The Just for Kids Issue

Vol. 148, No. 6

THE YALE

Mar. 23, 2020

RECORD

“The Nation’s Oldest Humor Magazine” or

“The Nation’s Most Humorous Old Magazine” Join us:

Chair@yalerecord.org

THE NEW DING DONG DITCH? MILLENNIALS ARE TEXTING THEIR FRIENDS "HERE" WHEN THEY'RE ACTUALLY FIFTEEN MINUTES AWAY Dear Tums®, Why are you so delicious? Why do I feel the unstoppable need to eat an entire bottle of Tums® Ultra Strength Chews in one sitting? Why is my mid torso now glowing a bright green and screaming with the power of a thousand hurricanes?

Sincerely, Tummy Dear Tummy, Sounds like you are experiencing some acid reflux. Try taking a Tums.

Sincerely, Tums®

Dear the Mafia, I am seeking a job with your organization. I have much experience in your field. I have mastered the “drive by shooting,” the “lacing chicken parm with cyanide,” and also “Microsoft Excel.”

Regards, Alfred “Fettuccine” Alfredo Dear Alfred “Fettuccine” Alfredo, We are very enticed by your application. Can you provide us a reference as well as two interesting facts about yourself? Our mafia ice breakers are an essential part of the organized crime experience. We would also appreciate calling us a “syndicate” instead of the archaic “mafia.”

—Pete “Thin-Crust” Pizza

IT'S FINALLY HERE! EARTH DAY IS JUST 79 DAYS AWAY!

10 WATCHES THAT WILL MAKE YOUR SUITEMATES SAY, "IS SHE RICH? WHY IS SHE SO STINGY ABOUT VENMOING? HOLY FUCK, I JUST GOOGLED HER. HER DAD IS THE CEO OF CITIBANK" Dear Apple Support, If y’all are so supportive then why am I in a Bass study room crying about a guy from LEO who won’t text me back?

Cordially, Kendall

SELF CARE WIN! MY FROCO SHOWED US HOW TO SHIT IN THE GOOD LIFE CENTER LITTERBOX

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ALL YOU CAN TALK ABOUT IS BILLIE EILISH, WHILE A SPECIAL SOMEONE WITH DEMENTIA'S BEEN WAITING ON A PHONE CALL FOR WEEKS. BITCH, YOU WORRIED BOUT THE WRONG GRAMMY! Dear Yale Police Department, Can you do something about these trick-or-treaters that keep bothering me? I’m all for Halloween spirit, but it’s February and these guys won’t quit.

Every week they show up at my house dressed as ski-masked baseball batters and beat the crap out of me. Yesterday I woke up with one of my kidneys missing. I’m pretty sure kidneys aren’t treats! Please help.

Thanks, Walter O’Brien Dear Walter, Sounds spooky! But we’re the regular police, not the fun police.

Maybe you wouldn’t get “tricked” so much if you stocked up on fun-size Snickers.

Sincerely, Chief Ronnell A. Higgins

A GROUNDHOG DAY FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS! PUNXSUTAWNEY PHIL REPORTS IT'S A GROUNDHOG DAY FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS! PUNXSUTAWNEY PHIL REPORTS IT'S A GROUNDHOG DAY FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS! PUNXSUTAWNEY PHIL REPORTS

NEW ETYMOLOGICAL STUDY CONDUCTED BY SINGLE PEOPLE FINDS VALENTINE'S DAY ACTUALLY SHORT FOR VALIUM AND SALTINES DAY Dear Parole Officer Jeffrey, I know you need to test me for drugs, but I’ve given you gallons and gallons of urine and you still ask for more. I’m exhausted and dehydrated.

Will it ever be enough?

Thanks, Lionel Dear Lionel, Sorry, bud. It’s like the old saying goes: “Commit a crime, help Jeffrey do an epic prank at his brother’s wedding so his sister-in-law-to-be sees that his brother is a dork and then rides off into the sunset in the sidecar of Jeffrey’s dope-ass motorcycle.” I expect two more gallons by tomorrow.

Sincerely, Officer Jeffrey

THE EAGLE HAS LANDED! AND BY "THE EAGLE" I MEAN MY BEST FRIEND, DAVID, AND BY "HAS LANDED," I MEAN HAS CRITIQUED MY LANDSCAPE SKETCHES IN MS. STEVENSON'S SEVENTH PERIOD ART CLASS. I ALWAYS THOUGHT I HAD A NATURAL TALENT FOR ART, BUT THIS KIND OF CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK IS VERY MUCH APPRECIATED.

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The Yale Record’s Editorial Board would like to issue an apology for an erroneous obituary in this year’s Midlife Crisis issue of the magazine. The issue misreported that all 37 child singers on the original Kidz Bop album had died of old age. The singers, who were between the ages of 26 and 28 at the time of death, were actually executed by Kidz Bop executives after performing on a 20 Year Reunion Tour and forgetting to change the swear word “shit” to “stuff ” in Fatboy Slim’s hit single “Gangster Tripping.”

PROGRESSIVE! THIS OIL HEIRESS IS QUEERING WHITE PRIVILEGE

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BERNIE SANDERS PROPOSES WAYS TO CUT COSTS TO MEDICARE FOR ALL, WILL PERSONALLY ADMINISTER PROSTATE EXAMS Dear Tums: I eat nothing but Tums. I don’t even drink water with my meals— I wash down my Tums with a nice cup of ground Tums. Now my stomach feels like shit. I feel like I am burning from the inside all day. For a product aimed at curing this ailment, I think you must’ve gotten something wrong.

Best, Jerry

GLUE STICK DISASTER! I GLUED MY SON TO HIS TANTRUM POLE AND FORGOT ABOUT HIM

Check out our website, yalerecord.org, for more hilarious content!

FOR SALE: Baby teeth 1 for $2 2 for $5 3 for $10

—K. Vanlandingham

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WEIRD BUT TRUE! NEW AIRPODS AREN'T SMALLER, EARS ARE BIGGER! Dear Apple Support, I miss our long, loving talks. Do you remember when you explained iCloud to me? I still remember the poetry of your soft, subtle lilt, the way you hesitated before you hung up. Oh! How I miss you.

Love, Customer #5071183 Dear Valued Customer 5071183, Thank you for your email. A customer service representative will be in contact shortly.

—Apple Support

Dear Apple Support, Avast! So cold! I see your love has absconded in the starry night.

Mayhaps, upon a brighter day, we might rekindle our romance?

Love, Customer #5071183 Dear Customer #5071183 You are literally so clingy.

Bye. Apple Support

The Editorial Board would like to apologize for an erroneous obituary in last year’s In Memoriam issue. The issue misreported that famous chef, entrepreneur and criminal Martha Stewart was laid to rest peacefully behind the family’s estate in Rhode Island. This was untrue on two accounts: the memorial was interrupted by the construction of a jumbo McDonald’s nearby, and we have just recieved news that Martha has risen from the grave to promote her new line of skin cleansers.

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FREUDIAN SLIP? THIS STUDENT ACCIDENTALLY CALLED THEIR TEACHER "MOM," THEN HAD SEX WITH THEM HOW TO EXPLAIN TO YOUR SERVICE PROVIDER THAT THE NEW POPE ON HBO IS JUST THE YOUNG POPE ON SHOWTIME EROTICIZING THE TWO POPES ON NETFLIX "BUBBLE BATH" AND 14 OTHER GOVERNMENT APPROVED EUPHEMISMS FOR WATER BOARDING

­—H. Rubin

Emmy Waldman ‘11

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ttention: this issue is for kids, and kids only. If your parents are reading over your shoulder, please leave the room immediately, go to www.yalerecord.org, and start reading on the iPad 2 you share with your siblings.

For far too long, the Record’s content has been dictated by the oppressive rule of adults.

In our 147 years of existence, we have never published a single puzzle or game, and according to science, our articles are written at a 12th grade reading level. Our past issues have dealt with extremely adult themes like midlife crises, conspiracy theories, corporations, and ancient history. If you’re a kid, you don’t give a shit about ancient history. You care about cooties, chewing pencils, and licking erasers. You care about running with scissors, getting picked up from playdates, doing the pacer test, indoor recess, and sitting at the peanut-free table. And we at the Record had no idea—that is, until we were paid a special visit last month.

On Sunday, January 26th at 4:12 p.m., the Record’s Eboard meeting was interrupted by a group of angry five and six year olds from Clinton Avenue Elementary School in New Haven. Their leader, a prematurely balding Kindergartner named Jasper, raised his hands.

The room fell silent, and Jasper began to speak.

“For far too long, your magazine has been dictated by the oppressive rule of adults,” said Jasper. “In your 147 years of existence, you have never published a single puzzle or game, and according to our scientists, your articles are written at a 12th grade reading level.”

“Okay,” responded Harry, the Record’s Online Editor-in-Chief. “So what do you want?”

“We kids don’t care about midlife crises, or conspiracy theories, or ancient history,” continued Jasper, really beating around the bush. “We care about cooties, chewing pencils, licking erasers, and sitting at the peanut-free table. But why would you write about cooties and peanut-free tables if your magazine is dependent on money from adults to continue? You’re bankrolled by the Yale Undergraduate Organizations Funding Committee, not by kids. So: we, the members of Mrs. Vandergarden’s kindergarten class, are prepared to replace your

T heTC orporate I ssue he J ust for AKmerica ids I ssue magazine’s UOFC funding with a stipend of our own, granted that you agree to publish issues with content by kids and for kids.”

“Sounds good. You’ve got yourself a deal,” said Marcy, our Publisher, who had secretly forgotten to even apply for UOFC funding but was trying really hard to keep a poker face for Jasper.

“But you’re probably wondering how we, a bunch of kids, got all this money,” said Jasper, as he dramatically threw an envelope overflowing with one dollar bills onto the table.

“Not really,” said Maddy, the Record’s Chair. Maddy could care less how some balding five year old got his hands on an envelope of cash. All she cared about was getting the brass from corporate off her back about “company finances.”

But Jasper went on. “There’s only one way for a five-yearold kid to make a quick buck in this economy: the tooth fairy. For the past year, we’ve all been harvesting our baby teeth and selling them to the tooth fairy to raise the necessary funds to take over the Record’s content.”

“Wait, what?” said Harry.

“First we tried the more conventional tactics,” said Jasper.

“We wiggled our teeth, we bit down on gauze, we even tied some teeth to doorknobs and slammed the doors shut. The money just wasn’t coming in fast enough. But we brought in enough cash on the first round of teeth that we could afford some high-dosage calcium supplements on the black market. We started popping pills like madmen and suddenly our baby teeth were growing and regrowing at record pace, and in rows like sharks.”

Jasper opened his mouth wide to reveal seven rows of glistening baby teeth. “Cash rules everything around me,” said Jasper.

“Your university has a 30 billion dollar endowment, and yet you Maddy Blaney ’21 Chair

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pay nothing in taxes, sinking your parasitic teeth into the flesh of New Haven. Sorry for the tooth metaphor, I’ve just been thinking a lot about teeth lately. But anyway. Part of that endowment from the adults of Yale goes toward funding your adult magazine. And if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, isn’t that right? So here we stand, the members of Mrs. Vandergarden’s kindergarten class, with an envelope overflowing with one dollar bills, attempting to wrest control of the Record’s content from Yale’s adults and replace it with content by kids, for kids.”

“Seems legit,” said Marcy. “So what do you want us to publish?”

Jasper and his classmates formed a huddle and whispered amongst themselves for what seemed like minutes. Finally, Jasper broke the huddle and shrugged. “Idk, like puzzles and stuff. But mostly we want you to keep in mind all the stuff we said regarding the harvesting of baby teeth and the influence of money in print media.”

With that, Jasper pushed his cash envelope to the center of the table, signaled silently to his classmates and followed them out of the room in a single file line. Jasper’s balding head grew smaller and smaller as he disappeared into the distance, never to be seen again.

The following pages are our best attempt to fulfill Jasper’s request. There will be puzzles. There will be games. There will be written pieces and art, by kids and for kids, and possibly something about teeth.

—C. Cohen Editor in Chief

Caleb Cohen ’21 Editor in Chief

Harry Rubin ’21 Online Editor in Chief

Marcy Sanchez ’21 Publisher

Sarah Force ’21 Managing Editor

Amanda Thomas ’21 Managing Editor

Will Cramer ’22 Director of Online Content

Luna Garcia ’22 Director of Online Content

Kaylee Walsh ’22 Managing Editor

David Hou ’22 Online Managing Editor

Ethan Fogarty ’21 Business Manager

Davey McCowin ’21 Copy Editor

Vivek Suri ’20 Design Editor

Elliot Connors ’20 Design Editor

Rosa Chang ’22 Art Director

Maya Sanghvi ’22 Staff Director

Ellen Yang ’20 Old Owl

Chloe Prendergast ’20 Old Owl

Dylan Schifrin ’20 Old Owl

Noah Amsel ’20 Old Owl

Mariah Kreutter ’20 Old Owl

Simon Custer ’20 Old Owl

Walker Caplan ’20 Old Owl

Staff: Colin Basciocco ’21 Itai Almor ’20 Paige Davis ’21 Addison Beer ’23 Alex Taranto ’23 Jonas Kilga ’23 Juan Diego Casallas ’23 Tilly Brooks ’23

Alex Kane ’22 Amrita Vetticaden ’23 Andrew Kornfield ’23 Avery Brown ’23 Avery Mitchell ’23 Katia Vanlandingham ’23 Lindsay Jost ’23 Zoe Larkin ’23

Jocelyn Wexler ’21 Grace Wynter ’20 Kyle Mazer ’22 Ryan Fuentes ’22 Ayla Jeddy ’23 Lucy Santiago ’23 Miguel Von Fedak ’23 Zosia Caes ’23

Alec Zbornak ’21 Bea Portela ’23 Clio Rose ’23 Diana Kulmivez ’23 Dory Johnson ’23 Raffael Davila ’23 Raja Moreno ’23 Jason Salvant ’23

Jamie Large ’21 Zuri Goodman ’22 Ellen Qian ’23 Erik Bosen ’23 Eva Quittman ’23 Sam Karp ’23 Sam Leone ’23 Lucy Del Alamo ’23

Helen Tejada ’23 Finn Gibson ’23 Jacob Eldred ’23 Jacob Kaufman-Shalett ’23 Joe Wickline ’23 Simi Olurin ’23 Tanya Jomaa ’23 Shirshak Gautam ’23

Special thanks to: The Yale Undergraduate Organization Funding Committee for their years of financial support, which we apparently will no longer be needing.

Front Cover: Rosa Chang ’22, who is too busy to climb trees (@rosart.c) Back Cover: Alex Taranto ’23, who is haunted by Shel Silverstein and drew his face from memory (@adtaranto) Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLVIII, No. 6, Published in New Haven, CT by The Yale Record, Inc. Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520 • yalerecord.org • Subscriptions: $50/year (print) • $10/year (electronic) All contents copyright 2019 The Yale Record, Inc. The Yale Record is a magazine produced by Yale students; Yale University is not responsible for its contents. Any resemblance to characters and events portrayed herein, without satirical intent, is purely coincidental. The Record grudgingly acknowledges your right to correspond: letters should be addressed to: Chair, The Yale Record, PO Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520, or chair@yalerecord.org. Offer only valid at participating retailers while supplies last. The Yale Record would like to high-five the UOFC for its financial support.

HOW TO CHOOSE THE PERFECT WEBKINZ NAME Welcome to the Curio Shop. Hope you find what you’re lookin’— Oh, it’s you! My, you’ve grown! This is… quite a surprise. How long has it been, five years?

After this long, most Webkinz have already die—err, I mean, already paid a “special visit” to Doctor Quack!

You know, just between you and me, there’s a reason Doc has that partition in his office… it’s so that he can eat the Webkinz in peace, out of respect.

But where was I… oh, was there something you wanted? You want to make a new Webkinz? Splendid!! It sure has been lonely without you—we auctioned off all of your possessions years ago, even your exclusive items, and we could use some new business. Hey, don’t get upset with me! It’s not like any of your Webkinz were using that stuff.

On that note, you probably shouldn’t watch the Secret Chef. Or eat at Chef Gazpacho’s restaurant. It could be an uncomfortable “reunion” between you and your dinner.

But yes, your new Webkinz! Oh, everyone is going to be so excited. But first, your Webkinz is going to need a name. Hmm… in my experience, names are thoughtful and descriptive—an embodiment of what your Webkinz has to offer. How about “Choppy” if you have a little piglet? Or “Chorizo” if you’re feeling spicy? You could go for something simple, like “Broiler.” Or here’s a classic: “Best-By-07/2020”! That’s my nephew’s name—I can’t wait for the little scamp to grow up.

Hey, don’t get all high-and-mighty on me! Arte’s gotta survive too, you know. It’s a real dog-eat-dog world out here. If you don’t like it, go ahead and leave Webkinz

then! Go back to your real world. I hope you enjoy that bacon sandwich for lunch—try not to think too much about your old favorite Webkinz Porky! In your world, Webkinz might be inanimate objects made of plush and synthetic fiber, but in here they’re real, and so is their delectable juicy flesh. When I ripped into Porky, he screamed out for you, but you were too busy masturbating in the bathroom between P.E. and 10th-grade English. You may be able to wash the spunk from your gym shorts, but you can never wash the blood from your hands.

Wait… what’s gotten into you? What are you doing??

Stay back fiend! No, stop!! I’ll give you whatever jewel you need to complete the Crown of Wonder! I’ll even take the restrictions off Kinzchat! Not the pickaxe! I’ll give you anything! NO, YOU SWINE!!! I ATE YOUR WEBKINZ LIKE FAVA BEANS!!!!!!

—D. McCowin

—A. Mitchell

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ARE YOU GUYS FRIENDS IN REAL LIFE? Dear Vincent Martella, the voice of Phineas Flynn in the hit Disney Channel show Phineas and Ferb, and Thomas Brodie-Sangster, the voice of Ferb Fletcher in the hit Disney Channel show Phineas and Ferb, Are you guys friends in real life? Do you ever, like, hang out and stuff?

Sincerely, Your biggest fan, Sammy Dear Sammy, Thanks for your letter! Sorry to let you down, but we are not actually friends in real life. Our relationship is strictly sexual.

I (Vincent) enjoy talking to Thomas as if he were actually Ferb, his character on the hit Disney Channel show Phineas and Ferb, and as if I were actually Phineas, my character on the hit Disney Channel show Phineas and Ferb, while we make sweet sweet love. It produces great ecstasy for us both, and frankly nothing else I have ever done in my entire life—and let me tell you, I have done some crazy ass shit in my life (e.g. cocaine)—has come close to those moments when we simultaneously climax and I scream, “FERB, I KNOW WHAT WE’RE GONNA DO TODAY!” I (Thomas) wholeheartedly agree with Vincent’s statement, although I usually scream, “PLATYPUSES ARE THE ONLY MAMMAL TO LAY EGGS.” I would also like to add that Vincent and I do not get along. The sex is unlike anything else I have ever experienced—and let me tell you, I have experienced some crazy ass shit in my life (e.g. crystal meth)—but other than that, Vincent and I can’t stand the sight of each other. We have been known to break into fistfights while recording for the show. This is okay, however, because more often then not these fistfights turn into passionate lovemaking sessions, during which we record some of the quintessential catchphrases you hear on the show!

Sincerely, Vincent Martella, the voice of Phineas Flynn in the hit Disney Channel show Phineas and Ferb, and Thomas Brodie-Sangster, the voice of Ferb Fletcher in the hit Disney Channel show Phineas and Ferb.

—J. Large

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HARPER B. TRAGICALLY DIAGNOSED WITH COOTIES

By A. Kornfeld SEATTLE, WASHINGTON—In what school nurse Amy Silverstein fears could be the start of an epidemic, second-grader Harper B. was tragically diagnosed this Thursday with a chronic case of cooties.

“It’s always hard to see someone contract this illness,” said Silverstein. “Cooties affect us all, regardless of age, gender, or race. We all have to be here for each other during this difficult time, and remember to get tested regularly.”

Harper’s classmates have already begun to avoid her in the halls. Experts can only speculate about the toll this will take on Harper’s popularity ratings, which were at an all time high last week after she was seen comparing hand sizes with Justin L. in the cafeteria. Justin L. has been quarantined, and his hand was amputated at the wrist by the school nurse as a precautionary measure. “I think Harper’s great and all, but everybody knows cooties are contagious and I need to look out for myself,” said Harper’s best friend Megan H., who refuses to sit next to her in Language Arts and has started wearing a surgical mask to school.

It’s still unclear how exactly Harper contracted the illness, but experts suspect that she has been washing her hands for less than 20 seconds, forgetting to cough into her elbow, or spending too much time being a guy’s girl at recess. While this outbreak persists, students are advised to be on the lookout for common cooties symptoms, which include but are not limited to peeing on the toilet seat, excessive diarrhea, and an inability to stay quiet during fire drills.

At press time, Harper was seen waiting in the nurse’s office with fellow classmates Josh B. and Caden R., who were recently diagnosed with Ligma.

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After 45 laps, it was just me versus my nemesis, Johnny.

Do Beep Boop—starting level 10. I had finally made it to the level Johnny reached when he set the Pacer Test record last year. Just a few more sprints and I’d have it in the bag. But suddenly, my legs started to give out. I felt them cramping up. And I saw my Pacer title flash before my eyes. Suddenly, my vision went black and I felt myself fall to the gym floor. When I came to, I felt the school nurse checking my pulse, and saw Johnny hoisting his Pacer Test trophy above his sweaty little head.

I had lost the Pacer. My anabolic steroids had failed me. Did I really just pump my body full of drugs, only to take the consolation prize in the most important competition of my life? It’s almost as embarrassing as getting addicted to adderall before the SAT only to end up at Wharton.

—H. Tejada

BEST KIDS’ KITCHEN RECIPES —K. Vanlandingham

I GOT HOOKED ON ANABOLIC STEROIDS JUST TO COME IN SECOND ON THE PACER TEST There comes a point in everyone’s life when they

must resort to extreme methods to succeed. Gandhi went on a 21 day hunger strike to protest British colonial rule. Students in Hong Kong braved tear gas and water cannons to fight for democracy. Me? I got hooked on anabolic steroids so I could be the last person standing in the Pacer Test.

Ever since last year when Johnny took the dub in the Pacer, he’s been the coolest kid in school. Everyone loves him—even Clarisse, the emo girl who sits alone at lunch and sneezes with her eyes open. Johnny even has 1k followers on his TikTok, and I only have like 100. Ok, I have 70. Alright, fine, 15. I guess you could say I’m a loser, which is exactly why I had to take anabolic steroids in the months leading up to my physical fitness test.

I arrived at gym class the day of the Pacer looking swole. I started the test, feeling like an absolute beast.

Beep by beep, my weaker classmates dropped out.

“Speed,” I thought. “I am speed”

Play-Doh à la Glue: Put a spicy Italian twist on your next indoor recess with this artistic dish! Empty out the crusty, neglected Play-Doh containers from the back of the toy cabinet, and roll out your Doh into spaghetti-like strings. Once finished, douse your Doh in a healthy serving of glue. Heat in an Easy Bake Oven until crispy.

Booger: Embrace the trend towards fresher, greener, organic ingredients. This everyday snack is allergenfree and guaranteed to keep you energized and friendless! Add some nose hairs for seasoning.

Jimmy’s Lunch Plate Medley: Tired of school lunch?

So are we! Add some pizzazz to your sloppy joe by pouring chocolate milk all over your half-eaten tray!

For extra fun, hype each other up to eat it until Jimmy double-dog dares you to do it. Fuck you Jimmy.

Worms in Dirt: The classic children’s dessert you know and love is now going all-natural! This minimalist, avant-garde reconstruction has only two ingredients: a handful of dirt and some worms! For extra playground clout, triple-dog dare Jimmy’s bitch-ass to eat it as revenge. Can’t back out now, asshole!

—J. Salvant

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PLEASE STOP INVITING ME TO YOUR BROTHER’S BRIS

MOM FINALLY MOVED MY BEDTIME TO 8:30!

Lucas, I think you are very cool. You wear cool clothes.

You say cool words like “bet” and “zing“ and “impeachment is a slippery slope.” If a train was heading for you I would consider jumping in front of it (I wouldn’t die for you probably but I would consider going on life support (if the hospital bed was warm and the nurses brought me blue Powerade)). That being said, I will not be attending your brother Izikiel’s bris.

I know you invited the entire third grade. I know you wrote “this will be the bris to end all brisses” in the evite, which depicted an angel holding hands with a rabbi. I am done thinking of excuses. I simply do not believe the event will be as “crotch-trimmingly spiritual” as you think.

This is hard for me to say, Lucas, because I aspire to be like you in every way (except the incessant bris inviting, which I do not aspire to be like as much, although otherwise I am very keen on you). Remember when Ms. Brownley came to school all wet in the face because her fiancé stood her up? You told her that lots of people don’t find love even until they are seventy or eighty, or ever even. That was noble of you, Lucas. Also it made her cry more and we got a half day. However, my admiration for you does not even begin to justify your enthusiasm over what you say will be your “first of like a zillion brisses” (which doesn’t even make sense given the evite!).

I do not wish Izikiel a bad bris, or even a mediocre one.

I will not pry into the moral implications of bris-having (my associate, Timmy from fourth grade, has written years of Vocabulary Sentences on this very subject, which I’ll cite below). I hope the event is memorable, and the whole class comes, and Izikiel drinks all the blue Powerade his little pre-circumsized body can muster. But I will not be in attendance.

For years, I’ve been going to sleep at the ridiculously early hour of 8:29PM because of my mom’s strict rules.

Yesterday, though, Mom walked into my room at 8:29 and said, “Johnny, I think you’re old enough now to take on the extra responsibility that comes with a later bedtime.

I’ll be turning the lights off at 8:30 tonight.” Then she gave me my rations—a whole wheat bread crust—and sent me back to the barracks.

It was very exciting—probably the most loving gesture I’ve ever received from her! My early bedtime has stopped me from doing so many things, so I was super-duper excited to learn about this mom-umental change. This is bigger than the Mueller Report, the Game of Thrones finale (which mom didn’t let me stay up to watch), and learning Stacey was my school desk-buddy, all combined.

8:30PM… this could be huge! With an extra minute, the possibilities are endless. I can brush my teeth, wash my face, or even take an all-expenses paid round-trip to Orlando where I can bask in the sun at Sunnyvale Senior Living and gossip with Granny Candice about the cutest physical therapists on staff. Some nights I may even be able to forage some dry, week-old fusilli from the kitchen pantry. But what I really want to do with this lengthy extra minute is learn more about my mom as a person. Today I asked her why her rules are so strict, but she ignored the question and went back to reading her horoscope (classic Taurus).

For my next birthday, my 25th, I think I’ll go all out and ask for my bedtime to be moved to 8:31PM. I know, it’s a wild proposition, but I think with another spin around the sun, I’ll be ready for the added responsibility.

Citations Baker, Timothy: “To Bris or not to Bris? The socio-moral causality of infant mutilation, using new words from Lois Burdett’s ‘Hamlet for Kids’” (2019) B., Timothy: “‘Just ‘cause everyone else is doing it doesn’t mean it’s okay’ and other things my parents tell me that are readily applicable to brisses” (2017) B., Timothy and Elijah Goldstein: “Mommy, why is my peepee different from Eli’s? A cross-cultural examination” (2014) —D. Schifrin

—E. Qian

—H. Rubin —A. Taranto

TOP PLAY-DOH FLAVORS Pink: My big cousin told me that the pink in pink Play-Doh is made from bug juice. Chock-full of protein, and tastes amazing!

Red: Great for making fire trucks! A little saltier than the other flavors because my little brother licked it when he got it for Christmas.

Purple: Rolling this into balls makes really nice grapes. Robbie W. says if you plug your nose hard enough they taste like grapes too!

Brown: My mom had too many cups of grown-up grape juice one time and got this mixed up with the chocolate frosting by mistake. It’s great on cupcakes!

Blue-green: Tastes kinda like wax, and eating crayons is so pre-k.

Green-blue: Emma P. tripped and fell on a container of green-blue in art class. It was really funny. I like to think I can taste her tears in every bite.

Regular blue: Looks like cotton candy, but doesn’t taste like cotton candy.

Tastes surprisingly similar to bluegreen and green-blue. Disappointing.

Check back in next week for part 2: Best Pixy Stix Colors to Shove up your Nose.

—E. Quittman

Design by Addison Beer

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CELEBRITIES WHO WERE ONCE KIDZ BOP KIDS Hey pop culture lovers! Welcome back to the Us Weekly Weekend Catch-Up, your home for all things hot and Hollywood! My name is Amelyyne, and this is my co-host with another slightly odd but very white and feminine name. I open my mouth incredibly wide when I talk and have theater kid energy, because I just found out my husband is cheating on me with his younger, more attractive coworker and I don’t know how else to cope!

Whatever a girl’s gotta do, am I right ladies? Anyway.

With this week’s release of Kidz Bop 97, we’re throwin’ it back to see which of today’s celebrities used to be Kidz Bop stars! Some may surprise you, so buckle up! Also, I don’t understand what Mark sees in that girl from work.

I’ve interviewed Carly Rae Jepsen, goddamnit! Who has she even interviewed? Her grandparents for a sixth-grade history project? Oh shit we’re still on the air? To the Kidz Bop Kidz!

Ryan Gosling: If you had that La La Land phase, then you’ve definitely seen the clip of young Ryan Gosling dancing to MC Hammer on the Graham Norton Show. What you didn’t know is that he later went on to record “U Can’t Touch This” for Kidz Bop 13. Critics have praised his performance as “very Canadian.” We couldn’t agree more!

Jonah Hill: Before his whirlwind love affair with Channing Tatum, this actor was an active Kidz Bop Kid, boppin’ it out on Kidz Bop 22, Kidz Bop 23, and during a self-proclaimed mid-life crisis, Kidz Bop 36. He credits the experience of being an overconfident child as inspiration for his later roles as overconfident man-children. Jonah later went on to masturbate in a pool in The Wolf of Wall Street—he really is an actor with range!

Matt Damon & Ben Affleck: As young actors, these Oscar-nominated best friends sang and danced on Kidz Bop 6. Unfortunately, they were removed from the album because you could hear them in the background of multiple tracks saying “What the fuck is this? Does this yuppie really think he can hit those wicked high notes? This sounds like fucking gahbage, let’s bang a uey and get the fuck outta here.”

Pope Francis: Before he became the spiritual leader of over 1.2 billion Catholics, Pope Francis got his start on the Argentine version of Kidz Bop, ¡Bop Con

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Los Niñoz! In interviews he has stated that his stint on Kidz Bop caused him to doubt God’s existence.

“Seeing all those kids [kidz] sell their souls and their prepubescent voices to the big wigs at Kidz Bop made me question whether God really created us in His image,” said Francis. “If so, it’s a pretty shitty image.” But nevertheless, Francy persisted! And to that, we at Us Weekly say amen!

—B. Portela

JUST HOW FAT WAS JESUS? Last week was Ralph Morrison’s Bar Mitzvah, which is like a birthday party except special because the birthday boy’s family rents out the Olive Garden party room and there are unlimited kosher Kiddy Cocktails. Ralph’s rabbi said Ralph is a man now, which I think means his body did the changes and now he’s a fertile king. I was slamming Kiddy Cocktails and starting to feel a nice sugar high when suddenly the music transitioned from “I Gotta Feeling” by The Black Eyed Peas to “How to Love” by Lil’ Wayne.

I knew things were about to get serious: it was time for the slow dance. When Ralph asked me to dance I casually said “yeah sure,” which was very brave and girlboss of me. But then his mom yelled, “Leave room for Jesus, you two!” which really killed my vibe.

Why would Ralph’s mom say that? I guess our fronts were kind of close, but I think Jesus could easily have fit between me and Ralph. I was confused, mostly because I didn’t think Jesus was even a part of Bar Mitzvahs, but also because I had never really thought about Jesus’s physique and how much room he needed.

So, just how fat was Jesus? How close could I get to Ralph the Man without absolutely squishing the Son of Man? I guess I always assumed Jesus was in the healthy BMI range of 18.5 to 24.9, but they didn’t even have Wii Fits back then so maybe he didn’t have the means to be a skinny legend. And that’s okay! Maybe Jesus’ daily existence was a large and in charge #bodypositive slay. But then if Jesus was such a woke king, he would probably be conscious of how much space he’s taking up, right Ralph’s mom? So leave me and Ralph and JC alone to dance, babe!

—S. Force

VALENTINES TO HAND OUT THAT. THAT.

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ENTIRE CLASS

All your baby teeth

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QR code to your Tinder account

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Homework pass Heart candy-flavored condoms Mom’s credit card information Pages ripped from Dad’s Hustler magazines A bag of “Fun Dip” with a little cocaine Clean STD test results Pink eye Shakespeare’s sonnet 69 A chilling reminder of our collective mortality.

— Staff Design by A. Brown

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POINT/COUNTERPOINT: MANDATORY VACCINATIONS Point: All Children Should Be Vaccinated Like all parents, I only want the best for my children. But the science is clear and has been for years. Vaccines are safe. In 1998, former doctor Andrew Wakefield recruited gullible parents for a study on the MMR vaccine, claiming that it was linked to autism in children. Much like Dick Cheney’s adult diaper or the premises upon which he justified the Iraq War, that study doesn’t hold water, and has led to countless unnecessary deaths.

I too once feared that Big Pharma would poison my child, but I decided to trust science and vaccinate my son Noah.

Noah never contracted measles, polio, mumps, rubella, chicken pox, or any other vaccinable disease before he and the rest of my family died in a tragic rollerblading accident. My subsequent children, meanwhile, have all been the picture of health. None have polio, and they have only ever contracted mild, un-vaccinable diseases, such as the common cold and ebola.

Counterpoint: Children Are Fucking Stupid A single dose of the MMR vaccine costs $350. What a waste! Why make the financially indefensible decision to vaccinate your child when you could nip the problem in the bud and use protection in the first place? Sure, polio could do the job eventually, but that takes time—a precious commodity in today’s interconnected, evolving world. Plus, imagine the resources that would then be available for others if we were to stop adding new children to our population. Either we’ll see massive gains in economic productivity or Malcolm Gladwell is full of shit!

What’s that you say? That younger participants in the workforce are needed to sustain economic growth? That the examples of mainland China and Japan demonstrate the need for a balanced population pyramid? That Malcolm Gladwell is full of shit? Nonsense! Just think for a moment what a delightful world this would be if the funding otherwise diverted toward child health insurance, development of new inoculations, and hiring babysitters could instead be put into quality adult things, like fine wine and therapy for my crippling sociopathy. Ha! Just kidding. My sociopathy is clearly not crippling.

You speak of medicine and public health, but I come from a world of disruption and revolutionary zeal. Call me when you’re willing to negotiate at the card table of progress and put your finger on the pulse of innovation. Talk to me not of the end of polio, but of the beginning of a better future.

—E. Boesen

WOMEN I’VE ACCIDENTALLY CALLED MOM My First-Grade Teacher Mrs. Collins: We were on our way to the school library to read Stone Soup and when she held open the door for me, I said, “Thanks, Mom.” How awkward!

Zach’s Mom: Zach’s sleep-over birthday party was all the rage. We drank soda, ate Cheetos, and even watched Jaws.

I was quite the party pooper though when I had a nightmare, crawled into his parents’ bed, and asked, “Mom, will you hold me?”

My First Kiss: After dropping Directed Studies, stepping out of Bass Library, and experiencing daylight for the first time, I met a girl on Cross Campus. Later that night, when things were getting hot and heavy, I felt a sudden pain in my abdomen and let out a reflexive “burp me, Mommy.”

Condoleezza Rice, Secretary of State under George W. Bush: No comment.

My Legal Guardian: I thought she was my mom. I hadn’t yet found out that I was adopted. I probably should have known we weren’t related, since I have brown hair, whereas she never loved me.

My Biological Mother: Later in life when I found my birth mother, I figured I could finally call someone mom. Turns out she’s one of those new age parents and insists I call her “Denise.”

—S. Leone

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WHAT JEWISH BEN DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT SANTA We all know that one kid—let’s call him Ben. Ben has curly hair, a cool little hat, and that same smug expression every time Christmas rolls around. He’s always pulling the “Santa-isn’t-real” card to try and throw you off your game.

It’s sad, isn’t it? We all know the truth. Santa is real. But we can’t tell Ben, simply for his own wellbeing. Why? Santa Claus is a raging antisemite. History classes tend to gloss over this, but that jolly, white-bearded, gift-giver has been at the center of almost every antisemitic act for the past 2,000 years. The attempted extermination of Russian Jews was spearheaded by “Tsar” Nicholas… eerily familiar to another Nick we all know. Santa’s famous costume is red, white, and black. Need I say more?

Even today, good ol’ Kris Kringle is protecting his enterprise from the spectre of Judaism. His famous “naughty and nice” list is simply religious profiling. In recent years, the elves have developed an elaborate algorithm to sort the Isaacs and Miriams from the Seans and Courtneys. Last name Smith? Congrats you get a toy truck. Last name Goldberg? Coal for days!

Imagine how little Ben would feel if he knew the truth. One minute he learns about Santa, and the next he’ll find out that Leprechauns ran Vichy France and the Easter Bunny led the pogroms. Best to keep him in the dark as long as possible.

—C. Rose

­—H. Rubin

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IT HAPPENED TO ME: MY FROCO SHUT DOWN MY IGLOO PARTY As soon as I logged into Club Penguin, I knew it was a special day. I’d been saving up my coins for a really long time, and I could finally afford the Pastel Pink Duplex Igloo, complete with a dance floor, a bamboo chair, a big screen TV, and a puffle party! I had put so much time and effort into this party that I even made flyers for the occasion. I hung them up in every entryway of my dorm, advertised it all over Facebook and GroupMe, and even sent out a mass email letting the other first-years know about my penguin shin-dig.

Now that I was 18, I didn’t even need my parents permission to waddle on down to clubpenguin.com. I joined a server, made my way to my igloo, and waited.

At first it was kind of slow, since it was a Friday night and people were “going to real parties,” whatever that’s supposed to mean. After a few hours, though, the guests started showing up. It was epic. Penguins were dancing.

Puffles were hopping around the playpen. Everyone was happy—that is, until I got that dreaded knock on the door. “Kevin!” shouted a spine-rattling voice. I rattled off a quick “BRB” into the chat box and shut my laptop.

I opened the door to my FroCo, Tyler. “It’s quiet hours, you know,” he started. “You wouldn’t know anything about a party in here, would you?” he said, looking around.

“A party?” I said shakily. “You know that I don’t break the rules. I don’t even have friends!” Tyler shrugged and started to walk toward the door. I thought I was off the hook and ready to get back down to business.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll be heading—” he stopped. There, in front of my desk, was a copy of the flyer I made. He turned slowly, his gaze meeting mine.

“Care to explain this?”

I thought about passing it off as a graphic design assignment, but it was no use. Tyler knew I wasn’t in that class— he Bluebooked with me for God’s sake! I swallowed my pride. I was done in. Defeated, I shuffled over to my laptop, and opened the screen. There, in all its glory, was my igloo party, which had kicked into high gear while I was gone. There were snowballs everywhere, and penguins were dancing on tables.

Furious, Tyler approached the keyboard and began typing in the chat box: “THIS IS KEVIN’S FROCO. YOUR PARTY IS OFFICIALLY OVER. QUIET HOURS HAVE STARTED. EVERYBODY WALK OUT SINGLE FILE, AND IF I SEE SO

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MUCH AS A WAVE, I’LL REPORT YOU FOR SWEARING.” As Tyler walked away from my desk, he took one last passing glance at me. “I’m disappointed in you, Kevin,” he said. “You know the rules. I’ll have to report this incident to your Dean—that is, unless you know where I can get a Pastel Pink Duplex Igloo, complete with a dance floor, a bamboo chair, a big screen TV, and a puffle party.”

—R. Davila

HOW TO BOOST YOUR FIFTH GRADE RESUME FOR YALE Hey fifth graders! AdmissionsBuddy4652 here!

This week I’ll be giving you some tips to punch up your resume for Yale! It’s never too early to start preparing for the school of your dreams!

Join the Science Olympiad team. Competition teams are a great way to start winning some awards for your resume! Events like Ping Pong Parachute are sure to boost your quantitative reasoning skills in time for the PSAT! Take honors classes. Yale loves students who are passionate! Hit the books, and start taking advanced courses in the subjects that interest you!

Experience some trauma. To get into Yale, you’ll need a memorable essay. If you can get hit by a bus or accidentally burn your house down, use it as inspiration!

Stalk your regional admissions officer. Nobody would suspect a fifth-grader of stalking! Use your youth and small stature to your advantage. Snoop around your admissions officer’s house, and find out about his affair to use as blackmail later!

Eliminate your competition. If Sandy got a higher grade on her long division quiz than you did, she’s canceled! (This is a euphemism: I mean kill her.)

Get involved in community service. There’s no better way to develop people skills than volunteering in your community! Plus, you can start to develop a good reputation which might land you more opportunities down the road!

Kill your parents. If you’re lucky, you can get adopted by Yale alums! Being a convicted murderer will lower your chances, but not as much as being a legacy will raise them!

—D. Kulmizev

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HOW TO BE LIKE BIG BRO

other people too. The song “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” isn’t so crazy when you’ve seen Mommy hug Santa in his shed at the mall and then watched them share cookSay curse words. Big Bro says lots of curse words, like ies and milk afterwards. One time I thought I saw Mommy d*mn and h*ll and even sh*t. Sometimes big bro sings along to rap music and says the N-word. But he hug a coworker but she told me they were just holding each other to keep warm like penguins. never says it in real life because he is an Ally.

But this last time was too much. Mommy and Daddy Punch a wall. One time when Mom took away his phone hugged so hard that now I have a little brother Cory. If for watching Ponargafy, Big Bro got so mad that he you don’t believe me, Daddy told me himself! He said that punched a wall, but not too hard because he didn’t when a Mommy and Daddy love each other very much, want to hurt his hand. they hug each other so hard that Mommy and Daddy’s Be mean to Jesus. Big Bro does not like Jesus. When we get home from church, Big Bro says “Fr*ck religion! I cells connect and make a little brother. I don’t like Cory don’t believe in that cr*p,” but only if Mom and Dad much. He eats applesauce and can crawl into tight spaces which is cool, but he also screams and cries and kicks and are gone. gets a lot of attention. My teacher Ms. Danish says she Get a nickname. Last month, Big Bro started carrying noticed I haven’t looked too happy lately. I told her that I around a pocket knife and asking people to call him was sad because my Mommy and Daddy hugged too hard.

Switchblade. But nobody did except me and Uncle My teacher asked me what I meant by hugged so hard and Keith so he stopped asking. Now whenever I call him Switchblade he tells me to “shut up, Sh*tbrain,” I said they made a little brother and then she seemed to understand. Ms. Danish asked me a lot of questions like which is my nickname!

Own a Sex Condom. Big Bro showed me that he owns a if my high school had any sort of sex-ed and how I got to college still thinking hugging hard makes babies. I didn’t Sex Condom, which is used to do Sex. He says that he’s done Sex to probably a hundred girls. I’ve never know what she meant. Ms. Danish and I hugged goodbye seen him with one, but he says they are Hot and also on the last day of class. I didn’t think we hugged too hard, but now she’s having a baby and I’m a little worried. I can’t twenty-three. deal with another little brother.

Be mean to your Little Bro. Big Bro is always saying —A. Thomas things to me like “eat a d*ck,” or “you’re adopted,” or “I didn’t pee myself, I just spilled water there, your the one who’s scared of Jaws, just shut up watch the g*ddang movie.” But this is just to prove that he is Top Dog. I know he really loves me, even if he doesn’t show it. I love you too, Big Bro! —J. Wickline

IT HAPPENED TO ME: I WENT INTO MOM & DAD’S ROOM AND THEY WERE HUGGING WAY TOO HARD I’ve seen Mommy hug Daddy before. There was that one time in their room after Thanksgiving dinner, there was another time on New Year’s Eve when they hugged so hard they rolled down the stairs, and the other time when they hugged in our front yard and our neighbors had to hose them down. I still remember Mrs. Jenkins saying, “What is wrong with you freaks?” and then, “Why is your kid watching from behind that tree?” I’ve seen Mommy hug

—H. Rubin

C OT MC P O SA I T II O N he

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THE RECORD’S DECLASSIFIED SCHOOL SURVIVAL GUIDE Hey kids. You might be wondering exactly how a bunch of knuckleheads like us got into Yale. How we made it through those chaotic years of puberty and cyberbullying and ended up here, at a prestigious Ivy League institution. How you, too, might get a chance to experience the distinct pleasure of receiving your bachelor’s degree after four years of watching your friends projectile vomit on High Street in between frats. Fear not—we have compiled a guide explaining how you, a simple middle school student, can “win” at school.

1

. Be One of the Cool Kids: No college admissions office cares if you did open heart surgery, or astrobiology, or the National Spelling Bee, or other dork stuff like that. You know the kids that do that. You HATE the kids that do that. Let me be clear: you win at school by winning at life. And you win at life by being cool. If you haven’t already made friends with at least three kids named Chad, you’re falling behind. But it’s not too late! Just get mom to buy you some Monster energy drinks and start selling them out of your locker.

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. Bully Your Teachers: You gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette, and school is no exception. If you think a teacher is lame, bully them until they cry. There are two ways to get a glowing letter of recommendation from a teacher: be smart and nice, or assert your dominance until they fear you.

3

. Get Good at a Sport: Especially if that sport is in what we like to call the “country club trifecta”—sailing, polo, and lacrosse. Once you and your three Chads master them, you’re pretty much guaranteed to finesse your way into Bulldog Blue and White. And if lacrosse isn’t your cup of tea, rumor has it the Yale women’s soccer team is recruiting—no experience necessary!

— R. Moreno Design by A. Brown

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HOW TO GET INTO THE GREEN READING GROUP Let’s face it, kid. You’re a nobody. The yellow reading group is the worst one, and everyone knows it. You’re on the road to complete incompetence and lifelong unemployment. You may as well drop out. But wait! All hope is not lost. Fortunately, you’re young enough to get out of this shit hole before it’s too late. In fact, it’s pretty simple to get on the path to the green reading group, which happens to be the same path that leads to money, fame, and smokin’ hot babes. Just grab your bootstraps, follow these steps, and watch your stock rise.

1. You’re gonna have to sit at the front of the carpet during storytime. I know—it seems like a loser move. Look at Camden L. He’s the biggest dweeb in the whole first grade, and he’s always sitting right up Ms. Larkin’s leg!

But you have to think about your future. If you want to move up in the reading group hierarchy, you gotta get your teacher to notice you. In twenty-five years, Camden L. will be rolling in dough and driving a Bentley to his beach house. You wanna be like Camden L.? Then act like Camden L. Just don’t raise your hand all the time… you may as well get those glasses with a safety strap at that point.

2. When the Scholastic Book Fair rolls around, it’s time to bust out the big guns and buy a chapter book. It sounds scary, but you don’t even have to be able to read it. As long as you whip it out during silent reading time, it’ll get people talking—especially if you can slide in the occasional whisper of, “Ha ha, I know what that means!” while you’re reading.

3. When Mommy’s not looking, reach into her purse and take out her debit card. Tell her you’re doing a class survey and you need her four-digit ATM pin. Then scurry off to your nearest ATM and withdraw a couple thousand dollars. Carefully put that debit card back where you found it, and she’ll have no idea where those grubby fingerprints came from! Now, slide that cold hard cash on your teacher’s desk and tell her, “it’s yours if you give me what I want.” She’ll definitely know what you mean. What would a six-year-old child want besides the chance at the socioeconomic mobility that comes with reading four-syllable words?

And with that, you’ve made it. Now you’re a somebody, kid. Don’t let it get to your head. And if you had trouble reading up to this point, just remember: you can always marry rich.

—K. Walsh

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MILEY CYRUS INTERVIEW Yale Record: So Miley, a lot of your younger fans are just starting that stage of life where it feels like everything is changing. What words of wisdom do you have for them?

Miley Cyrus: I just want you all to know it does get better. I know how hard it can be when your body starts to change and feel like it’s not your own. I honestly had a really hard time during puberty, and so I totally get the awkward, uncomfy stage of life you’re in.

YR: Thanks Miley! I’m sure it’s really reassuring for your fans to— MC: Yeah, I mean, I had a pretty prototypical puberty experience. I got my period when I was seven because my publicist was secretly putting estrogen in my Flintstones vitamins. And since my uterus wasn’t ready to start menstruating, I got these really intense cramps. Then one month, I just like laid a full chicken egg! It was crazy. The doctors had never seen a seven year old human lay an egg.

My parents were so freaked out they started doing meth, and while my dad was hallucinating he made an omelette with my egg! When you’re that age, it totally feels like your parents are out to get you.

YR: Wait, did you sa— MC: And then because of all the estrogen I was taking, I sprouted an extra breast on my upper back. After I finally got it surgically removed, I developed this terrible chemical imbalance that caused me to shoot lasers from my eyes every time I got angry. You guys know how tweens can be, always mad at someone!

YR: Lasers?? Miley I don’t thi— MC: Anyway, after I’d killed seven people, they finally took me to a specialist who found out that my publicist had mixed up some of my estrogen with snake venom! Oh my gosh... just one of those wacky coincidences, I guess!

What I’m trying to say is that, as hard as puberty can feel in the moment, it always gets better.

YR: And that’s all the time we have, thanks Miley! Now stay tuned for a brand new episode of Shake it Up! —M. Sanghvi

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YOUR CHANGING BODY Boys, listen up. You’re in the fifth grade now. You’re men. Over the next few years, your body is gonna go through some changes. These changes might be scary, but don’t worry! It’s all part of a natural process called puberty. This is perfectly normal! One thing you may notice right off the bat is increased hair growth. You might notice the development of hair around your crotch. I know, I said crotch—get used to it. Some of you will also develop a thick layer of matted, wiry fur on your tongue and your teeth. This is perfectly normal. Shaving your gums in the morning is just part of being an adult.

A lot of you will have growth spurts over the next few years. But don’t worry if you don’t—everybody develops at their own pace. You could just be a late bloomer! Or you could be in a Benjamin Button-type situation where you age in reverse, absorbing your hair follicles and genitals back into your body as you devolve back into infancy.

You might return to an embryonic state until your sperm and ovum separate in a brutal renunciation of your existence. That’s normal! It’s just natural biology running its course.

You also may begin to feel attraction to your classmates—girls, boys, or both. This is normal and healthy! You also might find yourself drawn to Sid, the sloth from Ice Age franchise. When you see him on screen, you might feel a tingling sensation and your palms might sweat. Is it his wide set eyes? His powerful hindquarters? Or is it the dulcet tones of voice actor John Leguizamo? It doesn’t matter. The point is, lusting after a cartoon sloth is natural, and it might never go away. Heck, you might become a forty-year-old sexual health educator who still edits every new Ice Age film down to just the scenes where Sid is in motion, his supple frame jiggling faintly with each step.

Again, this is a healthy and normal part of your development. So is everything else that will happen to your bodies in the coming years.

Except acne, freak. That’s only happening to you.

—J. Wickline

WHY IT’S TAKING DAD SO LONG TO BUY CIGARETTES Dear Abby, Two years ago, my dad told me that he was going to buy cigarettes and that he’d be back soon. It’s been kind of a while, and I feel like most other people can buy cigarettes from Safeway in like 15 minutes. I know he’s probably just being held up, but I was wondering when I should expect to see him again.

Sincerely, Confused Son Dear Confused Son, Wow, two years is a long time to be buying cigarettes! But don’t worry. Your dad’s long absence definitely doesn’t mean that he has left your family and will never return. It just means he’s super busy! He’s probably just caught in traffic, and definitely not overwhelmed by the responsibility of raising a child compounded by his dwindling interest in your mother. This time of year roads can be super backed up, and he’s probably bumper to bumper on his way to the store! Or maybe he couldn’t find his favorite brand of cigarettes at Safeway. Marlboro Blues are pretty hard to come by, and so he’s probably just looking for them, maybe even in the next state over! And he’s definitely not starting a new family while he’s there. Maybe he just remembered that you also needed milk and made a stop at the grocery store. All in all, I think you should probably be expecting your dad to come home soon, though it wouldn’t hurt to develop a dependent, completely imaginary, and deeply personal relationship with a TV dad like Danny Tanner from Full House just to fill the void and have someone teach you life lessons while he’s gone!

Sincerely, Abby <3 —D. Kulmizev

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BEST QUESTIONS TO ASK DAD IN THE CAR SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO MAKE EYE CONTACT How do you find a trustworthy coke dealer?

Do you and mom still have sex?

Was I an accident?

Why is my blood type A positive but you and mom are both O negative?

Why does everyone at school say I look exactly like Coach Ricky?

What age can I start calling you Jeff?

Were you a virgin when you got married?

Where is my foreskin?

Why did we lose our house in 2008?

When will I become content with my own mortality?

Will I ever get to shoot a gun at some tin cans like in the movies?

Did you vote for Ross Perot in 1992?

Do you ever think about taking part in a social revolution and toppling the bourgeoisie, or are you just another complicit member of the proletariat?

Why did you choose to bring me into a world where there are not only innumerable, seemingly unfixable socioeconomic disparities, but also a number of incredibly overpopulated orphanages full of children who have already been born and are in need of loving and supportive parents to help them through the pain of childhood?

Is cereal soup?

—Staff

be okay with that.

When you’re 10, you get to mind your damned business and leave Pops alone.

When you’re 11, you get dirty looks for eating off the kids menu.

When you’re 12, you get dirty looks for breastfeeding.

When you’re 13, you really have to start wearing big boy pants every day, even on weekends. Enough is enough, Alec.

When you’re 14, you get to go on “Scared Straight” for being a total legend.

When you’re 15, you get to learn from Pops how to drive like a man.

When you’re 16, you get to go to court for vehicular manslaughter.

When you’re 17, you get to commit voter fraud.

When you’re 18, you get your full boating license.

When you’re 19, you don’t have to wear big boy pants anymore.

When you’re 20, you get to be made fun of for still only having teeth named for what you were as a baby.

When you’re 21, you get to go to Hooters with Pops.

You love the bacon-wrapped wings, but you hate seeing him in the waitress outfit.

—A. Zbornak

WHEN YOU’RE A KID When you’re a baby, you get teeth named after what you are.

When you’re 1, you get real lucky.

When you’re 2, you get to make your own luck.

When you’re 3, you get to watch your parents read The Happiest Toddler on the Block: How to Eliminate Tantrums and Raise a Patient, Respectful, and Cooperative Child When you’re 4, you get to start wearing big boy pants.

When you’re 5, you get to eat paste.

When you’re 6, you get to have your first haircut.

When you’re 7, you get to read Captain Underpants.

When you’re 8, the world is yours.

When you’re 9, you simply get nothing and you have to

—A. Mitchell