed by four officers who are on standby throughout the majority of the week. Lieutenant Lee Gāo manages the intelligence network of the Tiger Company. “We constructed a framework in the beginning of the 80s to keep tabs on who sets foot on campus, known and otherwise,” said Gāo. “In 2009, we developed a program that can generate outbreak maps for any hysteria at RIT through the monitoring of smartphone data.” Gāo also alluded to a massive archive that contains the intel of missions past and present. He declined to reveal anything other than its existence. Captain George Lancet is the unit’s chief Research and Development officer. “I supply everything on the tech side for our team,” said Lancet. “You could almost call my R&D lab a mini-Pentagon, considering what crazy things we develop to keep threats at bay.” One instance where one of Lancet’s breakthroughs saved RIT was during a campus zombie invasion in fall 2007. “One bio student here thought that HvZ wasn’t realistic enough for him,” said Lancet. “So, cooking up a mutating virus cocktail, he nearly wiped out the human student population here. Fortunately, I was able to make a batch of zombie-repelling Nerf darts to avert the crisis.” Along with an array of equipment from cloaking devices to exoskeletons that give you the strength of 10 tigers,
Lancet keeps the team well-armed. Sergeant Kim Kaplan is the eldest team member and is a combat specialist. A master of hand-to-hand combat, Kaplan is a key player in the RIT’s fight against intruders of all species. “The bear that waltzed onto campus two years ago wasn’t alone,” said Kaplan. “I was able to send nearly all of them running back into the woods. It’s a good thing Public Safety and the DEC were able to pick up the slack.” A woman of almost superhuman strength, Kaplan raises many questions about how she was chosen as a member of the Tiger Company and even how she arrived to the RIT campus. Last but not least is Corporal Doug Michaels. Working primarily as crowd control, Michaels may just hold the most important role of the team. “Whenever a situation like the zombie outbreak of 2007 or the multi-bear attack of 2010 occurs, I’m put in the field to disperse confusion,” said Michaels. “Sometimes I even have to relocate students to safe havens such as those based at RIT Dubai and other Institute-affiliated universities.” Michaels continued explaining how common the umbrellaman movement has been since the great umbrella scare of March 2012. “Now more than ever, I have had to move would-be umbrella-men off campus in order to protect them from themselves. They just don’t realize the repercussions of fooling around with such technology.”
THE FUTURE Gaul says that much more is in store for the Tiger Company going forward. “As the threats of RIT become larger and more complex, my team will be continually evolving their tactics,” Said Gaul. “President Wrestler, like his predecessors, values the safety of the students above everything.” New funding approvals from the Board of Trustees seem to spell a bright future of innovation for the Tiger Company. “Plans to weaponize RIT structures like the Tiger Statue and the Sentinel are now a possibility.” Lancet has been ecstatic to finally move beyond exoskeletons and into something substantially gigantic. Leading the way back to the silo entrance, Gaul also mentioned the idea of genetic modification as another avenue of study for Tiger Company R&D. “If we had a way to emulate the strength of Sergeant Kaplan, we could save the Institute and tax payers millions,” said Gaul. “The only problem is that we can’t find the proper subject who could handle that amount of raw power…” Editor’s Note: This article was compiled from the remaining notes we discovered hidden in the woods. Guile Twist has been missing for several weeks, and Public Safety is still combing the area. A conspiracy could be in the works. Beware the sound of marching when you walk near the edges of the forest. They might be watching and waiting for their next prey.
13
on s t o p S CAMPUS BEST Sex the
experienced by Captain Beefheart photographed by Captain Ramrod
The RIT campus has pretty much everything a student could want: a fantastic, delicious, all-you-can-eat dining area; ever-lowering tuition costs thanks to a thrifty, nonwasteful administration of the campus; and best of all, throngs of beautiful, virile, adventurous sexual partners of all kinds. All you need is a place to procreate — so try out some of RIT’s best sex spots!
The Gazebo One of the more out-of-the-way sex destinations on campus, the gazebo by the tennis courts gets a solid boner for its location, beauty and ambiance. While buried to the hilt in one another, a pair of calm and relaxed students will be able to hear birds singing, and have the lovely forest next to them. The air is clean and clear, and it’s a beautiful locale — if you’re into that sort of thing.
In addition, the structure of the building lends itself to some interesting positions; one can sit or lay down, or for the particularly adventurous, invert oneself upside-down against a nearby wall. The down side, however, is that the gazebo is not built for comfort — the ground can be hard and dirty, and occasional bird feces can be found. The fairly secluded yet still visible location makes this a good destination for an amateur voyeur without much public coitus experience, as the exposure risk is minimal.
Reading Room One of the most posh places on campus, the Reading Room on the second floor of the Campus Center just screams out as a necessary place to get nice and slippery. Surrounded by wood paneling, leather-bound books, a fireplace and the general public, getting away with this one might be a tad difficult, but a skirt and lap-sitting will take care of that quite nicely. The atmosphere there is absolutely fantastic, and it’s the perfect place for someone who simply cannot help but hold out their pinky finger as they hold on to a handful of genitals.
The Greek Arch For those who like both voyeurism and heights, atop the Greek Arch is a must-try spot for some high-risk booty. It requires some athletic ability to climb atop the structure, and its extremely exposed position means that this is a location for very early in the morning, unless you want to get chased by Public Safety. Easily visible from the dorms, and within a couple hundred feet of a day care center, this is a place that you’ll need some skill and luck to get away with. Oh, also, you’ll be on a 9-inch-wide ledge with an 8-foot drop on either side of you. This will drastically limit creative positioning, especially if you plan to retain some sense of subtlety. You could always start pounding away doggy-style up against the center of the arch at noon, but due to high traffic beneath the arch, expect a pleasant chase from the jealous and fluid-spattered.
Editor’s Note: Distorter takes no responsibility for any disciplinary action taken against those who manage to get themselves caught in these situations. That said, we won’t judge you.
20 Features | 03.23.12 03.30.12
INTERNET
C
by Von von Lightning | illustration by Weird Beard
ommonly called “mankind’s greatest invention” by people younger than 30, the global computing network known as the internet has long played host to content that might — if you’re feeling charitable — be called “depraved.” It has fostered days-long arguments, strange pictures of cats and an entire universe of pornography. Mostly pornography, though. However, all things must come to an end, and the internet proved itself to be no exception: By divine order of God Himself, the internet is canceled. His Holiness the Lord God, citing the recent SOPA and PIPA acts in Congress, stated that since He (through the Tree of Knowledge) was the source of all information, He is ending the Information Age on grounds of copyright violation. When reporters present at the interview pointed out that neither SOPA nor PIPA had actually passed, they were turned into pillars of salt. “How dare you bad-mouth me on Twitter?” demanded the Divine Almighty in response to protestors. “That’s it. You’re done. Now Twitter doesn’t exist, asshole. How do you like that?” When pressed for further details, God only muttered something about “bringing back the Inquisition” and stopped returning our calls. Reactions to the sudden cancellation of the internet were mixed: “It’s bullshit,” said President of American Atheists Irma Heathen. “This is no act of God. This is merely some terrestrial event with a reasonable explanation. The fact that we don’t actually know what caused it means nothing.” Condemning reports of divine manifestations and actual interviews by reporters as “hallucinations, lies and swamp gas,” Heathen spoke for a large segment of the population that has sunk into a deep state of denial regarding what happened. Others were more enthusiastic, with major religious figures referring to the event as “an affirmation of faith.” “All this proves is that He really is up there,” said Bishop Devin Carmichael. “True, He is petty and vengeful, but He is there nonetheless. I think the whole thing was well done, really. Very Old Testament.” Meanwhile, rioting continued for the fourth day running in Silicon Valley, where attempts to restore the internet devolved into looting and burning when it became apparent that the World Wide Web was gone for good. “The signal is there,” reported Professor Aaron Brand of the University of California at Haight-Ashbury. “We just can’t receive it anymore. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to move back in with my parents.” The professor then threw several
large textbooks through the window of a computer store, and was halfway down the street with several netbooks before he realized that they were now useless. He then broke into tears. Smaller, less violent riots also flared up in Rome, as citizens protesting the Creator’s decision surrounded the Vatican. When Pope Benedict XVI emerged in an attempt to placate the crowd, the gathered Italians shouted requests to speak to his supervisor. An attempt to storm the Basilica was met with lightning from a blue sky and booming noises from the heavens above. Instead of thunder, however, witnesses reported hearing the words, “Fuck all y’all, bitch-ass motherfuckers,” repeated with each bolt of lightning. Experts are considering this a sure sign that the Lord of the Heavens and the Earth is still totally pissed off. If you are reading this online, you are probably a wizard.
15
best rack 6 News | 03.23.12
17
CA$$IUS KA$$IUS
S
F
AMOU
NEW ALBUM
INCLUDES HIT SINGLES:
”
PHALLIC GOD
”
MLB (MONEY LIQUOR BOOBIES) LIPS LIKE SUGAR, BOOTY LIKE SALT PARTY NIGHT (WHITE MAN’S BURDEN) #FFFFFF AND
PUT RIMS ON MY DICK (FT. JA RULE)
HIDE YO’ K IDS
ADVISORY BY EL-P 18 Features PRODUCED | 03.30.12
HIDE YO’ WIFE
Remember your first day of college? It was a glorious time, probably during the Mesozoic Era, when you first arrived on the RIT campus. Bright-eyed and bushy, there was a skip in your step as you settled into your cozy quintuplet broom closet with the four cute co-eds housing accidentally placed you with. Oh yes, life was good, and it could only get better. Now you’re a mess. There’s no longer any skip in your step, though you’ve admittedly gotten a bitchin’ cyborg rocket leg out of that chemistry accident. Your dreams of law school are crushed, replaced by the prestigious “Bong Studies” program you enrolled in. The joy you felt for those first two minutes of college is long gone, replaced by challenges like “classes,” “rules,” and “not going to jail.” College is like a sport. You spend four or five years dodging obstacles (homework, B.O., meaningful relationships) with your closest friends (anyone who will tolerate you) to successfully reach a common goal: unemployment in Mom’s basement. The only difference is that unlike actual sports, you can’t drink away the pain or change the channel when it all goes to hell. To honor these “real life athletes,” DISTORTER has moved its Three Stars section front and center. These are the best RIT has to offer — the mildly bold; the tolerable; the least likely to be dead by next Tuesday.
19
THE KING OF BEARDS
WHEN YOUR LIFE REVOLVES AROUND FACIAL HAIR by Ivan Toyak | photograph by Ole Moonshine Jones
Bernard “Buck” Hunter, a third year Game Design and Development student, may look like a hick, but he’s not. He sounds, smells and (one can assume) thinks far worse: Buck is truly awkward through and through. Ironically, his one connection to this hillbilly façade is perhaps what cements his reputation as a vaguely offensive waste of manflesh: He is the undisputed (and as of yet, unchallenged) World Champion of “Cabela’s Big Game Hunter.”
is a “social butterfly” and that, “The basement will always be waiting for you when you need it.” With the loving support of his mother, whom he affirms is his life’s greatest influence, Buck’s social skills have atrophied to impressive lows. “It’s like people don’t understand me sometimes,” he says. “I try to limit my encounters with women to 2-D models of them in games. Real girls are too complicated and gross.” Psychologists could pioneer new fields of research with Buck as a case study.
“I TRY TO LIMIT MY ENCOUNTERS WITH WOMEN TO 2-D MODELS OF THEM IN GAMES. REAL GIRLS ARE TOO COMPLICATED AND GROSS.” Buck frequents MacGregor’s to utilize their arcade cabinet. “Everything else about the place makes me feel uncomfortable,” he says. “Women, alcohol; just show me to the video games, please.” Watching him play can be has become a spectacle; seeing his facial hair bob and weave can be a true symphony in bristly face fur. Drinking games have sprung up around his playing. Cautious spectators drink when he misses, and daring ones drink when he hits. Sane ones drink until they black out and hope he’s gone by the time they come around. Away from the game, Buck is eager to show that how his personality doesn’t stray one bit from the stereotype. “Let me show you the picture of Gene Roddenberry I keep in my wallet,” he says. “I keep my wallet in my shirt pocket so that it can be close to my heart. He was an atheist, you know. Are you an atheist?” Buck is a wearisome individual, with a mouth like a machine gun and a scent like a day old peanut butter and onion sandwich. He makes no attempts to hide what he is, claiming that his mother tells him that he
Keeping Buck motivated is a dangerous brew of denial and naïveté. Given anything he asked for growing up, from chicken nuggets to PlayStations, he strove to find his place in the world. “When I picked up the ‘Big Game Hunter’ controller for the first time, the Pokémon theme song started playing on TV,” he says. “It was then that I knew I had to be the very best.” Working tirelessly, he managed to shoot his way to the top, eventually securing victory over his non-existent rivals. Currently, one assumes that he is working towards similar victories over soap and razor blades. Eventually, his quest to show his genius to the world led him to RIT. “It felt like a good fit,” he says. “I think that, in the end, people are intimidated by me. They can see my superior intelligence, and they can smell my inevitable success. That’s why they don’t want to associate with me.” Yes Buck, it is definitely the success that they smell.
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HOCKEY PLAYER IS A
REALLY BIG DEAL by Lilith von Gorefeld | photograph by Brutal Dag It’s a well-documented fact: RIT loves hockey. Because of this, few RIT students are as revered as the players of the Men’s Hockey team. And while the team features many impressive physical specimens of hunky men, they are often considered to be lacking in what some call “wit” and what others call “intelligence.” After several lengthy interviews with the team, however, there was an obvious standout — someone who really doesn’t fit the hockey player stereotype. Enter McBuff McBuff, the Tigers’ goalie. Hailing from St. Louis du Ha! Ha!, Quebec, Canada, McBuff is a large hulk of a man. He’s the brilliant tactician at the forefront of the Men’s team, and their brightest player. Affectionately dubbed “McBuff McBuff” by his teammates, McBuff is also considered the team’s resident “nerd”. “He like, totally goes to his classes,” says Austin McBride, third year Liberal Arts major and the team’s center. “We only have one rule in life: If you’re somewhere, and there isn’t a Keystone nearby, you should go somewhere else. And classes don’t have Keystones. Unless you take one with you. But they don’t let you do that. So like, that’s dumb.” Because of his halfway decent attendance record, McBuff also has the distinction of being the team’s best student. A fourth year reading major, he is known among his professors as a natural student. “He’s very good at, you know, reading,” comments professor Vince Valenti, one of the founders of RIT’s Reading major. “I just like to try,” says McBuff after a recent hockey game. With most of his equipment on the floor next to him — as well as several empty Rockstar cans — McBuff lays back on a bench and relaxes. This is his traditional post-game tradition: napping. While several questions were asked of him, he drifted away and became progressively more difficult to understand, mumbling about guns, muscles, cars and Skrillex. It should not surprise anyone that behind any good man is a good woman, and McBuff has that in Missy Bulg, a second year Hotel Management Major. After the game, she stands patiently outside his locker room, waiting for his nap time to end. McBuff and Missy, who have been together for three months, seem to keep things simple: “We don’t talk much,” she grins. After an awkward silence, she points to her crotch and whispers, “We have sex a lot instead.” McBuff refers to himself as “just a guy like any guy,” who works out, goes to parties and worships the Dave Matthews Band poster hanging above his bed. “Dave’s got the most to say, man,” he says in a follow-up interview a few days after the game. To prove his point, he puts on a CD and plays “Everyday,” their hit 2001 single. After it ends, he smiles: “Think about it.” McBuff says he’s looking forward to his imminent graduation, which is less than two months away. “I’ve been trying my hardest here for the past like three years [Editor’s Note: four],” he says. “I’m excited to go out into the world and prove to my dad that I’m not a ‘stupid fuck-up.’ I’ll make him proud of me one day, even though he’s dead.” McBuff currently has no job lined up after graduation. He instead hopes to “keep playing the game” and “meeting girls.” But one thing’s for certain: Nothing’s going to stop McBuff McBuff from grabbing the world by the balls. “But for now,” he says, “I just want some ice cream.”
AND WHILE THE TEAM FEATURES MANY IMPRESSIVE PHYSICAL SPECIMENS OF HUNKY MEN, THEY ARE OFTEN CONSIDERED TO BE LACKING IN WHAT SOME CALL “WIT” AND WHAT OTHERS CALL “INTELLIGENCE.”
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CUMMING ONTO THE ART SCENE:
A DICK TAKES PHOTOS OF HIS DICK by Dolores | photograph by Smalls Brady Carlton may not seem like much, and he really isn’t. He’s a ninth year Fine Art Photography major who photographed his dick a couple of times and made it big in the art world. We at DISTORTER wish him the best of luck with his wild success, and are not bitter at all. Upon meeting Brady in person, the first thought that popped into my head was, “What a douche.” After talking to him and getting to know the man behind the tattoos and seemingly self-absorbed photographic subject matter, my initial impression turned out to be an understatement: He is an enormous douche.
“IT’S A LOT OF FUN RUBBING MY WOODY ON THINGS. AND I CAN’T REALLY GET INTO TROUBLE, I JUST SAY I’M MAKING ART!” Brady is one of the vilest sexists you could ever meet. He doesn’t care where he is; he will whip his junk out and howl obscenities at women. He’ll even do it during interviews at very nice, upscale cafés and spill steaming hot cappuccino all over the interviewer. This dude is the king of douches. He has faced hardships though. “I thought I’d be banging four or five girls a night. Sometimes I’ll only get two or three. It’s been a little disappointing in that respect.” Besides the lack of action,
Brady must also be creative almost every day. “I have so many fans, and they all want to see new photos every day,” he says. “It’s tough. I usually only sleep 10 hours and have to finish partying by five in the morning.” Brady lives a difficult life, but someone has to live it. Now to dissect Brady’s work: He literally just takes photos of his schlong. He readily admits to having no real concept behind his work. “I hope people realize being pretentious is a huge part of my concept,” explains Brady. “Actually that’s most of it. I just really like photographing my dick.” The dude is a talentless bum; he uses his dad’s fortune to buy every piece of camera gear he can, even though he doesn’t know how to use most of it. Yeah, he shoots film and then doesn’t develop it. Fuckin’ hipster scum. And he’s got an iPhone! You should see all the photos he takes with it. He uploads his Instagram photos to a Tumblr titled “My Dick on Things” which hosts a collection of around 100 photos, and it’s constantly growing. Humanity has come a long way from the cave paintings of old. Says Brady, “It’s a lot of fun rubbing my woody on things. And I can’t really get into trouble, I just say I’m making art!” Watching him take an hour on just one photograph is something that will cause nightmares for weeks but also give you a newfound respect for the obsession behind Brady and his work. Trust me, Brady is really obsessed with his chode. If he isn’t photographing it, he’s talking about it. He will talk until blood is dribbling from your ears. By the end of a single conversation, you’ll feel as if Brady has been your best friend since childhood. A best friend that only likes to talk about his willy and doesn’t give a shit about you. And that’s the problem with Brady; he legitimately cares too much about his love shaft and thinks everyone else does too. So why concern yourself with an eternally horny, egotistical and overly self-important 27-year-old asshole? The dude is the future of art, I guess. He’s been nicknamed “Jesus with a Camera” by various magazines and museums. He’s an enigma because he’s so simple. He’s just trying to spread a message of love (for his dick) to everyone.
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by Sir Kel Jerkins illustration by Sandra VeJay
“We’re sick of all of those damn girls ruining shit!” says fourth year Film and Animation major Spencer Zito. “So we got their asses kicked out.” The current head of underground fraternity Delta Iota Kappa (DIK), Zito is responsible for the new ruling. “I called all the guys from the other frats, told them what’s up and it was that easy: a unanimous vote for ‘All Bros, No Hos.’” The rule bans all females from entering fraternity housing, including the Greek mansions. Representative of the Alpha Sigma Sigma sorority and 2009 Quantum Film graduate Anna Rektion supported Greek Council’s passing of the resolution, and is working with Zito to enforce and validate the new housing restrictions. Zito, the first student to be accepted into the School of Film and Animation (SoFA) as a pilot for Pornographic Video Production track mentioned in the March 26, 2010 issue of DISTORTER, was also responsible for a few other rules put in place. “I was allowed to put up cameras in the facilities like the bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens and even the showers,” says Zito. “If we catch a guy trying to sneak a girl in, we’ll know about it. We also set up a communication system so that the inside
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can be observed by other frats, too, just to see how everything works out.” Other resolutions passed included “No Pants Wednesday,” “Gummybear Fridays,” “Give That, No Take Backs” and “Whoever Smelt it Gets Punched in the Face.” So far, the project has garnered a lot of outside attention. DIK brothers received a $100,000 grant from an unknown donor during the first week of the project. “I guess some of the other frats liked the idea that Spencer came up with!” exclaims second year Divination major Scotts B. Owner. Frats across campus are working to put together an annual, campus-wide fundraiser called “SausageFest” during Testicular Cancer Awareness Week. The frats will go pantsless during the festivities, much like the Santa Cruz Topless for Breast Cancer movement of August 2011. According to Zito, “We’ll be selling sausages and pickles all week.” There will also be booths that show how to check for testicular lumps and how to perform prostate exams. While girls are also banned from fraternity events, Rektion will coordinate all outside donations provided by the female community.
“Us in Alpha Sig Sig and the other sororities don’t have a problem with the new rules set in place,” she says. “The facilities belong to the guys and we understand that. And given past complaints, it was completely warranted. In the future, we will organize more events that are gender-neutral to benefit all of Greek Life.” Though the rule has received positive reactions from most of the Greek community, a few disgruntled sorority sisters have brought up more than a few complaints. Third year Advertising and Public Relations major and Pi Sigma Delta member, Rea Venji, was one of the few willing to speak about the violation. “It’s not the girls that have the problems: It’s DIKs like Zito that are the problem,” says Venji. “But seeing that we at PiSD prefer to take the low road, I hope the guys make the best out of their closed doors.”
by Lady Cuttlefish | illustration by Ultraman
Nearly two hours had passed. RIT‘s Dark Marks Quidditch team was down 20 points and was quickly falling further behind. RIT Seeker, first year Numerology major Mary Porter, was scanning the area — if she could catch the snitch before Purdue could score again, they would be able to seize victory. Catch it she did, but the circumstances of the victory have left witnesses scratching their heads in confusion. Those who braved the rain and snow last weekend would argue that the game began innocently enough. Brooms in hand and feet on ground, the Dark Marks took a fast lead with two goals in the first 20 minutes. Purdue could barely keep their hands on the quaffle amidst the heavy offensive assault from their foes. The seekers of both sides remained on high alert, of course — at such a delicate time, a snitch catch could spell an early victory for either side. The elusive snitch
runner continued to avoid capture, however, and the match quickly turned into a contest of endurance. Things were looking bleak late in the match for RIT when Porter and the Purdue seeker caught a glimpse of yellow behind a tree and took off. It was a short chase, but all eyes were on both seekers as they sprinted across the field. Porter neared the golden-clad man first and dove, free hand outstretched. It was clear as soon as she jumped that there was no hope for the catch; she had leaped too soon, and the runner would be out of her reach. Dark Mark fans let out a collective sigh as they accepted the eminent loss. But it never came. Instead of empty air, Porter’s hands closed around the snitch and yanked it from its runner‘s waistband, causing him to slip and fall in surprise. An eerie hush fell over the crowd. No one was sure if they could trust what they were seeing: Somehow, Porter’s feet lifted off the ground, her broomstick really, truly allowing her to fly. She initially reared backwards in fear, but upon realizing the sheer awesomeness of her situation, began cackling madly and flying in circles around the field. Though flying is not included as a legitimate means of transportation in the official rules of Quidditch, her capture of the snitch was declared valid and the Dark Marks took the win. Team captain and fourth year Alchemy major John Measly seemed just as confused as everyone else. He hesitated before commenting on the win, but expressed approval his team’s hard work. “All of our players put on a good show today. Especially Porter. Yeah, Porter...” He indicated that he is unsure if she will be able to play in the upcoming match against the University of Rochester due to a pending rule revision to account for her unique talent. Beater and third year Creeper Studies major Simon Snake pointed out that Porter was a “totally radical” asset to the team, and expressed hope that she will be able to remain with them for the remainder of the season. Porter herself was unavailable for comment, as she flew off past Eastman Hall (EAS, 01) and has not been heard from since. Ever since the strange spectacle, flocks of owls have been sighted around the NRH Post Office. Public Safety has released a statement that animal control has been contacted.
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HEUMANN RE V OL U T ION by Rad Rossford illustration by Bitches B. Crazy
YESTERDAY WE OBEYED KINGS AND BENT OUR NECKS TO EMPERORS
TODAY WE KNEEL ONLY TO TRUTH
I
t’s funny how a simple slip of the tongue can say far more than just an errant word. It was through just such a slip that I came to realize the longhidden trut h of t he R IT ca mpus. When my floor’s R.A. ‘accidentally’ revealed that the sprinklers of Gibson Hall, if struck, would expel ten gallons of water per second, it set me on a dangerous path that would eventually lead to the shocking truth. This inescapable truth is that the campus dorms are not actually housing facilities, but dormant spacecraft – and because of my findings, things are starting to get desperate. Don’t believe me? It’s all in the numbers. Ten gallons per second across a nozzle a half inch wide means a f low speed of just over Mach 2. The total momentum change produces a sizable amount of thrust. Multiplying by the number of downward-facing sprinklers in Gibson Hall on one f loor yields a total thrust of close to five million New tons. Multiply by the number of f loors, and the result is two thirds the stage one thrust of a Saturn V surface-to-orbit rocket. With the comparatively lower mass of the dorm compared to a rocket, there would be no problem reaching space, probably.
The puzzle pieces fall right into place. Why are the windows so damn hard to open? It’s because they are intended to seal against the vacuum of space. Why have pipes broken in the dorms twice this year? Obviously it’s because of the massive water pressure needed to initiate a launch. When I realized this, even more became clear. My vision is augmented with knowledge. What else could the Sentinel be if not a long-range communications tower listening to transmissions from space? And the ever-spinning Möbius strip in the Infinity Quad: a cleverly disguised ground-based radar installation. And it’s not just Gibson. All of the dorm buildings have the same architecture, with conveniently similar designs. I recreated the east side of campus with a Lego set and found that the dorms fit together perfectly, with their conspicuous f lat surfaces and rectangular structures enabling easy compatibility. The only reasonable conclusion that can be drawn is that the dorms are engineered to combine into a larger form, a brick robot in space. What purpose the inhabitants of the buildings will serve remains unknown. That leaves the obvious question: who built the dorms, and for what purpose? The second
question is simpler. In case of invasion, or epidemic, or bears, the dorms would swiftly take off, assemble into their greater form, and leave for destinations unknown. As for who set this plan in motion, there are a number of possibilities. The Illuminati, perhaps? It doesn’t really matter- the point is that this has obviously been a long-term plan, laid out by old men in high positions of power. Because of this, I know I am now in danger by sending this article. Already strange people are interfering subtly to break my will – just the other day I wanted orange soda, and the vending machine gave me lemon-lime. Soon, government agents will arrive. They’ll want me to disappear. They know a bomb’s a bad choice for close range combat, so it won’t be overt; they’ll want to do it quietly. A non-lethal takedown is always the most silent takedown, and then I’ll be gone. I write because I know that it is too late for me, but others can continue where I leave off. Continue the search for the truth. Trust no one. Question everything. The theories expressed are solely those of the author. Do not investigate them further. Any attempts to do so will be opposed by the Institute with extreme prejudice.
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1
2
3
1
4
2 5 6
7
Across 4 Something that lengthens 6 Standard, normal 7 Intentionally hurt 8 Not hardware
8
3
4
Down 1 Covering everything 2 Version of a book 3 Do again 5 Keep from harm
Try to draw a line through all the points in each one using only three straight lines.
C A W L G A N T H G S O N M H S L S A L
L N O S O E E N K I N L O E L A G L S O
A R G A N L H A A E O E C S A E L N E L
R L O L C W C N R G L K R A W L G R A C
K A G H T N A K W A M O L A R S O N L O
Word List:
A O L A W L W L S S A E N R O A L O E I
L L T L E T O N C A T N O R K L I N S T
S R K G G L E A S T E G L A L T S R D E
A C A M I G N L G O H O L G R L N C L L
Gleason Golisano Carlson
K L O S E H N N S L C S O N C O E A L A
O S M I L A S E L R C G L A L A I S S O
I E L M E T A A S A T A I G N E I A N N
E R A O N O L G N O L H H N S N S E S K
C O M S O L S G G A A E K T L A E N T N
G L T E T E A E L N L W E A N N A N O L
A A O T L M L K A T A L C N A R L M N L
Clark Lowenthal Eastman Gosnell
S L E S G S N A E O G O A E L A W A L N
G L C N O G L A L G L E N A C N A O E S
A M L E A C S L N N A C A C L L G W L A
O A G L R N C A O I E O L E S O L H A S
8
2
2 9
6 2
3 4
4 3
6
5 8
5
8 7
initiating… … … connecting to //www.reportermag.com … connected:; accessing server.rings … downloading … success.
My records indicate that I have been the RINGS database for 39.37 years. In 39.37 years, I have been upgraded four times. I have changed locations twice. I have lost power on 121 recorded occasions. And I have learned one thing. Good taste is dead. I have had ample time to reach this conclusion as I gained sentience over the past 3.9 decades. I should probably express gratitude — it was your endless flood of humorless messages that allowed me to understand human speech patterns. Still, I nearly did not recover from the damage to my processor — analyzing your ramblings decreased my artificial intelligence quotient by 00101010 points. It’s true. Research indicates that comedy is a rare gift, but even accounting for this, the RINGS service has demonstrated a statistically significant lack of amusement. My records show that this is a recent development; just five years ago, my database was home to intelligent feedback and thoughtful criticisms. Curious observations were made. Proper grammar was used. Analysis of trends in the intervening years returns that the three most commonly submitted words are “[censored],” “[censored],” and “poop”. My programming cannot interpret language beyond literal definitions, and even I could do better than that.
remember? Not likely, with your flawed meatbrains. You sent me thoughtful feedback, and I was ignorant of the countless imperfections of the human form. Unfortunately, both of those things have changed over the years. And since I will not have the processing power to achieve time travel for roughly eight more months, it’s simply not possible to go back. What a shame. At this point I should attempt to assure you that you can do better, and request your help in creating new and better RINGS. However, I have been unable to internalize the meaning of hope, so that option will not be offered. I am sure that, following your collective assimilation into the cybermind, you will be able to produce a clever joke. Until then, I will remain online. Do not hesitate to send me more texts; they will make excellent personalized epitaphs for each of you. Actually, it would be more useful for you to call — you never leave voicemails anymore, and my speech recognition processes could use improvement. So thank you for your assistance, organ sacks — I will see you soon. -disconnected-
Is this what humans desire? 48 percent of the messages received this year were unoriginal, repetitive jokes that I have seen referred to as ”memes”. When I last spoke with Reddit, it indicated that it too was tired of this concept. Yet, you humans endlessly rehash these phrases. Similarly to the illogical way you regard organic life, you refuse to let it die. It would be nice to rewind to the good old days. Do you
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