Distorter 2016 by Reporter Magazine

DISTORTER APRIL 2016

HERE illustration by The Nude Organist | design by Lady Sloth

IS OUR

FUCKING WEBSITE reporter.rit.edu

Please Recycle

DISTORTER EDITOR IN CHIEF Editor in Kief PRINT MANAGING EDITOR Miss Anthropy ONLINE MANAGING EDITOR TJ Chadsworth (aka Orgasmo Dutchmaster) COPY EDITOR Shia LaBeefa NEWS EDITOR Buck Nakad TECHNOLOGY EDITOR Cunt Blacula LEISURE EDITOR Duke Silver FEATURES EDITOR Ophelia Balls SPORTS EDITOR Ana Conda VIEWS EDITOR Lou Skunt WRITERS Bradamir Lenin, Lou Skunt, Cunt Blacula, Miss Anthropy, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, Progeria Wilson III, Pink Freud, John Snow-Dragon?, Unnamed Cambodian Child, Lil Vladdy Puu Puu, D’Andrio Skeeterpus

ART ART DIRECTOR Lady Sloth ONLINE ART DIRECTOR a big frog CONTRIBUTING DESIGNERS Simple Bagel, a giant frog, Jersey Girl, Lady Sloth, Edna Mode, SUPAFLY, Unnamed Cambodian Child, Walking Fish, Blueberry Yum Yum, Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATORS Simple Bagel, a big frog, Shandra Jimenez, The Minkanator, Radish Rabbit, Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen, Jake from State Farm, The Nude Organist, Tim Burton’s Wet Dream

EDITOR’S NOTE Look, can we all just admit that no one reads these things anyway? Why am I being forced to do this? Okay, fine. I’ll write some stupid editor’s note. God, you guys suck. So, recently Reporter did this stupid readereship survey. It was so long, amirite? Anyway, when we viciously took over the Reporter militia to put out our annual magazine (don’t worry, no one was harmed... much. They’re just locked away somewhere. With no food - shit. Miss Anthropy, can you bring them some food? We don’t need another lawsuit on our hands) we were able to access these survye results. So many people in the survey said that they didn’t know that Reporter had a website. Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me? One person even asked that it be better advertised in their print magazine. LOOK BACK AT EVERY PRINT MAGAZINE THEY’VE PUBLISHED THE PAST YEAR. THE WEBSITE IS BOTH ON THE COVER AND IN THE TABLE OF CONTENTS AND USUALLY ELSEWHERE THROUGHOUT THE MAGAZINE. We get it. You saw the survey, maybe took it to feel like you contributed, or you took it simply because you wanted to bitch about Reporter (that’s why we did it). You’ve probably never even read Reporter and just wait patiently for the glorious day, once a year, when Distorter comes out to play. So we made it super easy for you on the page prior to this one. That’s their website. They have one. And some social media too. But we wouldn’t suggest going to their website. There’s still no porn.

PHOTOGRAPHY PHOTO EDITOR Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool ONLINE PHOTO EDITOR Pepe Roni CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS Pepe Roni, Meryl Streak, Stu Pickles, Terry Richardson, Billy S., Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool

BUSINESS BUSINESS MANAGER Chewbacca AD / PR MANAGER Kandi Apple PRODUCTION MANAGER Pencilvester ONLINE

Letters to the Editor should be sent to... Let’s be real, none of you care enough anyway.

SYSTEMS ADMINISTRATOR Dan Glysack

WEB MANAGER Buster Cherry VIDEO EDITOR Sylfilthia Rottencrotch ADVISOR Rubber Chicken PRINTING Gnitnirp iPE CONTACT 585.475.2212 Online Video Component

Reporter Magazine is published monthly 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. “She relaxed like Rick Snyder during the Flint Water Crisis.” -U.F. The opinions expressed in Reporter do not necessarily reflect those of the Institute. Reporter is not responsible for materials presented in advertising areas. Reporter takes pride in its membership in the Associated Collegiate Press and American Civil Liberties Union. Copyright © 2014 Reporter Magazine. All rights reserved. No portion of this Magazine may be reproduced without prior written permission.

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TABLE OF cover and TOC illustration by The Minkanator

TECH

NEWS 6

THE GREAT COFFEE WAR I’m tired

THE LIGO S.H.I.T. I’m not a writer

LEISURE 10

ON LITERATURE AND DISSAPOINTMENT An ill-fated trip to the local bookstore

THE MASTURBATORY INVESTIGATIVE UNIT Oh, that person wrote a description. What a good apple

@reportermag 4 Distorter

AYL Can you survive SIS? (I can’t)

CONTENTS F E AT U R E S 16

QUARTER MILE SHANTYTOWN LEADS TO RIT’S OWN “SURVIVOR”

SPORTS 24

INTRODUCING: WOMEN’S SPORTS! I also hate talking

I’ll sleep when I’m dead

LOOKING GOOD ON A BUDGET I’m done

VLADIMIR PUTIN: SAVIOR OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY (AND AMERICA)

THE BENEFITS OF GETTING SHITFACED: A STUDY Hah. Sleep. What does that feel like?

WINTER HEAT WAVE CAUSED BY PRESIDENT WRESTLER’S WEATHER MACHINE

I hate writing

REPORTER FORMS VIGILANTE MILITIA This isn’t what I’m paid to do

WORD ON THE STREET Have you ever read Reporter Magazine?

RINGS Text or Call (585) 672-4840 (please)

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The Great Coffee War of 2016 by Lou Skunt | illustration by Tim Burton’s Wet Dream | design by Edna Mode

“I watched my best friend get killed by a whipped cream grenade.” Those were the tragic first words of my interview with Jerrard Pendlebottom, one of the survivors of the Battle of Orange Hall. “I rushed over to try and help him, but... it was too late. He looked like a damn snowman.”

For those that live off-campus or don’t really care for coffee, Artesano’s, Java Wally’s and Midnight Oil have declared war on one another in what historians will be sure to call the largest coffee-based crusade in the history of the United States. The previously peaceful nations are said to have been driven to war by hostility tha t has been building in the background for years. Tensions reached an all-time high when Artesano’s employee Kimberly Libro posted a Yelp review on Midnight Oil’s and Java’s pages. She slandered both shops, stating “[Java’s] coffee tastes like someone mixed sewer water with The Situation’s hair gel” and “[Midnight Oil] doesn’t know the difference between a macaron and a macaroon.” Midnight Oil initially tried to ally with Java’s, but Java’s refused on the grounds that their Italian sodas “taste like Super Mario’s sweaty pits.” Shortly after the declaration of war, Artesano’s, being the closest, swept down the Quarter Mile—claiming all the territory between the SAU and the Residence Halls. Java’s immediately reserved all Wallace Center books pertaining to wartime strategies, while Midnight Oil began ritualistically

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forcing former cappuccino foam-artist Maggie Malady to drink excessive amounts of coffee. “With two Green Eyes, our Oracle sees the future,” claims Midnight Oil general Davy Matterhorn. “She sees our enemies’ movements before they make them and interprets her visions as intricate foam illustrations.” “Th-th-they’re making me d-drink triple es-s-spresso shots. Two, ev-vry day. I-I’m not a psychic, I-I just haven’t s-slept in six d-d-days,” stated Oracle Malady. At the time of my visit, her eyes were bloodshot and she had clearly not showered for several days. She seemed jittery, like a heroin addict stranded on a deserted island. “I-I’ve just been d-doodling randomly, hoping that th-they’ll let me go h-home.” When confronted with this information, Matterhorn dismissed it. “She is blessed by the Great Coffee Bean in the Sky and will surely lead us to victory. Quia capulus, quia gloria!” The Great Coffee Bean in the Sky, of course, refers to Midnight Oil’s patron deity: the sentient, mythical coffee bean said to bless those that talk about coffee in grammatically incorrect Latin phrases taken from Google

Translate. Midnight Oil has always worshiped The Great Bean, leading to a society based around a religious hierarchy. The country is led by High Priest Lupus Nebulouso, who could not be reached for comment for “super serious religious reasons. I’m, uh, fasting. Yeah, that’s it.” Artesano’s is known for two things: its incredible selection of sweets and pastries and its extraordinarily powerful weapons. After war was declared, the powerhouse went on to forcefully annex the isolated provinces of Beanz and The College Grind. They were converted into heavily industrialized colonies and now serve as the source of Artesano’s weapons research and manufacturing. According to Artesano’s prime minister, Jillian Lancero, their expansive armory is going to be the key to their victory. “We’ve engineered espresso machines into steam engines for our tanks. We’ve perfected the high-caliber coffee bean sniper rifle and we will be the first to create long-range, surfaceto-surface chai latte missiles. We will wipe those miserable cretins off the face of the campus. They are ants, ants that must be exterminated! They will kneel before our

decaf mocha might!” She ended her statement by laughing maniacally for 30 seconds. Java Wally’s, being sandwiched between the two other countries, owes its continued survival to its cunning and brutal military strategies. Fighting on two fronts with limited forces requires tactics and intuition that may only come along once in a generation. Java’s owes its success to strategic genius General xXPu$$yDetr0ya69Xx. No one has ever met the General in person, but he is online friends with Supreme Overlord Java Wally and provides strategic insight through Battle. net’s private messaging system. I was allowed a brief online audience with the military mastermind, during which the general admitted that his strategic prowess was born from “over 5,000 hours playing Starcraft II.” Supreme Overlord Java Wally also granted me a brief interview. While he remained fairly tight-lipped about his plans for the future and how he plans to win the war, he admitted to his ruthless tactics and even seemed somewhat proud of them. Java’s armies are known to employ the use of guerrilla warfare, including using milk-foam mines and sabotaging enemy vehicles. They

are also widely feared for their lack of mercy. In the Supreme Overlord’s words, “We don’t take food debit, and we don’t take prisoners.”

“We don’t take food debit, and we don’t take prisoners.” Looking for an outside opinion, I spoke to the leader of the neutral Empire of Freshens, Emperor Alvin Kolvin. “They are fueled by hatred that spawns from their dependence on caffeine and their addiction to unhealthy confectionaries,” he told me. “Look to my empire and the difference is astounding. We have done away with coffee and sweets, relying instead on a diet of smoothies and rice bowls. This has allowed us to stay neutral and level-headed for generations.” His lecture continued for three more hours, only becoming more and more preachy as time

went on. It reached a point where I had to cut the interview short by shouting a string of incomprehensible obscenities at him. Perhaps the most tragically impacted by the war are the nomadic tribes of Imp Rohv, as they were regular visitors to the warring cafés. They would delight the locals with their fantastical stories that almost seemed to be made up on the spot. One tribe in particular, Breyn-Ryek, was a frequent guest to the religious state of Midnight Oil. Now, with the countries in turmoil, the tribes have been forced to find different gathering areas. With tensions at an all-time high across campus, it remains unclear as to who will emerge victorious in this hectic frappuccinofueled feud, if anyone does at all. It is still a very real possibility that all on-campus coffee suppliers will be wiped out as a result of this war. Should this happen, we may find the ashes of their empires soon taken over by the quiet giant that lies waiting in Barnes and Noble: Starbucks.

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The LIGO

SHIT

Laser Pointers Laser beams mounted on key chains for ease of portability and mountability for suspended applications

by Cunt Blacula | illustration by The Minkanator \ design by Jersey Girl

Hey, yâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;all! Back by popular demand, Cunt Blacula here with another wonderful gadget!

Makeup Compact Double surfaced as beam corrective feature for idiots ... or blind people

Aluminum Foil To provide quality reflective surfaces for maximum beamage

Personal Time Travel DIY 8 Distorter

Have you ever wanted to go back to the future? Be a time traveller’s wife? Pretend to be a sexually ambiguous psuedodoctor? Well, do I have the product for you! After the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory (LIGO) Science Collaboration’s proof that gravitational waves exist, the researchers at RIT who were part of the marvelous discovery were bombarded with questions from students about what this means to the common man. Michael Ira Rellivant, a college-aged person on campus, said “I figured if they were going to solve Einstein’s theory of relativity, the least they could do is solve my theory of late activity.” He went on to explain that his lateness to class is going to cause him to be an adult-aged person on campus soon. So, what could the researchers do to help the common man like Mike? Well, they could fucking research — and research they did. With support from LIGO, RIT researchers dove straight into the steaming pile of intergalactic shit that is the space-time continuum. One of the researchers, the renowned inventor of more glow-inthe-dark-ier, press-on Starr stickers, Krystalle Starr, said of the arduous task that often times she would rather “choke on a freshly pinched loaf” than continue researching—but continue they did. And after what seemed like years, they got it: time travel. RIT researchers have discovered a simple, cost-effective way to tap into the space-time continuum and create time warping portals. They determined that firing low-powered laser pointers into semi-porous tubular structures and having reflective surfaces at each end with one highly reflective merging surface outside of the framing of the tubes creates a high frequency light beam that travels on gravitational waves and creates a pulse in the galaxy strong enough to pierce the confines of our dimension’s

space-time continuum. It sounds like a mouthful, but basically NOW WE CAN TRAVEL THROUGH MOTHERFUCKING TIME. This contraption is the Space-time Halting Intergalactic Thing (SHIT for short, in homage to the tortured Starr). It comes disassembled in a kit full of common household items that you just paid $19.99 plus shipping and handling for, but it’s totally worth it because you didn’t have to stop watching “The Bachelor” and stuffing your face full of pizza rolls to go to the store. It includes custom SHITty toilet paper rolls, pre-cut rounds of offbrand aluminum foil, two key chain laser pointers from a claw machine LIGO recently “acquired,” a generic make-up compact and an extra roll of aluminum foil to create a fashionable yet useful accessory. These materials are some of the cheapest you can find for this application. If you can’t afford these, you probably don’t deserve to travel in time, and it probably won’t help your situation anyway. So crawl back to your couch with your chewy, semi-burnt Tostino’s and lament about how “Ben totally should pick Jojo.” What is truly amazing about SHIT is its DIY disassembled state. Since you can assemble it yourself, you can customize the dimensions and distances between each part. As you move the items further away from or closer to each other, the focal length of the continuum piercing light beam increases or decreases respectively. An increased focal length leads to travelling forward in time, while a decreased or even negative focal length leads to travelling back in time. Easy-fucking-peasy, right? The technology behind this will change the very face of transportation! Honestly, this is one of the most revolutionary devices I have seen and I can’t wait for you to try it out! Check out the in-depth diagram on the adjacent page to learn more about the detailed, super scientific mechanics of this device. Also, there’s a motherfucking video online. Watch that shit.

That’s right, my nerdy schmucks,

MOTHERFUCKING TIME FUCKING TRAVEL.

Empty Toilet Paper Roll Specialized SHITty toilet paper rolls: provides high quality porosity for beam transfer

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On Literature and Disappointment by Miss Anthropy photography by Billy S. design by SUPAFLY

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erusing the shelves of the local bookstore — I won’t tell you the name of it; I’m sure it wouldn’t mean much to you — I came across three volumes which I had not previously encountered. Their luminescent color palettes and post-modern, progressive-yet-antiquated cover styles drew me in at once. What could these mysterious lockboxes of knowledge possibly hold between their feather-light covers? Well I’m sorry to say, my fellow lovers of contemporary literature, that the content of these visual marvels was nothing but a disappointment on the level of what happened the last time I went to a Starbucks and expected to receive something at least resembling coffee. Do let me try to articulate to you how appalling I found “The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” “Harold and the Purple Crayon” and “Green Eggs and Ham.”

The Very Hungry Caterpillar When I first beheld this thin yet enticing book by Eric Carle, I was sure that I was about to read a concise yet enlightening account of how humans had become a blight on sweet Mother Nature. I thought I was in for a sad-yet-hopeful tale of the typical caterpillar in today’s metropolitan world – depressed, alone and starving because of deforestation and pollution, but still looking toward a better life than this. This was not, in fact, the case. The caterpillar didn’t seem to have any idea that he was supposed to be looking for sustenance in the way of leaves and flowers, but instead chose far more decadent items: apples, lollipops and even a slice of cake. I was appalled by the greed of the caterpillar, for he did not stop at just one apple. No, that would have been too reasonable. He

continued to eat a dozen pieces of fruit and several desserts until he grew obese from the sheer volume of food he consumed. Not until the end did he realize that all he needed was a simple leaf and he was able to leave his gluttonous lifestyle behind. The theme of this book was far different from what its cover led me to believe. Although the commentary on the voracious habits of the wealthy was almost well thought out, the writing style was childish and borderline atrocious. The sentences could have benefited greatly from a little variety in style and structure; they were very simplistic and some even ended in exclamation points. Exclamation points! Can you imagine such a thing? It seems as though the writer was unaware that his audience was any older than a child of three. I give this book an unimaginably generous 1.5 out of 5 stars.

Harold and the Purple Crayon Since the color purple in literature frequently symbolizes wealth, power and royalty — and this book paired that opulent color with a crayon, a mere child’s toy — I picked up this book expecting an examination of the infantile fascination our society has with wealth and material goods. Instead, the story seems to feature a too-small human being (I mean really, his proportions are incredibly unrealistic; no wonder eating disorders are so prevalent in today’s world) wandering around with his purple crayon and inanely drawing lines. Not only is this entirely unbelievable — the book would have you believe that he is drawing these lines in the air — he does so with no aim or purpose. Harold is a sad, lonely soul with a story that the author completely fails to address, page after page. Reading this book was worse for my intelligence than marathoning all 48 episodes of “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” while constantly banging my head against a wall. Even after steeling myself and suffering all the way to the end of this monstrosity of a “story,” I’m not entirely sure what the point was. It left several plot points unaddressed: From where did Harold get this purple crayon? Why does he abandon everything he begins? What is the story of the man in the coat with the strangely mangled hands? I give this book a .423 out of 5 stars.

were impressive and drew me in almost immediately. Having said that, I have never had the misfortune before this ill-fated foray into the bookstore to come across poetry as simplistic and painful to read as this one. Although the art almost made the pain of forcing my eyes to take in the letterforms displaying the sorry excuse for a plot worthwhile, I can still only give this story a 1.23454738640234 out of 5 stars. I was hoping for a gruesome-but-alltoo-real account of the travesty that is the meat and dairy industry, what I instead gleaned from this wasted block of paper and ink was a poor account of an imbecile stalking an asshole. The imbecile could not seem to comprehend simple sentences or the preferences of others and continued to follow this other fellow around with a plate of green eggs and ham, despite the obvious fact that his food was obviously far past the point where it could be safely consumed (it was green, for Socrates’ sake!). Perhaps the imbecile was simply acting as such in an almost clever attempt to poison the asshole; if that were the case, however, the author did a horrendous job of conveying it. Suffice it to say, dear reader, that I will not make this mistake again. This unfortunate experience has curbed my appetite for literary explanation for the time being and I will stick to what I know to be the truly fine things in life, instead of allowing my time to be wasted in this manner ever again. No; from now on I will stick to true literary masterpieces: only works from a master of the trade of writing. Never again will I read anything but the unparalleled works in Stephenie Meyers’ “Twilight” tetralogy.

Green Eggs and Ham There was something familiar about the writing style of this book, although I could not quite place it. It seemed almost to follow a rhythm, like poetry. The illustrations

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MIU

THE MASTURBATORY INVESTIGATION UNIT by Bradimir Lenin | photography by Pepe Roni | illustration and design by Simple Bagel

onight’s the night. You’ve spent the last grueling week studying for your midterms, dismissing trivial things such as meals and hygiene. The stress is graying you prematurely and you have a twitch in your eye. Tonight, you’re going to treat yourself: scented candles, R. Kelly in the background, imported Vietnamese oils and your cache of underwater foot fetish videos. As you get into your rhythm of vigorously spanking it, the internet cuts out. You look at the swirling gray circle on your monitor, impatiently waiting for the video to buffer, when your door bursts open. You’ve heard the rumors. RIT has hired a private company to help enforce a “cleaner” and “more respectable” morality code. A new clause recently emailed to every student living on campus: “Internet Pornography Is Now Banned.” You didn’t believe it. You thought, “How could they possibly know when I’m polishing my fuck stick?” However, as a shiny, slightly-vibrating purple dildo collides with your jaw, all doubt is removed from your mind. You believe in the Masturbatory Investigation Unit (MIU). Although the MIU brings about a controversial change to the nightlife of lonely engineers, one must have a healthy respect for the brave men and women putting their lives on the line to uphold this new system. Nothing is more terrifying than stopping a person midtug. And for that reason, the MIU outfits their officers with specialized protective gear. An officer’s first line of defense is his or her coat. The hazard of various bodily fluids flying everywhere is very real and with that threat, the MIU has developed tailored protective coats. These coats have been specially crafted with waterproof material to keep the wearer dry, whether it be through thunderstorms or deluge-level bukkake. In keeping with the theme of safety, every officer is required to wear protective glasses because the first few missions resulted in optical

burning sensations and the legal ramifications of on-the-job blindness were too much for the MIU to dismiss. The crime of polluting RIT’s wifi with porn is something the MIU takes very seriously, but it’s not a crime that requires deadly force. That being said, immediate neutralization of an offender is necessary and that is why the MIU issues out Enforcers. Seeing an Enforcer, you might ask “Isn’t that just a dildo?” To that I say ... the author of this article isn’t high brow. The training to use such a weapon is extensive. Months of hand-to-dildo combat training are required before an officer is allowed out on the field, both to ensure the officer’s safety and to reduce the chance of Enforcer abuse. The abuse of power is an issue that the MIU takes very seriously; after the “anal lesions” lawsuit of ‘06, procedures and protocols were put in place to make every officer responsible for his/ her actions. For the job of MIU officer, physical prowess is matched only with psychological fortitude. Officers often encounter the darkest recesses of human sexuality. To walk away from Brazilian donkey shows playing choppily in 240p takes a strength of character not found in most. To judge an applicant efficiently, a unique test was created: the First-time Applicant Program (FAP). The FAP is divided into three parts: physical strength, mental stability and moral compass. Each test is dynamic and hand-crafted for the individual applicant to create the most hostile environment. The physical test is a field simulation, usually involving enraged (and engorged) animatronic practice dummies. The future proud soldier will poke and prod his/her way through an obstacle course designed to test agility. Used, festering condoms and rancid underwear litter the course’s floor and one slip will render an applicant disqualified. The test of mental stability is, well, fucked up. It follows the obstacle course immediately and the applicant is locked into a room for

one hour. The room is lined with computer monitors playing a variety of videos: “One Man One Jar,” “Two Girls One Cup” and more of the most vile videos on the internet that could be seen in a sexual connotation. If the applicant wishes, there is a button that releases him/her from the room — but if it is pressed, disqualification is immediate. Only the strongest of will can withstand the constant barrage of twisted fetishes. Morality is more difficult to test. In fact, in the early days of the MIU, it was not uncommon for an officer to be living a life of purity by day and using the company computers to fax photo-manipulated dick pics at night (looking at you David). To maintain the company philosophy reduce the frequency of these events, the morality questionnaire was developed. It includes 500 questions of increasing personal depth and concludes with an interview with an enlisted officer. The interview process takes only a few minutes, as polygraphs tend to extract the deepest truths — especially when electric nipple clamps are involved. The MIU has surprisingly seen a dwindling in the number of applicants over the years. Something about the entrance exam is “degrading,” whatever that means. So, with the recent change of scenery for the organization, the MIU is hoping that some driven individuals will reach out and offer their services. If you’re interested in becoming part of the MIU, the easiest way to get in contact with representatives is to open up pornhub.com on your personal computer. Within minutes, an officer will show up directly to your door, ready to talk and accept your application. We want you to enforce our archaic version of Puritan justice.

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AYL

by Blueberry Yum Yum

It’s Enrollment Time Again! Start Here Collect the courseload of your choice, avoid the errors in red, and reach the submit button to enroll for next semester! Easy!

You look like you’re lost.

MLSP-101 Introduction to the Spanish Language

Oh shit there’s a hold on your student account.

ESCB-201 Steps to Becoming a Wolf of Wall Street

ILLM-169 SOFA-531

Creative Dick Drawing

Just Fixing it in Post

CGLS-420 Glass Processes: Disguising Bongs as Vases You pressed the back button. Rookie mistake.

Enroll down here

MCET-333 Fluid Mechanics and Fluid Power (of Your Mom)

BSKT-571 Advanced Underwater Basket Weaving

POLS-118 How the Fuck it Came to This

There are no open seats left :/

EGEN-151 The Thing Where You Have to Drop An Egg Without It Breaking

COMM-550

Talking to to Women attractive Talking people

SUBMIT

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Oops, you won’t have the prerequisites for that class until you graduate.

illustration by Simple Bagel | design by Lady Sloth

RUBBER CHICKEN for President 2016

“Make America Tender Again” Distorter 15

by illustration by

design by

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THE MILE HAS BECOME A SHANTYTOWN: Students are huddled in pathetic, bedraggled tents — many of which have Freezefest blankets duct-taped to their sides in a sad attempt to block more of Rochester’s volatile weather. “And as if the weather isn’t bad enough,” grumbled Regina Phalange, “We are now being almost completely ostracized by the rest of the school since we aren’t cool enough to live in real housing.” This dire situation has resulted from RIT’s recent decision to accept all students, regardless of the ability to house them. This intrepid reporter did some undercover sleuthing in Kate Gleason Hall in order to more fully realize the effects of the housing situation. The current implementation of the policy is four students to a double, seven to a quad. There are officially no more open lounges, and the squalor and filth is beginning to take its toll on all those that live on dormside. Maintenance can no longer keep up with the mess and there are constant lines for the showers — many students no longer bother washing themselves most weeks. “My residents are being driven mad,” said third-year Resident Advisor (RA) Duke Silver. “They have no privacy, no safety. The other day I broke up a fight between two guys who were trying to claw each other’s eyes out because one bumped into the other. There is no room for beds, so they have to sleep standing up. They just keep snapping over minor things because they have no space and haven’t slept in like a month.” My own visit to dormside was cut short when all the fire alarms went off and people ran from their rooms. In the midst of the chaos, Silver stood there shaking his head. “They keep setting fires in order to clear out the rooms for a space to breathe.

They get like 15 minutes of freedom before Public Safety comes. Apparently the blaring of the alarms is better than having to deal with six other roommates all the time.” The Survivor Solution policy that was implemented right before winter break has not seemed to help any of these problems at all. RIT decided that the best way to deal with the overflow of students was to have them vote their least favorite roommate out of the dorm. When asked about the problem, President Wrestler merely shrugged. “We didn’t want to risk losing any tuition dollars, but we also didn’t want to spend any money on any new buildings,” said Wrestler. “So we decided that the best option was to kick the losers out of the dorms. And that’s when it struck us that if we filmed it and turned it into a reality show, we could potentially make as much money as ‘Survivor.’” They chose to call this freshmen-filled “Survivor” spin-off “Freshmeat.” Almost a third of the students were kicked out of the dorms in a way that embarrassed them in front of the entire school, causing tensions to run high. “It was shameful,” said Etaoin Shridlu, a first year Basket Weaving major confessed. “I was stressed out when first coming here, you know? You move all the way across the country to what you think is the finest basket weaving school in North America and it’s hard to break out of your shell and fit in. My roommate kept her place just because she released snakes into the hallway, which caused a few kids to faint and be kicked out.” The snow day pushed many of the tentdwellers to the edge. The blizzard made it difficult enough to plow out areas of the campus, but several students could barely survive the event. “I left a goddamn tundra to get away from shit like this,” said Sheldon Stark. “I lost two toes to frostbite and I am pretty sure my tentmate wanted to eat me. The worst part is, the tent costs the same amount as living in the dorms. They don’t even cut the cost of your housing when they kick you out.”

Percy Pimpernel is trying to lead a student revolt against the current establishment. “We started with some trivial stuff, ya know? We didn’t want to create a scene that would make us seem like dumbasses, but we also wanted our voices to be heard. Basic vandalism seemed like the best option.” Those broken windows? Those stink bombs and “Eat My Shorts” graffiti? Well, it all comes back to Pimpernel and his League of Fucking Frustrated Freshmen Outraged with the Absurdity that is Currently Occurring with Housing (LoFFFowtAtiCOwH). “We meet once a week to figure out what the next plan of action is. We think that next week we will TP the Sentinel,” said an anonymous member of the LoFFFowtAtiCOwH. “If you really care about our cause, you will find us and join us. Otherwise, you are just as bad as they are.” Anyone is welcome to join, although the location and time are all kept secret to the general public. For now, the shantytown along the quarter mile continues to expand as more students get kicked out of their dorms and are left to live in dilapidated tents in humiliation. We asked Wrestler when this madness would end. “Well, we figured that the ratings we got on ‘Freshmeat’ were pretty good, right?” he said. “So, I guess we will go to other pop culture phenomena for ideas because frankly, we are making bank right now. ‘The Hunger Games’ is big, yeah? Maybe we will have students fight each other for shower rights or something. Although we don’t want them to kill each other, we wouldn’t get money that way. More of a gentle beating would be optimal. It’s a tough balance, you know?”

“MORE OF A GENTLE BEATING WOULD BE OPTIMAL.” -PRESIDENT WRESTLER

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DISTORTER style

Looking Good on a

y by Progeria Wilson III photography by Meryl Streak design by a giant frog

You have to look fabulous, but you’re a college student.

You’re not getting anywhere near stylish with a minimum wage job – and that’s without your student loans. But just because you’re broke as shit doesn’t mean you can’t get the kind of clothes you want. You just have to be creative.

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eople drop their clothes all the time. If they really wanted the clothing, they wouldn’t have dropped it in the first place. Think about it. If you got your dress drycleaned and dropped it on the ground, are you someone who really wants that dress? Are you someone who really deserves that dress? Of course not. So feel free to grab any clothes you see on the ground. Picking up dropped clothing can be an unreliable source, though. Why go fishing when you live right above a fish market? The fish market, in this metaphor, being unattended clothes in the laundry room. Some people might call this practice “wrong” and “a misdemeanor,” but not if you think about it just a little bit harder. Anyone who’s ever shared their laundry services has dealt with it; some inconsiderate jerk-off thinks that the dryer suddenly transformed into his long-term clothing storage. By leaving their clothes, they’re wasting everyone’s time. And if time is money, that person owes you. Specifically, they owe you their clothes that you’re taking from the dryer.

get the look blouse: Gucci Printed Lavender Silk Blouse, $1,680; skirt: Burberry Pleated Wrap-Over Mini Skirt, $1,995; shoes: Jimmy Choo ‘Anouk’ Glitter Pointy Toe Pump, $625.00; laundry service: ???

Now that you’re morally okay with your newest form of shopping, you need to know where to look. There are dozens of laundry rooms and hundreds of piles of clothing just begging for a new cute and stylish owner like yourself. To get the best bang for your buck, you have to go from whence you came: dorms. Every freshman, no matter how stylish or wealthy, has to use the dorms. That’s a demographic you lose when you get to apartments. Daddy’s money can’t buy them their own private laundry room just yet. The downside is the sheer volume. You might have to sort through mountains of tube socks and cargo shorts to find the sexy, form-fitting needles in that haystack. That is, if you find anything at all. Just take a look at everyone’s IDs; nobody looks their best during their freshman year. Access is no issue, either. Anyone with a student ID can waltz right in and grab whatever they want. But that, in a way, cheapens the experience. Half of how good you look in clothes is the confidence you exude when wearing them. Kanye’s t-shirts are not $120 for no reason; when you put that much effort into

getting clothes, it looks damn good because you know it does. And that is why you have to break into people’s apartments to get the best looking clothes. You’ve already shown how morally flexible you are. If you stick to the more expensive apartments, you’re not doing anything wrong. If anything, you’re doing the world a favor. For too long the top one percent has hoarded their smart, high quality fabrics. Feel the Bern. Grab that cashmere sweater and redistribute it onto your torso. Crime, when you get down to it, is whatever you say it is. When you stretch your moral flexibility just a tad, you’ll be amazed at what you can accomplish. Be the best person you can be and grab whatever isn’t nailed down. Because when you look good, you are good.

You might have to sort through mountains of tube socks and cargo shorts to find the sexy, form-fitting needles in that haystack.

Distorter 19

Winter Heat Wave Caused by

President Wrestlerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

Weather Machine by Pink Freud illustration by Radish Rabbit design by Jersey Girl

20 Distorter

“...the weather machine runs solely on tuition dollars, which must be dumped or shoveled by Wrestler himself into the furnace-looking contraption attached to the weather machine.” According to the most recent NSA leak of current RIT President Wrestler’s phone and internet records, the cuurent heat wave here in Rochester is not caused by El Niño, global warming or whatever they do in the kitchens at Gracie’s. Rather, new evidence has surfaced, revealing the actual reason for the warm weather. Late last year, Wrestler received a small loan of a million dollars from former RIT president, Ronald Plump. The transaction was kept under wraps by Wrestler’s new secret police, who have recently received copious amounts of armaments from an unknown source, despite public outcry. The money was given in an attempt to keep the weather machine running after the snow day last month, during which the machine temporarily stopped working. According to our sources at Fox News, the weather machine runs solely on tuition dollars which must be dumped or shoveled by Wrestler himself into the furnace-looking contraption attached to the weather machine. The machine was originally intended to stop the ordinarily, extremely cold and snowy Rochester weather in order to raise student morale. However, like all things at RIT, the weather machine requires very large amounts of tuition money, so much so that charging students the amount required would cancel the effects of having the warm weather in the first place. This tuition shortage is being further exacerbated by President of the United States Freezie Handers and his plan to make college tuition free, reducing the funding for the weather machine even further and leaving RIT and Wrestler without a steady stream of federal funding for the project. Despite the ongoing war between Wrestler’s secret police and the Reporter militia, we attempted to interview the president, who commented: “I don’t care about anything else. We will use all of the funding at our disposal on the weather machine. And balloons, the balloons too.”

He also made it apparent that they are currently talking with the Soviet Union of The Canada Space Exploration International Association of America Incorporated Corporation (SUCSEIAAIC), which wants to use the weather machine part-time for undisclosed purposes. In return, they claim they will send people from their Mars location to RIT as interpreting students to help fund the weather machine when they are not using it. “Our plan will put money into the weather machine and interpreters on Mars,” said the director of the SUCSEIAAIC while discussing his plans to make contact with alien life. He also mentioned the possibility of American Sign Language being the language of choice among extraterrestrials. “Students need not worry about the implications of changing natural weather patterns. The machine and system were designed, developed and tested by our students in Building 7,” assured Wrestler. We sent our very own investigative reporter, Han SoHigh, into the Golisano Institute for Sustainability (GIS), where the weather machine motherboard is housed and where no one ever goes. Like, ever. What he found inside was quite the surprise: underneath the building is actually 40 stories of underground facilities, at the bottom of which is the highly sought-after Area 51. As it turns out, the weather machine was built with parts from the crashed UFO found in Roswell, New Mexico about 70 years ago. Testing grounds for other various experiments were uncovered during our investigation as well, including the machine rumored to be able to move cities to alternate locations, the anti-laxative production facility for use in the food at Gracie’s and the plans to move RIT to an octester based calendar after the failure of the semester calendar. Wrestler declined to comment on any mention of the facilities underneath the GIS. However, he did mention possible plans to move the weather machine to either the lawn of oblivion at the front entrance of campus or

on the roof of his life-sized model toilet bowl. Decisions are currently in the works. We interviewed students to gather their opinions on the current situation. Davin Danciour, an eighth year Interpretive Dance major, had quite a few objections to the current weather machine project. “I always knew Wrestler was up to no good. Just look at his last name. It starts with W. The 22nd letter in the alphabet. 22 divided by 2 is 11. 7-11 was a part time job. RIT offers part time jobs to students. RIT has 18,000 students, 22 minus 18 is 4. The difference between 7 and 11 is 4. Area 51. 5 minus 1 is 4. Boom. This is what I’ve been talking about for years and trying to express through my dance. The time cube is real and the people must know the truth!” said Danciour. Most students neglected to comment, and some even threw various objects at us when asked for an interview. Details on where the project is going from here are scarce and unreliable; further comments from the president have been vague. Regardless of the possible next steps for the program, it doesn’t look like the Wrestler weather machine project is being disbanded anytime soon. We do have reports from Rochester mayor Horrible Larren, who just recently announced plans to move Rochester to the sunshine state of Florida in order to combat the increasingly harsh winters here in Rochester. No final decisions have been made at this point, but the Wrestler weather machine might have to relocate somewhere else before it becomes obsolete due to Florida’s heat.

Distorter 21

Reporter forms vigilante Militia by John Snow-Dragon? photography by Terry Richardson design by SUPAFLY

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“I

’m surprised no one at RIT cares about this,” says Skyler Tyler, a fact-checker at Reporter, as she discusses the latest developments at the campus magazine in the tunnels under the Kate Gleason College of Engineering. Lurking in the shadows, trying to apprehend the artists responsible for the bias-related incidents from February, Tyler is armed with soap and cleaner liquid in the unlikely event that the vandals turn up. She’s visibly nervous. “I didn’t sign up for this,” Tyler admits, freezing as distant footsteps interrupt her. The stench of broken dreams follows an area man as he comes into view. This accidental interaction is the latest in a series of disturbing events various Distorter writers have come across recently. Closer investigation has revealed that for the past two months, the Reporter staff has taken to policing the RIT campus as a vigilante organization, solving campus crime and dishing out its own brand of justice. It seems that after RIT announced last December that some Public Safety officers will be trained and deployed with the ability to access arms in cases of active shooter events on campus, Reporter magazine decided to contribute to making the campus a safer place for everyone. “Public Safety cannot be relied upon with the safety of students, as they are under control of President Wrestler,” stated Boss-Ass Bitch, editor-in-chief at Reporter. “We are here for the students, not the administration.” Several heated arguments, stabbings, burns, spills, gas leaks and a mass shooting later, Bitch decided that selecting a single form of armed resistance would not be inclusive or respectful of the staff. She signed an executive order authorizing all Reporter staff to use “any means necessary to subdue and subvert individuals at RIT who engage

in inappropriate and/or disruptive behavior.” According to Bitch, this may include guns, knives, drones, flaming hoverboards, reckless skateboards, hot coffee cups and Chipotle coupons. According to various sources, the first few weeks saw a positive response from the staff, as cases of online trolling, catfishing and KKK-disavowing were successfully dealt with. There were some mixed responses over a staff member interrupting a heated argument over the Sanders-Clinton race for the Democratic nomination from a bunch of feminists brawling over who their vote should go to on the basis of their gender. Various complaints across campus against Reporter vigilantes have culminated in the Wrestler administration outlawing Reporter. Wrestler has instructed his secret police to subdue Reporter staff using any means necessary. In response, they have disappeared without a trace. However, the acts of vigilante justice continue with unconfirmed sightings of people sipping coffee in the dead of night while brandishing pens and laptops in a threatening manner. Facilities Management Services (FMS) has had to clean up coffee puddles all over campus and the ongoing coffee wars between Dining Service locations have made it difficult to identify the spill source. “We have a right to caffeine,” complained Christie Christie, a second-year student from the Department of Alliteration. “Between the Coffee Clash and the Reporter Resistance, it is becoming harder and harder to get coffee on our way to and from class. We need to find another fix. You can’t expect college students to not be addicted to something.” Rumor has it that with the coffee supply on campus being hijacked by the warring factions, students have taken to arming themselves with soda cans in preparation for

After a month's worth of ruthless but effective vigilantism, in classic Reporter fashion, things have gotten out of hand.

the ever-increasing likelihood of an all-out armed conflict. According to recent Dining Services inventory reports, soft drink sales have skyrocketed across all food services on campus, although it is unclear what portion of these are being hoarded as weapons. “They say we’re selling more soda cans,” said Dann Daniels, a Gracie’s student worker, responsible for sorting out recycling from landfill. “All I know is, I’m seeing the usual number of bottles and cans daily. Also, SAVE ME PLEASE!!!” Of course, no campus trouble would be complete without hipster involvement. Unicycle Dude, President of the Campus Society for Hipsters (CSH), told Distorter in an exclusive interview that the CSH is planning ahead for the inevitable war, like everyone else. “Ours is a two-pronged strategy, combining our natural defense mechanism with a biting attack plan,” said Dude. “As you know, we’re famous for our nerd glasses. We’re using them to our advantage, gradually increasing the glass size to cover maximum facial surface area. It is brilliant because it is simple. And it works against coffee, soda, nerf bullets, whatever!” And that isn’t all either. According to Duke, they’ve come up with a novel way to deal with the potential trouble. “We don’t need to be governed by the Dining Services war-profiteers’ evil supply-and-demand strategies, for our weapon is intellectual and freely available. We’ll fight back against all attacks using the best weapon known to mankind: sarcasm.” Fortunately, a truce has been reached at a secret meeting between all the stakeholders in the uprising. Under the terms of the agreement, Dining Services can safely return to charging an arm and a leg for its ordinary food, Public Safety will return to using guns only during active shooter situations and Reporter can go back to being a delusional self-aggrandizing mouthpiece for a largely indifferent student body. “Everyone seems to think this is all over,” Tyler says, sipping hot chocolate with the area man who turned out to be a fellow vigilante. “But we know at Reporter that it isn’t. Just yesterday, one of our members came across a tub of red paint in one of these tunnels,” Tyler continued. “Right around the corner from here, in fact. What was it doing there? Who left it behind? Why? We are going to find out.”

Distorter 23

INTRODUCING

WOMEN’S SPORTS! by TJ Chadsworth (aka Orgasmo Dutchmaster) photography by Getty Images | design by Unnamed Cambodian Child

Yo, do you want to hear the craziest shit? The other day I’m sitting out on the quad with a couple of my bros, okay? Like, let’s set the scene here a little bit: blue skies, all my beautiful dudes all snuggled up in their little coats (but not in a gay way and if you insinuate that my dad will totally sue you), Moose screaming uncontrollably and pounding a 30-rack of Keystone Light all by himself at 1 p.m. (so righteous), me scoping some freshman biddies on Tinder (most girls don’t find out about my

24 Distorter

aggressive lactation problem until junior year, so keep that on the low-low) — basically all the makings of the chillest Ta’anith Esther ever. Then, Moose turns to me with a mouthful of brewski and completely harshes my mellow with this truth-grenade: “PBFFFFBFFFFGRAGHLGRAGHLWWWWW,” which roughly translates to “TJ, my dude and sickest wakeboarder I know on a personal level, do you want to watch those chicks in the women’s hockey team practice later?” First things first: don’t get me wrong, nothing gets me harder than vaguely femalelooking figures covered head to toe in 15 pounds of figure-obscuring hockey gear.

All my dudes know that’s, like, my number one sexual fantasy outside of being spitroasted by 1984 Molly Ringwald and the Hamburger Helper glove. Until a few days ago, however, that’s all that was — a fantasy. I had no idea women (sorry, I meant “chicks,” I’m not gay) actually had their own hockey program. Needless to say, this newly-acquired knowledge really shocked my system, and after processing what I had just heard by blasting the fuck out of my triceps at the Iron Paradise, I decided to see what was really going on. I triple parked my H2 outside the athletics center and marched inside to demand some answers. My relationship with Coach Hughes has been pretty strained after I tried to sell some Xannies to his four-year-old daughter, but ol’ TJ is a master of persuasion. After clinging to his car’s undercarriage all the way to his house, brandishing a gun in his face and threatening to travel across the country murdering everyone he’s ever loved in increasingly horrific ways, he was more than happy to answer my questions (and he totally pissed his pants! Party foul!). Nothing in the world could have possibly prepared me for what came out of his mouth. “Wait, seriously? What are you talking about? Of course there’s a women’s hockey team... we’ve had one for over 40 years. In fact, most colleges have athletic programs for wom-”

ALL MY DUDES KNOW THAT’S, LIKE, MY NUMBER ONE SEXUAL FANTASY OUTSIDE OF BEING SPIT-ROASTED BY 1984 MOLLY RINGWALD AND THE HAMBURGER HELPER GLOVE. start to slip through the cracks? Female doctors? Female lawyers? Female diagnostic medical sonographers? What a cruel twist of fate that would surely be. After the internet informed me that women are capable of holding all of these positions, and currently do, I fell into what my lady doctor described as “hypovolemic shock,” which must have happened when I ran headfirst into my bedroom wall while screaming something about “Obama’s America,” according to Moose. We got to talking as I recovered and she let me know all about her daughter’s basketball team and the fundraising they were doing for a local children’s hospital. We watched some videos of some of her more recent games and it was like watching any men’s basketball game but without all the obscene posturing, hysteric theatrics and embarrassing excuses for “injuries.” I saw one girl collide with another girl in mid-air and fall flat on her face, only to get up seconds later and push through the rest of the game with a gnarly black eye. It was almost as if chicks have so much to deal with in their day-to-day

I HAD NO IDEA WOMEN (SORRY, I MEANT “CHICKS,” I’M NOT GAY) ACTUALLY HAD THEIR OWN HOCKEY PROGRAM. I didn’t catch the rest of what he said because I had to make it back to my Hummer before sundown, but I’m sure it was equally crazy. While my paralyzing fear of natural darkness inhibits me from living a comfortable life, nothing scares me more than women doing men’s work. Sure, a women’s hockey program may seem like nothing, but what comes next once we let this behavior

existence — the constant oppression of an aggressively active patriarchy, persistent fear of harassment and assault, the societallyinstilled fear of not being respected as much as their male counterparts based entirely on the abstract concept of gender — that lady athletes have no choice but to play harder, bolder and stronger than men do. In a way, it makes the mere notion of women’s sports

endlessly commendable in and of itself. It makes all female athletes heroes. Moose picked me up from the hospital the next day and we drove to 7-11 to kill some Slurpees and dehydrated beef tubes. Back in the car, I told my sweet dude about everything I had learned about women’s sports with the conviction of a hardbody blunt-master born again, enlightened and filled with a renewed vigor (and about 10 pounds of congealed Whey protein sitting in my kidneys, which various doctors have said will inevitably kill me). Moose said some bullshit about how I’m probably the only person currently living who didn’t know that women were also capable of playing competitive sports. The old, hyper-masculine me would have taken this as an opportunity to insult his horrific child’s penis but your boy TJ is living life with open eyes and an open heart. We worked out our aggression by cranking some fuckin’ Chili Peppers (“Scar Tissue,” duh) and crushing a quick lats set in the parking lot. So maybe I am the last guy on Earth to find out that women can play sports too. I am an overcompensating white male, however, and explaining shit I just found out about to people who have known about it forever is kind of my favorite thing to do. Women are really fucking good at sports. They’re strong as shit, too. Not just spiritually, emotionally and psychologically, but physically as well. This chick (sorry, I mean “woman”) Julia Ladewski is this insanely tough powerlifter who has a nearly 500-pound squat record. I go to women’s sports games all the time now and not just because I dropped out of all my classes so I’d have more money for vape juice. I love watching them play because they do it with an intensity that isn’t cushioned by centuries of male privilege. Women possess a certain vitality, a spirit that is constantly striving toward a greater being that men can just never achieve. Or whatever, I don’t know. Life is trippy. I’m totally owning this copy of “The Second Sex” right now so I’m gonna have to catch you later, aight? See you at the mixer, hombre!

Distorter 25

VLADIMIR

PUTIN by Lil Vladdy Puu Puu illustration by Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen design by Unnamed Cambodian Child

[The following is a leaked memo from an unspecified official within the Republican party] Dear fellow Republican elites, names whispered by conspiracy theorists and uncles who can’t take a cue to stop talking about politics: Well, we’ve really screwed this one up, guys. Despite millions of dollars and the countless blood sacrifices, we have still been unable to thwart Donald Trump from usurping our party’s candidacy. The rightful heir to the throne, Jeb Bush, is still reeling from these events. Just prior to writing this letter, good old G. W. told me that even after three weeks he still refuses to come out of his bedroom. Jeb apparently has just been watching old debates of his on repeat 24/7, finding a small amount of comfort when he’s greeted to even a faint smattering of applause. The purpose of this letter is to inform you that myself and the Koch brothers have formulated a fool-proof plan to halt Donald Trump’s chances and before anyone asks, no, I am not referring to Project Reagan Rebirth. As many of you are aware, two of the three clones ran off and we have no idea where they are. The other one refuses to leave his job waiting tables in Hollywood. He’s still convinced that his acting career will take off and that he’ll get to reboot “Bedtime for Bonzo.” Yet, I digress. Our concocted solution is to recruit someone who can out do Trump at his own game. Someone who can say and do the things that even Trump can’t get away with. We need someone beholden to no one, not even this country. That’s why it’s time 26 Distorter

to get behind Vladimir Putin for President. We’re not quite sure yet whether he’ll run third party or if we’ll just kidnap Donald Trump and replace him with a toupéed Putin. We’ve left it up to the interns to figure out the logistics of it all. I myself am convinced that even if we couldn’t pull off such a swap that we can get the voters behind Putin. If we can hide the fact that Marco Rubio is a malfunctioning android (note: we gotta get him to stop from drinking so much water; it’s causing him to short circuit and repeat himself too much) and the fact that Ted Cruz is a giant sculpted sweet potato, we can spin anything. His story is an inspiring one that could be spun like the quintessential American Dream, we just have to leave out the part where it took place in Soviet Russia. As a child, little Vladdy was born into poverty. But through the perseverance and ingenuity only an KGB agent could possess, he became one of the world’s most richest men; he’s worth $200 billion (about 500 million potatoes) by some estimates. Sure, he may have secured it through political manipulation, national appropriation and the jailing/assassination of his enemies, but our focus groups say most Trump supporters see his rise to power as a sign of strength and entrepreneurship. Suddenly Trump’s promise to kick out illegal immigrants and build a wall seems like a half measure when Putin is pledging to invade Mexico. The campaign slogan writes itself (“Invade like Ukraine”). In comparison, Putin will make Trump seem like the establishment candidates he’s campaigned so hard against. Even if his policies don’t sway

The opinions expressed are solely those of the students and do not reflect the views of Reporter, but they definitely reflect the views of Distorter.

voters, he could flaunt his super bowl ring to wow voters (shiny objects always work when we need to get Ben Carson to do something). For someone who says he’ll “make America win again,” Trump has as many super bowl rings as the Buffalo Bills. This may indeed be our last ditch effort, but I’m liking our chances. Putin has my office bugged so I expect to hear his answer soon. Yep, the usual windowless van just parked out front. After they grab me I’m usually not allowed any phone calls, so I’ll let you all know how we will proceed in about a week or so. Sincerely, [REDACTED]

Update: Uh... I’m one of the interns, Michael. It’s been three weeks and we’ve had no sign of the boss. All we’ve gotten are shirtless photos of Putin autographed in gold sharpie. Looks like we’re going to have to try and get Romney again.

“P THE BENEFITS OF GETTING SHITFACED: BODY A STUDY

lease Drink Responsibly.” It’s a maxim printed on every beer, wine and spirit. Everyone knows the line and what it means: anything more than a couple a night is excess. But that’s not realistic, is it? Raise your hand if you’ve been known to drink more than a couple. Raise your hand if you’re still alive. Exactly. How could something so ubiquitous really be that bad? We’ve had alcohol since the neolithic era. Its benefits clearly outweigh its costs. Frankly, I’m tired of the negative press. To model these benefits of drinking and – what some would call – copious amounts of alcohol, I’m going to write this article while sloshed; by the end, you’ll be thanking me between tequila shots.

by D’Andrio Skeeterpus photography by Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool design by Edna Mode

Alcohol isn’t just a vice. It’s honest-to-god medicine: studies show that a glass of red wine a night has a wide range of positive health effects and can extend your life. I’m no science major, but it stands to reason that a gallon of red wine every night makes you fucking immortal. And when you get down to it though, what is the functional difference between wine and liquor? I would argue that there is none. According to the government, you can’t have either before you’re 21. I’m not going to argue with the government. They have attack drones and the IRS. The health benefits of heavy drinking are plentiful and obvious. Dr. Peetra Coakley, who probably went to some medical school, agrees. “Please don’t call me on my personal number, especially at this hour,” said Coakley. Other experts are not so sure. “We broke up seven months ago, take a fucking hint and stop texting me,” said Stacy, noted heartless asshole who ripped out my heart and fist-fucked it to death.

MIND

The physical benefits of getting plastered are just the tip of the iceberg. The real power of booze is absorbed by your brain. When you’re drunk, you have the best ideas. Of course you can break that bottle over your head. Shit yeah you can climb that wall. You should totally text your ex because seven months is actually a really long time if you think about it.

But these aren’t just ideas. They get executed because with great blood alcohol content also comes great responsibility. Responsibility to follow through with your awesome ideas. You know that voice in your head that says things like “you shouldn’t chase whiskey with a different kind of whiskey” and “public urination is a misdemeanor?” You fight that voice. The name of that voice is failure. You’re not a failure. You’re a legend. Another grate thing about alcohols is that it makes you invulnerable. The physical limitations of my body kept mee from successfully climbin that wall and there may or may not be glasss in my skull. Du I feel it? Noooppe. Superman is reel and he jsut finished a handle of Smirnoff all byy himself. But yur not just invulnerable to physcal pain. Yur invulnerble to emotional pain two. All yur troubles melt away when yur intoxicatd. Do you think I feel bad eating this entir pizza by myself? You think I’m upset that Stacy hasn’t answred my calls even though it’s our anniversry and we both clearly still lurv each othr? Fuck no. I am stong and smart and I don’t need anybdy but msyelf.

SPIRIT

stacy pleas take me back

CHARACTER

Life is a series of ups and downs. Things might get better and things might get worse. But regardless of your circumstances, there’s one thing you need: your self-respect. It’s one thing to have your self-respect when everything’s going well. But when you lay supine on the cold tile floor of your bathroom wondering if you can actually die from a hangover, self-respect is the only thing you have. As you white-knuckle through what feels like your thousandth dry heave, you will know how much stronger you truly are. So drink and be merry and then keep drinking; rock bottom is whatever you want it to be.

Superman is reel and he jsut finished a handle of Smirnoff all byy himself.

The opinions expressed are solely those of the students and do not reflect the views of Reporter, but they definitely reflect the views of Distorter.

Distorter 27

WOTS photography by Stu Pickles | illustration and design by Simple Bagel

“Yes, I have.”

“I have not, no.”

“I’ve read two, to be honest.”

“No.”

Sam Huselstein

Michael Foster

Nerus Abreu

Noel Kim

Mechanical Engineering Fifth year

Computer Engineering Fifth year

Information Sciences and Technology Graduate student

Computing Security Third year

“I haven’t.”

28 Distorter

“No. I have not.”

“Like, once.”

Katherine Hensel

Ty Gossett

Suenn Rodriguez

Biology and Museum Studies First year

Applied Mathematics Third year

Management Information System Third year

HAVE YOU EVER READ REPORTER MAGAZINE? The opinions expressed are solely those of the students and do not reflect the views of Reporter, but they definitely reflect the views of Distorter.

“Um, is that the school magazine? Yes.”

“No. I’ve heard of it, but haven’t read it.”

“No. I don’t read magazines usually.”

“I actually have one time.”

August Allen

Leah Chen

Daniel Timko

Brian Kane

Biomedical Engineering Fifth year

Physician Assistant Second year

Game Design and Development First year

Computer Engineering Technology Fifth year

“No, I haven’t. I’ve seen a lot of them, but never read it.”

“Yes!”

“I haven’t.”

Zoe Kniskern

Zoë Defreitas

Naia Scott

Industrial Design Second year

Electrical Engineering Technology Second year

Computer Engineering First year

Distorter 29

RINGS A QUIZ

by Lou Skunt illustration by Shandra Jiminez design by Walking Fish

In lieu of a traditional Rings page, Distorter invites you to try and complete some of the more interesting Rings that we’ve received. There’s nothing worse than a ______ that’s had work done

Nobody can _____________, not even my mom

A. garbage truck B. daffodil C. jaguar D. sex doll

A. handle this weed B. forge my signature C. learn to love me D. make a good casserole

Toontown is _______, the RPG

It’s hip to fuck ______

A. Insanity B. Anti-Bullying C. Anarchy D. Socialism

A. in tanning booths B. bees C. Mitt Romney D. a three-day-old ham sandwich

On a scale of one to ten fuck offs, it’s not ________ A. raining hard B. okay to lick my spoon C. more annoying than Nikki Minaj D. the last time

There’s a disproportionate amount of _____ in this room A. history buffs B. orange Hawaiian Punch C. golf D. goats Answer Key: B, D, A, C, B, B 30 Distorter

WIND TUNNEL APP illustration by Jake from State Farm | design by Lady Sloth

Tired of wind tunnels?

Wish you could avoid them? Look no further than the Wind Tunnel App! It alerts you to the mph of wind all around campus and plots the best directions to avoid them!

Editor in Kief Editor-in-Kief

Miss Anthropy Print Managing Editor

TJ Chadsworth Online Managing Editor

Chewbacca Business Manager

Lady Sloth Art Director

Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool Photo Editor

a big frog Online Art Director

Pepe Roni Online Photo Editor

Sylfilthia Rottencrotch Video Editor

Ophelia Balls Features Editor

Duke Silver Leisure Editor

Buck Nackad News Editor

Cunt Blacula Tech Editor

Lou Skunt Views Editor

Buster Cherry Web Manager

Pencilvester Production Manager

Ana Conda Sports Editor

Dan Glysack Systems Administrator

Shia LaBeefa Copy Editor

Kandi Apple Advertising and Public Relations

Awkward Staff Portraits 2016 photography and design by Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool