The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue by The Yale Record

Vol. 150, No. 8

THE YALE

May 7, 2022

RECORD The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

140 Howe Street www.eatpataka.com

“The Nation’s Oldest Humor Magazine” or

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

chair@yalerecord.com

YALE WOMEN’S TABLE UNVEILS SECOND WOMAN Dear Rainbow Fish, I was very impressed by your decision to give away all your scales to the destitute. However, I’m concerned that your generosity blatantly disregards the principles of the free market. If you want to help your fellow fish accumulate scales, simply create an endowment by investing your scales in the stock market. Then, give a portion of the annual profits to the other fish. I hope this helps and wish you luck in all your future endeavors. Cordially, Phillip Andover, Phillips Andover Class of 2018

STAY IN YOUR LANE: NINJA WON’T STOP SAYING “AHOY”

Dear Phillip Andover, Glub, glub, glub. Glub. Glub, Rainbow Fish

CLIMATE SCIENTISTS WARN NOT MUCH TIME LEFT TO SWITCH TO PREMIUM FORMULATION FOR MAXIMUM ENGINE EFFICIENCY Dear Old Editorial Board, I’m so happy we get to spend one more issue together before you all get euthanized. I just want you to know that even though you will soon be gone, we will remember you fondly. Sincerely, The Record Staff

STUDY SHOWS MOST COMMON SYMPTOM OF A MIGRAINE IS THE NEED FOR A LONG-TERM EXCUSE Dear Sam Leone/Sam Leone, Wait is the Sam Leone, Chair 2021-2022, the same Sam Leone as Sam Leone, Online Editor-InChief 2022-2023? I’ve never seen both Sam Leones in the same room. Coincidence? I think not. Conspiracy? I think so. Conspiratorially, Sam Leone, Editor-In-Chief 2023-2024

BACK IN STYLE: GEN ALPHA CHILDREN OVERWHELMINGLY NAMED MILDRED, EBINEEZER, AND CHARTREUSE

The Yale Record

YALE RECORD The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue May 7, 2022

TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE: MY ROOMMATES ALEXA HELPS TARGET MY AMAZON ADS AS WELL! Dear Zookeepers, Please free me from this prison, this hellscape. This is not a place for any living things to be kept. Sincerely, John

“IT AIN’T MUCH, BUT IT’S HONEST WORK,” SAYS STUDENT SUBMITTING PLAGIARIZED PAPER

AGING EDITORIAL BOARD ACCIDENTALLY INCLUDES SAME HEADLINE TWICE Dear Duke, My cheddar you shall have I think you’ll find it good But maybe you have erred I am not Sigfried the Rhyming Cheesemonger Sincerely, Boris The Normal Cheesemonger

AGING EDITORIAL BOARD ACCIDENTALLY INCLUDES SAME HEADLINE TWICE Dear Crows,

Dear John, Are you the guy who keeps trying to sneak into the dolphin exhibit and touch their blowholes? Please stop trying to touch the blowholes. Please.

Please stop following me around. Please stop pecking my ears and my eyes. Please stop tugging at my sleeves with your jet black talons. I don’t have bread. I never had bread. This needs to end. Sorrowfully, Carlos

Sincerely, Cincinnati Zoo

PETE BUTTIGIEG PLEDGES TO LEARN STICK BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS NEXT FALL

HELP! THE BONE MARROW DRIVE TOOK ALL MY BONE MARROW Dear Carlos,

Dear Sigfried the Rhyming Cheesemonger,

Give us bread.

Prepare me a wheel of your finest cheddar, or I shall chop off your head! Do not tempt me, cheesemonger. Sternly, The Duke

Bread, Crows

BIATHLETE SWINGS BOTH WAYS

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

PRECOCIOUS PREFROSH ALREADY TOSSING AROUND WORDS LIKE “EXCITED” AND “OPPORTUNITIES” Dear Journal,

WASTE-CONSCIOUS STUDENT PACKS UP EXTRA DINNER TO THROW AWAY AT HOME Dear Yale Record,

Cases, cases, cases. Every day, I solve one just for another to crop up in its place. “This town don’t change.” That’s what my pappy always said to me before he bit the dust back in ‘99. I thought detectives could make life better for people. But all we do is hold back the flood. And we’re just treading water. Note to self: maybe don’t use two separate water metaphors back to back like that. It sounded weird. Tired, Dave the Dashing Detective

DISNEY OPENS NEW BRANCH: WALT’S FUNERAL HOME- “IF YOU CAN DREAM IT, YOU CAN EMBALM IT”

Hello Yale Record! Today I wanted to share a quote I just created with you guys. I think you’d really enjoy it. The quote is “You can’t make scrambled eggs without breaking eggs.” That was the quote. I hope you all thought it was interesting. If you ever decide to use this quote, please make sure to credit me, as I did come up with it. Sincerely, Joe Biscuit

COMMONS GREEK REVIVAL DINNER TO INCLUDE OLIVES, WINE, INVADING PERSIA

FOR SALE: All this treasure, all me fleet. I’d trade it all for just one true friend.

Dear Dave, Please, for the love of God, stop. You’re not a real detective, these aren’t “cases,” and your dad is still alive, he just hates you. You want to solve a mystery so bad? How about “the case of the missing job?” You’re 33 years old, Dave. Jesus Christ. Yours, Journal Obituary Correction

In a previous issue, we erroneously reported that John Wayne died of stomach cancer at UCLA Medical Center. He actually died in a standoff outside a saloon out west after being hit by a tumbleweed and a bullet. —A. Hempel

yale’s oldest stand-up comedy outlet

interested in STAND-UP COMEDY? participate in THE CUCUMBER!

performers wanted! no experience necessary. seriously, no experience necessary. you don’t even need to know how to read! (although if you don’t, you won’t be reading this.) email cucumber@yalerecord.com

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

WHY WASN’T THE MAFIA INCLUDED IN THIS ISSUE? Dear YouTube,

Dear Proctor and Gamble: Dumbly, I shamble about, a thing that could never have been known as human, a thing whose shape is so alien a travesty that humanity becomes more obscene for the vague resemblance.

Epic War Fails COMPILATION (Fails In War) (8+) Thanks, A Viewer

\ TRI-ATHLETE SWINGS ALL THREE WAYS

Did You Know?

Pirates drive boats. Cowboys drive horses. Ninjas drive Ford Focuses.

End this, Mr. Clean

OPINION: I THINK MY HORSE IS IN LOVE WITH ME, BUT I WANT TO KEEP THINGS PLATONIC

Dear Viewer, Hey I usually don’t comment on this sort of thing but that’s kind of a fucked up way to entertain yourself. There’s nice stuff on YouTube too, you know. Concerned, Nathan from the NSA

The

Dear Mr. Clean, There’s no clean like Mr. Clean. Best, Proctor and Gamble

WANTED

latest whereabouts of warlord Oda Nobunaga. I am just a simple mountain ascetic. No, I’m not a hired assassin in disguise. That’s crazy talk. You sound crazy. Come on.

—E. Cai

The Yale Record

pirate, a ninja, and a cowboy walk into a bar. Or actually, it’s a saloon. Maybe it’s on a ship. But so the pirate says, “Arrrr, it’ll be rum for me,” and he’s got a peg leg. The cowboy says, “Howdy, pardner.” He says, “I’d like me a whiskey, pardner.” The ninja doesn’t say anything, because he’s a ninja. He’s all quiet. And then they, well, they drink their, um. They drink their drinks. Maybe the ninja has a water? Huh. I’ll be honest. I don’t think I can land this plane. This is my eighth and final editorial, and I still don’t really know how to tell a joke. I can write something that resembles a joke, and sometimes it’s close enough that people don’t notice. But when you really get down to it, I might just be a fraud. What do ninjas drink? What does the bartender do? Is there a funny animal character in the mix who puts everything in perspective? It’s beyond me. Once this issue goes to print, I’m finished. They’re turning me into glue. That’s okay, I guess. All that lives must die, and nothing gold can stay. Still, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more I could’ve done. I could’ve dangled less prepositions, or confused “fewer and less” fewer. I could’ve made my editorials opinionated, done biting satire about our disappearing coral reefs or the need for universal healthcare. I could’ve printed the White Text On A White Background Issue, which is a dumb bit to commit to but would’ve saved time and money. Instead I mostly talked about gibbons and apes and macaques, even in issues that weren’t about gibbons and apes and macaques. Even now, I don’t know that I’m making the right call. This is getting self-indulgent, which might just be a waste of everybody’s time. Maybe I should start over. Maybe I should stick to pirates and ninjas, and also to cowboys. Okay. e live in modern times. Today you can travel the American West without being accosted by a band of rough-and-tumble good-for-nothin’s on horseback looking to make a quick buck. You can sail the Caribbean without your dinghy falling prey to a schooner with a black flag. You can enjoy a nice soup without fear that it contains the deadly poison of an enemy daimyo’s elegant killer-for-hire. It wasn’t always this way, though. Fewer

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue than two hundred years ago, three warrior castes were locked in a blood feud that spanned the high seas, the coast of the American West, and the fertile lowlands of Japan. These battles are lost to history, but live on in the schoolyard games of children and fun-loving adults. When I was a small boy, I played pirate sometimes. There was a joke I liked a lot that went: “What’s a pirate’s favorite kind of movie? (Arrr rated). What’s a pirate’s favorite restaurant? (Arrrrrby’s).” It would keep going like that until I asked, “What’s a pirate’s favorite letter,” and the listener would say, “Arrr,” and I’d say, “No—it’s the C (sea)!” I don’t know what more you can ask of a joke. It does the job it needs to do, quietly and without any fuss. They’re turning me into glue, and maybe that feels good. I really made this magazine my thing this year, for better or worse. Now my buddy Clio is taking over, which is cool but also sad for me because I am not my buddy Clio. Now I’ve gotta figure out a new type of guy to be now, because I can’t just be the Record guy anymore. I’m worried I’ll go back to being the type of guy I used to be, which is Tall. This editorial is about pirates and cowboys, but it’s also about ninjas. Okay. alk with me, now, to the port of San Jose in 1824. There’s a man on horseback, galloping along a dock with no sign of slowing. His eyes are blurred from whiskey, and his hand rests on a six-shooter. Waiting aboard a rickety ship is a man with a neat beard framed by greasy locks. His left arm narrows to a stub, punctuated by a wicked hook. Without warning, both men fall, and something gleaming protrudes from their necks. You’ll never see the third man—he’s already gone, riding the shadows to his next kill. This sort of thing happened pretty much every day from around 1809 all the way to the Civil War, and it got to be a real hassle for

Sam Leone ’23 Chair Jonas Kilga ’23 Online Managing Editor

Zosia Caes ’22 Old Owl Raja Moreno ’24 Old Owl

everyday people. They couldn’t go about their business without stumbling into yet another pirate fighting yet another ninja fighting yet another cowboy. If you ran a merchant vessel, cowboys would constantly commandeer it and ninjas would constantly stow away in the cargo, taking the battle to the sea. If you worked in a saloon, your walls would be filled with bullet holes, shuriken slots, and the occasional entire boat. If you ran a humor magazine, you might wake up one day to find a pirate, a ninja, a cowboy in your office telling you you didn’t run a humor magazine anymore. The ninja wouldn’t say anything though, because he’s a ninja. Yeah. That’s right. pirate, a cowboy, and a ninja walk into a bar at the stroke of midnight. The pirate orders a rum, the cowboy orders a whiskey, and the ninja orders a water. The bartender asks, “What brings you all here at this hour?” The cowboy says, “My horse was eaten by a larger horse right on the edge of town, friend. I’m waitin’ on a letter from my lady love, with a chunk o’ cash for a new horse.” The ninja nods, and uncharacteristically says, “I was attacked by a materialistic macaque who stole my Ford Focus and left me penniless. I’m waiting for a letter from my daimyo with money so I can rent a car, even though I am only twenty-two.” The bartender turns to the pirate, and asks, “So, what are you doing here so late at night? Waiting on a letter as well?” The pirate puts down his rum, flashes his golden teeth, and says, “Aye. But the only letter I’m waiting on is the C (sea).” That’s all I got. That’s all I’ll ever have. I hear the Glue Man’s bell a’ringing, so it’s time I hit the road. Enjoy the issue, folks. It’s a good one.

—J. Wickline Editor in Chief

Joe Wickline ’23 Editor in Chief

Diana Kulmizev ’23 Online Editor in Chief

Ayla Jeddy ’23 Publisher

Avery Brown ’23 Online Managing Editor

Clio Rose ’23 Managing Editor

Joe Gustaferro ’24 Managing Editor

Joanna Wypasek ’24 Managing Editor

Adriana Golden ’24 Copy Editor

Annie Lin ’25 Art Director

Erik Boesen ’24 Webmaster

Addison Beer ’23 Staff Director

Aarjav Joshi ’24 Business Manager

Jacob Eldred ’24 Merch Manager

Rosa Chang ’23 Old Owl Bea Portela ’24 Old Owl

Will Cramer ’22 Old Owl Ellen Qian ’23 Old Owl

Ethan Fogarty ’22 Luna Garcia ’23 Zuri Goodman ’22 Old Owl Old Owl Old Owl Harry Rubin ’22 Marcy Sanchez ’22 Maya Sanghvi ’23 Old Owl Old Owl Old Owl

Arnav Tawakley ’24 Copy Editor

David Hou ’22 Old Owl Alex Taranto ’23 Old Owl

Avery Mitchell ’23 Old Owl Kaylee Walsh ’22 Old Owl

Staff: Jocelyn Wexler ’22 Evan Cheng ’24 Raffael Davila ’23 Lily Dorstewitz ’24 Leo Egger ’23 Finn Gibson ’24 Jacob Kaufman-Shalett ’23 Benjamin Hollander-Bodie ’24 Lucy Santiago ’23 Malia Kuo ’24 Claire Sattler ’23 Alice Mao ’24 Katia Vanlandingham ’23 Simi Olurin ’24 Alexia Buchholz ’24 Dom Alberts ’25

Joel Banks ’25 Ari Berke ’25 Tara Bhat ’25 Edward Bohannon ’25 Lillian Broeksmit ’25 Adam Burch ’25 Emily Cai ’25 Evan Calderon ’25 Lizzie Conklin ’25

Andrew Cramer ’25 Madelyn Dawson ’25 Jackson Downey ’25 Larry Dunn ’25 Mari Elliott ’25 Grace Ellis ’25 Annette Forchoh ’25 Odessa Goldberg ’25 Evan Gorelick ’25

Audrey Hempel ’25 Rena Howard ’25 Ishikaa Kothari ’25 Betty Kubovy-Weiss ’25 Emma Madsen ’25 Jacob Mansfield ’25 Alejandro Mayagoitia ’25 Maya Melnik ’25 Tyler Norsworthy ’25

Megan Sadler ’25 Tyler Schroeder ’25 Sophie Spaner ’25 Josephine Stark ’25 Lawrence Tang ’25 Cormac Thorpe ’25 Emmitt Thulin ’25 Natasha Weiss ’25

Contributors: Breanna Nguyen ’25, Nader Granmayeh ’23 Special thanks to: Staff, Eboard, and of course our Dear Readers. It’s been a great year. Front Cover: Emily Cai ’25 (@loremily_ipsum), who made the cover in like a day and a half, which is pretty cool. Back Cover: Annie Lin ‘25 (@anniemeter), who committed to the “vs.” part of the issue theme, which is pretty cool. Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CL, No. 8, Published in New Haven, CT by The Yale Record, Inc. Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520 • yalerecord.org • Subscriptions: $50/year All contents copyright 2022 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.

USED HORSE SALESMAN Hey you. Yeah, you. You see this here horse? She’s a real beaut, yes she is. Her name’s Friday. Sure, she’s been through the ringer a bit, but she’s built as strong as they come. She runs up to 50 mph, weighs 150 lbs, and she’s got about 10 horsepower, give or take. She’s all yours for a hundred greenbacks. Oh, you don’t know if you’re gonna buy anything today? You have to talk to the missus before buyin’ a horse? I get it. Listen, I’m happily married comin’ up on thirty years now, and if there’s one piece of advice I got it’s “better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Know what I mean? The forgiveness is easier’n the permission, plus you get to keep the thing. Now hold on a minute, you don’t think that’s a healthy relationship? That’s some nerve you got there, son. Me and Darlene have been married since before you poked your way out of your mother’s belly, so I think I know a thing or two more than you. What do you mean “time doesn’t impress me so much because people can deceive themselves into staying in a bad relationship just because it’s convenient and comfortable”? Why, Darlene’n I love each other. Sure the spark has dimmed a touch, but that’s just how these things go. Of course I miss the olden days, when the love came easy and strong. But listen here and listen here good, Mr. City Slicker: after a while, you realize that a comfortable, predictable relationship is just about as good as it gets in this here world. Forget bein’ scared of dyin’ alone, you gotta be scared of living alone. You gotta find someone who’ll be there

through thick and thin, someone, anyone, who you know you can always come back to. That’s what I have in Darlene. And that’s what you’ll get outta Friday over here, she won’t abandon you for nothing, no she won’t. She’s a bit busted up, but she’ll love you all the more so because of it. You’re still not sure? Why don’ I go and kick that price down to 85 big ones. Consider it a gift from me to you. Besides, I don’ wanna see you dead on the side of the road, boots still on, ‘cause yer horse left you for a younger man mid-journey. I mean imagine just lyin’ there, boots on of course, dead, just on the side of the road. Why are the boots on, you ask? Well son, do you know why a cowboy dies with his boots still on? Because he doesn’t wanna stub his toe when he kicks the bucket! Alright, jokes aside, give me the 85 and take ol’ Friday here, I gotta be back for supper soon. Darlene’s making Memphis dry rub BBQ… then she’s gonna give me the ol’ Memphis dry rub please-and-thank-you, if you know what I mean… Ahhh, yer a good kid. Friday’s in good hands with you, I can tell. Oh, before ya go, have I told you that this horse can help you time travel? Yea with this horse, you’ll be able to ride into town on a Sunday, stay three days, but leave on Friday. Don’t you wanna know how? Don’t you wanna know how you can do this here time travel? Well, I can’t just tell you, you gotta get it yerself… okay, okay, I’ll spill the beans. The horse’s NAME is Friday, ya silly goose! We like to have fun here, oh yes we do. —A. Berke

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

DOES THIS PARROT MAKE ME LOOK FAT? By T. Bhat PIRATE: (to SALES ASSOCIATE) Arr, do you think this parrot makes me look fat? SALES ASSOCIATE: Um… fat is a really subjecti— PARROT: Fat, fat? Twinkling tail feathers! What did you just say? PIRATE: Arr, not you, Patty. I’m wondering if you make me look fat, not if you are fat. PARROT: Fatty, fatty? The vet said my cholesterol is fine! PIRATE: Patty, not fatty! Stay on topic. (Back to SALES ASSOCIATE). Do you think I look rounder with her on my shoulder? I feel like she doesn’t accentuate my cheekbones. SALES ASSOCIATE: Well, fatness is more of a social constr— PARROT: (obstinately) Patty is a healthy, healthy-sized parrot.

EUROPEAN NINJA EQUIVALENTS Belgium — At great risk to their personal safety and family honor, working alone and moving at night, known only in whispers and remembered only in myth, is a great leaderless mass of chocolatiers without proper licensing. France — Smooth teens in linen jackets lounging in riverside cafés, snickering at unpolished tourist accents and chopping up their naive political illusions like so many legs off a little frog. Netherlands — The Dutch know nothing about stealth. Less than nothing. England — There have been rumors of a specialized detachment of British shock troopers at the personal disposal of the reigning monarch for centuries. These grizzled warriors warned us not to include a picture, but just look for the majestic fur hats and unmistakable fruitpunch red jackets. They don’t move around much. Italy — The Italian equivalent of ninjas is not the mafia. Real Italians actually like the mafia, because it protects them from dangerous criminals and the corrupt government. The Italian equivalent of ninjas is Koopa Troopas. Spain — I don’t think we can do stereotypes about Spain. Right? Like, they’re Latino or Hispanic or something. —A. Burch

PIRATE: My god, Patty. You’re missing the point! Do I or do I not look larger than usual with you on my shoulder? Maybe the problem is your color. They say white makes you look bigger. PARROT: Bigger? Listen up, Hookfoot! The problem is not me, not me. PIRATE: Hookfoot? How could you say that? You know that’s a sensitive subject. PARROT: Fine. I’m sorry, sorry. Sorry that you look fat! But you know what I really see when I look at you? PIRATE: Arr, what do you see? PARROT: I see a man who hates his body, and it breaks my heart for you. I wish you could see yourself the way God sees you. PIRATE: Wow, really Patty? I feel so much more confident now. I love you. PARROT: Love you, love you. (To SALES ASSOCIATE). Does this pirate make me look fat? SALES ASSOCIATE: Very much so.

—D. Alberts

The Yale Record

PIRATE SLANG GUIDE Aye aye, Captain — Greetings, Captain of this fine vessel. Shiver me timbers — My timbers are shivering. Me lads be a crew o’ picaroons — My friends are a bunch of picaroons! Yarr be a bilge rat in me bunghole — My wife (back on land— the sea be not for a woman) is driving me crazy. Avast, wee English laddie with a piece of me treasure dancin’ the hempin jig – be he goated with the hardtack? — Quirked up white boy with a little bit of swag busts it down sexual style – is he goated with the sauce? Who lives in a pineapple under the sea — SpongeBob SquarePants!

*five grunts* — Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck. Some nights, I call it a draw. Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle. Some nights, I wish they’d just fall off. But I still wake up, I still see your ghost. Oh Lord, I’m still not sure what I stand for, oh-oh. *grunt (unintentional)* — Someone just hit me with a throwing star. I have mommy issues — *grunt* —A. Hempel COWBOY SLANG GUIDE Yee-haw — An exclamatory expression of joy. Yee-hoo — Yee-haw, as pronounced by an owl.

Absorbant and yellow and porous is he — My first mate is jaundiced.

Haw-yee — Yee-haw, as pronounced by an imbecile.

These islands be rich with wenches — At sea, every hole is a port, and every port a hole.

Y’all — You all, but gender neutral.

Thar she blows! — My (landlubber) wife found out about the wenches. She used my loot to hire a barrister and now she’s filing for divorce. I care not, for the sea is my mistress and this vessel my love.

Yi Ha — Someone, probably. Giddy up — Go, continue, proceed. Often spoken to a horse. Occasionally spoken to your mom. Ranch — Dressing. Bullseye — That horse from Toy Story. Howdy — The body is under the gazebo.

Davy Jones — David Jones

NFT — Non-fungible token.

Yo ho ho — My wife’s barrister was quite sly. He won the case and has claimed my ship, my crew, and worst of all, my lifetime’s work of plunder.

Hoe Down — She may have alcohol poisoning.

Arrggh! Me doubloons! — Not my doubloons! —H. Rubin and Z. Goodman

Go west, young man — Go west, young man. Backwards cowgirl — Girlcow. Nay — No. Neigh — Nough. Neighhhhh — Yeehaw!

NINJA SLANG GUIDE *grunt* — Hello.

—J. Stark

*two grunts* — Hello (excited). *three grunts* — Fuck you (usually accompanied by flipping the bird). *four grunts* — I love you (usually accompanied by a slap to the ass). *low pitch grunt* — Hello (sexy). *groan* — Oh baby! *guffaw* — That was amusing.

—S. Leone

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

HOW TO TALK YOUR WAY DOWN OFF THE PLANK

I SWEAR I DIDN’T TEACH MY PARROT TO SAY THAT

Ethos, Pathos, Logos — Look, you’re in a vulnerable spot here, so why take a risk? You don’t need any fancy tricks; some simple appeals to credibility, emotion, and logic should get you safely back on the boat. Aristotle never had to walk the plank, so maybe if you tried being a little more like him, you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. Personal anecdote — The idea of walking the plank can be so abstract to those who haven’t experienced it. Using a personal anecdote can really help put things in perspective for your crewmates, so try and think of a time when you’ve had to walk the plank to help them relate. Audience connections — Looping hooks with another pirate establishes intimacy, meaning they have to see you as a person, not just shark bait. This also means if you’re going down, you’re taking one of those fuckers with you. But like, as a friend. The Rule of 3’s — This is a classic argumentative strategy; speak in triplets to really drive your point home. Examples could include: “I am hardworking, loyal, and buoyant,” “Planks are outdated, inefficient, and environmentally unfriendly”, and “I’m going to walk back onto the boat in three, two, one.” Emotional battery — Oh, two can play this game. Those guys were your friends, and now they’ve turned on you. If they want to be like that, then maybe everyone should know that Captain Swashbuckles only wears that stupid hat because he’s balding, Admiral Scallywag’s parrot has a lisp, and First Mate Puffypants took the name “poopdeck” a little too seriously after he overindulged on cassia wine in the West Indies. “I” statements — Communicating your feelings is super important. Make sure to use phrases like “I feel hurt when you sentence me to death by drowning” and “I get upset when you make me walk the plank right after we looped hooks.” Seduction — If a manatee looks like a mermaid after a few months on the high seas, then you look like a goddamn supermodel. Strut your stuff and make that gangplank a catwalk to gain favor with the crew. Who cares, free leg! — Sometimes what you think is a problem is actually an opportunity. You’ve been in the market for a new pegleg for a while now, and lumber isn’t cheap – especially on a boatswain’s salary. So don’t walk the plank – make the plank walk for you!

Look, Helen, I know Aunt Feathers has been squawking around a lot more lately, but she couldn’t have said what you’re implying. Do you know how many painstaking mornings I’ve spent teaching her some semblance of manners? Helen—she’s a pretty bird, and a polite one at that. She’s a Yankees fan; she’s even sporting a cap during most of the season, and she’s got a Bronx Bombers sticker right up next to her swingset. But she’s not a snob about it. You’ve gotta understand, I don’t even know how Aunt Feathers could know so much about Brian. Yes, I know he’s been enjoying his accounting job, I heard he got a raise recently. That company must be treating him nicely. Todson and Sons, is it? He said they’ve got some fancy cubicles and a good retirement fund and… Feathers! Quiet down, you know I’ve been trying to find a job. It’s not fair that I have to stay home, but I know I can find good work with those computer skills I have. Back to that comment she made. Aunt Feathers flutters about the house peeping into conversations she shouldn’t be a part of, and maybe she caught wind of the phone call you and I were having the other day. Or the dinner conversation. Todson and Sons does sound great; what does Brian’s day-to-day look like again? I heard he’s working 10-5 and has some time to recreate. That job sure did look great when I went up for it. I thought I had a good shot too, but I guess that ship sailed. No, of course not! Wiffle ball is one of my favorites, and those twenty-somethings are competitive marketing managers by day and legitimate athletes by night. We’ve been over this, Ms. Davidson. I know you come from a thoroughbred line of wiffle ball prowess. Why would we want to comment on that? Let’s think about this, now. She’s been up all night tending to her nest-making duties, and might’ve begun slurring her words as she drifted to sleep. Maybe it was those pills we gave her… I’m just telling you I swear I didn’t teach Aunt Feathers to say that. Honey! You’re back so soon from painting. How’d it… No, hush, babe, Brian didn’t steal my job all those years ago.

—D. Alberts

—C. Thorpe

The Yale Record

A NINJA’S GUIDE TO BEING UNSEEN Ah! So you wish to learn the Ninja’s Methods of Vanishing? Listen carefully, for I, a certified ninja, am about to tell you the top eight ninja tips for remaining unseen in any situation. Don’t go out — As Sun Tzu, who was probably a ninja, once said, the greatest victory is that which requires no battle. If you never leave your dojo (sweaty dorm room) you will certainly remain unseen. Unfortunately, sometimes victory requires you to make excursions into the outside world. Fear not! That is what the rest of this list is for. Wear what everyone else is wearing — Stealth is key for the ninja, so it pays not to stand out in a crowd. By ensuring you wear the most generic and unremarkable clothing possible, you recede into the background, ready to strike from the shadows at any moment. When in doubt, remember: Black is the new black. Never wear any T-shirts, jewelry, or even socks that could feasibly start a conversation. Speaking of which: Don’t initiate conversations — Ninjas are silent, and ideally, you should be too. At any social event, blend in by standing around and doing nothing, just like a ninja. Occasionally check your phone to make it clear that you’re not waiting for someone to come up and talk to you, and you will be as the darkness: invisible. Don’t introduce yourself — Found yourself in the middle of a group of people talking? Not to worry! You can often remain functionally unseen and near-certainly unremembered by simply never contributing at all. It’s like you were never even there. Exclusively consume the media of the masses — Ensure you’re up to speed on the Twitter issue of the week, the current fad TV show, and of course the most recent Marvel movie. That way, if you are caught in a conversation, you can easily blend in like a cultural chameleon. You don’t even need an opinion; just asking “Wasn’t the last episode of Squid Game crazy?” is perfectly fine. Never mention any of your actual interests. Not only would that blow your cover, it would be totally embarrassing! Act bored — As Sun Tzu, who I have now been informed was not a ninja, once said, the best way to bore others is to act bored yourself. If you act as though you do not care about the enemy, then the enemy will get all frustrated. This is great, because then the enemy will leave and you can go back to being a wallflower. A ninja wallflower!

Secret Method of the Ever-Imperceptible Warrior — Tell me, pupil, have you ever left your house and then realized you forgot something? Had an inside joke with your friends? Narrowly avoided an injury? If you said yes to any of these, congratulations—you are one of the chosen few capable of wielding the Secret Method of the EverImperceptible Warrior, also known as The Boring Story. The method is harsh, but simple. Regardless of the current topic of conversation, suddenly say, “that reminds me of the time I almost burned my hand,” then make sure to tell them all about it completely out of chronological order and with no buildup whatsoever to the climax. If done correctly, you can permanently lose the interest of anyone in a 10 foot radius. Just be yourself —B. Hollander-Bodie

I OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE JOLLY ROGER My name is Roger L. Greensbury, and I have a bone to pick. A skull too. I worked on the Scowling Seaman for 13 nautical years. In that time I rose through the ranks, first swabbing the poop deck, then raising the sails, and even ascending to the rank of Polly the Parrot’s personal keeper. But my final position was my favorite of all: Social Media Coordinator and Graphic Design Tsar for Blackbeard himself. It was the time of my life. I made OOTDs, DITLs, PSTFDs (Pirate Slang Translations for Dummies). I went live on Instagram and even got the big man to do the Savage dance on his TikTok (which was hard given the pirates vs. crocodiles-with-clocks-inside beef). We were committed to making a unique and distinctive brand. It had to be clean, intimidating, and above all, sexy. It needed to scream PIRATE! At long last, I found it: the skull and crossbones. I worked for years perfecting the design. How much detail to put in the skull? How proportionally large to make the bones? Fibulas or tibias? But we got there, oh, did we get there. I created the perfect flag for the perfect man. And what happened? Everyone stole my shit. 4 nautical years of work walked off the plank. On t-shirts, shitty flags. Don’t get me started on those fucking Buckaneers. And that secret society at Yale? You’re on thin fucking ice. —B. Kubovy-Weiss

A Pirate’s Guide To Flags Surrender

Peanut Allergy On Board

Titanic Memorial Site

Do Not Disturb

You Are In Nepal

Keep Eye Out For Missing Child

It’s Windy

Proud Pirate Dad Of Gay Pirate Son

It’s Not Windy

We Left Our Flags At Port

Only One Way To Find Out

Self-Explanatory —Staff Design by J. Banks

—Staff Design by L. Conklin

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

MY FRIEND, THE CHICKEN

COUNTERPOINT: Oh yeah, sorry. I got caught up in the heat of that there moment.

Yesterday, whilst crossing the street, I came across a chicken. This chicken was no ordinary chicken. This chicken was stronger than other chickens. I asked him, why are you crossing the road, Mr. Chicken. He looked at me, punched me in the dick, and continued his journey.

POINT: Well, if Sammy shoots me, I’ll shoot her. I will!

—N. Granmayeh POINT, COUNTERPOINT, COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT

COUNTERPOINT: Oh yeah, that there makes sense. COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: Fine, if nobody else is going to say it, I will. My name is Holin da’Head. POINT: This revolver might involve yer head if yer not careful. COUNTERPOINT: Did you prepare that there ahead of time? POINT: Yeah.

POINT: I’ve got a gun, and I’m going to blow this here madam’s head off unless you hand over everything you’ve got in that there register. Frankly, I’ve fallen on tough times since they laid me off at the general store. You know, the one in town. Sure, I saved enough for a rainy day, but if I’m ever going to invest in this finnicky railroad business, I need a lump sum of cash right now.

COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: I thought so.

COUNTERPOINT: You put that gun down, Spingle Moe, or I’ll fire this here .22 right through that there head of yours.

COUNTERPOINT: Whoa. Just a reminder: I’ll shoot you if—

COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: Like hell you will, Face for Hands Sammy. I have a rifle trained on the back of your noggin. POINT: Put your guns down or I’ll shoot. COUNTERPOINT: You shoot, I shoot.

POINT: And I thought I just might shoot this here wife of yours. And I still feel that way. COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: Whoa. If you do that, then I’ll shoot F4H Sammy. POINT: Honestly, that there’s fine by me. So long as I get my cash, I don’t care who lives or dies.

[Holin shoots Sammy, Sammy shoots Moe, and Moe shoots wife. Holin sheds a single tear.] COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: Darn. By Aaron Sorkin (They were walking the whole time.) —W. Cramer

COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: You shoot, he shoots, I shoot. POINT: You shoot, he shoots, I shoot, you shoot. COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s all slow down before I pull this here trigger. COUNTERPOINT: Spingle Moe, let that there madam go. COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: That there madam has a name, and it’s my wife. WIFE: I am married to Counter-Counterpoint. COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: And I’m about to shoot whoever puts a hand on her. COUNTERPOINT: Unless I shoot you first. I’ll do it, I will. COUNTER-COUNTERPOINT: I thought you were going to shoot Moe. — B. Nguyen

The Yale Record

HOW TO ENTER A SALOON Smoke — Smoking is cool. You look cool, and you feel cool. Without a cigarette, you risk being mistaken for a cuckold, and who wants that? Don’t Bring Your Own Broad — Partner, I’m only going to say this once, so listen closely—it’s taboo. The ladies are how we make our money. We have a sophisticated selection of loose women we keep upstairs. My personal recommendation is Miss Jessie, the town bicycle, who’s sure to please. Learn Texas Holdem — Mosey on over to the table with the biggest guys. After they mock you for a while, put your chips down, peek at your cards and go all in (that’s how you play Texas Holdem). Be profoundly shocked when you lose everything, and accuse the short one of having an ace up his sleeve. Who’s he to take what was once yours? Be the Fastest Gun in the West — When Shorty tries to give you the left hook, put three rounds in his chest. Reveal that years ago, you were the fastest gun in the West, but took to drinking on account of woman troubles. Beware of Bo Varhue — Bo Varhue is, by all accounts, the meanest, most cold-blooded, most charcoal-hearted feller in the county. Legend has it when Bill Cody challenged Bo to a duel, Bo shot square through the man’s bladder, causing old Bill to piss himself right there and then. But nothing—and I mean nothing—gets Bo as mad as seeing Miss Jessie get disrespected. See, Bo owns all the girls, but Miss Jessie is his favorite. One might say they’re boyfriend and girlfriend. Drink — Remember your woman troubles and take a swig out of your trusted flask. Leave the Kids Out of It — Saloon is a place for men, not boys. If you have business in the saloon, make your kiddos wait outside on the horse. No matter how much they miss Miss Jessie. Don’t Cry — For God’s sake, be a man. No matter how much you want Miss Jessie to come back home. No matter how much you hate paying Bo Varhue for her usual rate. Cowboys don’t cry. Never Back Down — Do it again tomorrow. Then the day after that, and the day after that day too. Don’t stop until you can’t take it anymore, until you finally land a punch on ol’ Bo Varhue’s right cheek, until he finally puts a bullet between your eyes. Good thing the kids are outside. Be Rootin’ Tootin — As you lay there dying, take another drink. Sit, reflect on your life as it reaches its end. You’re not a cuckold. Cuckolds don’t mind. You do mind. Light a cigarette. Feels good. Feels cool. So long, cowboy. —S. Leone

MY WIFE KEEPS TRYING TO CHILDPROOF MY THROWING STARS There’s no rest for your typical suburban ninja these days: blood on your Honda Odyssey, called in by your manager for kunai left in the break room, mixing up the bills and the assassination contracts (at least the IRS stopped visiting). My wife, Linda, grew up Catholic—apparently, the swift and honorable death of my enemies is not an “appropriate” thing to bring up during grace. Frankly, I don’t understand why I got such a glare for showing off my katana to the nephews— what happened to the right to bear arms, Linda? Ever since we had our first, things have soured between me and the missus. Many of our spats arise from her closedminded notion that my son will not train to join the Shogun Tokugawa’s forces like his father before him. Personally, I believe any would-be ninja should be able to sit still for hours at a time, to brave both the raging winds of a storm and quell the roaring fire of thoughts within. At least let the kid decide. However, according to Linda, “forgetting 15-month-old Timmy in the Costco parking lot overnight” was “irresponsible” and “cruel.” Thankfully, my son has shown some signs of progress; the babysitter called me horrified one evening after he strangled all his teddy bears with a garotte. He then kicked her in the jaw with the grace of a crane when she denied him ice cream (Jeez, ever heard of laissez-faire parenting, woman?). My wife’s most absurd complaints recently have to do with weaponry in the house—I keep finding throwing stars plastered with bubble wrap and duct tape. Timmy just learned to walk, so he’s been ambling around our living room touching things with sharp edges. However, after he picked up some daggers on the coffee table, my protest that they were hiding in plain sight did not save me from sleeping on the couch last week. —J. Mansfield

—S. Leone

LEGO NINJAGO Ninja Dojo Temple 71767 Ninja Playset for Ages 8+; Creative Building Kit for Kids (1,394 Pieces) HistoryEnjoyer

As much as I love LEGO, this set is where I draw the line. Firstly, the online LEGO Ninjago wiki claims that this set took place thousands of years ago, but any intelligent individual knows that this would’ve been only five hundred years ago at most . Second, according to the online LEGO Ninjago wiki, this set is fun for the whole family, but my wife hated it. And third, get this, the online LEGO Ninjago wiki AND LegitLegoPlayer99 on twitter tells me that there is no way the dojo would have had all that space for students to train in! Should’ve been smaller to fit on my shelf too. Disappointing!

��

FatherofThr33

My kids LOVE playing with this lego ninjago set. They have spent HOURS building and playing with it. The only downside is that they have gotten a little TOO good at “hide the ninja” with the minifigures inside the set. The kids KEEP hiding the pieces in my breakfast cereal and I KEEP falling for their tricks! NEXT TIME, make the pieces BIGGER so I don’t fall for their tricks. Hans Müller

From an actual ninja (Middle Europe chapter, member #80612409), this set has been great! The set has a great representation of a training dojo that would be fit for any student getting started in the arts. There’s plenty of space, accurate decor on the walls, and such an immaculately designed roof! The pile of wooden training boards was also a nice touch! I also love the colors, the fauna is on point throughout this set. Going to send this to my colleagues!! <username>

this set is the best one ive ordered yet. the pieces look and taste great! its sooooo exciting to build the set and then tear it down piece by piece over the week. lego should switch to red 40 / yellow 5 / yellow 6 for their pieces coloring for extra flavor though. MarineBiologist13

Fun set. But lime green?? Instead of dark green!??? For the moss on the stone, ruins the experience!! Color me angry. TheBestAmazonReviewer123

This set is still sitting in the box but the seller offered me a $25 gift card to leave a review. Looks great on the shelf with the other unfinished/unopened sets I’ve been collecting. Man, I love LEGO!

Design by E. Cai

—T. Schroder

The Yale Record

Billy The Kid

CRIME:

Stole an egg, ate a bug, took shoes off during Mass, lurked, mouthed off to the magistrate, kicked a lizard, respected the wrong flag, lingered, ate water, frittered away an afternoon, and loitered.

REWARD: $50,000, front row seats at the gallows

Beardbeard

CRIME:

his beard has a beard (weird!) REWARD: Beard

REWARD: The satisfaction of knowing you helped this little scamp find restorative justice

WANTED dead or alive

Mr. Gimme Your Booty!

HUNGRY HAL

Billy The Adult

CRIME:

shot a preacher man on Easter Sunday

CRIME: demanded too much booty

REWARD: Booty

—C. Rose and J. Wickline Design by S. Spaner

CRIME: Ate fifteen Missouri sheriffs during the summer of 1831.

REWARD: You get to eat Hungry Hal

Fujibayashi Nagato

CRIME:

Didn’t stay in his lane REWARD: $10,000

Uncle Sam

CRIME:

I Want YOU For U.S. Army! REWARD: Glory

Fuma Kotaro

CRIME: demanded too much booty

REWARD: Beard

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

DEATH AT SEA

BEST SALOONS THAT DON’T CARD

October 31, 1672: Ahoy, matey! Tomorrow marks the beginning of the crew’s latest undertaking: No Nut November. After many wild days and nights at sea, the crew and I thought a month of self-control and celibacy would bring some much-needed discipline to the ship. November 1, 1672: Blimey! I’m afraid No Nut November is off to a bad start. I woke up at 12:01am and could not fall back to sleep, so I went for a late night stroll. There, I caught George the Shit Scrubber mid-deed on the poop deck. “Arrrrgh!” he screamed as we made eye contact. This morning, it came to my attention that George had walked the plank, not wanting to live with such embarrassment. November 4, 1672: Gangplank! The crew is turning against one another. Blue Ball Bill, the lookout, found out that One-Eye Jim was responsible for George’s death. Apparently, Jim is especially talented at drawing pictures of feet, George’s greatest weakness. Upon learning this, Bill challenged Jim to a duel. Sadly, the men sent each other to Davey Jones’ Locker. November 13, 1672: Oh, Neptune! The crew has sunk further into despair. A group of my finest crew members gave Horny Jack a map to find hidden booty. Jack followed the map perfectly, and when he found where X marked the spot, he was not greeted by shiny gold and jewels. He only found hairy pirate ass! After two weeks without a nut, the sight proved too provocative for the young sailor. Jack walked the plank in embarrassment, and was not seen again. November 23, 1672: My crew has fallen. One by one, each brave pirate has walked the plank, unable to live with their actions. Only me, my parrot Bartholomew, and Raunchy Reginald remain. November 30, 1672: ‘Tis a sad day. I found Raunchy Reginald’s diary, and what I found was terrifying. Raunchy Reginald has been teaching Bartholomew how to talk dirty to me in hopes of making me fail No Nut November. Infuriated, I confronted Raunchy Reginald. The altercation turned violent, and I was forced to take his life to keep my own. November 31, 1672: Today I write embarrassed and disappointed. I, too, failed No Nut November. I was resting in my chambers when, all of a sudden, Bartholomew turned to me and said, “Ahoy, buccaneer! You shit with all that booty?” Bartholomew’s smooth words and suave tone reminded me of a saucy lass, and I busted immediately. A life with no discipline or crew is not worth living, so this is the final log. Farewell.

Old Bangtail — If you’re looking for nice ambience paired with quality drinks and good company, Old Bangtail is the place to go. It’s where the last generation of cool and hip cowboy legends hangs out, and because their clientele is universally over 70 they rarely card. This place is even equipped with a free coat and lasso check, for your comfort and convenience. Calamity Jane’s — Calamity Jane’s is on the newer side and its unique management sets it apart from the rest. This saloon is completely female-owned and run. I guess it’s a part of that new feminist movement where women can own property? The baddest of the badlands can all be found here, so take note of the threatening message listed on the sign above the door: “Don’t come in if ya don’t know yer way out.” Hang Fire Spirits — “Don’t tumble with a tumbleweed tumblin’ away from ya, but don’t let a tumbleweed tumble right on over ya,” barkeep Maurice “Mixin’ Moe” Flannigan advises visitors. This saloon is for those of you who have had a long, boring week slingin’ cows and are in need of a little action. Hang Fire Spirits is known for its rambunctious coeds and its never-ending history of gunfights and showdowns. This place is all about drinking with a show. They’ve also been known to play a little fast and loose with the law, making it a popular destination for those who might not be all the way of age. Little Butte East — This place has got everything you could possibly need: you’ll almost never get carded and they’ll serve you your beverage without any bullshit. If Ricky is working alone, don’t even worry about it. He’ll let you buy whatever you want and he’ll even give you a discount if you’re a regular (or a hot woman… or really any woman). If another employee is there, though, you might be best off trying your luck at another institution. Rowdy teens have been known to find their way inside and commandeer the piano, so beware of reckless honky-tonking. The Shooting Baby — The Shooting Baby is a classic. As the saying goes, “If ya can’t shoot billiards, shoot an outlaw. If ya can’t shoot an outlaw, shoot iron. But if ya can’t shoot iron, shoot yer shot, baby.” If you like the old wild west, full of swingin’ doors, old white drunks, their preschool-age children, and copious amounts of alcohol, this is the place for you. It sticks to the basics, it gets the job done. This place really does appeal to anything you could possibly need… just make sure to bring a valid ID.

—A. Mayagoitia

—R. Howard

The Yale Record

NINJA ADVOCACY GROUP DECRIES FRUIT NINJA AS INACCURATE SAN FRANCISCO, CA—Fruit Ninja, the classic mobile game which recently celebrated its 12th anniversary, came under fire this week for inaccuracies which some say are offensive to actual ninjas. The organization behind the complaint is the Ninjas Living In Non-Japan Areas Society, or NLINJAS for short, which is headquartered in San Francisco. Kirk Durkin, president of the NLINJAS, was unsparing in his criticism: “To common folk like yourself, Fruit Ninja may seem like harmless fun. But the stereotypes about the ninja community spread by this game aren’t harmless and aren’t fun. The first—and most harmful—stereotype present in Fruit Ninja is that ninjas are all about violence. Ninjas contribute many things to many communities. For example, I am very passionate about my local animal shelter. And many of my fellow ninjas insist that assassinating rival warlords actually reduces violence, in the long run.” A ninja who asked to remain anonymous also felt that the gameplay of Fruit Ninja did not reflect typical ninja activities: “This is typical American bullshit! When I cut down three foes in one swoop to defend the interests of Oda Nobunaga, drenching my shinobi shozoku in blood, did I get an extra three points for a ‘combo?’ No! The only reward I got was an extra ration of soap to clean the stench from my uniform. You know nothing of the Way of the Ninja! And tell me this: where are the throwing stars, also known as shurikens? A game with no throwing stars (shurikens) can never be called a ninja game!” Ned Jones, representing Halfbrick, the developer of Fruit Ninja, responded in a press release Sunday, “If Fruit Ninja does not reflect typical ninja activity, then how do ninjas cut their fruit? Are we to believe that ninjas eat their pineapples whole? Checkmate, ninjas. Leave that last part off-record.” Unsurprisingly, the NLINJAS objected to the Halfbrick response. Durkin again stressed his opinion that “we must not reduce the ninja community to one stereotype. Do I enjoy throwing my fruit up into the air before splitting it in half with a katana? Of course. But there is so much more to the ninja lifestyle as well that does not make it into the game.” At press time, Fruit Ninja was also in hot water

with the Advocacy Center for Fruits, which pointed out that “watermelons and strawberries aren’t the same size, Halfbrick! How is it even possible to make that mistake?” —B. Hollander-Bodie

—S. Leone THE WOEBEGONE BALLAD OF RAILOAD ROXIE I always hated being an heiress. Whenever I went out into town, the street urchins would holler, “Look everyone! It’s Railroad Roxie!” They would always beg me for rides on my father’s locomotives, and I would have to say that I don’t have that power, and then they’d get close to me and tug at my bonnet, and they all smelled really bad and probably had syphilis. Needless to say, I had to get away. Just as I was looking for a way out, along came Sharp-Shootin’ Silas. I was out west at a train station, waiting to get on Pa’s new steam-powered locomotive, when I saw a brooding young man pass by on a stallion. At that point, I didn’t care if I missed my train, or if I never had another Rhode Island summer. I needed to know more about this enigmatic cowboy. He was not the kind of guy Pa would want me to be with, but that made him all the more attractive. I learned about sharp-shooting, stallions, sheriffs, and saloons. It was every girl’s dream. Why would I ever go back to that stuffy upper-class world when I could watch Silas get in a sharp-shootout at the slipshod saloon with a slapdash sheriff? I was Silas’ girl, and it was a fairytale romance. Until it wasn’t. Over time, Silas’ cute, rebellious quirks just got annoying. I quickly learned that it’s not only the poor city folk that smell bad—cowboys smell even worse. And he definitely had syphilis, but I couldn’t even get him to go to the doctor because he was afraid he’d run

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

into Johnny Law on the way. In fact, he would hardly go anywhere, because there were so many “Wanted” posters with his face all around town. He started to use this as an excuse, and pretty soon I was hiking down to the saloon three times a week to pick up some to-go moonshine. Worst of all, for all he preached about not conforming to society, he clearly just wanted me for my money. Just like those beggars on the city street, he thought he could get free train rides whenever he wanted, and he even hinted at meeting my Pa out on the East Coast. I asked him if he really loved me. He told me that cowboys only love their horses. That’s when I knew I needed to end things. As I took a locomotive home and made up a story about how I was kidnapped by a band of pirate-ninjas for several years, I deeply regretted my rash decision. I bet everyone around town will call me Runaway Roxie now, or worse, Ran-Through Roxie, or worse, RanThrough Railroad Roxie.

That’s not even to mention that I can barely see and am having psychotic episodes, which probably means I have an advanced stage of neurosyphilis and will likely die within the year. Maybe I should’ve been more grateful for what I had. I guess it’s too late now. —K. Walsh

—S. Leone

The Yale Record

This Town’s Only Big Enough For The Two Of Us By A. Cramer

lonzo “the Arrow” McKee and Sergio “Ace” Boone were two of the most vicious bandits ever to traverse the deserts of Nevada. For decades, the two rivals never met face-to-face, locked in a cold war as they tried to expand their spheres of influence. The Arrow built a reputation for his poker abilities, while the Ace was known for his archery prowess. Both were fearsome opponents to any poor traveler who had the misfortune of crossing their paths. Their meeting is one of the most poorly documented yet historically significant events to take place in the Wild West. It was a Friday night in the summer of 1884. Word had spread that the Arrow was lodging in Elko, Nevada for the weekend to drink some beer, play some cards, and be merry. But Elko fell within Ace’s territory and everyone—including the Arrow—knew it. This was no peaceful weekend getaway; it was an act of aggression. Ace rode into town on his horse, White Thunder. A tumbleweed rolled past and the wind whistled as he kicked open the door of the Last Dollar Saloon, where the Arrow was playing mancala (he was banned from the poker tables there, but we all know that story already). Without looking up from the board, the Arrow boomed in his gravelly baritone voice, “Well, well, well, I was wondering when you might show up, Sergio. I think it’s high time we meet.” He kicked his chair back and slowly rose to his feet. Then, with a pirouette that would put Waltzin’ Winnie to shame, he turned to face his archnemesis.

“Alonzo,” the Ace responded softly, “don’t go diggin’ for water under an outhouse. Why don’t you leave while you still can?” The two men stared across the saloon, as if waiting for a camera to pan from one to the other with tight zooms on their eyes. Onlookers went silent, and that sound from generic movies about Wild West standoffs rang in the background. The Arrow finally broke the silence: “I ain’t scared of you,” he said. “Nor I of you,” replied the Arrow, with a stunning appreciation of the nuances of grammar, sentence construction, and how to imply nouns rather than restating them, considering his lack of an education. “Why not? Don’t let your yearnings get ahead of your earnings. Haven’t ya heard the stories?” the Arrow challenged. “I have. But you have such warm eyes, I struggle to take those actions too seriously.” The crowd began to snicker. But then came the reply: “Thanks. You look very dapper tonight, yourself.” The crowd’s snickers grew to murmurs of confusion. “But with that said,” the Arrow continued, “I must tell you something. I’m afraid this town isn’t big enough for the two of us—” Ace cut him off: “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. This town is only big enough for the two of us.” “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said the Arrow. “We have so much in common, Sergio. What do you say we put aside a few past grievances, and run this town together?”

“As allies, you mean?” the Arrow asked. “As lovers,” Ace replied, with enough swagger to back up his words. The fourteen beats of silence spoke louder than the loudest rooster’s crow upon seeing the morning sun. Homosexuality was illegal in those days, but what are laws to a coupla cowboys? The crowd waited with bated breath for the response. Finally, the Arrow replied, “I was beginning to think you might never ask.” The barkeep started to speak in objection, but the duo simultaneously reached for their weapons, and the Arrow’s bullet and Ace’s arrow pierced the man’s throat at the same time. Their union was the dawn of a new reign of terror across the Nevada sands, but it was also the Wild West’s first public flirtation with the homoerotic. The two men were inseparable for the rest of their days. They went for long walks at sunset. They robbed banks together. They spent late nights in bed talking about everything and nothing at the same time. One time, when the Arrow got shot in the foot, Ace shot himself in solidarity. Finally, when Ace met his untimely end in the infamous horse tramplings of 1889, the Arrow pitched himself off a cliff. The two bodies still lie next to each other in their graves. And those famous words of acceptance are forever emblazoned in the Last Dollar Saloon: “This town’s only big enough for the two of us.” Sergio Boone and Alonzo McKee may be no-good scoundrels for their crimes, but they are heroes for their love.

The Pirates vs. Ninjas vs. Cowboys Issue

AHOY, MATEY! I BURN AND SELL HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN DVDS: AN INTERVIEW WITH A MODERN DAY DVD PIRATE For years, Rusty Greasebeard Kowalski operated a roadside tent on Exit 184 off of Interstate 24 in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Rusty’s tent, known to locals as Davy Jones’ DVD Locker, sold a variety of items, including tube socks and fried pork skins. But local Chattanoogans know Rusty for his pirated movies. From 1995 to the present, Rusty has sold more illegallyrecorded DVDs than any other pirate below the MasonDixon Line. However, the recent rise of streaming services like Netflix, Hulu, and whatever Paramount Plus is has done a number on the DVD Locker’s business. We at The Record sent reporters to see how this cultural shift has impacted Rusty’s business, and how he has attempted to adapt to the times. INTERVIEWER: So Rusty, for years you have operated the DVD Locker with much success. When would you say your peak was? RUSTY: In 2004, me DVD schooner was riding the highest of seas. I was moving more DVDS of Shrek 2, Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkaban, Spider-Man 2, and Passion of the Christ than I could keep count of. But that wasn’t even the best part. People were still exceptionally horny from the emotional rush that came from capturing Saddam in December of ‘03, so we did more porn sales in the first quarter than my next best quarters combined. INTERVIEWER: Hmm, I don’t seem to recall that same sensation during the Bush years. How has streaming impacted your business? RUSTY: Originally, I saw a short bump in me numbers. When Blockbusters started dropping like flies in 2012, I was able to sell me Bitcoin to buy out Eastern Tennessee’s Blockbuster inventory during their liquidation sales. Unfortunately, when adjusting for the rise in Bitcoin prices, I spent $85 million cleaning out the legal DVD shops. The one segment of me business that has stayed consistent are me tube sock sales. I’d like to see ‘em streaming socks. Argh, even me pornos don’t move like they used to, but I’m working to remove incognito mode from computers. INTERVIEWER: How have you coped with the move to streaming? RUSTY: Video has changed a lot in me days. The end of the VHS wasn’t too bad because I could just burn more

DVDs to replace the stock, but it’s been much harder for me to move online. Don’t get me wrong, streaming isn’t all bad. I laugh me socks off at that Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Amazon Prime. Have ye seen that one? INTERVIEWER: Well that was certainly fascinating and puzzling. Thank you for your time, Rusty, and I wish you the best of luck. Davy Jones’ DVD Locker would close for good two months later. Rusty won a multi-million dollar lawsuit against Walmart after a sleep deprived trucker ran off the road, and leveled Rusty’s tents. The settlement allowed him to retire, and trade one hook for a prosthetic hand. —E. Bohannon

—N. Weiss WHY I LIKE MY GUN 1. It has the power to kill. 2. It reminds me of a phallus. —H. Rubin

The Yale Record

POINT: GOLLY, I JUST WON AMERICAN NINJA WARRIOR! This is the greatest dang day of my life. After years of hard training, I just won American Ninja Warrior! It wasn’t easy. Besides the training, I had to make a video talking about my life story in front of a camera. Gosh, I sure was nervous. But they must have liked it, because they invited me to do some obstacle courses in Miami. There were some real tricky ones, but I got through it in the end. After that, I traveled all the way to Las Vegas for the National Finals! That was the hardest obstacle course I’ve done yet. I almost fell into the water! Boy, was I worried. And the warped wall at the end almost got me too, despite all that practice. Good thing my grip didn’t fail me! But in the end, it was all worth it. I’m finally an American Ninja Warrior! Heck yeah!

—S. Leone COUNTERPOINT: I COULD KILL YOU WITH A THROWING STAR (SHURIKEN)

So, you think you know anything about Ninjutsu, the Way of the Ninja? Sure enough, you are an American, but you are no “Ninja Warrior!” —B. Hollander-Bodie You know nothing, pretender! I will tell you of the Way of the Ninja, but only enough to know exactly how doomed you would truly be if I wanted to kill you with a throwing star (shuriken)! Rule One: Strike unseen and unheard, as the black moonless night. What is that you hear? The crash of the tide? The rustling of grass in the wind? What is that you see? The twinkling of far off stars? The smoke of a distant village? Fool! The crash of the tide was my approach. The smoke of the village was my vaporous figure. The rustling of the grass and twinkling of the stars was the approach of my spinning blades of death, ten throwing stars (shurikens) all aimed with the accuracy of death itself! Rule Two: One who dishes out pain and death must never fear either. Every ninja must be willing to dissect themself before permitting even the possibility of the failure of the mission. I would die to defend the Way of the Ninja. Tell me this, “American Ninja Warrior.” Would you die to scale “Mount Midoriyama” in Las Vegas, Nevada? No? Pathetic! Rule Three: Strike without fear, without hesitation, without holding back. But never strike without a plan. I have no fear! No hesitation! No reason to spare you! Your throat is already acquainted all too well with the poisoned lies of your filthy culture. My plan: to acquaint your throat with twenty throwing stars (shurikens)! Die, imposter! —N. Weiss

—B. Hollander-Bodie

Ask Old Owl! Ahoy, My name be Langworth the Dread, feared captain of the Bombardo. I’ve shivered timbers, ho’ed land, and buckled swash, but I still fear me crew don’t see me as a real pirate. It ain’t me fault that my body be in its physical prime. I have all me limbs and me teeth’re strong and sparklin’ white. My hair be cleanin’ itself with yon well balanced natural oils. Even me skin don’t burn in the sun—I leave a long day on the poop deck glowin’ and sunkissed. For a while I figured I’d just lose a hand for the sake of look, but I be a lefty golfer, hopeless when it comes to puttin’ with a hook. Me crew don’t see me as someone to be feared, nay, they be callin’ me “babyface” and plantin’ tender kisses on me forehead. How do I make the crew of the Bombardo take me seriously as both a captain and a friend? Dear Owlet, All the important pirates, the blue-beards, red-beards, beardbeards, and beardless-yet-still-imposings are scabbed, scarred, and scurvy-ridden. My first tip would be to soak your arm in chum and fish for barracuda, but as a fellow hole-head I wouldn’t want to interfere with your putting game. In many professions it can be beneficial to take time from a leadership position to further one’s own research or invest time in personal betterment. I recommend you leave your first mate in charge and take a sabbatical at a leper colony, giving back to your community by providing CPR. Alternatively, if you want to stay aboard, the first chore to be neglected on a pirate ship is the deck sanding. If you shuffle around

Dear Owlet, What sort of monster would cook up small fluffy animals, with names no less? What we have here is a true madman. Give this Decker fellow a test of his own medicine… you’re going to have to cook up his horse. Grab Balderdash while Decker is sleeping and make a cassoulet. Not only will this establish your dominance, but it will provide you with a delicious, hearty barefoot you could win yourself a pretty stew for the winter months that’s rich with sizable splinter. Treat it with briny salt flavor and revenge—a real stick-to-yourwater you could have an infection and ribs type of dish. The smell will waft over your backyard, tumbleweeds and all, and some barnacles in no time. show that bastard and his lady who’s the real cowboy in town. Partner, I ain’t accustomed to takin’ advice, but recently I’ve been 親愛なる古いフクロウ古いフクロウ、あなたからのアドバ findin’ myself with my hair in the butter. It’s been near a week since イスは必要ありません。私は経験豊富 I seen my pet prairie dogs Maybelle で尊敬されている戦闘機です。私の髪プレーリ and Maisie, and my neighbor の油はバランスが取れていて、これらの Decker Dublin’s been talkin’ big ードッグはまだ生きています。 game about his snarin’ skills 他の愚か者は彼らが望むすべての質問 and smellin’ an awful lot like his をすることができます。私はあなたより rodent roast just in time for his lil’ も良いカスレを作ります。私の時間を無自分をファック lady coming down from Durango. 駄にしないでください、 Been ridin’ all up and down main street on his bangtail Balderdash Dear Owlet, How dare you say such things to actin’ like nothin’s the matter. My poker pals at the Bloomin’ Dunes me? I am a hatchling of eldritch birds Saloon’ve been tellin’ me I oughta who hooted and clawed their way to up and shoot the varmint, but God just to spit in an owl pellet in his that just don’t sit right with my face. My regurgitation holds the bones sensibilities. I may fight the sheriff of stronger men than you. You can slink n’all but I ain’t no bandit, no. I and sneak all you want, but my eyes follow all them important laws are wide and all-seeing and my talons like local noise ordinances and have pierced ninja flesh before. My only litterin’—my maw raised me n’ my advice is to watch your back. brothers to be climate conscious (tumbleweeds tumble past my yard more’n most). How can I see if Decker’s just an ol’ rooster with too much mustard or if he’s been cookin’ up my Maybelle and Maisie to woo his woman? Old Owl is an alcoholic, nicotineaddicted nightbird that roams campus scrounging for vestiges of the relevance he enjoyed in the Record’s heyday. He now offers advice, free of charge. If you’d like to Ask Old Owl about your weird life, email askoldowl@yalerecord.com.

THE RECORD QUIZ CORNER 1. What is the theme of your room? A. Jake and the Never Land Pirates. B. Lego Ninjago. C. Woody and Jessie from Toy Story. D. It is plain. There are some photos of my wife and kids, and there is a throw pillow that says “FAMILY.” I am a normal adult and do not have a bedroom theme based on a children’s character. 2. What do you do before you go to sleep? A. Take off my eyepatch. B. Take off my ninja costume. C. Stumble into bed after a fight at the corral. D. Drink a glass of warm milk and tell my wife I love her, like any other normal adult would do. 3. Where is your dream vacation destination? A. The seven seas. B. The Iga Province of feudal Japan. C. The wild, wild West. D. The coast of sunny Florida, where the average man likes to take his family. 4. What is your favorite book? A. Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. B. Way of the Ninja (LEGO Ninjago Reader #1) by Tracey West. C. I am an outlaw and I can’t read. D. A 700-page account of the Battle of Gettysburg that was given to me as a gift and that I have never picked up. 5. Uh-oh! Looks like you’re having a nightmare. Who’s the villain? A. The ghost of my disgraced first-mate who I sent to walk the plank. B. My mom, who took away my Legos after I flushed her earrings down the toilet. C. The goddamn sheriff again! D. My first grade teacher Mrs. Tickler, but she has red eyes and green hair. That’s pretty common, right? 6. How are you going to fight off this villain? A. I already killed him. Time to go look for more treasure! B. A throwing star, but if it takes too long for her to die then I will strike her swiftly with a long, slender sword. C. A chase scene through the wild, wild west that ends with the shootout to end all shootouts. D. I don’t. I do not possess the spirit of a pirate, cowboy, or ninja and therefore I am inherently weak. I poop my pants and my teeth fall out and my first grade crush laughs at me and I cry. 6. And last but not least… how do you like to “do the deed?” A. Greedily. B. Stealthily C. With a cowboy hat on. D. Oh, you think that this question will reveal that I’m some sort of freak? All my answers have been perfectly normal and reasonable, and you think if you ask how I like to “do the deed,” you’ll finally figure out that I’m not perfectly normal and reasonable? Well joke’s on you, because my wife hasn’t touched me in years! Mostly a’s: You are a pirate. Mostly b’s: You are a ninja. Mostly c’s: You are a cowboy. Mostly d’s: You are all three!

—K. Walsh

WHICH SIDE OF THE LAW ARE YOU ON, FRIEND? 1. What is a valid reason to kill a man? A. In self-defense. If a man draws his gun on you, you got to be quick, and you can’t have no mercy. Or if you think he’ll draw his gun on you. Or if you’ve wronged him to a point where he’d draw his gun on you in anger, you can defend yourself preemptively. B. There is no reason to kill a man. They could become a friend one day. They could have a kid, and that kid could go on to cure cowboy diseases. C. Just to watch the life dissipate from his eyes as he slips into the perpetual darkness that is the afterlife. The only thing you believe in less than God is the law. 2. Are you willing to go on the run? A. When the law catches my smell, I’ll be gone faster than Miss Jessie at sunrise. B. No, this is my town. My papaw grew up here, my papaw’s papaw “Pappy” grew up here. This is where I’m rooted. I’m standing my ground. C. I think running is stupid. 3. Are you willing to band together with a team of brothers? A. I’m a lone wolf. I have no family. I was raised in a barrel. The only brother I ever had was a mound of chewing tobacco. I ride alone. B. My loyalty is to the sheriff, not your posse of renegades! C. I think it sounds fun to work with brothers. 4. Are you good with nothing but a map, and compass, and a canteen, and your papa’s trusty .44? A. I’m the fastest shot in the west. But I ride alone. B. Oh jeez. Not me! I keep my head down, my laces tied, and my boots firmly in the dirt where they belong. I am a simple farm boy, and I gotta stay true. C. Yes. I’ve been ‘round the block and then some. There ain’t a nook or a cranny of this big, wide world I ain’t seen. And the place I hate most is Boston. 5. Do you want to bomb the Boston Marathon? A. What’s the Boston Marathon? This is the 1800s. B. Oh you mean like bomb like I cramp up at mile 6 and walk the rest of the way? C. As I am a real cowboy, I would like to bomb the Boston Marathon. —S. Leone Mostly a’s: You are on side 1 of the law. You are a bad guy. Mostly b’s: You are on side 2 of the law. You are a good guy. Mostly c’s: You are on side 3 of the law. You are something in between.

ARE YOU A PIRATE, NINJA, OR A COWBOY?