Fall 2013 by Satyr Magazine

THESATYRMAG.COM FALL 2013

CONTENTS

DEPARTMENTS 4 Letter From the Editors 20 Daily Ruin 27 Gurl Talk 31 Letter from Gene Block 5/33 Between the Sheets 34 Get Involved

ARTICLES 6 7 8

11 12 14 15

16 22 23 24 32

The Drinking Game Drinking Game The Last Vegas Hollywood Formula The Three Best Places to Horrifically Murder Someone at UCLA The Fall of a Sandwich 4,317 Place to Drop Acid at UCLA @onlychild22: Cain on Twitter UCLAâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 10 Commandments to Being Environmentally Friendly The Most Ironic Man in the World The Saga of No-Shave November Life Hacks (for Assholes) Police Report Eulogy for Blockbuster

COMICS 10 13 19 25 26 30

Fantasy Roommates The Beatles Nipples The Inferno Buying Tampons Mt. Racial Equality

EDITORS Aliya Kamalova Writer/Illustrator Marcie LaCerte Writer/Illustrator Sachin Medhekar Writer/Graphic Designer

STAFF Jonathan Bernstein Writer/Illustrator Nathan Galovan Writer Ellie Martino Writer/ Illustrator Anaika Miller Writer Nathan Mosher Writer Utkarsh Pandey Writer Joseph Earl Remlinger IV Writer Gayan Seneviratna Writer/Illustrator

Cover by Marcie LaCerte

THESATYRMAG.COM FALL 2013

Picture this: Three able-bodied youths—a hirsute, swarthy male wearing a Christmas sweater in November; a quirky girl carrying a vintage denim satchel; and a potato—are sitting in a classroom in the basement of Haines Hall, huddled around a laptop. Similarly able-bodied youths begin to slowly trickle into the classroom, settling into lumpy foam seats, habituating themselves to the room’s pallid walls. For the next two hours, screams are unleashed, virginities are lost, and any residual hope for Millennials to become a generation of progressive thought and intellectual competence is demolished, crushed to fine pulp. Welcome to Satyr. For months, we (the three editors) have literally slaved over this magazine. All our best staff members graduated, leaving us to interview, hire, and haze mentor new recruits. Four out of the five new hires are wonderful, and we couldn’t be happier with them; their bright ideas really shine through in the following pages. Within this precious magazine, you will find articles and comics colorfully depicting the plight of post-graduates in a post-industrial society, unabashed blasphemy, totally legitimate letters from Gene Block, Arcade Fire, tampons, tentacles, drugs, drug-induced watercolors, watercolor-induced rehab, drugs, the rampant growth of facial hair, fashion magazine spreads inspired by canonical publications such as Seventeen and Prime, secularism, excerpts from the Daily Bruin’s (adopted and unloved) sister publication, postmodern metanarratives, appeals to a wider demographic, prostates, self-referential gluttony, self-awareness, self-actualization, cyclical binge-eating habits, physically filling the hole in your metaphysical soul, fashion advice from North Korea, racism, homosexuals, death, and nipples! We even threw in a few “easter egg” typos. Can you find them all? We sincerely hope that you love reading this magazine as much as we loved making it. In the case that you don’t, you are wrong. Best, The Editors

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BETWEEN THE SHEETS Sachin’s Musings This would be a self-deprecating joke, but nothing I think of is good enough. Why did the competitor on Iron Chef stop cooking? He ran out of thyme. Why did the marshmallow cookbook get bad reviews? It was full of fluff.

Mom, That’s Racist! By Jonathan Bernstein

1. Hide your jewelry when they’re here. They like shiny things. 2. It won’t be long before they all cross the border. 3. They are very good at blending in with their surroundings. And if you’re not looking, they will attack. 4. They always have so much ash on them. 5. I don’t understand why they’re so popular now! It seems like everyone has one in their house doing all their work for them. 6. Of course they’re not going to get through airport security. All that hair... 7. Their faces are so flat. No roundness at all. 8. I tried to tell her that if you rub them the wrong way they will cut you. And they’re scarier in the dark. 9. Their thighs are so glaringly white, all I want to do is put them in an oven and roast them. 10. They see one officer of the law and they run up the nearest tree.

What happened to the man whose prosthetic limb came loose? He got screwed...by the fact that his insurance couldn’t cover the cost of getting it fixed and he lost his job since it required the use of both of his hands. “i wants to be a real number!” -πnocchio

1. Kids 2. Killer Bees 3. Sharks 4. Fireplaces 5. iPads 6. Monkeys 7. Flatscreen television 8. Venus fly traps 9. Turkeys 10. Cats THESATYRMAG.COM FALL 2013

By Joseph Earl Remlinger IV Illustrated by Ellie Martino

THESATYRMAG.COM FALL 2013

THE THREE BEST PLACES TO HORRIFICALLY MURDER SOMEONE AT UCLA By Gayan Seneviratna

1. Sculpture Garden

2. Boelter Hall

We can all appreciate a good stabbing or chain-sawing, but for some of us, the real fun is in the chase. Imagine yourself, following your victim, screaming as she imagines you popping out from every corner. If this sounds like you, why not choose to commit your heinous crimes in Boelter Hall (and its deformed Siamese twin, Math-Sciences)? As you stalk her from floor to floor, your victim will quickly become disoriented. Staircases end abruptly without reaching either roof or ground floor. Taking the wrong elevator will leave her on bizarre half-floors, seemingly unconnected with the rest of reality. The truly unlucky victim will find herself in the basement, where the groaning pipes breathe and every light flickers. In a mere ten minutes, your prey will be reduced to a squirming pile of tears, like a pre-med after his first Math 3A midterm. Some of you may be wondering, “In this modern world, wouldn’t students be able to go online for help?” Not to worry! Every Wi-Fi network in the building will fail to connect. And don’t worry if your naïve victim asks an engineering professor for directions— those professors are already speaking in tongues.

The sculpture garden is one of UCLA’s most magnificent sites—in the daylight. However, as dusk approaches, shadows grow on bronze forms, the glow of yellow streetlamps illuminates the air, and the garden begins looking like an M.C. Escher fantasy. Your victims will never see you coming. Will you sneak out from behind the oversized naked woman that everyone awkwardly avoids looking at? Or maybe you’ll emerge from within the massive rusted torus, like the murderous jelly filling of a deadly donut. The best part? No matter who you choose as your victim—from the janitor who worked a bit too late to the last student leaving a math midterm— you’ve got the perfect way to dispose of the body. Just bring some brown paint, and add them to the outdoor collection. Ever wondered why there are so many headless torso sculptures?

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We at Satyr believe that ignoring this aspect of human culture is detrimental to the diversity of our campus. To that end, we have highlighted some of the best places at UCLA to tastefully send your victims to the afterlife. Go grab your black turtleneck sweater; it’s the three best places to horrifically murder someone at UCLA!

3. Royce Bell Tower On the other hand, maybe you’re a fan of cinema. To you, it’s not murder—it’s a murder scene, and you’re the ultimate method actor. Now, we recommend against the theater department; their budget is too low for the grand symbolism that your artistry demands. But what’s more classique than a Royce bell tower finale? At 6:55 pm, the scene opens. A lone photographer enters the roped-off top floor. He wants to get that perfect picture of the sunset (because, you know, it’s never been done before). Turns out, UC regulations aren’t the only thing that’s going to break today. As he raises his camera, you sneak out from behind the bell. If you’re a fan of costumes, maybe you’ve dressed up as Quasimodo or Alfred Hitchcock (honestly, there’s not much difference there). All it takes is a little push, and our young “artist” is reliving the finale from Vertigo. As his body crashes on the ground, you slide out of view, never to be caught. The automated bell strikes seven o’clock, like a perfectly-timed funeral gong. His camera drapes from the overhang, the playback feature still running; it turns out, he did manage to get that beautiful last picture. And scene.

Well, there you have it, you monster: the three best places to murder someone at UCLA. Of course, this is not an exhaustive list, just our choice favorites. Perhaps you’ll find a new location that truly speaks to you (hell, if you’re the hallucinating type, it really will speak to you). But remember, it’s up to you to strike fear into the hearts of our campus and keep our noble tradition alive. Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: Satyr Magazine does not actually condone murder. Seriously, keep us out of your manifesto.

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FF A AN NT TA A SS YY RR O OO OM MM MA A TT EE SS By Ellie Martino

NAME: Walter White SPECIES: Human/Criminal Mastermind/Bacon Art Enthusiast CURRENT RESIDENCY: In search of a fresh audience for his diabolical fibs. PROS: Is a fantastic chem tutor and jumpsuit model. He’ll always knock. CONS: Wardrobe is a tad dumpy. Doesn’t understand the value of a perfectly good pizza. Wears khaki a lot. Is a wanted murderer and meth cook.

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NAME: Gollum/Sméagol SPECIES: Standard creepy guy/ Who the hell knows? CURRENT RESIDENCY: In search of both a master who will tolerate his mood swings and a proper grammar tutor (broken 3rd person is not exactly a lady-pleaser). PROS: Is a low-maintenance guy, adventurous eater, and skilled hiker. CONS: Has been known to viciously hoard FunYuns, donuts, SpaghettiOs, and Fruit Loops. Personal hygiene is not really his thing. Also, his voice will haunt your dreams. Just saying.

NAME: Chewbacca SPECIES: Wookieturned-space-explorer CURRENT RESIDENCY: In search of a new best friend who won’t ditch him for his stupid bunhead girlfriend. PROS: Gives excellent hugs, is a faithful (if startling) alarm clock. CONS: Once Chewy moves in, your hair-free days are over. Your soap bar will turn into a furball before you can say “wookie.”

The Fall of a Sandwich By Utkarsh Pandey Indignity occurred today, I will be mighty brief, The knife-wielding gentleman, Of problems, was the chief. Approach did he with steely eyes, So clearly fridge-ward bound, And plucking me off the second shelf, He did not loaf around. He threw me on the cutting board, And sawed me into half, Then, finally, getting the second-verse pun, He uttered a fanciful laugh. Formalities done with, off he went, The search for butter was fleeting, Both sides were absently plied a dose, In his mind, he was already eating. A hat of lettuce followed suit, A coat of finest cheese, A wave of mayonnaise he dealt, Ignoring all my pleas. Shackles of tomato slices, Beautified me more, And to my shock, some apple rings That shook me to the core. Did he think I was his to have? Some kind of crus-titute? He was to have my full revenge, But how? That point was moot. But soon did I, with impish glee, Decide upon a plan, Though it did involve self-sacrifice, I hoped to die a man. As I was lifted to the plate, I wriggled my fatty carbs, His wicked talons clutched me tight, Like unforgiving barbs, But soon I overcame his grasp, And fell to kitchen floor, And then came biggest tragedy, Of life, and ever more. Looking back, I should have known, That fate would play the fool. He placed me back on deathly plate, And used the five second rule.

SATYRMAG.COM FALL 2013

1. First floor of YRL 2. Basement of YRL 3. 5th floor of YRL 4. Ashe Center: Pharmacy 5. Ashe Center: Optometry 6. Ashe Center: Third Floor Balcony 7. Bunche Hall: Room 3240 8. Bunche Hall: Women's Restroom 9. Schoenberg Music Building: Piano Room 10. Schoenberg Music Building: Other Piano Room 11. Humanities: Reading Room 12. Humanities: Any empty office on 3rd floor 13. Humanities: Reading Room again (you're lost) 14. Franz Hall: Handicap Stall, 3rd Floor 15. Franz Hall: Janitor's Closet,3rd Floor 16. Murphy Hall (waiting in line at Financial Aid) 17. Murphy Hall (you're still waiting) 18. Murphy Hall (You didn't have the right papers. They were curt to you. You leave in a huff, go home, get the right papers.) 19. Murphy Hall: Financial Aid 20. Bruin Bus Stop 5: Watching the BruinBus come and go 21. Powell Library: Computer Lab 22. Powell Library: Couches downstairs 23. Powell Library: Holding a book upside down

24. Pauley Pavilion: Section 24, Seat 334A

25. Fowler Museum (What the hell is the Fowler Museum?) 26. Southern Regional Library Facility: Lobby 27. Southern Regional Library Facility: Roof 28. Parking Structure 7: Behind one of the Audis 29. Wooden Center: On an elliptical 30. Wooden Center: Playing one-man/woman racquetball 31. LA Tennis Center: Playing oneman/woman tennis 32. LA Tennis Center: Playing doubles as a fifth wheel 33. Melnitz Hall: In the theater with no movie playing 34. Melnitz Hall: Watching people talk about their screenplays 35. Melnitz Hall: Trying to explain your screenplay 36. Broad Art Center: Trapped inside that big tree stump 37. Broad Art Center: Willingly inside that big tree stump 38. Broad Art Center: Teaching an Art History Class 39. Murphy Sculpture Garden: Watching a hobo undress 40. Murphy Sculpture Garden: Undressing 41. Murphy Sculpture Garden: Riding a Sculpture Cont'd on page...20

Written by Joseph Earl Remlinger IV

THESATYRMAG.COM FALL 2013

I. Thou shalt not have the option to print double-sided. II. The BruinBus Campus Shuttle shall be provided as viable transportation for you, an able-bodied biped—for the campus is a vast land, summing a grand twenty minutes to stroll from its North end to its South. III. The sidewalk pavement shall remain perpetually moist; the grass next to the pavement shall remain in perpetual drought. IV. You shall be required by almost all your courses to purchase a Blue Book before your exams. You shall only complete three of the twenty pages provided in the Blue Book, despite what your professor predicts. You shall nevertheless be required to buy another for your next exam. V. If you ever desire to gaze into the white-hot abyss of a computer monitor while you eat a chicken pot pie, a computer-stand-thingy shall be placed in the dining hall for use at your leisure. A mouse, however, shall not be provided—instead, a ball. The ball will be shiny but hugely ineffective. VI. You shall be blessed with a plethora of fliers on Bruin Walk. But you shall grow tired of holding them, and they shall end up crumpled at the bottom of your backpack, unread, till the dawn of a new quarter. VII. An outdoor festival professing eco-friendliness will be run by your more fashionable peers, and they will cheerily distribute an assortment of eco-friendly paraphernalia, such as plastic buttons, plastic bags, plastic keychains, plastic pens, fake plastic trees, and other necessary items. You shall be obligated, out of a twisted sense of moral responsibility, to attend the festival and don the aforementioned plastic paraphernalia. VIII. Inordinately large bowls shall serve inordinately small amounts of food. You shall not be given an explanation as to why this is so. IX. You shall be blessed with stacks upon stacks upon plentiful stacks of food-carrying trays; however, thou shall be instructed to never use them, lest the pagan water-gods (i.e., the dining hall workers, Poseidon) look in your general direction with disdain. X. You shall be bombarded with paper signs enclosed in plastic sign-holders that remind you, a socially conscious citizen, to treat Earth with kindness, love, and tenderness. Purely coincidentally, you shall save your university a hefty sum of money by being wary of your “carbon footprint”.

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rian was miserable. There was no trend he could set that would not be adopted or stolen, first by his friends, acquaintances, strangers, and then the masses. He had brought back the mustache, then the beard. He had tipped the bill of his hat towards the heavens. He had cut his shorts way too short. His ears had been gauged before anyone’s. He had freed his T-shirts from sleevery. He had stopped eating meat right before it was cool again. And he had stopped using shampoo, then soap. Whatever he did, he was, without fail, mocked, ridiculed, and attacked by strangers, only to be copied, mimicked, and imitated by his friends. Sitting in a coffee shop he worked at, Brian hunched over his iPhone, pretending to read a Henry James story. As a customer politely tried breaking through his depressed reverie, simply desiring to get a little more honey for her chamomile tea, he decided, then and there, that he was going to be different. He was going to make a change in his life—a change so drastic and so ironic that it couldn’t be copied. Brian brushed past the annoying honey lady, walked outside, took the three locks off his fixed gear bicycle, and went home. (The bike would later be stolen and re-stolen within minutes in the upper-class-butstill-incredibly-poverty-stricken-and-crime-riddled San Francisco Design District.) As soon as he got home, Brian stormed upstairs and ripped his favorite posters off his bedroom wall— posters of Lou Reed, The Refused, Banksy, and other things you probably haven’t heard of. His roommates, Robb and Sikorski, were sitting on a couch in their living room, getting stoned and making fun of a bad movie. Brian came in and told them that he was moving out. “Why?” Sikorski asked. “Yeah, why, man?” said Robb.

“This isn’t living,” Brian said. “This is fading. We’re existing in a world that someone else constructed for us. I want to construct it. I want to be a hammer— not a nail.” Brian was incredibly proud of this little speech, having concocted it during his walk from the coffee shop to his apartment building. With that, Brian left. The sun was quietly expiring on the horizon above the hills, turning the sky dark orange and red. His roommates, having been stoned, already forgot that he had made this little speech and moved out, only remembering his declaration when their rent was due; but, by that time, Brian had already enrolled in accounting classes at Danville Community College, ready to begin anew.

rian was miserable. He bought regular-fit jeans and a short-sleeve button-down shirt from Kenneth Cole (at a thrift store– baby steps). He tried enjoying his new look, but the collar scratched the back of his neck, and he missed the weight of gel in his hair; he knew this wouldn’t be easy. He was living with his mother and her longtime boyfriend, Chadwick. Friends texted him, and girls Facebook-messaged him, but Brian was focused on his new life, determined to change his existence into one that could not be carbon-copied. In his second year at Danville Community College, as Brian got closer to becoming a Certified Public Accountant (CPA), he met a girl named Ashley, a student in the school’s nursing program. She was responsible and had great teeth and a nice laugh; she was also incredibly uninteresting. She’s perfect, he thought. Brian decided to first date her for a year, then ask her to marry him, because that’s what a man would do. He would be honest, selfless, and dependable, and they would raise a family together. He didn’t necessarily like or love her, but he also didn’t think that was important; this was simply an essential part of the new life that he was constructing. No more meaningless sex. No more reading poems at dawn. No more Pabst. It’s not living. His old life was full of fantastical distractions that prevented him from making a real difference. They are an end unto themselves, he thought, not a means to an end. After a year of dating Ashley, he asked her to

“He was going to make a change in his life—a change so drastic and so ironic that it couldn’t be copied.”

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marry him, as he had promised, and she said, “Okay.” She smiled and leaned over to kiss his neck, and he felt good. Maybe I’ll love her later, he thought.

hey married. Years went by, and presidents went by, and their lives were okay. He never thought about his old life, for he did not care about his old life, a life filled with the ephemeral popularity of instant art, of internet videos, of bands that released only one good song over six EPs. He cared about his work and his family. He didn’t dream of becoming a writer—he made a living as an accounts manager for ITC Tech in Danville. Twice a year, Brian traveled around the world with Ashley and their daughters, Madison and Keira, because his job allowed him to do so. He was succeeding at living his life, not failing at pretending to be an artist. He made a difference in his clients’ lives and his co-workers’ lives, and he was generous to his family. On the side, he grew a respectable mustache and started collecting wine. Once a week, he went to San Francisco to get laser treatment, aiming to take off that stain of a tattoo on his neck—a symbol of his old life. A free health clinic in the Bay Area had a program that helped rehabilitate inner-city gang members and get their life back on track. When he heard of this, Brian thought to himself, I need this. One weekend, Brian left Danville for a technical colleges conference in Denver. The conferences were regimented and structured, and though he had never told anyone, in truth, he found these enormous management gatherings incredibly boring. But they had become a part of his life; these conferences were his rite of passage to the comfortable life he loved with the family he liked. He did enjoy getting to see new cities, and he loved the smell of the four-star hotels. For him, these little perks made the hours of drab speeches worthwhile. On the second morning of the conference, Brian spotted a man dressed in an impeccable navy suit standing in the lobby of the hotel, making a group of men in similarly impeccable navy suits roar in torrents of laughter. Who is that man? He thought he recognized him. Then, he noticed another man standing beside him. It hit him—they were Robb and Sikorski, his old room

mates from San Francisco, standing in the lobby, dressed to the nines! When the army of blue suits dispersed, Brian, politely smiling, went up to his two old friends and asked them what they were doing at the conference. Apparently, they had become accountants too. Brian couldn’t believe it. Why were they here—at this conference—these two people? They were the same guys they had been 15 years before, only older, both with meticulous, respectable mustaches of their own streaked of gray, fantastic ties, and bad posture. Brian grew paranoid. His mind drifted off, confused as to why they had chosen the same path as he. I’m a hammer, and they’re supposed to be the nails, he thought. Or am I still a nail? Brian’s ponderous trance was shattered, as Robb told him that Sikorski was the main speaker at the conference. Now, this was Sikorski—the guy who had once shoved acid up his ass to trip “balls harder,” the guy who had once shit in their refrigerator’s vegetable crisper, the guy who was once arrested for publicly pissing in a playground at one o’clock in the afternoon, the guy who was once caught masturbating to 2001: A Space Odyssey—and he was DeVry University’s accounts manager, the person everyone at the conference wanted to see. He was not just a hammer; he was the Hammer. Brian’s voice trembled as he told Sikorski—the guy who had once tried drinking two 2-gallon jugs of chocolate milk, simply for the amusement of his hipster friends, before violently vomiting in their kitchen—“Congratulations.” Brian, alone, took his seat in the Denver Civic Center auditorium. He hunched in his seat, watching with vicious jealousy as Sikorski effortlessly entertained the crowd. Sikorski was funny, eloquent, articulate, and informative. Brian was miserable. As the crowd roared with laughter at another one of Sikorski’s jokes, Brian stood up, peeled off his nametag, and walked out the auditorium and into the lobby, drifting in and out of a depressed reverie..

NIPPLES

by Marcie

THESATYRMAG.COM FALL 2013

FALL 2013

thesatyrmag.com

DAILY RUIN UCLA’s Oldest, Youngest, and Finest Comedy Publication (by Default)

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LOS ANGELES—The body of sophomore Gaylord Schiezer was found naked, cocooned in a moist blue

Cont’d from page 12 “Hard Drug Challenge: University Edition” on the website Travelocity. Pluml said that he had no idea where

BY JOSEPH EARL REMLINGER IV RUIN STAFF

UCLA Student Overdoses On Acid In Sculpture Garden

“Well, I wouldn’t know, because I’ve never actually listened to any music with them. I, uh, listen to other stuff,” said Winslow when asked about the quality of his headphones.

“drown out the loneliness.” “Wearing headphones makes it seem like I’m not actually lonely,” said Winslow, sitting entirely by himself on one side of a long table. “It looks like I’m listening to music and having a good time.” Sources confirm that Winslow was forced to sit in a seat directly across from another group of students who were eating together. He gracefully remedied any lingering awkwardness by decisively sticking in his headphones, effectively and completely avoiding any possibility of conversation. “I just want to sit and eat my food alone while making it seem like I’m listening to music,” said Winslow. Fervently denying his crippling loneliness and depressingly sad lack of human interaction, Winslow refused to release further information when questioned about whether or not his headphones actually work.

BY NATHAN MOSHER RUIN STAFF

DOME OF THE ROCK, JERUSALEM–Witnesses confirmed Tuesday that our Redeemer and Prince of Peace Kanye West ascended into heaven, accompanied by the angel Gabriel and a harsh fanfare of experimental rock-rap music. West rose to the heavens with arms outstretched, wearing a crown of golden thorns and a robe of white linen. During his ascent, the multi-millionaire rap mogul voiced to the musically talentless civilians below, “I am a God, I am a God, I am a God.”

Kanye and Kim’s arms remain outstretched as Kanye waits for his damn croissant.

BY NATHAN MOSHER RUIN STAFF

Student Eats Dinner Alone, Headphones Drown Out Loneliness Our Lord And Savior Kanye DE NEVE–Seen eating lunch in West Ascends De Neve Dining Hall, freshman Carl Winslow ate dinner alone today while wearing headphones in an effort to Into Heaven

MILFORD, Del.— After seven years of operation, the first and only entrant into the annual Taco Bell “Bucks 4 Burritos” competition has won by default. “I’m astounded,” reports Amelia Rudnicki, Taco Bell’s head of marketing. “The sweepstakes is honestly just a tradition at this point—something that fast food restaurants are supposed to do. Do you think any one has ever actually played the McDonald’s Monopoly Game or used MyCoke Rewards? Of course not.” The winner, forty three year-old Salil Dudani from Milford, Delaware, reportedly had “so fucking little going

BY SACHIN MEDHEKAR RUIN STAFF

on in [his] life” that he had enough time to painstakingly record the entry number on his receipt, go online, enter in his information, and agree to the terms and conditions. “It was a very low point for me,” Dudani admits. “I figured entering the contest would give me a few minutes of relief from my immense loneliness. I never expected that I would actually win.” The grand prize includes fifty thousand dollars in cash, a lifetime supply of free burritos, and an immeasurable amount of shame and regret.

Only Entry Into Fast Food Sweepstakes Wins By Default

Gaylord received the dangerous narcotics. “His dad used to offer us prescription pills, cocaine, and PCP, but rarely acid,” said Pluml. Shortly after saying that, retracted his statement. “Oh wait, yeah, Gaylord’s dad probably gave it to us- him.” said Pluml as he stood naked and sweating in a Powell Library computer lab.

“What Would I Say?”, a new Facebook app that creates jumbled, nonsensical statuses based on past Facebook activity, gave millions of users a reason to laugh this week. However, it left one UCLA student on the verge of tears. Jason Bardman, a second year business economics major, spent six hours last Friday clicking through the statuses that “What Would I Say?” generated, searching for something ridiculous enough to garner Facebook likes. Eventually, he came to realize what those close to him have already known for years: he’s just not funny. Bardman’s roommate only wishes he was more surprised to hear the news.

BY ANAIKA MILLER RUIN STAFF

“I’m this guy’s roommate, and maybe even his closest friend, but nothing he’s ever said has made me laugh,” Alex Spiegler said, adding that while he doesn’t want to sound heartless, he’s also morally opposed to lying. “He’s a sweet guy, and he’s really smart, but making people laugh isn’t his forte,” he said. As of publication, Bardman was reportedly still too distressed about the issue to talk with Daily Ruin staff. However, he did send a number of his “What Would I Say?” statuses, including “is going to sleep early, test tomorrow”, “friends, join me at the library!”, and “not sure, just not sure about correct silverware etiquette.”

Facebook App “What Would I Say?” Allows Student To Come To Terms With His Poor Sense Of Humor Tech Corner

and gold UCLA flag, early Tuesday morning in the courtyard of the Murphy Sculpture Garden. His father, Dr. Jim “Jimboner” Schiezer, D.D.S., who identified Gaylord after a thorough dental examination, said, “Yep, that’s my boy—cleanest goddamn gums, and loyal to his alma mater ‘til the goddamn end. I’m so goddamn proud.” Gaylord’s only friend, Benjamin Pluml, said that Gaylord was attempting to drop acid at all 4,317 locations recommended by the article At press time, prominent Christian authorities were listening to West’s new album Yeezus while nodding their heads and saying, “It’s such a brilliant departure from his earlier work.”

“I’m excited for the coming of the New Age,” said witness Sam Carrigan, a 30-year-old white rap nerd. “Sinners will be punished for their inability to comprehend the genius of Kanye’s music and Yeezy will reign supreme over the land. It will be a glorious time indeed.”

West’s words confirmed the long-held Christian doctrine known as Unitarianism, proving that West is not only the Son of God but also the Holy. Spirit and God Himself, all at once

The Saga of NoShave November By Utkarsh Pandey Illustrated by Aliya Kamalova

This diary was recovered from a desolate corner in the depths of the Boelter Hall basement a few days ago. It was surrounded by three broken razors, several empty cans of shaving cream, and tufts of thick, black facial(?) hair. Its author has not been located by campus police till today.

October 31st

Shaved. It was emotional. The video got three likes on Facebook.

November 1st

Sent out a selfie to all my Snapchat friends, proclaiming my intentions to uphold the ideals of NoShave November. No replies were received. I guess everyone else loves prostate cancer.

November 2nd

The first inklings of stubble appeared on my face today. Spent half an hour in front of the mirror counting the individual hairs on my chin.

November 3rd

Got compliments for my “five o’clock shadow”, whatever that is. I thought I was being sarcastically insulted, so I punched the woman square in the jaw. Gender equality for the win.

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November 12th

I should not have done this, diary. Got weird looks from a couple of cute girls walking up the Covel stairs. My facial fungus is turning the ladies off.

November 17th

The full-fledged terrorist look is now permanently plastered on my face. Bus drivers think twice before letting me on.

November 29th

Stood with a trimmer in my hand in front of the bathroom mirror for an hour. Sobbed quietly to myself.

November 30th

I HOPE I FUCKING DIE OF PROSTATE CANCER, DIARY.

December 1st

Somehow didn’t have the heart to shave. We’ve been through so much, my beard and I. Used the time I set aside for shaving to write a love poem for it.

BEARD Gently flowing down my neck, Like angels at the discoteque, As the grey fog of November cleared, I loved my motherfucking beard. It stuck with me through thick and thin, It stuck with me right on my chin, Through every midterm, meal and rave, I promised that I would not cave. But now that it’s not a compulsion, To ride this follicular propulsion, I can now comprehensively see, My beard belongs right here with me. I will not shave, I will not shear, My facial hair to me is dear. So what if I look like a waif? My beard makes me feel warm and safe.

This isn’t like the other “Life Hacks” you’ve read online; we’re not going to tell you how you can use your bread clip as a tampon or some shit. Instead, this is how you can take advantage of human weakness and stupidity like the alpha male you were meant to be (or alpha female; we’re assholes, not sexists). Read up, go outside, and conquer.

PRETEND YOU CARE

These days, it seems like sending links is how boring people communicate. Whether someone sends you a mediocre stand-up routine, a crappy indie song, or some “world-changing” Ted Talk, here’s how you deal with getting this garbage. Click on the video’s halfway point and watch for 10 seconds, and comment on something there to your friend. Then, watch video’s last 20 seconds, and comment on something there to your friend. Done! Your boring friends will think you care, and you can get back to not caring.

IMPROVE YOUR “FRIENDS’” MUSIC TASTE

Tired of hearing Beethoven and Bach because your roommate’s Pandora stations are all set to the 1700s? Next time she goes to the bathroom, sneak over and try Add Variety: Rick Ross—it won’t show up on the station window. Once she hears the Brandenburg Concertos followed by “Hold Me Back,” she’ll never trust Pandora again.

PROVE THAT YOU’RE SELFAWARE

The first time you meet someone, do something mean to them, but later apologize. They’ll think you’re a kind, self-aware person. Hey, Joanna? I’d like to apologize for calling you “Gingersaurus” this afternoon. It was childish and wrong of me. I hope that you will forgive me for my mistake, and that I’ll make a fine husband for your granddaughter.

AVOID IMPROMPTU SHUFFLES WITH STRANGERS

Ever have to do the sidestep dance to avoid walking into someone? To avoid this, yell “Go left!” the second you see it about to happen, then walk to your own left. If he does it correctly, you two won’t crash, and you’ll seem like a good leader. If he does it wrong and confuses his left with his right, he’ll be the only one feeling like an awkward idiot.

PROVE YOUR ARGUEMENT

Having trouble finding good evidence for an essay you’re writing? Write a quotation that sounds fancier than your normal writing style, and attribute it to some made-up article from a well-known journal. There’s no way your TA has time to check every single source you have. “It has been consistently demonstrated across multiple disciplines that uninformed graders fail to recognize novel quotations over 80% of the time (Aguilera, 2009).”

KEEP TRACK OF HOTNESS

DITCH THE SERMON

Check your Facebook on Mother’s and Father’s Day; people will post sappy pictures of their families with quotations and ridiculous amounts of “<3‘s”. Take a close look at your crush’s parents. You can now imagine how they will handle age. Keep track of whose hotness is a limited resource.

Eat a lot of food about three hours before going to church/temple/synagogue. Hold in the ensuing food baby until the sermon gets to the boring part. Suddenly, you’ve got the perfect excuse to step out! Enjoy your 10–15 minutes on the porcelain throne while the rest of your congregation stays stuck chanting in a dead language.

REPEL POLITICAL ADVERTISERS

During UCLA’s election season, carry around a clipboard with tally marks. Tell Party advertisers that you will vote for the people who bother you the least.

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Chill Prep

Indie Boho

Cool Tomboy

Playfully Girly

Comfy and trendy, a baby-blue polyester jumper is a definite backto-prison must that will make you look as put-together as your life isn’t!

This late into the week, your outfit options, much like your weekly food rations, have been utterly exhausted. Steal your brother’s steelgrey polyester jumper--but don’t get caught, or else you’ll die!

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Put the “boho” in “hobo”! A trendy and bohemian ashengrey polyester jumper is sure to brighten your day!

Glam Punk You’ve managed to avoid death by hypothermia! To celebrate, drop that rock and pickaxe, and pick up this rockin’ dirtbrown polyester jumper!

It’s Friday night, and your 127-hour work week is FINALLY over!* A government-issued polyester jumper is flirtatious enough to get you noticed by The Sun of the 21st Century, yet modest enough to not stand out from the dirt-covered populace!

*No. It’s not, and it will never be. But for the sake of maintaining even a modicum of mental stability, you should just succumb to this starvation-induced delusion.

Hey Beth! I know how you feel girlie. Here’s what I recommend you do to get over the stress: 1. Have a glass of wine and read your favorite naughty book on a couch in front of a fire. Variation: Lie naked under a bear fur blanket on the floor, still in front of the fire-place, reading a Cosmo and drinking a bourbon. By Jonathan Bernstein

Hi Jessa, I luv your column and I was wondering if you coudl help me with my homework. I’m very scared i won’t do it right and my mom keeps yelling at me. -Bethany

RETRACTION: Dear Jessa, For a 9-yr-ol? My mom says don’t do this stuff. -Bethany

2. Give yourself dreadlocks. Mine took about three months to completely take shape. I know, fast, right?! You’ll look so cool and hip in front of your friends, and they’ll like the new boldness with which you’re approaching life. Say no to “living a little” and YES to “living A LOT!” 3. Make Mom some brownies. Show her how much you care, and I promise you that you’ll feel better about yourself.

4. Eat the brownies and tell Mom you burnt them and had to throw them away. 5.Give yourself bangs! 6. Finally, my personal fave. Take your favorite, sexiest tamp (tampon), and soak it in some vodka. After a couple of seconds, stick it up where it belongs and, believe you me, the alcohol will reach your bloodstream so fast you’ll reach the highest high you’ve ever had in the quickest amount of time. I’m vodka vagging right now! (Warning: Remove after 2-3 minutes, or you’ll die. -Jessa

Hey Beth! Sorry—didn’t realize you were only 9. In which case, I dis-recommend all that crazy talk about vodka vagging and lying naked on the floor. Please tell your mom I apologize for the visions I’ve put into your head, and ask her not to contact my mom about it either…She’s been threatening to deactivate my blog for a while now, and I feel this would really just take her over the edge. Uhh…So in response to your first question: Take a lot of warm baths. Baths, I find, are truly the best way to destress when there’s lots of homework, which I assume for you is coloring books and one-paragraph essays about apples.

By Anaika Miller

-Jessa

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Friends, Recently, we’ve caught several Bruins complaining about this glorious university, and we would like to remind all students, new and old, smart and genius, dumb and dumber, of all colors and flavors, that we have a zero-tolerance policy towards Criticism. If you have seen somebody exhibiting this behavior, report it to a USAC representative as soon as possible. If you are personally experiencing symptoms of Discontent, Exasperation, Dissidence, or Anger, you are required by the fine print on all those forms you signed when you enrolled to immediately check into Ashe. You will be quarantined until the next home game, during which you’ll be injected with a healthy dose of School Spirit and Mob Mentality. If feelings of Dissatisfaction persist, do not panic. We know a guy who knows a guy who can take care of it. It will all be over soon. That being said, we’re confident our university’s Excellence will prevent 99% of you from ever thinking and feeling such dreadful things. However, for the 1% of you at risk for succumbing to Unhealthy, Destructive behavior, we are generously providing a few friendly reminders of why this school is the best.

1. Size: With 27,000 undergraduates, the little to no connection you have with your professors and classmates will prepare you for the increasingly brutal workforce, where your boss won’t know who you are and your colleagues will be nothing more than competition for the pay raise and/or prom tion you’ve waited years for.

2. Diversity: The admissions office is dedicated to building a well-rounded, diverse student body. Every class is carefully selected to represent a wide variety of people, including, but not limited to: man-tank-wearing bros, K-pop enthusiasts, soon-to-be ex-pre-meds, and people who don’t have a fucking clue who they are or what they want to do with their lives.

3. Entertainment: This year’s Bruin Bash brought you the likes of Tyga. Need we say more?

4. Environmental Awareness: The newly opened Bruin Plate is a shining example of our commit ment to being environmentally friendly. This dining hall only uses animals and vegetables that have, being of sound mind, consented to being consumed.

5. Weather: The almost non-stop sunshine gives you that sun-kissed glow every self-esteem crush ing fashion magazine tells you will make you beautiful and successful. (And it only increases your risk of skin cancer by 92%!)

Don’t forget that you’re on a trajectory towards a decent, occasionally interesting, possibly enjoyable life right now. Famous alumni didn’t complain, and look where they ended up—literally everywhere you dream of being. So smile, and be a good little optimist. If you aren’t, we’ll know. Sincerely, Gene D. Block Chancellor THESATYRMAG.COM FALL 2013

In Memoriam

Blockbuster by Nathan Galovan

This year, our nation mourns the loss of a dear member of our community: Blockbuster. For nearly thirty years, you helped us “bring the entertainment home.” In the days of yore, when DVD collections still existed (and when VHS was still relevant), if we didn’t have Happy Gilmore or Space Jam at home but wanted to watch them with our babysitter, you made that happen. I have nothing but the fondest of memories of you, wandering through sky-high shelves of your nearest store, arguing with my brothers over which movie to watch. The possibilities were endless. One moment, I would be perusing old Tom Hanks comedies that no one knew existed, and the next, I would be looking through every single movie ever made with talking animals. Sometimes, I would accidentally stumble through the horror movies aisle; the covers alone would give me nightmares. Most of the time, I would walk into your store not knowing even the genre of movie I wanted to rent. But I was always sure of one thing: if it was going to be a Blockbuster night, it was going to be a good night. As I set my final choices down at the register, I would gaze upon

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all the weird Red Vines flavors and M&M varieties that my parents would never let me buy. Just thinking about them makes my tongue smile and my teeth cringe. Sadly, like most dying relatives, your final years were less than glorious. We struggled to keep in touch. I rarely came in for visits, and when I did, I often left disappointed, longing for the days when you were younger and more spry, with better selections. Also like old relatives, you feared the Internet and the changes it would bring, and that was ultimately your demise. As some of your doors will remain open until January, like some sort of weird open casket ceremony, I hope to pay you one last visit and take back some token to remember you by–perhaps an early Will Ferrell film or maybe a literal piece of one of your shelves. You may be leaving us, but much like Walkmans and Pogs, you will forever live on as a golden part of my childhood. Now go on and join Borders Books & Music in corporation heaven. May your aisles again be browsed and your shelves remain forever full.

BETWEEN THE SHEETS Sachin’s Musings Part II What style of meat do martial arts masters serve? Pork karate chops. What does a superstitious recovering alcoholic, standup comic fear? Boos(ze)

15 Things That UCLA Students Fear

What happened to the haunted house that failed to pay the priest who performed the exorcism? It was repossessed.

By Marcie and Aliya

15. Realizing only freshmen use lanyards 14. Having the person behind you in lecture see what was on your laptop before class 13. Foreign math professors 12. Having your TA figure out which “anonymous” evaluation was yours 11. Being falsely accused of plagiarizing on Turnitin 10. Roommates who forget to lock the door when they’re having sex 9. Publishing hilarious, incisive, witty comedy articles and comics; having no one read them 8. The feeling of emptiness when you reach into your pocket for your iPhone and it’s not there 7. Getting trapped in a floor meeting with your overzealous RA 6. Talking to your academic counselor 5. Realizing you haven’t been taking a class Pass/ No Pass 4. Rising student loans and arbitrary interest rates 3. Chem 14A 2. Graduating; finding love; giving purpose to your menial existence; dying 1. Getting caught grabbing more than one banana from the dining hall

Why did the mermaid get fired? She didn’t clean the merhouse very well. What do frat stars and sassy turtles have in common? Snap backs.

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Published with support from Generation Progress / Center for American Progress (online at genprogress.org).

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