Winter 2012

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So . . . think you’re funny?

Submit a little.

Magazine for writers, artists, sculptors, designers, theatre artists, musicians, photographers, sophists, frat boys, chemists, electricians, iconoclasts, sorority girls, sound engineers, magicians, muggers, honey boo boos, sad Lance Armstrongs, smokers, Facebook shareholders, apacalyptos, kleptos, insomniacs, fiscal cliff climbers, cliff divers, James Francos, James Woods, sons of Sinbad, sons of anarchy, zombies, vampires, merpeople, Mitt Romnies, Barack Obamas, scientists, backwood-quiet folk, linguists, Republicans, swimmers, carpenters, Democrats, interior decorators, landscapists, Lemon Party supporters, mimes and syncopated thinkers in general.

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Find us and we’ll find you.


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f you have enough interest to gander upon this you’re probably a big fan of comedy. At one point or another you might have even jerked up from sleep in a cold sweat whispering “where the hell is the UCLA comedy scene?” Rest assured, comedy is still here if you’re willing to find it. Not only that, it stems from an amazing tradition of funny people, one too that you have inherited as a Bruin. Satyr is currently the only humor magazine on campus but it isn’t the first. It seems almost every generation of Bruins had their own version of a comedy publication that evolved and dissipated with each graduating class. Comedy started with an ASUCLA publication called Scop back in the 1940s which gave way to Satyr (the magazine from which this one gained inspiration and name) in the 50s and 60s. Like The National Lampoon, Satyr tackled controversial topics that related to students like drugs, sex, rock-n-roll, the draft, and John Wooden. More than that, it was a gathering place for intelligentsia and angst where dick jokes and political cartoons could be paired side by side like wine and expensive cheese. In retrospect, the magazine was packed with so much talent the table of contents reads like a who’s who of entertainment names like critic Joel Siegel, director and Monty Python star Terry Gilliam, Pulitzer Prize winning political cartoonist Tony Auth, cartoonist Hank Hinton, comedian Harry Shearer, Author Lawrence Grobel, and novelist Jonathon Kellerman. For one reason or another Satyr eventually dwindled under poor leadership and became part of UCLA mythology. Since then there have been several magazines including PEN IS (mightier than the sword) and the FLYING SQUIRREL which last ran in 2007. It’s from our forefather’s loins that Satyr was wrought. It is now published partly in effort to revive those whispered chuckles of yore, partly in effort to maintain the tradition of the college comedy magazine but mostly in effort just so its writers can make friends. Aside from the grand old tradition of printed comedy there were plenty of other great comedians to come out of UCLA. Carol Burnett got her big break here when someone at a Royce performance gave her enough money to travel to New York. Steve Martin transferred to UCLA in the 1970s to be closer to the comedy scene and moonlighted at Ledbetter’s in Westwood. Simpson’s talent Nancy Cartwright and Harry Shearer did their thing here. SNL alums Taran Killam, Nasim Pedrad, and Will Forte all call themselves Bruins as well as Jack Black and Ben Stiller. During stand-up’s heyday in the mid-nineties, Chris Hardwick even told jokes on the Kerckhoff Cafe stage as a part of the Bruin Comedy Club. Other names to come from that group include Ed Soloman writer of “Bill and Ted” and Shane Black writer of “Lethal Weapon”. That’s right, the very same stage where you dropped your cheese danish the other day. Before you grab your torch and demand a lively comedy scene from UCLA don’t blame your institution. Instead, go out and support it. Patrons, readers, and listeners make the comedy community. Where is the scene? It’s here licking its wounds and touching itself in the shadows of campus. It’s plotting its inevitable vengeful return. What can you do to save the comedy and lure it out? DVR Damages on TBS and go out to catch shows in Kerckchoff Cafe on Tuesdays, improv at The Improv Space in Westwood, and listen to Bruin Comedy on uclaradio.com. Read this magazine. Pass it on. Think you can do better? Let’s fight. In the meantime, contribute and continue the amazing legacy of a fantastic comedy tradition that is UCLA. We’re excited to bring you this magazine and we hope you’ll enjoy it, but frankly we don’t care what you think. -Satyr Jones

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BETWEEN THE SHEETS

AN EMAIL FROM CHANCELLOR GENE D. BLOCK Dear Fellow Bruins, Earlier this quarter I continued my tradition of holding office hours to meet with students. Well, in the spirit of innovation that fuels this campus, I’d like to start a new tradition. From now on, I’m going to set aside time for the students of this great university and I to have a good ol’ fashioned chill sesh. This could mean anything. We could see a movie – I’ve already seen Lincoln thrice but would be down for round 4! We could play poker. Or maybe we’ll just get real and talk about our feelings until sunrise. I will also be taking suggestions through my personal email address – GeneDirtyBastardAKABigBabyJesus@ gmail.com.The cool thing about this tradition is that it doesn’t have to be a once a quarter thing like my office hours. I actually have a pretty open schedule – I’m free anytime after 8 am everyday of the week. I look forward to spending some quality time with my Bruin Bros. Sincerely, Gene D. Block Chancellor P.S. Bring Girls! ;)

NON-CONFRONTATIONAL CONSCIENCE -Ewwwww. -Conscience is that you? -Yeah. Hey there. -Did you have a problem with me looking at this website? -What? No, it’s cool. I mean I have a problem if you have a problem. But other than that it’s not a big deal that it bothers me a teeny bit.... Forget I said anything. DICTATOR TEXTING KJONGILLEST: omg! I h8 USA rite now KONY2069: ? KJONGILLEST: they think they so gr8 w they c@pitalism n nuclear power but im like check urself b/c ur not. u sh@t on n korea when u dclared war on communism but u know wat usa? in time of $ woe, world financial markets have turned against u. who da bad guy now usa? KONY2069: ur happiness @ usa misery is a clear case of sh@tenfreud. lol KJONGILLEST: dont h8 da dict8 KONY2069: lmfao. this is why ur my bff. we should hang underground sumtime. ;] -How do you know tax preparers know how to party? -They finish 10-40s every day. It’s wrong to yell “fire” in a crowded theater. That’s why you should only yell “fire” at Eddie Murphy movies. There once was a North Campus Snorter, who applied what her major had taught her. When asked why she’s free, she replied with warm glee, “I’m taking five units this quarter.”

DAD JOKES Highway sign reads, “1,000 feet.” Dad: I knew I smelled something. Son: I’m hungry. Dad: I’m Tim. Nice to meet ya. Daughter: I’m becoming out of shape. Dad: Triangle? Dad: We’ve got Indian in our blood. Son: Really, what tribe? Dad points to foot. Dad: Blackfeet. Son sits texting. Dad: You were born in California, but I knew you was a Tex-an. My Pops always told me a stork brought me into this world but a swallow could have kept me out. A young broad, for whom ignorance really was bliss, asked me with a vacuous expression whether we really ride elephants to school in India. Not wanting to deprive her of her dignity, I answered, “Only when my cow is getting new udders fitted.” Carly Rae Jepsen releases new single “Fax Me Possibly, Beep Me Perchance, Somebody Please Contact Me, I’m So Alone.” -Why did Obama do nothing his first four years of presidency? -He was Biden his time. -Why did George Bush do nothing his first four years of presidency? -He was a Republican. -What did the guy with multiple personalities say to the girl he was trying to sleep with? -“Come on, I’m disparate!” What unit of measurement do zombies use? -GRAVE yards!

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AFRICAN-AMERICAN COMMUNITY IN UPROAR AS BLACK FASHION DESIGN STUDENT ASKED TO PICK COTTON OVER POLYESTER


This week Kendra Jackson, a third-year fashion design student, was attacked for her views of fabric while in lab discussion of FD132: The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Jackson’s design was criticized by her TA for being “too showy and ostentatious” despite it also being deemed “ill” and “bad’” by her peers. Sources say the TA’s outburst was due to adverse reactions to certain melanin deposits contained by Jackson’s skin, a condition survived by roughly 4% of the student body, but evidence is still process of being chatteled.

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Continue On Page 31

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“Roll up the window Brucie. I want to sweat.”

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BETWEEN THE SHEETS.................... BRUCIE................................................. ODE....................................................... MESSAGE FROM ABOVE.................... WE SURVIVED..................................... THIRDS................................................. WALK OF SHAME................................ INTERVIEW......................................... DAILY RUIN......................................... THE CRAMP.......................................... MIDSUMMER....................................... 6 SIZZLIN................................................ MORE SHEETS......................................

3 5 7 8 9 11 13 15 17 19 21 25 31

“Strange! That a man who has wit enough to write satyr, should have folly enough to publish it.” -Benjamin Franklin

a frat play

Adrianna Sauceda Etidor

Nathan Galovan

Tim Limbrick

Etidor in Training

Layout Editore

see p. 11 6 Sizzlin’

Aliya Kamalova Administrado

STAFF: Jonathan Bernstein, Andrew Caudill, Nathan Galovan, Aliya Kamalova, Melissa Grace Klose, Marcie LeCerte, Spencer Lichtman, Tim Limbrick, Sachin Medhekar, Utkarsh Pandey, Adrianna Sauceda, David Watts CONTRIBUTORS: Court Soto MUSES: Aliya’s Mom, Brian Gurien, Michael Gerber, Lawrence Grobel, Tony Auth & Joel Siegel (from the clouds) “Do you suffer from sleep apnea?” “Yes.” “Are you tired of being tired?” “Yes!” “We can help. With Satyrex, you can say goodnight all the time and by that we mean ALL the time. Satyrex isn’t approved by doctors, but you’ll soon believe when you sleep the results for yourself! Side effects may include an increase in heart rate, stronger or irregular heartbeat, sweating, diarrhea, nausea, heartburn, indigestion, vomiting, difficulty breathing, paleness, dizziness, weakness or shakiness, headache, apprehension, nervousness or anxiety, depression, thoughts of suicide and death....” Now kiddies, you all may not be familiar, but this is the nitty gritty, the bread of life that is the soul to salvation and the special sauce that makes this magazine the delectable meal that it is. Attention all tight asses and pocket protected individuals. This magazine is not for the light of heart. If you are pregnant or have heart complications, please be advised. The Satyr is a legend and although no human eye or other has seen our pages since 1971, make no contest that we have changed. There will be blood and other vaguenesses that will push the boundaries for what you call a college humor publication. Do you have an opinion? Of course you do! You’re an individual! Grab a pen and send us a letter! But where? It used to be SATYR, ASUCLA Publication, 308 Westwood Plaza, LA, California, 90024. It used to be Kerckhoff Hall, room 121A. It used to be extension 4309. Now, we’re here. satyrmagazine@gmail.com. Show us you care and we’ll show you we can read! Finally, and why don’t you all recite this along with us, all viewpoints in Satyr do not necessarily represent the point of view of ASUCLA, its sponsors, or Gene Block, without whose express written consent you’d better not mess with.

see p. 17 Walk of Shame

see p. 25

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Ode to

Bear Bruin written by Utkarsh Pandey

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Your warriors are coming home,

Get ready for your battle with,

Decked out in blue and gold. Thousands shout your hallowed name, Your virtues are extolled.

The Trojan that is Tommy. Tell him all that you did, So gently to his mommy.

All the teams that dare face us,

You must defeat him, Bruin Bear!

Are left in derelict ruin. The entire country quakes before, The proud and mighty Bruin.

The fat lady’s not yet sung! He cannot beat you. Dare, I say! he is inadequately hung!

You are the scourge of USC, Of Trojans long deceased. So rise up and devour them, You strong and noble beast!

How now, I see, The Bruin Bear is Rising! The thought of Rendezvous for him, Is much too appetizing!

Rise from your concrete throne!

Is he really ready to,

Mingle with your masses! Shove your superiority, Up red and yellow asses!

Annihilate USC? Will he treat the Trojan to, A rough vasectomy?

Shake off that lethargic funk,

As for wishful thinking, well,

Josephine’s awaiting thee! Claim her from the arms of that, Frat boy at SAE!

I hope, I know his mission. But if I may, I’d like to say, please lower our tuition.

Did you tell her that you loved her,

He shakes his head to rouse about,

Ere you went to hibernate? Has your prolonged slumber soundly, Withered your prostate?

Bronze flies, right and left. They strike a Christian on the head, a mark of faith, bereft.

No matter, Bruin, do not fret,

With bleary, slumber-stricken eyes,

I know that she is yours. Just tell her that you want her, And you’ll have her on all fours.

He looks upon his Den, And sighing soft he pees upon, the roof of Ackerman.

Oh, why proudly rise you not,

This being done, he has the cheek,

You exalted ursine beast? Can you not hear Asian cheer, All the way from Feast?

To go back to his place. He turns himself back into bronze, Without a strain of face.

Is it because of hunger that,

And so, thus ends my woeful ode,

You stoutly disagree? I’ll swipe you into Rendezvous, I’m on that 19P.

My sorrow’s hit its peak. The mighty Bruin only rose, To take a fucking leak.


transcribed by prophet Spencer Lichtman

Dear Satyr Magazine, I just wanted to say I totally think you guys are on the right track. I give you two thumbs and they're mine so you're pretty good there. This magazine is so hilarious, i'm giving you permission to kill in my name as many times as you need. Crusade all day. By the way, if you folks really want to make a splash, my co-worker, Mohammed absolutely HATES it when people illustrate his likeness, but you should totally do it. That would be hilarious. Also, if you guys ever want to run a parenting column, just ask me. Best parent of all time. My kid turned out pretty well so you good there too. Well, I better go. There are some countries in Africa I need to ignore. Yours Truly, God P.S. Follow me on Twitter @realgod23

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Now can we all just be cool? Everyone

likes to pretend that they didn’t actually believe there was any merit to the Mayan’s doomsday prediction. Some of you even did the math on your smartphone calculator, factoring leap days into the Mayan calendar and discovering that the world according to them should have ended years ago. Congratulations. You beat old Mayan mysticism with modern math. I’d like to argue, however, that the world took the Mayans a little more seriously than people give them credit. There is clear evidence that the collective people of earth were anticipating the end. Allow me to explain with a long and drawn out analogy. First, imagine that you are twenty-something in the prime of your life. Your bucket list is merely of things to do before you graduate college, not before you die, and contains things like moon the Hollywood sign and touch a famous person instead of finish the final draft of your will and escape Leisure World. You go to your family pediatrician that you know and trust for a routine checkup and he tells you that you actually have a rare terminal illness and have only five days to live. You believe your pediatrician because he saw you naked as a baby and knows all your secrets and you proceed to live out your final days freely and without consequences. You make a wide range of poor and rash decisions because in mere days you won’t be responsible for any of them. Day one is spent intoxicated, day two is spent on harder drugs, day three is spent in the nude, day four is spent on the ground in the fetal position (in the nude), and day five is spent breaking whatever other laws come to mind.

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Television executives crossed the line when they let reality television spiral out of control. Things were bad enough when they showed the world the future dysfunctional and mentally unstable women of America on Toddlers and Tiaras. Then they had to go deeper and show in detail just how much a little girl and her family can be exploited in Here Comes Honey Boo Boo as the Boo Boo family reveled in their white trashiness. This is not a trend that can sustain itself now that the earth spins on. What’s next? We’ll be seeing a redneck version of Jersey Shore? No. Just knowing it’s there causes me to question my love for humanity. So how about we clean it up TV people? Let’s keep the trash off the tube. And music industry, you have not been doing much better. We get that you let dubstep be a thing because you thought the world was going to be done for. Might as well let music settle into its lowest possible form that is worse than just plain noise, right? Well, now the world is still intact and we’re left with this garbage in our Kmart commercials. Thanks but no thanks. Let’s set aside the dubstep for robot lovemaking and encourage music that normally functioning humans want to listen to. And to Justin Bieber and all other musical artists: stop whispering in your songs. You sound like the creepy neighbor peeping over the hedges at innocent tween girls. To North Korea and Iran: it’s real cute that you’re pretending to develop nuclear technology for energy and whatnot, but everybody knows how messed up in the head you both are. Just mellow out a little bit. To everyone who still don’t believe that global warming is a real thing, Hurricane

Sandy was not just conjured up from old stock footage and a pinch of movie magic by the liberal lamestream media. A hurricane actually hit New York and it sure as hell wasn’t because the gays were getting married. Let’s use our heads a little bit. Cows aren’t going to stop global warming, it’s up to us. To the one percent and the other ninety-nine, let’s all just mold into one soggy heap called middle class and struggle this shit together. To Hostess, please come back to us. Earth has a few years left after all and we need your nonperishable cupcakes now perhaps more than ever. To the makers of 3D movies, you’ve been on a good run but we’re over it. No one actually wants to pay extra to get a headache and watch explosions extend a couple feet off the screen. 3D died in the seventies and it needs to die again. Terrible television, morbid excuses for music, ludicrous world leaders, and abundant unnamable atrocities. Basically what I’m saying is that the world collectively reared its head back, threw two middle fingers to the cosmic wind and let rip a great big YOLO like a drunk girl at a party before taking the last shot of vodka that does her in. Now, the world is trying to sit up at two in the afternoon with a gnarly hangover and she’s realizing that she still has responsibilities and obligations. Looks as though we’re in this one for the long haul. Let’s take care.

written by Nathan Galovan


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BECKY AND REBECCA are elegant, but

they ain’t the brightest crayons in the box. Becky messages Rebecca to meet her after class, but Rebecca isn’t going to class so Becky decides to meet Rebecca before class but of course Rebecca didn’t go to class so when Becky got there and there was no Rebecca she messaged Rebecca right back, wtf, where are you? :| and of course Rebecca was at home so Becky messaged Rebecca to meet her at Berka’s, Berka is Rebecca’s roommate, Becky just says Berka’s because Berka is the owner of the apartment not Rebecca, and Becky isn’t the owner either but because Berka is, but Rebecca could be the owner if she wanted because Rebecca’s parents were the ones with money, more money than Becky’s parents or Berka’s parents or Berka and Becky’s parents combined because Rebecca was a brat. “I hear that black people can’t breathe through their nose,” says Rebecca. “Really?” asks Becky. “Yeah, I’ve read that,” says Rebecca. “You can’t possibly talk like that,” says Berka. “That’s like if you said black people can’t cry,” she continues. “They can’t,” says Becky. “I don’t think they have tear ducts,” says Rebecca. “Yeah, I read that somewhere,” says Becky. “Neither of you have ever read anything,” says Berka. “No, it’s true,” says Rebecca. “The other day I called this black guy a coon and he didn’t shed a single tear. And he was cutting an onion!” “I think he was cutting an onion too,” says Becky. “He was!” says Rebecca. “Get out,” says Berka.

I

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T RANG FOUR TIMES before he could pick it up.

“Hello?” “Archer!” “You shouldn’t have called.” “But I love you.” “I told you, I didn’t want you to get involved.” “Listen to yourself. You sound like a madman. You must be in trouble. Let me help you.” “You can’t” “You won’t let me.” “Look, if it’s all the same to you, I wish it didn’t have to be this—” “Hello?” “—” “Archer. Are you still there?” “Yeah. I just farted.” “Are you serious?” “Yeah. It smells pretty bad.” “You’re doing that while I’m on the phone?” “I do it when you’re around.” “You do?” “Yeah. Like all the time.” “You’re impossible.” “What?” “I’m beginning to think it was mistake to call you.” “I thought you said you love me.” “—” “Pam. Are you still there?” “Yeah. I think I just farted too.

O

N MARTIN LUTHER KING Day, one man had an appetite. This is his story. He could only make out two attendants inside of Burger King that day, a two-bit security guard and an irritated cashier. He strolled to the counter to make his order. “Hi,” said the man. “Can I get the Martin Luther King Burger, please?” “I’m sorry sir, we don’t have that.” “Excuse me?” “I said, I’m sorry. We don’t have that item.” “I heard you the first time, what I can’t seem

to understand I how you don’t have that, but you said that so politely just give me a Civil Rights Whopper with cheese, please. “Look, we don’t have that. We have regular Whoppers.” “If I wanted a regular Whopper, I would’ve asked for a regular Whopper, but if that’s the case just give me a Justice Jack with cheese, please.” “Sir, that’s Jack In the Box. This is Burger King. We don’t have that.” “Well whose fault is that?” “Sir, if you’re going to become a problem, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” “Oh, so I’m a problem now?” The security guard who had stood in the corner made his way toward him. “Sir,” said the guard. “I need for you to step outside.” “But I have an appetite!” said the man. Grabbing the man by the shoulder, the guard forcibly escorted him out. “It is an appetite rooted in burgers and fries,” the man continued. Breaking free, the man slipped to crack his head on the corner of the trash bin and slowly he drifted out. “I have an appetite,” he whispered, “that one day this nation will rise and cook so that I may order breakfast at McDonalds when it’s clearly after noon. I have an appetite that one day on the dirty hills of Westwood the employees of Pizza Hut and the employees of Dominos will be able to lay down their peels and make super pies. I have an appetite that one day even the state of California, a state sweltering in the stew of tofu and wheatgrass, will be transformed into an oasis of burger patties and deliciousness. I have an appetite that my four little children will one day live to experience. I have an appetite today. I have an appetite that one day, down in Westwood, with its pho feud, with its deep bowls dripping with the broth of yum; one day right there in Westwood, fat people and skinny people will be able to join hands to say grace. I have an appetite today.”


American Apparel

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The Walk of Shame: Making Most the

on a Fixed Income

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This time of year many undergrads seek

personal and educational enrichment by traveling abroad to places like Paris, London, and Tokyo, but for those of us who are less fortunate those opportunities never really materialize. Don’t despair; remember that travel doesn’t have to be compromised by a tiny budget. I’m writing to inform you that you have the power to turn everyday moments into the beginnings of a dream vacation if you take the time to read and absorb a few of the hints I’ve laid down for you. You don’t have to go on a dumb old European vacation to appreciate sights and sounds of things and learn stuff. You can bon voyage gratis here in LA! For this article I’m exploring a path as old as the Silk Road in Asia or the illustrious Route 66. Yes, my friends, I’m talking about the “walk of shame” and as sporadic or frequent as this may be to you, dear reader, I guarantee you’ve never really taken the time to enjoy or amerce yourself in the surroundings of your predicament. For many the “walk of shame” is a time of little reflection, dehydration, and deep regret but with an open mind you can turn last night’s mistake into a mini adventure. Forget “staycation” take a “shamecation”. First, upon waking up in a strange place you’ll want to familiarize yourself with your surroundings and your situation. Does the person you’re with have potential? If you spot some cool records lying around, a collage of high school photos and you hear the sound of him making breakfast in the next room then congratulations you’ll probably spend the whole day hanging out and chit chatting about 90s television. This article is not for you. On the other hand if you’re surroundings indicate low brain activity and the unmistakable scent of an Axe musk, ramen seasoning and shoe then make a silent seal-team-six-like escape. Before exiting the building remember that you’re probably in an apartment complex. That’s kind of like a hotel. Take advantage of any pool, jacuzzi, or exercise room. Don’t let the fact that it’s morning deter you because chances are it’s not morning. It’s two in the afternoon! Let your hair down and have fun because there’s no need to discontinue last night’s party. Perhaps you even have a Black Eyed Peas song pounding right alongside your hangover headache. That’s cool, let this be the sound track for your day because “I’ve got a feeling” today’s going to be a good day. You’ve made it to the outside of the apartment complex and are now ready to make your journey home. On your way back your first impulse will be to take the shortest distance to your apartment but rest assured that due to the physiological effects of last night’s keg stand you will accomplish absolutely no work today; so why

not extend that short walk home into a long scenic tour? As you feel the unmistakable judgment of passersby’s making connections between the way you’re dressed and the time of day. Ignore the impulse to avoid eye contact with other drivers. Instead, take in the sounds of the street. Imagine the rush of cars as the ebb and flow of the ocean and distant honks as a seagulls call. Is this the coast of France? No. It’s the corner of Wilshire Blvd. Is that the River Siene? No. That’s a gutter. Is that a supermodel in that window reflection? No. It’s you girlfriend! If your reflection did not look so fresh, take this time to treat yourself to a mini makeover. Find a mall and then locate a Sephora and then fix your mascara. If a mall is nowhere in sight then using a wet wipe in a gas station bathroom will serve just as well. This is about new experiences so remember your fingers work as both a hairbrush and toothbrush. Who needs a Mediterranean spa?

satyrite searches for lost flower As you continue your journey you realize what you did with your phone is unclear. You’re pretty sure Izzy took it because she knows you lose things. You’ll figure it out later. Okay, so you may not know where you are but you can use your uncertainty as an opportunity to talk to cute locals. I can assure you the “walk of shame” will mean so much more to you after this conversation. Last night while you drunkenly pretended to grind on a long trashcan someone might have jokingly slipped you a dollar. Congratulations, you have useable currency! Starbucks doesn’t sell coffee for less than a dollar you say? Visit the quaint Arco station on Gayley for some fresh fair and chat with eclectic minds. See if you can place the merchant’s accent and imagine

you’re shopping in a foreign street bazaar. Smell gasoline? Maybe you’re in the Middle East. Let your imagination be your guide. Also, who says you have to find educational enrichment abroad? Learning is as easy as perusing the magazine rack at CVS. Discover the hidden tribes of the Amazon, understand the importance of the thermal pools of Chile’s Atacama Desert, or appreciate the geometric grace of Parisian gardens in National Geographic. Try to learn about the social perils of celebrities and question the rise of Ke$ha’s fame in a scholarly way. I wonder how many walks of shame Ke$ha has taken. Probably a lot I bet. In the meantime you can also educate yourself on the price of ice cream, Plan B, and moisturizer. You’re coming back later. Take a stroll through the park, there are less judging eyes there. Also, a Los Angeles park is an incredible mixture between a Venice halfway house, the chilled and silent windswept plains of Salisbury and a carefree spring day in Paris. Noticing the changing seasonal foliage is a great time to reflect on the loss of your youth and innocence which is a sociological construct of a puritanical hetero-normative culture anyway so don’t even worry. It’s totally normal. I mean you look good and you’ll know this by the loads of catcalls you’ll receive from benign park transients. In fact, your booty dress and cool leather boots probably make you the best dressed person in the park. You look like Beyoncé so make the sidewalk your runway and avoid cracks by walking “to the left”. As your tour comes to a close understand that while your night may have been fostered by a lot of alcohol and maintained with poor decision making you’ve just turned a potentially gross day into something fabulous. You’re a young smart millennial and that’s to be expected of you. Alas, I feel obligated to tell you that this information was procured at a great personal sacrifice and my own shame but it was all in the effort to inform you that you don’t have to travel across the entire ocean to enjoy a fresh vacation treat. As you arrive to your apartment steps with the realization you don’t have your key, you can now sit and wait with satisfaction comparable of having returned from a Venetian dream vacation. Perhaps you even found another dollar hidden in your boob crevice, go find a vending machine and drink to your accomplishments!

written by Adrianna Sauceda

14


Parodist Michael Gerber Has the Trots conducted by Tim Limbrick

Drawing upon his satire-worthy, romping-intensive experiences as a student at Yale University, Michael Gerber is the author of the Barry Trotter series, a million-selling parody of the Harry Potter books. A humor contributor to The Record, The New Yorker and Saturday Night Live, this man continues to pave the way for aspiring writers.

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Tim: Tell me how Barry Trotter, was born. Mike: I had a book deal to write The History of American Comedy

in New York which was scuppered an editor there said, “Hey, are you familiar the Harry Potter series?” I said, “No, but my wife is and she likes them.” He knew I liked Board of the Rings which is a parody of Lord of the Rings. He said, “Maybe we could do something like that,” and I said, “ok”, so I did a couple chapters and he took it to his acquisition board and a bunch of different publishers picked it up and after selling over eight hundred and fifty thousand copies they asked me to do a sequel and ultimately I finished the series which opened doors for parodies of The Chronicles of Narnia and Downton Abbey. Tim: And when did you know that you wanted to get into this world of comedy? Mike: I was into comedy very young. Friends of mine who are my age—I’m forty-three—still talk about how rich comedy was at the time. Back in the seventies there was a lot of new material, new wavesTim: -what do you mean by new

waves? Mike: People don’t realize this, but National Lampoon Magazine was hugely influential and still is. And Saturday Night Live, Steve Martin, Richard Pryor and Monty Python. All huge! Whole swaths of stuff that had never been used before in comedy. Philosophy, religion, all sorts of things. When a revolution like that becomes successful it becomes the status quo so people don’t even notice it anymore, but since then it’s become much more narrow. Tim: I feel like today with YouTube, Twitter, online blogging and podcasting; these are the new engines of comedy that people are latching onto. Mike: That’s how material gets out now, but the technology is determining what you can create. If you have a one liner, one hundred and forty characters long, you have Twitter. When I was growing up, you could do whatever you wanted, but nobody would see it. It was harder to break through, but until you

broke through you had total freedom in form so you could really investigate different forms. Nowadays it’s gotta be the Onion’s headline, the tweet, the one minute or less viral video. It’s kind of a switch. My feeling is that this is a time of great change, but I think we’re on a fulcrum point where we’re either going to really move forward in comedy or really slide back. It requires a certain courage that the business does not provide. You have to really be an artist who happens to work in the comedy scene which can be lonely and difficult, particularly in this town. Tim: The best advice I ever got was “Sure being funny is great, but if you can write, you can have it all.” Let’s talk about print. In college were you working on a similar college humor mag? Mike: When I was in college, a newspaper humor columnist was a profession. That was a job you could get paid for. If you lived in New York or Chi-


cago, you could make some big money writing three, four times week. I read all the humor columns. Russell Baker in The New York Times, Mike Royko in The Chicago Tribune and The Sun Times. If you were syndicated, you could make two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year which isn’t as much money as television writers make, but as a paper boy, c’mon. In high school I wrote a column for the newspaper so when I went to Yale, I ended up doing a humor column for the weekly paper. Then I resurrected The Yale Record. Tim: If you could advise reader on how to make success of comedy, what would you say? Mike: If you want financial success, what you need to do is pick a form that is popular and has a future and study it. Don’t necessarily pick print; pick being somebody like John Stewart or Steven Colbert. Learn that form, watch those shows and then find an institution that feeds into those kinds of places. The Harvard Lampoon, Second City— Tim: What do you mean by feeding into? Mike: These are the places that look for specific talent. The Groundlings here in LA is where

many are cast for SNL. UCB is another. If you want to get into the business, it really helps to get into one of those feeders. You can do it like Louis CK does it, where he’s a standup comic first and gets a writer’s job on a television show, but that’s much riskier business. Not impossible, but risky. Artistic success, the game is always the same. Sit down, shut up and think to yourself, What do I really like? Then find people who do the things you like, study them, start mimicking them and when you get to a point where you’re comfortable, start doing your own stuff and just keep following that until you die. It’s the same for any artist. In any success for comedy, I think it comes from looking at it as a career, operating under the umbrella of college or something larger, doing as little as you can, getting decent grades and totally devoting yourself to an outlet like The Harvard Lampoon. At Yale, you’d be doing stuff for The Record and taking the train down to New York to do standup on the weekends. For certain people it matches their artistic drive too. For others, they have to decide Am I doing it to make a lot of money? Am I doing it to get

famous? Am I doing it to create something that’s uniquely my own? Personally, I think everyone is on a continuum from one end to the next. I’m most interested in people who have new things to say because I think anyone can learn how to write comedy. After that it’s just practice. Tim: What’s sad about is, the unfunny comic exists. I wonder if it’s so simple, what are they doing wrong? Mike: Comedy is easy, but it’s ineffable. I think the really brilliant people are the most terrifyingly honest. I think they have a gift of expression that’s very accurate, succinct and in tune with their time. There are plenty of funny people in the world that are not in tune with the popular culture so they don’t get noted. Being funny is a certain kind of smart and it can be intellectual, like Monty Python, but if you look at somebody like Louis CK, he’s a very smart man, but I don’t get the impression that he’s an intellectual. He’s very smart in a sort of, I know what’s going on with me. He’s very aware of his own thought process. Tim: Do you see any new kind of innovations in comedy branching out today? Is there hope for

“Holy Unemployment, Batman! Is that a job over there?”

us? Mike: Part about being new or innovative is it’s not going to be something a forty-three-yearold guy will know, but I will tell you this; the really innovative stuff rest in the niche. Some group of people will get together somewhere and start coming up with a new way of looking at things and then that will build over time and then they will explode into the mainstream consciousness. Being in the comedy business and show business can sometimes be a barrier to perceiving or understanding the “new thing” because when you’re making money doing it the old way, your mind becomes fixed. For example, when I was in New York in the nineties, I was walking around book and magazine publishers begging them to let me do a parody because I said Oh, this used to make tons of money in the seventies and eighties, but now nobody is doing it. It’s going to be great. Little did I know there was a group of people in Wisconsin doing the same thing at The Onion and now it’s become the status quo. Whatever is new now is out there cooking.

16


15%

12%

85%

27%

New Logo

vote for

UC Regents Based on their responses peoples’ attitudes toward their current situations in life are as follows:

In a recent poll, 258,934 people across the country were asked, “How’s it going?”

New Study Has Findings: How you doin?

Hey, what’s up.

Good.

Winter, 2013

How’s it goin?

Alright.

Not bad.

Pretty good.

UCLA has a legacy of successful sports teams, but after speaking with National Collegiate Athletics Association (NCAA) executives, it is confirmed that UCLA will be extending its legacy of successful athletics by starting a new pepper spray dodging (PSD) team in the winter of 2013. The rules of PSD are quite simple. Two teams of ten players each bout one another with cans of pepper spray. After an hour’s time, both teams are asked to read lines of an eye exam chart. Whichever team can read or guess most letters correctly becomes the victor. The basic strategy is to avoid receiving contact to the eyes while also seeking out the visual vulnerability of the opposing team. In the greatest of games, players experiment their tactical administration through various means of custom firearms equipped with capsaicin, the active ingredient in pepper spray. In addition to pistols and rifles, the NCAA allows players to carry ghost pepper

BY DAVID WATTS SATYR STAFF david601@chem.ucla.edu

Pepper promise prunes pupils into players

www.satyrmagazine.wordpress.com

DAILY RUIN

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES

Serving the UCLA community since 1919

17


Pedos on the Move

Following Apple’s trend to make all products smaller, McDonald shareholders to look toward the future to tiny chicken products. Already a hot selling item, the chicken nugget received a facelift in the past few months with the introduction of the McBite. Sources say that this trend of reducing the size of chicken for public consumption will continue on. Active spokesman, Ronald McDonald commented, “It’s really only a matter of time before what we breathe becomes chicken.”

BY TIM LIMBRICK SATYR STAFF limbrick08@ucla.edu

Police arrested twelve thousand students this week for smoking violations; fortunately, many were released upon the dilemma of detaining such a large number of people. Campus Police Chief Tony Kauffman, stated this week that with the new enforcement of such laws made to keep campus a smoke free

BY LIM TIMBRICK SATYR STAFF limbrick08@ucla.edu

students butts

University touches

In a move keen political observers are calling “controversial”, Senator Geoffrey Sidwell (D-CA) introduced today Resolution 2257, which would require children to go to door-to-door notifying registered sex offenders when they move into the neighborhood. Better known as Joel’s Law, the bill is already receiving a strong reaction. “This law is just unreasonable”, said Senator Robert Jorgensen (R-FL) while quickly adding, “I mean, the parents should at least accompany the children when they go to sex offenders houses - that’s just common sense.” v Political experts are weighing in as well. George Emmer, a tenure political science professor at UC Santa Cruz commented, “I’ve been following politics for 40 years, and in my experience, laws like this can really backfire. Women voters especially don’t like when you make laws that bring their children into direct contact with pedophiles. But don’t quote me on that – Lord knows I’ve been wrong before.” In response, proponents of Joel’s Law are touting the positive effect it’s having on small businesses.

BY ANDREW CAUDILL SATYR STAFF acladbruin89@ucla.edu

environment, Pauley Pavilion would be transformed into a containment facility for the overflow of students being arrested. Kim Chi, a fifth year bio-engineering major who spent a week in the university’s latest renovation. “I just want to smoke on the steps of Powell.” Kauffman released a statement to the press on behalf of the university’s decision. “In this day and age,” said Kauffman, “no student who smokes on campus can be safe. If we catch you and we will put you down.”

“We’ve already sold out of mustache trimmers and wax since Joel’s Law was announced,” reports Jerry Henderson, owner of Jerry’s House of Hair-Cuttin’ and Face-Shavin’ Accessories in Muncie, Indiana. Henderson said, “It’s about time the government did something with the people’s interests at heart,” but according to the bill’s supporters, the benefits don’t end there. Senator Tim Mercado (R-AZ) a cosponsor to the bill’s responded, “Think of the positive impact this could have on childhood obesity. Think of how kids will be forced to exercise more even if it’s just walking from one sex offender’s house to the next.” Sidwell said the idea for the bill came from seeing his brother suffer the pain of being a registered sex offender. “My brother was a great husband, a great youth pastor, but above all, a great man, but all he was known for was being a pedophile, said Sidwell. “No American should have to suffer the same fate as my brother. This is personal for me.”

Chicken, the New Law grabs children New Cocaine

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Continue On Page 31

grenades which are said to be the spiciest peppers known to man. When asked about the process of recruitment, Larry Jalapeño—head coach of the UCLA PSD team—said, “The ideal pepper spray dodger has combat training, knows how to use a ghost pepper grenade properly, has catlike reflexes, is extremely fast, and is good at avoiding arrest.” Jalapeño went on to say that the absolute best PSD players are men who have built up immunity to the active burn or are simply blind. As a result, Jalapeño spent the course of last fall drafting among perverts and patients of the Braille Institute in Oakwood. For the past 70 years, the PSD championship has been won by blind teams. Interestingly enough, the players of these teams guess the letters on the eye exam using the ability of their other heightened senses. With few blind players on this year’s team, Jalapeño explained how practice will be handled in the coming weeks. “The process of PSD training varies, but it starts with a strict diet of select peppers, one of which is the ghost,” he said. In addition, Jalapeño explained that each of his players were required to participate full-heartedly in aggressive protests against UC tuition increases so that when authorities arrived with mace and tear gas, they would be amply ready for future competition. For defensive strategy, the team’s assistant coach Chris Habañero explained his consideration of practicing with wild animals like pit bulls and bears; unfortunately, the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) have strongly opposed against any and all ill treatment of animals for sport.


19


20


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S SCHEME a frat play

written by Utkarsh Pandey Character List

21

Breezer – President of Alpha Alpha Alfalfa. Often complains of high tolerance whilst swigging whisky from his ten-gallon hat. Brotus - Brother and Breezer’s right-hand man. Has many interesting hobbies, of which public urination is by far the most savoury. Nastyrtus – Brother and animal. Has the habit of date-raping girls and never calling them. Bartholomew – Pledge. Ordered around day and night; maintains his sanity by taking bong rips before every pledge task. Betches – Self-explanatory. Have the habit of chanting a string of unrelated Greek alphabets at random intervals.

Porsche – An acquaintance of the betches. Claims to have high standards, but is known for her prowess. Has a turbulent relationship and intermittent intercourse with Brotus. California - Feisty Latina and Porsche’s constant raging companion. Once mistook a police officer for a drug dealer and somehow got coke off him anyway. Brags about it often. Kafka – Russian bouncer, Macaulay Culkin impressionist, hero of the 2009 Frat Division B Intramural Tug-of-war and most feared enforcer on Frat Row. Upholds utmost silence, along with the ideals of the House. Middle-aged Asian Man – Latent homosexual and poet. Goes by the name Bob in pressing situations.

Wanderers of Westwood Maximilian – Wanderer from NorCal. With North Face pride, he is never seen without his commemorative 2012 World Series snapback. Kelvin – Wanderer named after Lord Kelvin. Boasting a 4.0 GPA, he likes to hit the books but he hits the bottle harder. Ganymede – Maverick Wanderer. His charming innocence inspired a rumor by the jealous hearts of his peers and now he is called “Ganny the Tranny”. Roofius – Fraternity bartender. Doles out liberal measures of alcohol and various narcotics, but is not the most trustworthy of fellow.


ACT I SCENE I A typical Fraternity house on a warm summer’s night. A layer of grime, breadcrumbs, and tears coats the threadbare carpet. Three brothers are playing a lackluster game of ping pong in the corner. Critically acclaimed pop music is blaring from a set of speakers stolen from the back of a taco truck. Enter all fraternity brothers. Brotus: Such a foul and fair day I have yet seen, gentleman! What do you say? Shall we proceed to make merry and indulge in mindless debauchery this fine evening? Nastyrus: Aye, let us get shitfaced and molest unassuming women ere the sunrise. Brotus: Hark; the nobles to whom was entrusted the honourable beer-run do anoint us with their holy presence. How now, fellows? Breezer: The deed is done. The spirit shelves at Ralph’s were ransacked in one fell swoop. Bartholomew: Friends, Greeks, brothers of Alpha Alpha Alfalfa, lend me your beers. I come to bury this keg, not to praise it. Brotus does intend to open the evening with a keg stand, and Brotus is an honourable man. Brotus: Oh, so highly dost thou speak of this cheap, vile liquor that thou hast so proudly put before us on this hallowed table! Dost Bartholomew not know that the venerated Brutus does not partake of anything less dear than Coors? Bartholomew: Forgive me, Me Lord. Your humble servant I remain, and I shall make the goal of this hallowed evening to do right by you. Brotus: So you shall, Barty Boy! Behold, the guests do arrive! The female specimens look in extremely fine fettle this evening. Bartholomew: Yes, Me Lord? Brotus: That one.

Bartholomew: The rather promiscuous looking girl with the smudged eyeliner and the hare-lip?

unison to electronic minstrels. Jungle-juice flows freely, albeit mostly on account of said bitches. A middleaged Asian man is breakdancing in the corner for no particular reason.

Brotus: Here, here!

Porsche: Woooooooo!

Bartholomew: But soft, Me Lord. The noble President Breezer is making his intentions unmistakably clear with the pair of them! His encroachment is a direct slur on your status as bros of the great house of Alpha Alpha Alfalfa!

She takes a shot of something.

Brotus: Treachery! Treason! Sabotage! How dare the tyrant Breezer make a play for my bitches! Oh, conspiracy, weave thy wicked web around the malice so clearly etched on my intoxicated face. Breezer, step aside! Breezer: Oh, what a price to pay for Kingdom! Dost my own brother challenge me for a brace of busty maidens? Brotus: So it does seem, Your Highness. State your conditions! Breezer: Let this mild insurrection be settled like our ancestors were accustomed. We shall decide this like men, with a game of ale pong! Hoebag: The honourable victor shall have the privilege of spearing our phalanxes tonight.

Yet another. Porsche: All bitches must partake of this glorious elixir. Porsche vomits. Porsche: I beg your entreaty, my most feminine companions. Will one of thou accompany myself to the wash-chamber? Enter Bob. Bob: Ah, a drunk damsel. I would devour you, but I forgot my chopsticks. California: Avast, ye mongrel! Find thy inebriated prey in other haunts! She scares Bob away.

Brotus: You have but one cup left, Your Highness. Nothing shall please me better than purging Alpha Alpha Alfalfa of your Bitch-snaring tyranny. For the Greeks!

Porsche: Woooooooo!

He sinks the shot. Breezer: Et tu, Brote? Then puke Breezer! Brotus pukes over everything.

Brotus: Get me that one.

He takes a group of betches to his room and spears.

Bartholomew: The mildly inebriated maiden with the fair hair and the vacuous eyes, Me Lord? An excellent choice, I must congratulate you. Kappas have a fine and long hist…

Porsche: but yes, I say!

Bob: By Confucius, foiled! Looks like it’s one more night at Rage.

Brotus: Tyranny is dead. Debauchery prevails!

Brotus: The very same.

Again, another shot.

An ale pong game containing more spirit than skill ensues.

Bartholomew: Me Lord?

Bartholomew: That one, Me Lord?

Porsche: By Jupiter, this liquor is of fine pedigree.

ACT I SCENE II The gathering is now in full swing. Betches in dresses shorter than North Campus resumes are dancing in

ACT I SCENE III Blaring music, alcohol and marijuana attract the riffraff of Westwood. Kafka lets girls in willy-nilly, at the door, hoping for reciprocation. A gaggle of wanderers are standing on the street outside, employing the Trojan tactic of blending in with a large group of girls to gain entry. Understandably, not one of them gets the irony. They attempt to bluff their way in. Kafka: Where dost thou think thou dost go, young ones? Wanderers: Within. Kafka: And whose patronage do you entreat, young ones?

Brotus: No, you blundering imbecile, the other one. Bartholomew: Me Lord? Brotus: Her companion.

22


Wanderers: [Aside] What the hell did he say? And why the fuck is he talking like that? Kafka: By Putin’s man-boobs, which brother dost thou know, pricks? Kelvin : Uh… Dave? Maximilian: Yeah, Dave and uh… John. Kafka: Thou dost test my patience, thou saucy fellows! Ganymede: Adam! Josh! Vladimir! Kafka: Vladimir? Why did thou not sayeth so! Enter! Wanderers: Really?

Maximilian: Yo chief. Three shots of the sickest shit you got.

California drinks and stumbles into the arms of Ganymede.

Roofius: Nay.

Roofius: Curses!

Maximilian: Yo chief! I said three. Roofius: Quiet, infidel! Alcoholic stimulants are to be partaken of by womenfolk exclusively. They are not for the pale, tallowed likes of you or your ragamuffin gang of leeches! Countless measures I have poured and taken this glorious evening, but no more!

The party is drawing to a tapering, anti-climactic close. The general population stumbles out of the fraternity one-by-one, the lucky ones two-by-two, and the insanely fortunate ones three-by-three. Inebriation is the general atmosphere and spirits are, in more than on way, high.

The wanderers retire to a dark corner. Fortunately, Kelvin managed to part ways with a bottle of Prestige from Roofius’ stock. Meanwhile, California has made her way to the bar.

California: Oh, Ganny. The time was indeed bided well.

California: Woooooooo!

Kafka: No. Fuck off.

Roofius: Ah, fair maiden. Returning for additional supplement so soon? How can I be of service?

He throws the wanderers from the door.

California: Waaaaa?

Kafka: Rasputin!

California: Haha, forsooth. Brotus stands naked at the door. Brotus: Who durst fiddle parts with hoebags of Brotus?

California: I be not thy maiden. Porsche is over yonder, entangled with that specimen of the male persuasion.

Unfazed by their toss, the wanderers sneak into the puke-spattered alley behind Alpha Alpha Alfalfa and tumble through a half-opened window on the second floor. Unfortunately, they enter into the very room in which Brotus is busy spearing.

Brotus: By Jove, ‘tis the truth! [To Kelvin] How now, fellow! Dost thou like thy hide drawn, quartered, or both?

Brotus: Who durst disturb the passionchamber of the noble Brotus ere the peak of betch ecstasy?

Porsche: Leave him be, Brotus! Our sessions of frequent and rampant intercourse are finished! Just the hour before last I did observe your most vile and indecent attempt at breaching the defenses of those rump-fed Kappas. Debauchery I can tolerate; indeed, I have. But infidelity I cannot. Farewell, my belated love.

Kelvin: We were just leaving.

23

Ganymede: My place is pretty near here if you want to bide some more…

Ganymede: Dude, you’re saying “durst” too much. Freshen it up.

ACT 2 SCENE I

Brotus: Hold thy tongue, vermin! You force entry into my lodgings in the midst of my sweet embrace with this fine specimen and expect to saunter abroad unpunished? Know you not with whom you lock horns? The Great Brotus, Son to a living father and a thriving mother! Nephew to a wealthy uncle and a healthy aunt. President of the horticulture club and bassist of a jazz trio! I can out-drink any challenger and the out-shout all who stand.

ACT 2 SCENE III

Brotus cries. Kelvin: Deal with it, Bro. Brotus: But Porsche, dearest… ‘Tis all a misunderstanding. My passion for you resonates in every fibre of the bran cereal I eat for breakfast.

Betch: They’ve escaped.

Roofius: Ah yes, water. A fine choice indeed, but may I suggest something more along the lines of a Tequila shot?

Brotus: What?

California: Pfffffffffffft.

Exuent all except Brotus who rest on his knees.

Betch: They walked out like five minutes ago. Don’t bother getting back into bed. There’s no place in my phalanx for a man who comes before he sees and conquer.

Roofius: Of course, of course, but as they say, you live but once, yes?

Brotus: My love! Why durst the world spin so? Must…get… Porsche…back.

Roofius gives her drink.

Exeunt all betches.

Brotus collapses on the ground and dies forty years later from cancer.

California: Huh?

ACT 2 SCENE 2

Roofius: Shhhh.

After a narrow escape from Brotus’s room, the wanderers head downstairs to the bar.

California: Kay.

Porsche: Good bye, Brotus.

Gayley is quiet. Somewhere in the distance we hear Maximilian’s disgruntled voice floating in the night, “Am I the only one not getting laid?” FIN


24


6

History gives us great minds but sometimes those minds are attached to hot faces. In honor of Valentine’s Day Satyr brings you,

Sizzlin’

Sexy Single

Dead Men

Schubert Like a judgmental Zac Efron, Schubert’s wavy, flipped hair and lifted cheekbones made for post-coital facecaressing are reminiscent of middle-school crushes. His love life clearly unaffected by his prolific composition, this young man is certain to have some stamina to push out over 600 songs in only 32-years.

25

You’re Welcome.

written & illustrated by Marcie LeCerte

Brahmns Admittedly, that bob-length blonde mane doesn’t do much for Brahms, but his chiseled Roman statue facial figures are strikingly on display. And that outfit is hot—detached Mr. Darcy hot. Between brushing your hair and exchanging stares, he serenades with virtuoso pianist talents. A literal prodigy, he liked long walks and being sarcastic— combination perfect.

Hemmingway With the vocabulary of a tenyear old English immigrant and a chauvinistic view on life, the American public apparently loves him and not just for looks. An accomplished sportsman and amateur boxer, if you’re into muscles, domination, bloated egos, bipolar disorder, and absolutely stunning cheekbones, you’ll sure want this old man to come into your C.

Byron The ultimate womanizer more so than Hemmingway, the list of women Byron had sex with is literally so long, only 200 names exist from a three day weekend in Venice. Watch out! Some were men. An antiquated celebrity, he nursed a rabid dog named Boatswain to health out of love—a total applicant from whom to contract syphilis.

Frost Adolescent sweetness developed into a rugged, chiseled, academician type. Attending Dartmouth, he was a member of the SAE fraternity whose reputation was notorious “crazy shit”. Writing poems about dismal philosophy, an untouched reservoir of tenderness and love existed beneath this man. Can someone say fire and ice condoms?

Netanyahu An honorary mention for this man because he’s not dead yet, but rest assured he will be. Beside his incredibly authoritarive regime over the already shaky state of Israel, we can all agree, the Rambo-like qualities of his Sayeret Matkal commando uniform are drool worthy. I’d sure like to see Bibi duke it out with surfer Obama, but the resulting clash might be too much for my loins.


I love you

But let me start by saying

Tell me how to win your heart For I haven’t got a clue

Or is someone loving you?

Are you somewhere feeling lonely?

And I wonder what you do

‘cause I wonder where you are

I love you

And I want to tell you so much

And you know just what to do

‘cause you know just what to say

(and) my arms are open wide

You’re all I’ve ever wanted

I can see it in your smile

I can see it in your eyes

Hello

Is it me you’re looking for?

26


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Jeff Foxhound man’s best friend & standup comedian

Captivating UCLA

My owner has no nose. Terrible!

If your breathing is worse than your bite... you might be a bulldog. If your face is ugly as hell... you might be a bulldog. If your life expectancy is eight years... you might be a bulldog. If you’re the mascot for Fresno State... you might be a bulldog. If you have heart complications... you might be a bulldog. If you harbor hatred for a cat named Tom... you might be a bulldog. If more wrinkles are on your face than your balls... you might be a bulldog. If your general disposition is sadness... you might be a bulldog. If Michael Vick is your employer... you might be a bulldog. Bitches be sniffin’, am I right? No nose? How does he smell?

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Pepper promise prunes pupils into players Continue From Page 18 Habañero is currently under review by the NCAA. Although there exists only a men’s team, the provisions for a women’s team is underway. Suggestions have been made to substitute pepper spray for sperm; however, the decision has not been made as the proposal was met in bad taste. Oddly, several players of the men’s team have become blind. While doctors suggest that it is dangers of the game, other sources have put forward the occurrence as the result of masturbation. A pep rally will be held in Wilson Plaza on January 12th, 2013 in honor of this new athletics program. Sources say that if crowds become too raucous during this event, pepper spray will be used to sedate, and if the spray has little to no effect or if spectators are able to dodge the attack, then they will be asked to join the team.

Why did the chicken cross the road? He was extremely religious.

BLACK COMMUNITY ON STRIKE AS AFRICAN-AMERICAN PAINTER IS HUNG AT THE GETTY

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Thousands of African-Americans gathered outside the Getty today to protest what the gallery described as a “tragic mix-up.” A series of paintings by Akinyebi Yobo depicting scenes of KFC on a busy-day were displayed in the Alternative Interpretation Section by gallery officials, but the newspaper headlines the next day incensed the entire Black community of Los Angeles into complete riot. Talks are commencing between the leader of the mob, Oprah Winfrey, and the President of the Getty regarding damages.

FLIGHT 2697, PHOENIX, AZ TO LONG BEACH, CA Flight Attendant: Seat 14C. Sir, do you mind being an emergency exit attendant? Man: I guess not. Flight Attendant: That’s as good of an answer as any. Man: It doesn’t sound like you’re giving me a choice. Flight Attendant: Not really. All the seats are filled. You’d have to switch with someone else. Man: So I’d have to let it be known to the entire flight that I’m personally irresponsible for the life of another human being. Flight Attendant: Pretty much. Man: Do I get extra leg room? Flight Attendant: Yes sir. Man: I’ll take it. COURSES WE WISH WERE OFFERED PSYCH43: The Pathos of the Pornstar Professor: Today we will be studying the work of Jenna Jameson. Be sure to pay attention to the emotion behind her eyes. PHIL29: Philosophy of Buffets Professor: In this class, we will ask the question, “How much is All you Can Eat?” ENG87: Misunderstood Literary Heroes Professor: In this quarter-long Crash Course, we will be studying If I Did It by O.J. Simpson. ANTHRO666: The Burning Man Experience Professor: And then looked down and realized I was the Pterodactyl! FILM90: The Evolution of “Seinfeld” to “Curb” Professor: So basically, Larry is just a cruder, more offensive version of George. BIO69: Making them Climax Professor: Now, can I have a volunteer?

THIS IS ZERO, DARK, FORTY Osama: So this is forty, eh? I look tired but I’m still a cool guy. I’ve got this cool beard and gun. Do you think I’m still cool babe? Wife: Ugh. I’ve got crazy boob sweat from wearing all these layers in the desert. Do you want to have sex tonight? Osama: Well, now I don’t. Geesh, you’re not even listening to me. You’re just like my other twelve wives. Wife: Well excuse me Mr. Lounge around the house all day, I start my own business and go to night school to learn to drive and turn on stoves while you sit around the mansion all day in your flowing sheet making videos with the newspapers for your friends. You haven’t even shaved in years. Osama: It’s for my job, babe. Wife: Newsflash. You haven’t worked in ten years during which forty-five of your boy children graduated from Taliban School. You won’t even come to their cave dwelling classes. The other day, Osama Jr. killed his


first American and you weren’t even there. Osama: Babe, I’m still figuring things out and I just turned forty. I’m in a weird place... Wife: Shush Shush Shush. Do you hear that sound? It sounds like helicopters and footsteps and shooting? Did you leave the side door open again Osama? I told you to close it. Osama: Stop treating me like a child! I’m forty! (Seal team 6 soldiers blast through door with guns pointed at Osama) Osama: Oh great, so you’re killing me now? Being forty is tough.

ENTERING ZOMBIEHOOD If you’re a healthy person experiencing some unusual post-apocalyptic changes to your body, don’t worry these are perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of. No, this is not God’s way of punishing you for the wrongs that you’ve done even if you did steal a moon pie from the student union. In fact, you’ve just embarked on an incredible, once in a life time voyage towards becoming a new you. During this exciting time in your life you may notice an unusual fluid discharge leaking from every orifice in your body. Don’t worry. This will stop itself through a process called coagulation. This is a necessary part for the development of scab growth. Just think of all the zombies that you admire and the healthy scabs that cover them head to toe. Also, you may notice that there is no flesh where there once flesh was before. Don’t be embarrassed. All zombies go through this process. It’s called decomposition. You may notice along with decomposition, a putrid rancid stench. This is also normal and is caused by millions of bacteria eating away at your viscera. Go ahead and tell Mom to pack you extra deodorant! If you find yourself staring hungrily at your own mothe,r you may also find yourself dealing new compelling urges. Old foods that you used to love may no longer sound as appealing as brains or the flesh of the living. This is just your body’s way of communicating a biological need to ensure the strength of your species. Furthermore,

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coupled with your uncontrollable desire to tear people apart leaves you in a permanent state of rage. If you’re experiencing these new feelings, congratulations you’re on the road to full zombiehood! Now get out there and wreak mindless havoc on the remaining survivors. The transition into zombiehood is never an easy one, but you’ll find comfort in the bliss of these new urges as they’ll numb both physical and emotional pain which will make you feel a lot better when you eat all the people you love.

USAC does not represent the views of Satyr, nor does Satyr stand as a representative for USAC. This mark is an obligation and otherwise would not be here. Thanks USAC.

don’t be alarmed when you find certain parts of your body becoming stiff. This is caused by the calcification of your once living muscular tissue, a process known as rigamortis. This is an important part of the zombification process because it will help develop a healthy zombie gimp. Along with this, you may soon find everyday activities becoming more difficult. Things you once did like tying your shoes, reading a book, or holding a conversation have now become near impossible. This is a natural process because your brain has atrophied into an unrecognizable mush. Your inability to perform these tasks


...all finished

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Super Senior Good

Bad

Meh.

SLEEPY . . These pages served better as a pillow. ENTERTAINED . . The cover captured themes of birth accurately. AROUSED . . This magazine fogged up the windows and caused perspiration. IRRITATION . . The rash was not there before reading. CONSTIPATION . . The content of this magazine placed a blockade on bowel movements. REGRESSION . . The content of this publication made one feel stupid for having read it. ENDOWED . . The quality of the publication energized vital organs. ENVIOUS . . Seeds were planted deep in soul for wish of being apart of this publication. VIOLATED . . There were images in this magazine that cannot be unseen. PATRIOTISM . . Ill feelings towards our nation were not felt as often as before. THUG . . The reason for violence now makes sense.

YOUR VIEW OF INTERCOURSE MATERIALS

SUBJECT INTEREST BEFORE INTERCOURSE SUBJECT INTEREST AFTER INTERCOURSE MASTERY OF INTERCOURSE MATERIAL DIFFICULTY (RELATIVE TO PREVIOUS INTERCOURSE) WORKLOAD / PACE TEXTS, ENCOURAGED READINGS DOMEWORK ASSIGNMENTS GRADED ORAL EXAMINATIONS LIP SERVICE ASS DISCUSSIONS

SPACE IS NOT PROVIDED ON THE BACK OF THIS FORM BECAUSE WE DON’T GIVE A DAMN


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