THE
MEDIUM The Entertainment Weekly of Cute n’ Cuddly
Volume XXXIV, Number 15
Happy Valentines Day...
www.themedium.net
Wednesday, Feb-RU-ary 12th, 2003
We Love You Rutgers.
Love, The Medium
W.A.R.F.A.G.
“Fuck Peace! Fuck it right in its innocent little baby ass!”
February 12th, 2003
(Photo taken by Amy “God Bless Her Soul” Groark)
This week I’d like to replace my normally wonderfully insightful scribblings with the wonders of boy ass. -Ryan Beckman
JOIN THE W.A.R.F.A.G.S Defeat Peace at All Cost!
Citizens! Help me defeat Peace D.Y.K.E.!
There is a new threat to Freedom, and her name is Peace. The world is a dangerous place, this is the lesson we learned on September 11th, 2001. Years of dangerously manipulative foreign policy has left the United States Government with many enemies, and few friends. In the modern world it is far easier for a terrorist cell to infiltrate and destroy a technologically advanced society than it is for that society to defend itself against, or even find, said terrosits. Many have rallied behind a cry for a new isolationsim, a new 1930s. This will only allow loose women to run rampant, our children to become gangsters and new regimes of brutality to expand along the Axis of Evil. What the world needs is not for America to become, once again, a slumbering giant. What we need, is:
Captain WarFag Real Name: ? Height: 6’2” (6’5” w/ heels) Weight: 245 lbs Origin: Secret Government Project “W.A.R.F.A.G.” Superpowers: Anal-Antagonizer Fomenting Force-Beam All-American Ass Slam
Warmongering: We must fight everyone, as soon as possible. Abstinence: Sex with women clouds the mind and pacifies. Retaliation: Its time to start lashing out to vent our pent up rage. Ferociousness: Three words: Civilian Casualties Acceptable. America: This needs to be the “A” word people fear, not AIDS. Globalism: America is destined to be the victor of a World War III. Operatin W.A.R.F.A.G. represents these American virtues, and with your help it will lead to American victory in the most glorious worldwide conflict of all times.
To become a W.A.R.F.A.G. send a self-addressed envelope plus $19.95 to: Operation W.A.R.F.A.G. Honorable Donald H. Rumsfeld Secretary of Defense 1000 Defense Pentagon Washington, DC 20301
Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12
Cover by: Ryan Beckman
Livingston Student Center - Room 111 @ 9:30pm Wed.
Arts Per Son Als What’s Shaking?
THE
MEDIUM
Warfag Peacedyke Faux News GMG Features
FUCK YOU ALL WE HOPE YOU DIE It’s better than dying.
CONTENTS Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7
Medium Meetings.
fnord
Editor-in-Chief Managing Editor Business Manager Opinions Editor News Editor GMG Editor Arts Editor Faculty Advisor
Ryan Beckman Jim Cortina Mike Stanley Benjamin Schachtman Jim Cortina Daniel Migliore Aija McKenzie Jeff Buechner
Personals Editors Ms. Bridgette Heines Mr. Bryan McKenna Photographer Elizabeth Finelli What’s Shakin’ Editor Amy Groark Online Editor Michael Wyzard Advertising Manager Ned Berke Staff Artist Alex Grey Senior Editor Amy Groark
THE MEDIUM is the entertainment weekly of Rutgers University. All articles are the opinions of the authors and are not necessarily shared by THE MEDIUM. Submission and business deadline is noon, Sunday. The office of THE MEDIUM is located in the SAC - Cubicle N. All correspondence may be addressed to THE MEDIUM SAC Box 78, New Brunswick, N.J. 08903. Send your e-love to Ryan Beck@Eden.Rutgers.Edu. From now on, nothing but love in this little black box...maybe.
February 12th, 2003
PeaceD.Y.K.E.
“We’re ready to Dyke it out for Peace...Right Here!!”
A Call To All Womyn:
This Valentine’s Day...Dyke it out for Peace! An ‘Open’ Letter to All Womyn: Womyn, let’s face it, we’re up to our comfortable, yet provocatively stylish underwear in trouble. George Bush is about a menstrual cycle away from sending the Planet Earth into a post-nuclear depression that even Ben & Jerry’s couldn’t fix. A lot of you may be already part of activist groups trying to stop our President from fist-fucking our Planet with untrimmed fingernails, and that’s fantastic. But there comes a time when we can no longer live on hope. We must admit to ourselves that unless we take drastic moves, we are all going to die. So let’s get right to the clit of the matter, men wanna kill things. They watch it on television, they play it in Vice City, and if they have their way they’re going to do it to the whole world. Why? Because they are still getting laid. Last Valentine’s day, over two billion - Billion ladies, that’s a thousand thousand thousand - men got some pussy. We cannot let Men get laid this Valentine’s day, the fate of the world depends on it. What I ask you of you womyn, all womyn - black, white, spanish, gay and straight - is to cock block your man. Find a lady friend, it doesn’t matter if she’s Julia Roberts or Julia Child (gag me with a phallus) and make out with her like your life depended on it. Because it does. Womyn, I beg you, think of the lives you’ll save. Hell, you might even like it. Bless you all, Peace Jones - President of Peace D.Y.K.E.S. Peaceloving Youthful Dynamic Earth Savers
PeaceD.Y.K.E. Real Name: Peace Jones Height: 5’4” (5’9” w/ heels) Weight: 120 lbs Origin: Douglas Campus Womyn Studies Major Superpowers: Douche of Doom Activism Whip Peace Period Beam
PEACE STATUS UPDATED - CODE RED WARFAG - The Rising Menace There is a new danger facing Project Peace DYKES. Donald Rumsfield, desperate to stop Peace at any cost, has launched Operation W.A.R.F.A.G. led by the dastardly villian, Captain WarFag. It seems that the WarFags have their own source of sexual gratification, and our vagina-embargo has failed against them. WarFags may be able to continue their warmongering indefinitely without sexual gratification from women. If you have any information, don’t hesitate to contact us: Project PeaceD.Y.K.E.S.
Like you wouldn’t make out with the Olsen Twins for World Peace...
Douglass College Rutgers, The State University of New Jersey 100 George St. New Brunswick, NJ 08901-1412
I would like to start by saying… I’m sorry. I am truly sorry.
A Sincere Apology from Mike Litoris
It all started about a year ago when my ex-girlfriend aborted a love child we had created together. I was absolutely depressed and scarred, and still am, from the whole incident. No one can imagine the pain and feeling of loss from aborting a potential life in which you are responsible for unless you went through it. Even then, it’s a completely unique experience, and for me it’s one I still haven’t fully recovered from. I sought healing after it all, and went to therapist after therapist finding nothing in them. Not one of them knew pain like I knew. Not one of them knew how deep my soul bled from it all. I would look my son, who I keep on my dresser at home in a bottle of formaldehyde, and feel like there was nothing to do to recover from the whole experience. My friends tried to help me by encouraging me and attempting to understand it, but I just kept spiraling further and further downwards. One night, one of my friends rented and brought over the movie Patch Adams, and that’s when I realized the truth of it all. The best way to heal is through laughter. For those of you who haven’t seen it, go and see Patch Adams, it is the most inspirational, deeply moving film ever created. Robin Williams is most certainly a godsend – albeit a hairy one… that guy’s a friggin’ wookie. I became obsessed with comedy and laughter, and this mixed with the other obsession of my aborted child. I am responsible for last week’s Medium cover – a cake with an aborted fetus on it I actually had made and ate. It was very good. It had strawberry filling. I am responsible for the baby eating article last semester. I am responsible for hundreds if not thousands of baby killing and aborted fetus references in The Medium and on the internet and in daily conversations I am involved in. However, I am beginning to think it has gone too far. Last week’s issue was chock full o’ baby references by other staff members. It has become a growing epidemic. I have heard dozens of other people in my dorm, and people I don’t even know in the streets making references to baby. This is my fault. It must stop. I was not aware when it began that in between their constant jibber-jabbering, feces flinging, chest pounding, and jumping up and down on stuff that the monkeys which comprise The Medium staff would actually learn a new joke in addition to homophobia, racism, and fat mocking. It must stop here. At first to laugh about it made me feel better. It still does to a degree, but it’s sick. It needs an end. Please, for the sacred memory of my aborted child, and for your immortal souls, let the fetus jokes go. And to the readers, I am sorry.
NEWS NEWS
“Thank God For Industrial Accidents”
From the ORACLE of KRONOS Let me tell you how it all really happened. Bush called Saddam one night. Saddam was really annoyed. He said to Bush, “You goddamned butthead, do you have any idea what the time is?” Bush said, “It’s 7:16 pm. Wait a minute, I can’t believe you don’t have a clock there, Hussein. If you can’t afford one ask one of our agents, they’ll lend you one. Ask Gary, he should be in the adjacent room from you.” Saddam rolled his eyes and grunted between his teeth, “There is a 7-hour time difference between your dinner table and my bed, you moron. How many times do I have to remind you of it?” “First of all, my grumpy old boy,” said Bush, “I’m not at the dinner table. I’m not allowed to talk while my mouth is full. I may choke again, says my doctor. That’s also why I don’t make phone calls when I’m with Dick.” Saddam asked, startled, “Dick?”. “Yeah,” answered Bush, “Dick Cheney. Now, who is a moron? You can’t even remember my partner. And secondly, I strongly suggest that you rewind your watch 7 hours back to match with mine. I think the entire world should do that.” Saddam turned his head up towards heaven at this moment and whispered, “Oh Allah, you give me patience. Sometimes Devil says press the red button on this cactus-head and be rid of him for good.” Then he returned to the phone, “Just tell me what you want, George? I gotta wake up again in couple hours and fuck a couple of Kurdish virgins before I go to my office. Ethnic Cleansing Through Love Program is advancing slowly these days. Since your father helped them gain their autonomy, it’s been difficult to find female Kurds below 39th Parallel.” “Slow down there, Hussein, I got me confused here! Who are Kurds, what is 39th Parallel?” asked Bush. He was gonna ask more questions but Saddam interrupted him, “What-Do-You-Want, George?” Bush stopped scratching his skull, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot, it’s Rumsfeld. He told me to tell you to tell the UN inspectors to go fuck themselves so that they can tell Coffee Annan that you told them that you won’t fully cooperate with the inspectors so that the UN can tell us that it’s okay to bomb you. Can you do that today?” “No”, replied Saddam. “Why not?” inquired Bush eloquently, adding, “You’re such a camel fucker, man!” “For fuck’s sake, George,” said Saddam, “I’ve been saying that since the first day they’ve arrived. They are utterly clueless. How else can I explain it to them?” “Uhm...” uhmed Bush then suggested, “you can show your middle finger to them. I assure you they’ll get that.” ”I’ve even showed them my arm. It doesn’t work”, responded Saddam. “No, no, no… Did you show them your finger?” said Bush energetically. Saddam whispered to himself again, “Sweet mother of Muhammed, I swear this monkey will kill me one day with his stupidity.” “What did you say? I couldn’t hear. Sweet mother of Jesus what?” “I said sweet mother of Muhammed.” “Hold it there, you oily shit, Jesus’ mother is sweeter.” “Bullshit. Muhammed’s mother...” “Shut up you two!” a voiced intervened the conversation, “Moses’ mother is the sweetest!”. “What the...? Who’s this?” asked Saddam. “It’s alright, Hussein” consoled Bush, “it’s Sharon. That asshole has been ewe’s dropping on us again. Fuck Ariel, can’t you knock on the phone to let us know that you’re there?” “No. I prefer to sneak in,” replied Sharon promptly. “Well, we do too but you don’t pull these tricks when in the Club,” said Saddam. “The Club is where it all happens, man, you know that. Don’t treat me like a beginner. By the way, speaking of Club, if you wanna remain in the Club you better do as Bush tells you or else.” “Listen you two, I’m not giving up my nuclear, chemical, and biological toys. I paid for those shit.” “We know you paid for them,” butted in Bush, “we sold them to you. Don’t pretend like you don’t know what we really want.” “He wants the oil. I’ll tell you later what I want,” added Sharon. “You shut up, Ariel. I’m not talking to you,” scolded Saddam at Sharon, “as for the oil, I need more time to sign the contract with your company, George. You are breaking my balls here. I can’t break the contract with Russia, France and Germany. Not just yet.” “That’s why I’m giving you the option of bombing you. We’ve already reserved one of the best resorts for you out in Virgin Islands. Just let us bomb your desert. It will be quick. It won’t hurt. Trust me. Then you can tell the other guys ‘Due to recent heavy bombings, my contracts with you have been canceled. No oil for you until a further notice. For further inquiries please contact the State Secretary of U.S.’ Then before you get to finish fucking all the exotic girls at your service in the resort, we’ll be done with the preparations to stage a military coup in your name and get rid of the idiot that we’d temporarily put in your place. I promise the throne will be yours again. And all the lethal weapons you can afford. They are in our shelves waiting for you. We’ll restore half of your arsenal with the first payment.” To be Continued Next Week
I am a box... I tell you to send NEWS articles to pinkeyedjim@hotmail.com Don’t ask why, just send stuff.
Wednesday February 12, 2003
Wednesday February 12, 2003
“Don’t laugh at me because I need poontang!”
Medium Editor Needs Poontang By “Pink Eyed” Jim Cortina News Editor The Medium has released an official statement to the press, saying that News Editor “Pink Eyed” Jim Cortina needs “poontang.” When asked what “poontang” was, Medium press Secretary General Kofi Annan said, “Poontang is, simply put, pussy. It is a word that relates to the female genetalia, and also to the act of copulation.” Annan then resigned his position as Medium press Secretary General to accept a position at some world governing organization, whose name escapes me. “Pink Eyed” Jim then stepped up to the podium to field the press’ questions. He started with a brief statement: “It is true, I do need poontang. I need it so bad I ache for it. Sometimes as I fall asleep I find myself muttering, ‘poontang… poontang…’ under my breath. I will begin taking applications for poontang immediately, they can be sent to me via email: pinkeyedjim@hotmail.com. I will now take your questions.” The reporter from The Daily Targum, which, as Mike Stanley never misses a chance to remind people, is independent from the University, asked: “Is there any particular kind of poontang you are looking for? If so, what are your specifications?” “As far as race goes, I have no qualms about any race over another, though all I’ve ever had were white girls, and as they say, variety adds spice to life. I would like to stress that I only want clean poontang, but since this is Rutgers, I’ll allow two STDs as my upper limit. Oh and nothing smelly.” Further questions were all fielded in similar matter. Here is a brief list of specs: -
Any race may apply. Applications must be sent by 12:00 AM on February 14th, 2003, as Jim hopes for a Valentine’s date. Applicant must buy dinner. No smelly pooter. No more than two STDs will be tolerated. Send all applications to pinkeyedjim@hotmail.com with the Subject: Poontang Application
NEWS
You want to come to a Medium meeting, but you’re afraid we will pelt you with macaroni? Don’t be silly, of course we will. Come tonight anyway, LSC 111 9:30
The Art Of Rap By: W to the A to the S to the T to the E to the D to the M to the I to the N to the D
A recent anthropological inquiry has revealed a curious tid bit. That’s right, tid bit. A study conducted out of the Tar Pits of Trenton has taken the time to finally analyze the long neglected art form that is rap. The logistics of it were involved and tedious, a trained team of chimps was working around the clock with no bathroom breaks. The tactics included many interviews of known and unknown artists, burning rap lyrics and running them through various Gas Chromatography and Microspectrophotometry units, playing records backwards, and many other fine examples of pseudo-scientific tomfoolery. There were also highly controversial and very illegal procedures that involved searing human flesh and removed gonads, but that information is highly classified. All this searching has revealed a titillating if unintended result. It turns out that rap stars have first been bitten by the music bug way back in grade school. Mainly, during childhood spelling bees. It turns out, that these first exercises in spoken word are what inspired most of the famous rappers to …start rapping. This is why they, in fact, spell their name every chance they get in almost all of their musical compositions. It is not because it helps when you’ve run out of words that rhyme with “muthafuckas” and “40 inch rims”. Nor is it because rap is geared towards stupid people, as some ignorant souls believe. Same goes for the commonly held belief that rap stars tend to have names that are spelled in ways contradictory to popular opinion on how they should be spelled. This could not be further from the truth. The dictionary has no place in the hands of a true artist! Especially if those hands are taken up by a 40 and a fat L (as all artists hands are, or at least should be). The spelling bees, which are traditionally won by little Asian girls who get beaten by their American host families have showed budding rappers that spelling is indeed fun. And what is more fun then spelling your own name over and over? You can switch it around and make it more exciting by spelling only some of the letters and then saying the rest; the combinations are infinite. Infinitely fun that is! So what if Fabolous lost the 5th grade contest to some Asian girl who gets beaten by her host family, look at him now! And where is she now? Probably back in Laos, at some god forsaken rice paddy getting it up the ass from every gook in her village. Yes, village. That’s right, I went there. So, in conclusion, do not spurn the little Negro child in your 5th grade who can only spell his own name. He will be more rich and powerful one day then you can ever dream of being. And get more ass then you can ever dream of getting. And then get shot probably. Exeunt. Other News Briefs! Masturbation Proved to Extend Life by: Henry Rarisan
He needs all kinds of poontang. Which one are you? News Briefs! Budget Cuts Plague University Steve (Beezer) Toboz If not apparent already, budget cuts are affecting everything; from the food we eat, to the water we drink. But never has it hindered getting to class. Last Monday morning, Governor James (J-Shibby) Mc Greevey started to implement his “Operation Save A Nickel”. This tactic, once used by the Nazi Germany is the act of cutting off the power when it is thought that the least amount of people are using it. Alarms were reset causing upright panic across the Livingston and Bush campuses. This caused numerous riots and a number of shaved hamsters. In a press conference Tuesday, J-Shibby said, “Operation save a nickel was a huge success, but we can not stop there. We will also continue with our “Half Out” Program.” (The Half Out program is a tactic the dining halls use. This is where they only use half of the ingredients required.) Talks are in progress that include less ink in printers and lower wattage light bulbs. O yeah, he also said something about some gay ass French bastard that was in my building communities class last semester. But hey, what you gonna do?
In a study conducted by the Program Entitling New Infant Stimulation or PENIS, masturbation has been proiven to extend the life of those who “partake in this glorious act.” Richard Headski, the spokesperson for PENIS, stated, “After a 90 year study in the matter, where we tirelessly watched and catalogued young men masturbating, we have found that those same.... supple..... hard...... men...... ahem, lived an average 5 years longer than those of the non masturbating variety.” When asked if he had a personal hand in the study, he was quoted as saying, “Oh yes, I must have had my hands on....I mean in.... I mean supervised the young boys to the point, or well past the point of completion.” Richard further commented in his role at PENIS. “I love PENIS, it has gotten me through hard times in life. When I first heard about this organization, I first despized it, but deep down, I knew I need to be with PENIS. Everyday, surronded on all sides by PENIS, oh what extacy I’m in now that I’m at the head of PENIS.” Cryptic words from the head of the PENIS. We embrace this news for all it is worth. With a new fervor, we will slam our cocks till they are bloody, because we know, we will outlive those that do not. Proudly men can now proclaim, “No that stain on my shirt wasn’t bleach!!!! That was my man-spewage!!!!!” So wack your sack, because in the end, you’ll outlive everyone. Fervid apologies are due to Stainey, whose article should have been here.
GMG
“Q: What’s worse then finding a worm in your apple? A: The Holocaust.”
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
Seller Beware: Thoughts on Drug Dealers
The Art of Eavesdropping
By: Dan Migliore, Stoned Immaculate
Steve (Beezer) Toboz Staff Writer
Now ladies and gentlemen, we are all in the same boat on this one. You go to buy yourself some drugs; you expect to get something good in return. Namely, good drugs. What you don't expect is to get ripped off. So right here and right now, I am proposing a Better Business Bureau for drug dealers. Here's how it works. We form a union of drug users, as Layne Staley put it, "an elite race of our own, the stoners, junkies, and freaks." There’s no fees, no terms, just a bunch of people who like to get high, all pooled together for one common good: the acquisition of good drugs. We share our dealers. We can share our drugs, all chip in and get shit wholesale style. Our drug-using Jewish brethren will appreciate that one. Every meeting will be a giant party, if you think about it. But it won't be all fun and games, sadly. Someone will have to weed (no pun intended, because puns suck- Ed) out the bad drug dealers. And I'm just the flesh-sack to do it. So here's what you do: mail a small or large amount of whatever drug it is you want evaluated to Dan Migliore, c/o The Medium, SAC Box 78, New Brunswick, NJ 08903. Include an email address, and using my highly top-secret and "scientific" drug evaluation methods, I will test your drugs and send you the results. I will also include information regarding the meeting time and place. But please note, due to crack house laws and the R.A.V.E. Act, don't bring drugs with you, 'cause I don't want to go to jail. And Dealers, beware, because we're out there, an army of pissed off druggies and junkies who don't want to get ripped off.
I Don’t Like The Penguins by: Henry Rarisan
I don’t like those black suit-wearing birds. They just don’t fly with me. How many times have you seen them swimming in a lake? When did birds swim? I threw my parakeet into the pool one day and my mother gave me quite the spanking. So how come they are classified as a bird? Some fucking stoned out animaltologist just decided, “I like the penguin, let’s put him in some sort group where he exhibits none of the characteristics.” I think it has to do with the perception some people have about birds. Some are cute; others are carnivores that would snatch your baby away if you weren’t auctioning her off to some whitecollar dentist in the middle of Wisconsin. But these things called Penguins are such an abnormality. Too cool to be mammals or reptiles, but too strange to be birds. It might be, that they mate for life, and thus have no more freedom after that. Or cause they’re black. Penguins make no sense in the world as a whole, and thus have no point in existing. I don’t quite like those Penguins.
Want to be cool? Want to get yo’ crunk on? Then come to a Medium meeting, Wednesday, 9:30, LSC 111. And submit. For the love of almighty God (or gods), submit articles, poems, stories, or naked pictures of your mom to FeaturesEd@yahoo.com.
While sitting in class the other day, (meaning taking a nap in the presence of others) I heard a conversation that sounded interesting to me. Two girls were talking about a party they attended the night prior. They talked about drinking, and who they wanted to hook up with and something about a watermelon. At any rate, I was excited by this new pass time. So I started to do it in all my classes. Then I started to log them. Soon, I had quite an impressive collection. After examining these, I found quite a bit of comedic content. Therefore, I am going to publish a select few every week. This week, I give the talks of General Psychology. Girl 1: This really sucks. Girl 2: Why’s that? Girl 1: Jake talked me into it last night, remember? Girl 2: No, talked you into what? Girl 1: You know, IT! Girl 2: OoOoO, Ouch! Did it hurt that much? Girl 1: Obviously, I can hardly sit! Girl 2: Hmmm, well, at least he’s big… Girl 1: No, i'm just small. Girl 2: Poor boy. (Both start laughing) *After this, I decided to move across the row…* Girl: So how many people are going to be there? Boy: About 30, its gonna be fun. Girl: Well, I guess I can go, you sure there is going to be enough to drink for everyone? Boy: Yeah, and if not, you can come up stairs with me, and we can improvise… (Girl smacks boy, teacher stops, bumps a line, mutters incoherently and continues…) *Next thing I know is my attention is taken by 2 guys talking right behind me, ass holes…* Boy 1: So you would do that for me? Boy 2: Shit yeah, fuck I care man? Boy 1: Well, ok, you want me to write it down? Boy 2: Na, just say it, cause I cant read your fucked up writing? Boy 1: Fuck you! Boy 2: Common man, hurry Boy 1: Alright, be at my house at 9, we will go from there. Also, bring some Vaseline. Boy 2: Anything else? Boy 1: Yeah, pick up some wine, cause that French kid came out the closet today. He will join us. Boy 2: Yea, Shits gonna be fun! Boy 1: Shhhhh, I think he can hear us (*Anyway, that was just a few selections for this week; hopefully, I will have more for next week… Yay!*
Haikus By: Michael Stanley To the audience: Joe Millionaire is so fake Too bad it's scripted! An Apology Extra syllable last week One less this week
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
Features
“Aw, Crap! I’m stuck in the stairs.”
Tips from Martha Stewart: Making your own Pussy Juice! By: Ted O'Brien I was recently flipping through channels during winter break when I caught Martha Stewart Living-a show designed for homemakers who are confined to their houses all day and have nothing better to do than watch a greedy, cold-hearted woman, full of corruption create a living slave creature merely out of a few small sticks, two stones, and some simple witchcraft. She's so resourceful, but don't forget that pesky little thing about her being the anti-Christ. Martha Stewart is an amazing she-devil of a woman hands down, and the whole speaking in tongues thing is just so sexy! But I digress; my personal love affair with elderly women is not something I'm going to divulge to the hundreds of readers of my column here today. However, given the chance, you're telling me you wouldn't hit dat saggy, wrinkled ass? Well, getting back to the matter at hand, I was watching her show when she began a segment entitled, "Vaginal Secretions"-I could hardly believe my eyes, there on television Martha was going to prepare a glass of the tastiest vaginal secretions this side of Britney Spears. She enticed the viewers with pictures of Jennifer Lopez, Natalie Portman, and Avril Lavigne, and said we too could taste the sweet, sweet juices that Ben Affleck, Ewan McGregor, and the Skater Boy got to lick up, but we could do it without the loss of muscle tension in our tongues. She soon began to put together this wonderful elixir using the ingredients she placed in front of her. Take one used tampon and squeeze the blood out into a small mixing bowl. Add three tablespoons of human sweat and one teaspoon of human piss. Don't forget to add about four wet farts to the mix-this will add the strong musky smell we have all become accustomed to. Martha also recommended adding a pinch of dirt to give it that rustic taste and to drop in about 10 curly strands of pubic hair for look. Finally add one tablespoon of vinegar and one cup of distilled water. Blend until all items are thoroughly mixed. Let sit for about a minute then microwave for 20 seconds to give it that warm, toasty taste of real vaginal secretions. Let me tell you, the drink was completely refreshing and amazingly it has saved me from painful neck strain and tongue exhaustion. So the next time my girlfriend asked me to give her some oral pleasure, I quickly smiled and responded, "Don't worry hunnie, I'll have two glasses of orgasmic vaginal secretions here for the both of us in just five minutes." She laughed, and said, "Damn, JR, you are an incredible man." I laughed and said "I know Jenny, I know."
“In the morning, there’s nothing I like more then waking up to a fresh glass of pussy juice. Except maybe insider trading.” -Martha Stewart
Raoul Dan’s Stories for Children Note From The Editor- In the Tradition of Aesop's Fables, and to fulfill his court-ordered community service, Raoul Dan and The Medium present these stories to help educate. And remember, these are fables, or something very much like that, so it's okay to tell them to small children. But I am not legally binded to the proposition, nor do I take responsibility if your kid turns out as fucked up as him.
The Anteater and the Ants Once upon a mushroom, there was an Anteater. The Anteater roamed all over the Great Forrest looking for ants to eat. In fact, the Anteater ate so many ants that the delicate ecological balance of the Great Forest became horribly and devastatingly destroyed, and the Great Forest dried up and burnt away. The Anteater was saddened, because his home was lost, and also because he suffered massive burns in the wildfires. Shaking off the stench of his own burnt flesh, the Anteater decided that it was time to move. He took his few meager possessions in a bag and left the burnt-out remains of his former home. He walked long and far, and then hitchhiked, and then got kidnapped by a biker gang, and was dumped off at a farm. He was found and nursed back to health by a Farmer, who was delighted to find out that he had discovered an anteater. This was very fortunate for the Farmer, as he had a large fire ant problem. And the Anteater was more then happy to take care of the ants. He was very hungry, and went directly to the hill above where the fire ant's nests were built. He jumped into the center of where the nests laid, and was ready to eat. However, the fire ants came flooding out of their nests, swarming over the Anteater in giant red waves, and their tiny pinchers dug into the Anteater's flesh as they ate him alive over three agonizing hours. Moral of the Story: Don't fuck with fire ants.
Don't Walk Away By: The Mad Typer Please don't walk away I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to hit you, or say your sister's name in bed. Don't walk away, It was just today. I know the dildo, was probably too big. I'm sorry for all I've done like fucking your mom, or killing your dog, then having my fun. But you know I love you I show it to you everyday. I promise I won't touch your brother anymore...don't walk away.
Arts
“Axe Body Spray is indeed a lethal weapon.”
Back by popular demand! even more QUICKIES:
(kinda)
by the Third World All Stars, yo. Adema - Insomniac’s Dream (CD) Arista Records Ya ever fart and accidentally crap your pants. Ancient Greeks - The Song Is You (CD) Flameshovel Records Now here is a band that has been waiting a long time to put this album out. Maybe if they had waited a little longer they would have realized the one flaw - the singer. His voice, which sounds like Bob Dylan on helium, doesn’t seem to live up to the rhythmic yet subtle melodies produced by the rest of the band. The Dirtmitts - Get On (CD) Sonic Unyon Recording Company At times aggressive and others melodic, and at times bordering on epic, the Dirtmitts remain to stand strong in the indie rock scene. Although they won’t be seen on the MTV Music Awards, I’d listen to this album whilst taking a squat. The Dollar Canon - Future Apartment E.P (CDEP) Lamplight Recordings This is one fine piece of shit, slovenly speaking. The Dream Is Dead - Letter Of Resignation (CD) What Else? Records The music version of the movie Basketcase. Oh lord, I hope there isn’t a sequel. Edify - Fashion (CD) Who’s idea was it to give instruments to these horrific malformities. The Flesh - S/T (CD) The album reminded me of my best friends abusive alcoholic mother who would always hold me down and fart in my face. Good To Go - Hard And Continuous (CD) This album reminds me of the time I got gonasyphillaids on my scrotum While hiding in the bushes watching Charlie Sheen anally rape Martin Sheen.
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
Mike’s Movie Reviews By Michael Stanley
Final Destination 2 It seems that Hollywood does this way too often. They go out and make a sequel of a movie that did relatively well in theaters, when the sequel shouldn’t be made. Before I saw Final Destination 2 I thought this was one of those sequels, after I saw the movie I knew that I was right. Final Destination 2 is basically a rehash of the first movie; someone saves people from dying only to be tracked down by death because “you can’t cheat death.” One of the similarities in the movie was that people still died in different, interesting and unbelievable ways. Computers, meat cleavers, chainsaws and road flares are sadly not involved in any of the deaths. One of the brighter points of the movie is the return of Ali Larter as Clear Rivers, the only survivor from the first movie. Sadly her acting is sub-par and upsetting at times. If you’re looking for a good Ali Larter movie try Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back or Varsity Blues. Final Destination (the original) was a creative movie and grossed roughly $53 million during its U.S. run. The sequel has moments when the movie shines, but overall it comes off as a comedy, due to the ridiculous plot of the movie. The sequel lacks the originality, the plot and the star power of Devon Sawa, Joshua Jackson, Ali Larter, and Seann William Scott that Final Destination possessed. Shockingly, Final Destination 2 earned $16 million this past weekend; its opening weekend putting it at #2 for last weekend and roughly $300,000 behind the #1 movie, The Recruit. After reading my review, you might want to ask me “Mike, why did you see the movie when it’s obvious that you didn’t want to see it?” Well, it’s because Final Destination 2 was a movie about “peer pressure, majority rules, doing what the crowd wants, and compromising.”
The Microphones: “Mount Eerie” (K Records, 2003) by The Music Nazi
Phil Elvrum has emerged as sort of a great white hope for indie rock over the past few years, producing albums for Mirah and Calvin Johnson, as well as his own bands: D+, Old Time Relijun, and most notably, the Microphones. His cut-and-paste production style is hard to describe, but its produced some of the most unique Hate Mail Express - 12x4 (CD) A combination of jam band and punk rock. It makes me realize why no- and moving music Ive heard in recent memory. The previous proper body ever came out with this sound before. A pure auditory abortion. Microphones album (not counting several rare vinyl-only releases and a singles compilation), 2001s “The Glow Part 2”, was his greatest Hirefsukan - Invasive//Erofic (CD) achievement so far, and was even named Album Of The Year by This album is distinctly reminiscent of peeling a scab off and eating Pitchfork Media (my favorite website). It was a hard achieveit with a lemon cookie. ment to top, but I had a feeling he was certainly up to the challenge. So I was a bit disappointed when I first heard this album. Theres only 5 tracks on the album, yet it clocks in at 40 minutes. Don’t you wish Its actually sort of a rock opera. Its more ambitious, and not as Penis, penis, penis song-based as its predecessor; it seems like more of an experiI made you out of clay your OWN ment in production than his other albums, rather an inspired colPenis, penis penis reviews were in lection of songs. I probably got this impression because the alWith penis I shall play here? Submit bums first track, “The Sun”, is 17 minutes long, and the lyrics dont come in until after 10 minutes of heartbeat sounds and what sounds Stroke it, stroke it, stroke it your shit to like a remix of an excerpt from a drum circle or something. Things That is what I’ll do shorty_fat_fat like this sort of put me off on first listen, but I gave it another Stroke it, stroke it, stroke it @yahoo.com, and chance, and Im really glad I did, because it really is a truly stunI’ll give you some fondue ning album. I dont have the liner notes, but apparently it explains come to a the entire concept of the album, and how its a story of life and Moanin‘, moanin‘, moanin‘ Medium Meeting death and identity. Within the span of the album, the lead characSo the neighbors can hear me tonight, at LSC ter is born, lives, loves, dies, and goes to heaven. Of course, none Moanin‘, moanin‘, moanin‘ of this description does justice to how amazing the music itself is. Oh god, there’s a bee! Room 111. Be In the end, the album isnt as transcendent as his last album was, there at 9, but its certainly a step forward in the evolution of an amazing Runnin‘, runnin‘, runnin‘ bitch! artist, and promises even greater things to come. Cock swinging every way Runnin‘, runnin‘, runnin‘ This poem is so gay
By Colonel Quack
Masturbeetion
Grain USA - Billboard (CDEP) Disposable Pop Revolution This album is like masturbating with liquid soap to the Special Olympics. A poor man’s REM.
Wednesday, February 12th, 2003
“Early to bed, early to rise. Work like hell and advertise.� -Ted Turner
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Personals Personals to the stupid fucking idiot in the college ave computer lab: fuck you for not being able to format my fucking disk. it’s really not that fucking hard...and if you couldn’t do it, don’t fucking putz around pretending you’re doing stuff when i’m watching you, and i know more about computers than you ever will...and you were doing absolutely jack shit. if you don’t know what you were fucking doing, call someone over instead of wasting my time...asshole. I love anal. (Who doesn’t? It’s tighter, it’s hotter, and it’s more degrading to women. If you’re an asian anal slut you should probably send me an email at olsentwins@seductive. com) to the girl who was doing her laundry in the building sunday night and left her dark blue panties on the floor all wet: i would’ve kept them and cherished them forever, but i was afraid my roomates would think i was a cross-dresser. i hope you got them back, because they were really nice panties. GAS! (Thank god for one word personals...where would I be without them? CASH!) My Dear Sweet Sandra Dee, I was staring at you in the dining hall today when I decided to give you a mental makeover. I really think you would look amazing if you cut your hair about shoulder-length and layered it a little bit. And you would look soooo adorable if you flipped up the ends a little - you’d be my own little charlie’s angel! I also considered giving you highlights, but your haircolor is perfect as it is. In fact, you are great as you are. Don’t take this the wrong way - you don’t need to change for anyone, least of all me. I, however, will continue to fantasize about your new hairstyle. Love, your faithful beauty school drop out. P.S. - I am not stalking you. (Isn’t that shit from grease, or something? The only grease I like is anal lube...and then only on Sundays. Dry ass-fucking is the bestest.) one time, i was walking home from the bus stop talking on my cell phone really loudly, and then this guy came up behind me and beat me with a baseball bat. then i died.
Happy V-Day...and by V, we mean virus, for the herpes/HIV you’re getting.
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
to that girl from last semester. you are a bitch, slut, dirty whore and also a nobody. I knew you were gonna go everyday to the bars to fuck some white dudes because you’re tired of the ethnic guys i guess. but i caught you bitch! remember if i dont say hi, it means you are a slut to me! (Ethnic guys? I guess that’s a term for black guys. Although we’re all really ethnic, aren’t we? Yeah, I just wish I had a big penis.) Some stupid sleepwalking heroes of a monstrous god bring down a paper mountain. Some depraved officers of a decadent civilization, who had originally helped those sleepwalkers to become heroes, ask me to choose between my security and my civil liberty, while forcing me to choose security (which becomes very unsafe in their hands) by intimidating me with a giant army of bureaucrats and a vile prison industrial complex. B. Dylan says, “Why wait any longer for the world to begin / you can have your cake and it too”. M. Jagger is pathetic. He says, “You can’t always get what you want / And if you try / sometime you find you get what you need”. He is a flaming lying bastard for the Queen to keep the Cockney crowd as fatalist and cannibals as they’ve been so far. I say, “Hey Mr. Dubya, would a bucket of oil be among the three things that you would take if stranded in a deserted island?” signature The Weakest Link (*sniff*...I really miss smoking pot. It was certainly the highlight of my middle school years, and gave me wonderful insights such as this lovely speech above.)
From your lovely Personals Editors: Have an awful fucking Valentines day, assholes. We both know the only ass you’ll be getting is from your hand, while looking at this picture...and we absolutely love the idea. To every girl that wants to get breast implants: DON’T! Please, if I wanted to massage jello, I could do that in my spare time. I’d much rather massage the real thing. Besides, girls with big boobs get big backaches. (Big boobs are awesome, though. I prefer natural, but...there’s no such thing as un-real boobs. If you can touch them, they’re real. Big boobs, no matter what they’re made of, make the best pillows I’ve ever slept on. Thank god for bigguns.) To that stupid excuse for a comic strip, Mattia in the Daily Targum: You suck! I could write better jokes when I’m drunk. And is that lips character supposed to be funny? To that fuck who lied to me Makes me wanna puke. Do us about Shakira, yeah real funny all a favor and fuck off from the asshole, we'll see who is wait- Targum, fag-shitters!! ing in your room for you.. I can (I’m noticing an increasing tell you they aren't female.. trend in the use of the word haha, smuck! “fagshitter...popularized by my predecessor. Keep up Looking for a nice Honda the good work.) cruiser to buy for around 20 fun-filled sexual evenings. www.themedium.net Female owners only, please. Bryan, on the sexy medium staff... I want to have your babies, your genetically perfected mutant babies. ~A (can we eat them? please? you know who you are, i know who you are...let’s just make babies forever, and ritualistically sacrifice them...then eat them. it’ll be fun! i promise!) www.rit.edu/~jts0422/ movies/group_x_video.swf To the SDT whore who fucking tried to steal my boyfriendYou are a stupid bitch who got used and abused. He never even gave a shit about you. How did my twat taste bitch? (Delicious. Like urine.)
I remember back when I had a small baby penis and no pubic hair. Oh wait, I still do. On the subway today, a man came up to me to start a conversation. He made small talk, a lonely man talking about the weather and other things. I tried to be pleasant and accommodating, but my head hurt from his banality. I almost didn't notice it had happened, but I suddenly threw up all over him. He was not pleased, and I couldn't stop laughing. (There’re usually homeless people at Medium meetings Wednesday nights at 9:30. We’re in Livingston Student Center, room 111. Come beat a homeless person for fun.) to my dearest deary dear: i love you more than the sun, the moon, and the hair on my roomate’s back. you do things to me that i can’t explain, especially not in court. i will always love you and your big italian sausage. love always, snagglepuss I like girls. I like squirrels.
Look at me! I did a twirl!
Wednesday, January 29, 2003 To that fucking guy in the College Ave. computer lab... on computer 162... Why the fuck are you listening to Jurassic 5? You know that fucking queer ass group is like a dirty Backstreet boys. And you don’t need to pump up the volume so frickin high so everyone can hear it!!! In addition, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from “raising the roof” with a room full of nerds, geeks, and fags. God damn your black! to the mind-numbingly stupid girl on my floor-being polish is no excuse for being a moron, or at least for being as stupid as you are. sometimes (and by "sometimes" i mean"everytime you enter a room") i want to knock your skull in just to see if you have a brain in the massive, pimply head of yours. why are you so stupid? why? WHY? i can hardly think of anything to say to you, because you are not even good enough for words. speaking of words, LEARN SOME, instead of just staring at everyone else talk and laughing at jokes you don't get. if all you can think to contribute to a conversation is the same lame story of that guy you didn't fuck, shut up. he never fucking liked you. he ditched you, just like everyone you leech off of ditches you. take a fucking hint or get a fucking brain.love, your adoring floormate p.s.-if i were your roommate, i'd try to kill myself, too. (See, it’s supposed to be funny because the bitch is polish and the polish stereotype is that they are really
“There’s nothing I despise more than varicose vein boobies”
This goes out to those btches who think they all that. fuck you!, you know all i wanted was to put my huge cock there and cum in your face bitch! i'm glad you aint fuck material, we all know you are a white slut bitch! and next time you wear those pants and come out of the quads thinking you shit, put my cock in your mouth asshole. (everyone knows the quads are just full white slutty bitches. Why do you think they are named the Quadjects. Herpes central, here we come. Also, watch out for any chicks on the top floor, hellooooo syphalis) To the sexy Sarastro in the opera at MGSA: You are soooo sexy. I want to jump your hot ass. You are my ideal dreamboat. I dream about having crazed weasel sex with you while you bust out those intense low tones. After the show is over will you have my babies??? -Self-Satisfying Pole Dancer (Dear, Self-Satisfying Pole Dancer, No. Why are you trying to pick up chicks at an opera. The opera contains fat chicks and we all know that fat chicks aren’t hot. The only thing they are good for is the missionary position, It feels like your floating on a cloud, that or pounds and pounds of flesh and fat. If I was Bryan Mckenna, not only would I kill myself for having such a small penis, but also because I suck dick
To that dorky eye glass wearing loser computer consultant . i can't believe that i saw one of the stupidest shit happen in a computer lab. who the fuck do u think u are to give a fuckin hard time to that girl on friday morning. u must be a fuckin cock suckin ass kissin jerkoff to have the nerve to stalk a printer, take someone else shit which obviously doesnt belong to u and hand it to her. then u gave ur gay ass warning telling her not to print again. what u did with the rest of her shit was even more stupid and that was to throw it in the trash when it would have been put to good use u fuckin moron. how fuckin serious do u take your job as a computer consultant? do u have to suck a lot of cock and get fucked in the ass many times hoping that u will get that fuckin promotion, u fuckin ass clown? the next time i c u do some kind of stupid shit like that again, not only will i bitch slap ur sorry ass but i'll take that clipboard of urs and shove it so far up ur ass making u think twice to take someone's shit from the printer. (In case you haven’t noticed they have some rules at the computer lab. You can only print out 20 pages of something. Unless it’s porno, then you don’t get it all. How the fuck am I suppoed to masturbate in the middle of the computer lab, when those guys keep taking away the porn)
Personals Personals
In honor of the Simpson’s 300th episode, I decided to give homer a nice treat. If you want to give us a treat, send your personals to olsentwins@seductice.com It's impossible for words to describe, what is necessary to those who do not know, what The Targum means. The Targum. The Targum has a face, and you must make a friend of the Targum, the Targum and mortal terror are friends. If they are not then they are enemies to be feared, they are truly enemies. From: Jimothy Cortina Hey Mary, thanks for telling me to get my ass out of the lab. I mean, I definitely don't want to sit through a CS110 class. *shudders* (Short n’ Simple, you’re a fag)
to those stupid fucks who come into my job, why the hell would you want to rent "Master of Disguises" or "Formula 51" or even the fucking "Banger Sisters" you obviously had NO TASTE in movies... but what's worse is when people rent movies with NO stars in them.. or even worse.. rappers.. if you rent that you should expect it to suck (Hey, we here at the medium liked the “Banger Sisters” We laughed we cried, and later sucked a whole lotta dick for being the biggest pussies out there)
The Medium has gone radio! WRSU 88.7 and The Medium proudly bring you Medium radio. Hilarious Public Service Announcements and our style of news reporting will be played several times every day throughout the week. Tune in to WRSU 88.7 to hear them!
The Medium... for when size doesn’t matter.
Lex Luther has taken over the Livingston Student Center. You can help Japanese Animation Superman defeat him tonite at 9:30 in room 111
What’s Shakin’
“stubbyesque”
Wednesday, February 12th, 2003
New Jersey Wed 2/12 - Trust Company, Depswa - Birch Hill Wed 2/12 - Hot Rod Circuit - Maxwell’s Thur 12/13 - The Juliana Theory, Something Corporate Birch Hill Fri 2/14 - The Toasters - Maxwell’s Fri 2/14 - Seether, Ra, Socialburn - Birch Hill Sat 2/15 - The Pietasters - Maxwell’s Sat 2/15 - Skate & Surf Fest Battle of the Bands - Birch Hill Sun 2/16 - Drive, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy - Stone Pony Sun 2/16 - The Pietasters, King Django - Maxwell’s Fri 2/21 - Sublevel 7, Loss Of Breath - Birch Hill Sat 2/22 - Last Perfect Thing, Runaway Orange - Birch Hill
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Poor baby... Don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day?
(holy shit, an event within walking distance! send me more! orgykarma@yahoo.com)
Cum to a Medium meeting and we’ll find you a nice girl who has so much love in her heart that it bags out her knees. Just don’t make her swallow...too much “love” makes her hypoglycemic.
9:30 tonight at LSC 111 Play in the snow while you still have a chance!
New York Thur 2/13 - Vince Gill - Irving Plaza Thur 2/13 - Frou Frou - Mercury Lounge Thur 2/13 - Jeffrey Gaines - B.B. King Blues Club & Grill Fri 2/14 - Telepopmusik - Centro-Fly Fri 2/14 - The Shipping News - North Six Fri 2/14 - They Might Be Giants - Joe’s Pub Sat 2/15 - Sleater-Kinney - Roseland Ballroom Sat 2/15 - The Reputation - North Six Mon 2/17 - Trust Company, Blindside Irving Plaza Mon 2/17 - Nada Surf - Bowery Ballroom Tue 2/18 - O.A.R. - Irving Plaza Wed 2/19, Thur 2/20 - Ladytron - Bowery Ballroom Fri 2/21 - Paul Weller - Hammerstein Ballroom Fri 2/21 - Yonder Mountain String Band Irving Plaza