The Family Issue

Vol. 145, No. 5

THE YALE T he F amily I ssue

Nov. 27, 2016 1

RECORD

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“The Nation’s Oldest Humor Magazine” or

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

join@yalerecord.com

“YOU’RE GOING TO FEEL A LITTLE PINCH,” SAYS DOCTOR WHO LOVES PINCHING PEOPLE Dear Tres Equis (XXX) Beer, I don’t always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Tres Equis.

—The Most Lascivious Man In The World

“THERE ARE PLENTY OF FISH IN THE SEA,” SAYS ONE FISHERMAN TO ANOTHER FISHERMAN WHO HAD JUST BROKEN UP WITH HIS FIANCEE BECAUSE SHE REFUSED TO APPRECIATE HOW MAGNIFICENT THAT ONE FISH HE CAUGHT WAS AND WAS NOW LOOKING FOR A NEW SIGNIFICANT OTHER TO HELP HIM CATCH A NEW MAGNIFICENT FISH

Dear Brian, Don’t you dare treat me like that anymore, passing me around your friends like a cheap toy, treating me like a piece of worthless plastic, even though that’s what I am.

—A Graphing Calculator

LOCAL HIGH SCHOOLER WORRIES HE’S TOO GOOD AT SEX Dear Kremlin, We’re so happy that you’re happy too about Trump’s win. The last time we ever agreed on something was when Vlad released his shirtless pic.

—The FBI

TRUMP REVEALS PLAN TO DESIGNATE RARE TOUPEE EAGLE AS NEW NATIONAL BIRD Dear Safe Space, More like “Outer Space.”

—Buzz Aldrin

NEW MICHAEL BAY TRANSFORMER FILM TO STAR FLYING KILLER DRONE NAMED AMAZON PRIME Dear Perfect, You may be Mom’s favorite tense, but not for long.

—Future Perfect

YALE CEID FINALLY FLOWERS AFTER GERMINATING FOR FOUR YEARS Dear Antelope, I can’t sneak out to fulfil out plan to marry tonight.

Regretfully, Canteloupe

SLIFKA FORCED TO CHANGE LOX FOLLOWING BREAK-IN BY SALMONCONTAMINATING CRIMINALS

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“RECTUM? I DAMN NEAR KILLED HIM!” SAYS VISIBLY SHAKEN DOCTOR LIGHTING A CIGARETTE Fine Indian Cuisine “A Treat for the senses” —Hartford Courant “Amid elegance, a variety of Indian dishes” —New York Times Hours Lunch Monday - Saturday: 11:30 AM - 2:30 PM Sunday: 12:00 PM - 3:00 PM Dinner Sunday - Thursday: 5:00 PM - 10:00 PM Friday - Saturday: 5:00 PM - 10:30 PM

Every Day Lunch Buffet 148 York Street, New Haven, CT 06511 203-776-8644 www.zaroka.com

BRIAN! Would it kill you to call your mother from time to time?

Dear Nasty Woman, You need to come pick up your daughter. Dirty Girl has been waiting here for half an hour.

—Mr. Bad Hombre

CAN ELECTRICAL CURRENT REALLY CAUSE WEIGHT LOSS? THE RESULTS MAY SHOCK YOU! Dear Nasty Woman, I left you a message. Did you get it?

—Atrocious Senior Citizen

PIRATE SORORITY MEMBER REPORTS, “I HAVE THE BEST BRIG!” Dear Nasty Woman, Answer the phone! It’s your mother.

—Disgusting Grandma

TRICERATOPS REALLY JUST THREE MICHAEL CERA TORSOS IN A TRENCHCOAT Dear Publication, First line of main body.

Second line of main body.

Passage break.

Third, and final line of main body.

Passage break.

—First name Last name Residential College, ‘Graduation Year

“HOT POTATO, HOT POTATO,” REPORTS CHILD WITH POTATO FETISH

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“WE’VE GOT STACKS ON STACKS!” REPORTS STERLING LIBRARIAN IN FUTILE ATTEMPT TO CONNECT WITH YALE’S TRENDY YOUTHS Hi Jimmy, I was worried people would steal my stuff during our fun recreational sports practice, but luckily this little metal closet has a lock on it.

—Bobby

“BITCH, PLEASE!” CRIES MAN TRAPPED UNDER BOULDER TO A PREGNANT DOG Hi Bobby, Yeah, there sure are a lot of lockers in this room! Haha ha, jolly good! Wow,

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I sure am beat, want to go grab dinner?

—Jimmy Dear Jimmy and Bobby, Dinner won’t be the only thing we’ll be grabbing.

—Donald

IN LATEST PIECE, YDN COLUMNIST STRIKES PERFECT BALANCE BETWEEN NARCISSISM AND VANITY Dear Donald, Didn’t they make you leave?

—Jimmy and Bobby

DID MARK TWAIN WRITE GOODNIGHT MOON? A NEW STUDY SAYS NO.

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YDN CALLS ELECTION EARLY, GOES STRAIGHT TO VOICEMAIL Dear audience, Shut your fucking mouths and be the props you were hired to be.

—Anderson Cooper

KARL BECKER PLANS TOWN HALL DEBATE IN AN ELABORATE, PARENT TRAP-STYLE RUSE SO TRUMP AND CLINTON TO FALL IN LOVE AGAIN

Dear Millennials, All of the dogs from Air Bud are now dead. Makes you feel old, doesn’t it? It shouldn’t. They were alive when I got here.

—Your Friendly Neighborhood Psychopath

YALE FARM WORKERS HOLD MEETING, RESOLVE TO ONIONIZE Dear Arthur C. Clarke, Give me one of them space facts that’ll blow my mind.

—Jimmy

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“I’M NOT LYING,” LIES TRUMP Dear Jimmy, Fine, but this is the last time.

Space can be mapped and crossed and occupied without definable limit, but it can never be conquered. When our race has reached its ultimate achievements, and the stars themselves are scattered no more widely than the seed of Adam, even then we shall still be like ants crawling on the face of the Earth. The ants have conquered the world, but have they conquered it—for what do their countless colonies know of it, or of each other?

—Arthur C. Clarke

Emmy Waldman ‘11

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wish I could begin this editorial with a vague, genteel comment about how The Record has been like a family to me these past three years. That is the introductory paragraph The Record wants me to write; it is not the introductory paragraph The Record deserves.

You see, I’ve put a lot of thought into what “family” is over the last several weeks. After polling my suitemates, the Committee to Establish Policies on Renaming, the girl who cyberbullied me in high school, and all the baby-wagon babies on Cross Campus, I thought I had finally come up with a workable answer. Almost unanimously—with the exception of a particularly snarky baby—the people I asked said that the definition of family was “the people who would never kick you out of the group chat.”

I felt good about this definition. The millennials would love it.

Unfortunately, my entire worldview was shattered when I was removed from my own biological family’s group chat. Just as I was about to text the words, “Hello family. I am trying to generate good content for the Record’s family issue editorial and I thought I should ask you,” I found myself completely unable to access my family’s group chat. I had been deleted from my family, once and for all.

So I tried in vain to find a new family that would not kick me out of their group chat.

The natural place to start was The Yale Record editorial board GroupMe. I sent a message asking if anyone wanted to knit and watch “Jane the Virgin” with me like my mom used to.

No response.

Then I sent a series of silly ghost emojis, followed by a single crab emoji. Then I said that Brendan O’Hare’s Twitter account was “overrated.” That, clearly, was the last straw.

I was promptly and cruelly removed from the GroupMe. So clearly the Record was no family of mine. That was fine. They were all a bunch of nerds anyways.

So I took my quest for familial acceptance outside of my social circle: I decided to join a frat. I don’t remember which frat it was, but you can pick your favorite frat and imagine that frat is the frat I chose. Or, if you truly hate me, you can pick your least favorite frat and imagine that frat is the only frat that would ever allow me to join.

Anyways, after successfully joining that frat, being voted “The Frat’s Most Elegant

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Brother,” and then added to the frat’s group chat, I thought that I had succeeded.

But then I tried to force my new brothers to be like my old brother. I asked them if they wanted to play “Pond Rock,” which is a game that my old brother and I made up when we were little. When my supportive new brothers asked how to play Pond Rock, I told them that I didn’t remember, and began to cry at this reminder of the ephemerality of youth.

Crying broke the one rule of the frat’s group chat: “Under no circumstances can you cry while using the frat’s group chat.” The frat kicked me out of their frat chat and the frat and left me to cry all alone.

Finally, I decided that the Yale Corporation might be my new family. I easily snuck my way into their group chat by tricking them into thinking I was the moneyed ghost of Benjamin Franklin. I told them I was there to help fight against political correctness and to serve as an official meme consultant.

But it soon became clear that I had entirely un-Franklinesque motivations. I don’t know if it was the fact that I kept calling Charles Waterhouse Goodyear IV “Dad” or the fact that I kept asking Peter Salovey to “bring me a glass of warm milk and rub my tummy,” or the fact that my GroupMe picture is clearly of a twenty-one year old female college student and not the ghost of Benjamin Franklin. It doesn’t matter. The Yale Corporation kicked me out of yet another GroupMe, leaving me out on the virtual streets once again.

At this point I was tired of finding new families, and Ben Rudeen ’17 Chairman

Rachel Lackner ’17 Editor in Chief

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had already achieved the comedic rule of three, so I decided it might be time to give my real family another chance.

So I started a new family group chat. I told them I forgave them for kicking me out of the previous group chat and for causing me to question my firmly held beliefs about the family.

My dad apologized for kicking me out of the group chat.

He said it was an accident and he regretted it very much.

My mom and brother both agreed. Unfortunately, they had already replaced me with an Ann Taylor Loft mannequin with a very flattering haircut and a jean jacket. They were sad to announce that they could not offer me a spot in the family group chat or their hearts at this time. I told them I understood. I wasn’t mad: just disappointed.

So I did what anyone would do in my situation: I stole a baby-wagon full of babies and started my own family. They aren’t quite old enough yet to bring me glasses of warm milk and rub my tummy, but until Salovey returns my calls, they’ll have to do.

—R. Lackner Editor in Chief

Madeline Kaplan ’17 Online Editor in Chief

Chris Rudeen ’17 Publisher

Alex Ringlein ’18 Webmaster

Liz Kingsley ’19 Managing Editor

Alison Mansfield ’17 Lead Design Editor

Lane Unsworth ’19 Art Director

Vicky Liu ’19 Business Manager

Archie Kinnane ’18 Supplementals Editor

Matt Abuzalaf ’18 Managing Editor

Adam Lessing ’19 Design Editor

Brian Beitler ’18 Staff Director

Chasan Hall ’18 Video Director

Jake Houston ’19 Managing Editor

Nathan Ewing-Crystal ’19 Online Managing Editor

Daniel Hoogstraten ’17 Assistant Design Editor

Graham Ambrose ’18 Publicity Manager

Sam Savitz ’17 Director of Special Projects

Staff Writers, Artists, & Designers: Spencer Birney ’18 Emma Chanen ’19 Amanda Corcoran ’18 Valcy Etienne ’16 Jackie Ferro ’17 Max Goldberg ’17

Timur Guler ’18 Sahil Gupta ’17 Mikayla Harris ’17 Susanqi Jiang ’19 Shea Ketsdever ’19 Katie Kidney ’19

Joseph Kuperschmidt ’17 Yanna Lee ’17 Roger Lopez ’18 Leila Murphy ’19 Noah Rae-Grant ‘18 Henry Robinson ’19 Jonathan Rutter ’18 Natalya Sanghvi ’18 Harrison Schneider ’17

Justin Shi ’18 Eve Sneider ’19 Xavier Sottile ’19 Sarah Sukin ’18 Teddy Thum ’18 Rachel Treisman ’19 Alissa Wang ’19 Alex Zhang ’18

Contributing Writers, Artists, & Designers: Noah Amsel ’20 Dylan Schifrin ’20 Harrison Smith ’20 Ashton Winters ’20 Nicole Eskow ’19 Chloe Prendergast ’20

Andrew Gamzon ’20 Megan McQueen ’20 Sahaj Sankaran ’20 Soham Sankaran ’20 Sebastián Kupchaunis ’19 Madeleine Hutchins ’19 Shunhe Wang ’20 Mariah Kreutter ’20 Joshua Baize

Special thanks to: all of my hideous sons.

Cover by: Lane Unsworth ‘19 Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXLV, No. 3, Published in New Haven, CT by The Yale Record, Inc. Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520 • yalerecord.com/magazine • Subscriptions: $50/year (print) • $10/year (electronic) All contents copyright 2016 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: Chairman, The Yale Record, PO Box 204732, New Haven, CT 06520, or chairman@yalerecord.com. Offer only valid at participating retailers while supplies last. The Yale Record would like to high-five the UOFC for its financial support.

10 SIGNS YOUR ADOPTED LITTLE BROTHER IS ACTUALLY A 43-YEAR-OLD RUSSIAN MAN 1. He answers only to “Boris”, despite the people from the orphanage insisting that his name is Timmy.

2. Child Protective Services have never actually been to your house. In fact, your brother just showed up one day wearing an ill-fitting middle school sweatshirt and carrying a large lollypop. He introduced himself as “real American boy-child without parents or job.”

3. No matter how many times Mom gives him a bath, the vodka smell never goes away.

4. When you hold hands to cross the street, you can feel the hard callouses on his three-fingered hand, born from the cruel labor of a thousand days in the Siberian ice mines.

5. He keeps suggesting you annex the house of the Ukrainian family next door.

6. When you ask him how he lost the pinky and ring fingers on his right hand, he takes a long time to respond before quietly muttering, “accident” and staring into the distance.

7. That one time you found a Russian Foreign Intelligence Service standard-issue AN-94 5.45x39 mm assault rifle in his underwear drawer.

8. He runs a 5K every morning barefoot through rain, sleet, hail, or snow, yet never feels a chill even on the most frigid of days.

9. He has a really weirdly specific fascination with the blueprints for that nuclear cruise missile your dad’s designing for Boeing.

10. He is strong, like bear.

—C. Hall

ARE YOU READY TO HAVE CHILDREN? You are your parents’ only surviving progeny. If you don’t do something soon, your lands, your title, and your Valyrian Steel sword will pass to your dumbshit cousin, Paul. Is finally it time to spread your seed?

Do you have functioning sexual organs?

Do you think it’s humane to name someone Tanner? How about Declan?

Have you ever stuck to anything for more than three weeks in your entire fucking life?

Can you make a spoonful of creamed corn look and act like an airplane?

Think of a friend with whom you have a meaningful relationship; the person you hold most dear. Do you wish to see this person daily for the next 18 years?

Do you own a firearm, and are you prepared to use it to defend your family if necessary?

You will be called upon to explain why the sky is blue.

Can you make up a believable explanation to hide your astounding level of ignorance?

Do you feel physical pain at the sight of a child without a hat on a snowy day?

In the event of an emergency like a power outage or nuclear mass-extinction, do you have gasoline, bandages, antibiotics, iodine, 3 years’ worth of canned food, flashlights, fire starters, gasmasks, flak jackets, assault weapons, shotguns, hatchets, sidearms, bowie knives, RPG rounds, AA batteries, and coloring books in your garage?

—N. Amsel

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ALL OF MY GREAT AUNTS, RANKED 1. Aunt Josephine: Everyone needs an Aunt Josephine in their life. She is everything a great aunt should be: generous, kind, and most importantly, old enough to forget that time I accidently shot her in the leg.

2. Aunt Gertrude: She’s a real sweetie. Sometimes I show up at her apartment unannounced at three in the morning, totally wasted, and she never even complains! She just opens a drawer, pulls out some of her pet tarantula’s molted exoskeletons, and hangs them from the ceiling. She calls it “spidering the corridor.” What a good sport!

3. Aunt Gladys: No one’s sure what happened to Aunt Gladys after she was arrested in the 1950s for attacking small children with ping-pong paddles.

“Fifteen-love,” she’d apparently exclaim, and go for the kidneys. It was a simpler time, I guess.

4. Aunt Agatha: Sometimes I hear Aunt Agatha quietly reading the entire Berenstain Bears series to the mold in her fruit bowl.

5. Aunt Adelaide: Those moments when you would least want to run into a great aunt are precisely the ones when aunt Adelaide seems to makes herself seen. Take the other day, for instance. I was gallivanting through the forest, humming a merry tune whilst looking for geraniums, when who else should appear but dear old Aunt Adelaide!

“Don’t forget to eat your vegetables,” she implored, cackling, spittle foaming between her incisors. Then she flew away on her broom. What the hell, Aunt Adelaide?!

6. Aunt Mark: I have a theory that Aunt Mark isn’t actually an aunt at all, but a Harvard undergraduate in search of a better life. Maybe it’s the fact that she doesn’t have any baby pictures of me, or that she’s a 21 year old man, or that she makes me do her intro psych homework every time I visit. Joke’s on her, though! I answer every question with a “3.”

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Churning butter (I can’t believe it’s not butter yet!)

Living in Willy Wonka’s factory for three weeks with nothing to eat or drink but candy Disneyland, hour 2 (as a parent) Disneyland, hour 10 (as a normal human being) Being Donald Trump’s personal full-body spray tanner Sitting through an intervention put on by a series of inanimate objects with googly eyes An all-expenses-paid vacation to Syria Having to chisel your own chair out of a block of wood to then sit on in the corner while facing the wall.

And while you’re at it, why don’t you make us a whole dining room set, as well?

—S. Sukin & N. Sanghvi

ELUSIVE QUESTIONS FROM YOUR GRANDMA THAT ACTUALLY MEAN “WHEN ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED?” Do you mid-twenty-year-olds-who-are-getting-up-in-youryears ever use the phrase “going steady” anymore?

What about the phrase “the clock is ticking”?

You know what would make your Bubbe very happy before she dies?

No, no. Did you find a Jewish one yet?

With what frequency have you been using that rice cooker I bought you last year for Chanukkah? I hear it can feed a family of four quite easily.

Honey, have you seen a doctor lately?

Honey, have you been seeing a doctor lately?

How are you managing all alone? You know I love to hear your voice, but you’ve been calling quite a lot.

I’m not saying, but I’m just saying…

You’re not one of those gays, are you?

–L. Kingsley

—D. Schifrin

CREATIVE TIME-OUTS Unending heavy metal Time on the human hamster wheel that generates power to run the TV so the rest of the family can have more fun than you Virtual reality prison Virtual reality broccoli forest

—H. Smith

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HOW TO GET KICKED OUT OF YOUR FAMILY

what about your kid? Not so sure? Let’s not try to find out, then.

Turn eighteen Kill your father and leave your mother at the alter Reveal to your parents that they’re adopted Fail to live up to their crushing expectations Fail to live up to their shockingly light expectations Trade your little brother in for a Digimon VHS Fail to launch a successful presidential campaign, as your dad and brother once did Lose the Fast Money round on Family Feud Refuse to bathe until the family name is changed to Mussolini Graduate from Yale and pursue comedy

3. Don’t Marry an Axe Murderer You thought lumberjacks had a lot of axes? Wait until you meet one of these guys.

—Staff HOW TO NOT RAISE AN AXE MURDERER Parenting is tough. It can be overwhelming to make sure your child makes new friends, does well in school, achieves his or her full potential, and feels safe and secure at home. However, of all of the struggles parents go through in raising their children, the most important and most trying among them is making sure their child does not grow up to be an axe murderer.

Fortunately for you, the Record has compiled a list of all the essential steps that any parent can take to prevent their child from doing so.

1. Rid your house of all axes I know. It seems impossible. Sometimes you really get an urge to go chop up some firewood or cut that orange in a way that looks really cool and tough. But parenting isn’t about looking cool or tough – it’s about making sure your child doesn’t go on a rampant murder spree with an axe. And if there are no axes in the house, there’s less of a chance that your child will have the opportunity to do so.

2. Don’t Marry a Lumberjack These guys own so many axes. They have big ones, small ones, Christmas-themed ones. They have axes in every shape and form. Did you forget Rule 1? No axes in the house. A lumberjack’s axe is good for two things – cutting down trees to provide a stable income for the family, and axe murdering. Sure, your new lumberjack fiancé may not be too keen on performing the latter, but

4. Don’t Get Upset When Your Child Makes a Mistake At the end of the day, kids will be kids. They are going to mess up at some point. So if your child ends up killing a few people with an axe, try to understand and model calm behaviors. Remember how angsty and bloodthirsty you were as a kid? So take a deep breath and know that your child is merely getting it out of their system. Snapping at them will only make them want to murder more people with axes, so enforce some light restrictions and move on.

They’ll learn. Kids are smarter than you’d like to believe.

—A. Winters I’M AT COLLEGE FOR THE FIRST TIME, AND I’M WORRIED ABOUT HOW MY PARENTS WILL FARE I’m a freshman at Yale, and I’m having an amazing time taking classes and making new friends! Everything is great, truly. There’s just one little thing that worries me.

When my parents dropped me off a few weeks ago, they hugged me tightly and promised that they’d be “just fine.” But then my dad called me up last night crying, saying that he “just feels totally overwhelmed by the new lack of responsibility,” and that he wishes he were closer so he could come visit me. Then Mom called me right after to complain that Dad refuses to stick to the new twoperson cleaning schedule, and he can’t seem to keep his stuff on his side of the room.

To make things worse, they’ve started partying A LOT. I’m worried that they might be overcompensating for not having gone to any parties when I was in high school, and that they might be testing their tolerance in dangerous ways. Last Saturday, I got TWENTY drunk texts from my mom, including a video of her shotgunning a beer at my grandma’s house. It’s like…come on, Mom. I understand alcohol is a great way to fill the emotional vacuum that consumed the house when I left, but think before you press send.

I know that they’re going through a lot with this whole empty-nest thing, but I’m really worried. Will my parents really be able to manage the stress of me being away from home? Will they find an excuse for their weekly Dairy

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Queen trips now that they can’t just say “you gotta spoil the daughter every now and then”? How will the dog eat fresh steak if I’m not there to secretly throw it under the table? I keep telling Mom and Dad that this is a really important time in their lives, and that they have to be smart and make good choices, but they just don’t seem to take me seriously. I’m trying to be patient with them, but I’m not sure if I can take any more “We misu yuo, we love the dgo so mch!” texts at 2 AM. –N. Eskow LESSER KNOWN KARDASHIANS Karli Kelizabeth That feeling you get when you take a good picture Kendall’s Mascara Line North By Northwest Northwestern University Kanye Kanye’s ego Kanye’s alter ego Kanye’s alter ego’s ego Pablo, and his life The peach emoji The pregnancy rumors that surface whenever a Kardashian puts on weight Rob

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We arranged to go out again the next week. I sacrificed school, friends, and family for him. I stopped leaving the house at all unless he needed something. His beckoning smile, his loving gaze, his powdery innards–it all overpowered me.

I finally decided it was time. Lieutenant Mills and I were wed in private behind the post office by a nice bag of lentils. I like going to the post office alone sometimes.

I don’t regret my choices. I’m proud to be who I am today: the woman he freed me to be. And if the weight of the world ever gets me down, I just hug Colonel Mills as tightly as I can. He’s stuck by me for twenty years. And even though he’s a few years past his expiration date and filled to the brim with millipedes, he’s the best bag of flour I’ve got.

I guess what I’m really saying is that, in a way, we’re all bags of flour, drifting aimlessly through the sea of life.

Some of us are pulled under by the rolling waves, but the lucky ones find themselves carried on to freedom and to love. We’re all bags of flour in this watery abyss, but only a few of us are confident enough to express it.

Semper Fi, Sergeant Mills. Semper Fi. —D. Schifrin

—S. Sukin & N. Sanghvi MY HUSBAND IS A BAG OF FLOUR We met at the Halloween Pumpkin Dance our junior year of high school. I went as the blue Power Ranger.

Some girls made fun of me for that, but I didn’t mind.

Nothing could weigh me down that night. Not even the 31-pound sack of pumpkin seeds that I had brought to feed the family of opossums in the school’s cellar. But there was only one sack that mattered to me that night.

He was dressed plainly in white, a shining beacon piercing through the chaos of writhing adolescents. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Someone had insulted him by writing “OSWALD” on him in blue sharpie.

Oswald is the squirrely kid we liked to push down the hill.

But it didn’t matter; I was in love.

I later learned that his name wasn’t actually Oswald, but General Mills All-Purpose Flour. I didn’t know he was such a high-ranking officer.

—C. Prendergast

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—C. Prendergast

Writing: N. Ewing-Crystal

Design: L. Unsworth

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NE W HA VEN, CONN EC TICU T ·

MONDAY, JAN. 25, 2016 2 01 4

· V OL . CX LIV , NO . 5

· yalerecord.org yalerecord.c

Local mom just keeps buying decorative burial shrouds

BY BEN RUDEEN STAFF REPORTER New York, NY – Over the last several months, Diane Biggby, local mother of three and pot roast enthusiast, seems to have been accumulating large quantities of decorative burial shrouds.

Friends and family have grown concerned over the large amount of burial sheets filling her East Village home, pointing especially to those sheets which still smell strongly of the recently passed.

“When it first started, it just seemed like a quirky little decorating idea, but now I’m getting

really worried,” reported Mark Biggby, Diane’s husband of 20 years. “I mean, can you even buy burial shrouds? Where is she getting all of these?”

Reports indicate that Mrs. Biggby purchased her first burial shroud while on vacation in Cairo. According to witnesses, she thought the fabric was “fun” and “full of character,” and she was planning on hanging it in the guest bedroom. Mr. Biggby thought this would be a one-time purchase, but the shrouds started to pile up in the house.

Friends and family have expressed frustration with how this habit affects their relationships with Mrs. Biggby. “We used to have coffee and gossip every week, but now when I see her she only talks about embalming methods and how how the Torah forbids shrouds containing two or more fibers,” said Francine Wallace, a long-time friend. Her children reported strong fears of the shrouds, saying that they routinely had nightmares about being wrapped in the sheets and buried alive. “Why does Mommy bring death into the house? Why is life so fragile?” asked Linus Biggby,

aged 5.

Many support groups exist for those who obsessively buy burial shrouds, but Diane refuses to accept help. “They’re so authentic!

Look how that one catches the light!” she yelled as she wrapped herself inside a shroud. “All my friends are so jealous, my house looks like a Pier One catalog!”

The Shroud of Turin can be found in the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist in Turin, Italy.

Contact BEN RUDEEN at join@yalerecord.com

HOT WIFE ON ABC SITCOM ALMOST GETS A WHOLE SUBPLOT

BY MADELINE KAPLAN STAFF REPORTER On Thursday night’s episode of World’s Greatest Brad, title character Brad Reynolds’ far more attractive wife nearly had a subplot of her own. The ABC sitcom would have been the first-ever broadcast comedy to award an interior life to its hot woman.

At the beginning of the episode’s second act, Beth Reynolds, Wife of Brad, best known for her delivery of the line “Oh, Brad” in a panoply of exasperated tones, prefigured a potential storyline while standing in the family’s suburban kitchen.

“Who stole my bananas?” she said, holding an empty tray aloft.

“I was going to make banana bread for the PTA meeting!” After delivering her line, Beth’s face twisted into a frown, hinting at some small shadow of a unique consciousness.

The remainder of Beth’s PTA/ bananas subplot appeared to have been cut, apparently to make time for an extended sequence of her husband fighting with a rake in the garage. When questioned, fans

of the show disagreed on whether Brad or the rake emerged the victor, but all agreed that it was a hilarious use of seven minutes.

According to data provided by Nielsen, Thursday’s broadcast of

World’s Greatest Brad was watched by 20348203948 million people.

Contact MADELINE KAPLAN at join@yalerecord.com

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A New Day For Goodnight Moon?

Prophetic Children’s Classic Remains Relevant

BY MEGAN MCQUEEN STAFF REPORTER This year marks the anniversary of the publication of acclaimed children’s book Goodnight Moon, and seventy-nine years later, parents are still whispering Margaret Wise’s haunting prose to their children. In celebration of national Goodnight Moon Publication Day, the multitudes have gathered outside local liquor stores and Toys “R” Us locations, donning their Doomsday best and congregating in parks and beside obelisks, chanting in unison.

Scholars of the iconic class suggest that parents can ease their children into developing their own interpretation of the material by beginning with the most obvious symbolism. Suggested

subjects include the “old lady whispering hush,” who represents the senior population saying farewell to life as the apocalypse batters our earth, or the red balloon, which symbolizes human fragility.

If your child is particularly bright, consider bringing the “bowl full of mush” into the conversation.

This should involve a fairly simple message: as the world ends, mankind’s quality of sustenance has deteriorated such that nutritionally deficient mush is the only available food. But experts urge letting your child come to this conclusion organically.

Many of us are still nostalgic for the days when our own mothers and fathers, home after long days in office cubicles, would sit at our bedsides and remind us of

humanity’s impending expiration. As parents, we can only hope to pass down the legacy of Wise’s classic to our children such that they might look with the same foreboding upon humankind’s destiny as we once did. And don’t

forget to humor the kids by checking for monsters under the bed!

We all know the real monster is the passage of time.

Contact MEGAN MCQUEEN at join@yalerecord.com

Family Not Entirely Sure Which War Grizzled Grandfather Fought

BY CHASAN HALL STAFF REPORTER Detroit, MI—According to sources close to the family, local strong-but-silent patriarch Clarence Frederickson “definitely” served in the military at some point in his life, though family members have been so far unable to pin down in exactly which conflict he participated.

Though his family had originally thought he was on the European front of World War II, Frederickson has reportedly made repeated references to the “hard lessons he learned in the desert” and occasionally spews “horribly racist” comments about his experiences with those of Chilean descent, according to his children. “I don’t think the U.S. has ever even been at war with Chile,” acknowledges his daughter Sara. “But whenever someone mentions the

word, even if they’re talking about the pepper, he starts to shake and mentions how far a young Salvador Allende could throw a battle axe in his youth.”

“I don’t even know what service he was in,” recounts Jordan Frederickson, one of his twelve grandchildren. “He has an Air Force hat on his mantle but also a Navy flag outside his house and a belt buckle from the French Foreign Legion.”

To further complicate matters, an investigation into Frederickson’s attic revealed both a periodaccurate suit of feudal samurai armor and a .65-mm M1903 Mauser bolt-action rifle, issued to the soldiers of the Ottoman Empire during World War One. Contact CHASAN HALL at join@yalerecord.com

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OTHER “TALKS” MY PARENTS GAVE ME 1. The “Back to Reality” Talk Everyone knows that feeling of winning their first Little League, or maybe Spelling Bee, trophy and being on top of the world. Well, that’s a perfect time for parents to ask their children if they have ever contemplated their own existence. Here’s how mine did it: “Do you know how many people there are on Earth? 7 billion. Not to mention how big our galaxy is, and how many galaxies there are, and how many other forms of intelligence there probably are in our universe. Do you really think anything we do matters, no matter how seemingly momentous it may be?

Enjoy your Little League trophy, though.”

2. The “9/11” Talk There’s no perfect age for your parents to approach you about this one, since it’s all about maturity, and kids advance at different rates. Personally, I’ll never forget my fifth birthday, when my parents first told me that 9/11 was an inside job: “Well son, the president at the time was George W. Bush, and rumor had it that his favorite rapper was Biggie Smalls. In his 1993 song “Juicy,” Biggie says, ‘It’s time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade.’ Thus, one can clearly see that Bush and Biggie joined forces to do 9/11.”

I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.

Bonus points if your parents throw in a “jet fuel doesn’t melt steel beams.”

3. The “We Lied About Your Future” Talk I was skeptical and overwhelmed when my parents first told me I could be anything. That’s why I’m glad they sat me down and narrowed down my options for me at the age of nine. “You peaked in preschool, sweetheart. You’re actually not that talented. You can be one of these three things: a dog walker, a Walmart greeter, or a mime.” Now that’s a manageable decision!

4. The “Money” Talk A common complaint about American school systems is that they don’t teach you how to do taxes correctly, which is a very important skill to have as a young adult. That’s why I’m glad my parents explained to me the intricacies of committing tax evasion: how to falsify claims, how to hide income in offshore bank accounts, and even a bit of credit fraud!

–S. Kupchaunis

PEOPLE YOU SHOULDN’T CALL “DADDY” The doctor examining your prostate Your first child born out of wedlock Your roommate’s hookup Your roommate’s father Your second child born out of wedlock God Spiders without the requisite long legs Spiders who aren’t hairy enough Spiders who have asked that you call them “Carl” Your gynecologist Your daughter’s pediatrician Dean Holloway Anyone on the waitstaff at Ivy Wok Your mom My mom Father Carter (even though he really wants you to).

Big Papi –M. Hutchins THE WORST FAMILY MEMBERS The Racist Uncle – You know the one: that old, bearded dude always complaining about ‘those immigrants.’ But considering he thought Gmail was a Communist plot, he might just be talking about that trendy new “sushi burrito” place or something. He shows up once every few weeks asking to borrow the car and scratch out the license plate number so he can go out with the boys to one of their yelling parties. One time, he came to live in your basement for a few weeks and asked you to deny all knowledge of him to the FBI - and he never even said thank you!

The Great-Grandparent – Everyone’s got that one mummified ancestor in the attic they just cannot stand.

That creaking sound of wind over dry skin drives you insane when you’re trying to have a quiet moment in the basement, but your late great-grandmother just doesn’t listen when you ask her to turn it down. You know she’s deaf (and deceased as of 1967), but that’s no reason not to show a little courtesy. Honestly, you don’t understand why Mom and Dad haven’t sent her off to an old-folks home like the neighbors did with their embalmed corpse.

The Shut-in Brother – While you’re out playing Ultimate Frisbee, he’s in his a dark bedroom typing on his massively expensive laptop like some sort of high-tech Gollum. You’re not sure what it is he’s doing, but based

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on his ramblings about ‘tearing down their temple of ignorance’, you guess he’s playing League of Legends or something. The only time he ever stopped was that one time a hacker disrupted Internet to all the East Coast, though he seemed surprisingly happy that day. Well, maybe he realized even those infected with the tech virus need a break now and again.

The ‘Hip’ Dad – You ever get that feeling your dad is trying too hard? You know, when he starts wearing purple mink coats and carrying a cane around, asking you to call him ‘Daddy-o’ and saying he’s ‘gotta find some johns’?

And then, of course, he takes it too far, when he leaves the house saying he’s out to ‘sell a trick.’ You’re pretty sure magic shows went out of fashion back in the 70s, but you’re too polite to say so.

You – Yes, you. You are the worst member of your family. When everyone’s pitching in raking leaves, you’re the one sitting inside with a cola. When everyone’s piling the moneybags into the unmarked van and shouting for you to drive, you take, like, hours to start the engine.

When everyone’s dancing around the pentagram and taking turns to stab the sacrificial virgin, you’re the one who missed and sliced Father Jones’ hand off by accident.

How’s he supposed to lead Mass on Sundays, now?

And, worst of all, the trash is NEVER taken out on time.

–S. Sankaran THINGS I SHOULD KNOW BEFORE I DATE MY DAUGHTER I get jealous easily.

If I plan on taking my daughter out on a date and I just show up and honk the horn, I better be the UPS man because I am not picking anything up.

I’d better have a job so I can buy her the nice things she deserves.

If I’m not early, I am late.

Whatever I do to her, I will do to me.

She is a lady (I taught her that.) I had better act like a gentleman, or I won’t deserve her.

If I make her cry, I will make myself cry.

If I am not afraid, I should be. My daughter is an extension of me and if I ever hurt her or lie to her, I will know right away!

I should definitely wait until I am finished running for president.

–A. Ringlein

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THINGS MY PARENTS JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND My feelings My degree This quick, easy recipe for watermelon gazpacho Why I look so much like the UPS man That objects in the mirror are closer than they appear The underlying sexual undertones of J.D. Saligner’s acclaimed coming-of-age novel The Catcher in the Rye Algebraic topology Why my ransom is so high The importance of a healthy, balanced diet combined with lots of exercise The Yiddish phrases I whisper in my sleep The Yiddish phrases I shriek whilst awake How much sand there is Facebook —Staff THINGS THAT YOUR BELOVED PET FISH IS, OTHER THAN DEAD On an eternal bender Undergoing an existential crisis every three seconds, due to his short memory span Regularly working overtime to support his family Driving to get a pack of cigarettes, will be back soon Inside the cat for safe-keeping Nursing a particularly debilitating hangover Napping belly-up in his tank Excited to explore the great beyond-the-sewer Realizing that being alive is a spectrum, not a binary, just like you should, sweetie –N. Ewing-Crystal

—C. Prendergast

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THINGS YOUR STAY-AT-HOME DOG DOES TO KEEP HERSELF BUSY Stalking the local Dalmatian and trying to count the exact number of spots on his fur Getting involved in new hobbies, such as singing, stampcollecting, and submitting scientific journal articles for peer review Devising new tactics to break into the bag of treats Panicking after breaking into the bag of treats because she knows she’ll get in trouble Running to the store and stealing more treats to refill the bag of treats so that you’ll never notice Bribing the owner of the store not to press charges when she is caught stealing more treats to refill the bag of treats so that you’ll never notice Barking at regular intervals to mess with the neighbors Catching her tail every single time. That’s right, you just never see it.

Socializing with Peggy, the stuffed Pig, and Bill, the stuffed goat Curing cancer Thinking about how much she misses you and can’t wait for…just kidding. She’s breaking into the replacement bag of treats.

–N. Eskow TOP TEN TIMES MOM CRIED 1. Family trip to the Grand Canyon Man, Mom really broke down when Randy threw my G.I. Joe off the observation deck!

2. Tom’s graduation I kept telling her I didn’t mean to punch Dad in the face, but she wasn’t having it!

3. Family trip to Six Flags Who knew you could be detained for eight hours in Six Flags Jail for smuggling in a butter knife?

4. Easter brunch Uncle Rick couldn’t have picked a worse time to run over the dog.

5. Family trip to Gettysburg Mom really didn’t enjoy spending the night in the E.R. after Tom stabbed me with a bayonet.

6. Her 50th birthday In retrospect, this was a bad time to have a screaming match with Grandpa about the Animaniacs.

7. Randy’s baseball game I’m still not sure how he concussed all those kids at once.

8. Family trip to Virginia Beach Stupid Tom had to go and choke on a rock.

9. That weekend Dad took us all hunting It was only a matter of time before I shot the ranger’s ear off.

10. Family trip to Yellowstone National Park Randy really needs to learn not to climb into geysers.

-J. Houston TOP TEN MOLES I PICKED OFF MY UNCLE’S BACK Pauline The one that speaks to him in the most hushed of whispers Big Bopper The one that turned out to be benign Dirty Harry The one that tingles before a thunderstorm Mike Pence The one that turned out not to be benign The Jackson Five (this counts as one because they were so close to each other) Chef Boyardee -J. Houston WATCHING MOMMY AND DADDY WRESTLE Wow, they’re still going. Loud panting noises and grunts and thuds have been coming in my bedroom wall for a long time now. The last few times this has happened, Mommy and Daddy always say they’ve been “wrestling,” but I’m too big to fall for that. It’s not like I’m in kindergarten anymore…I’m already more than halfway through first grade! I know what’s really happening: they’re making passionate love to each other. It’s totally natural for mommies and daddies to boink. That’s what I told Sally and Jenny during our field trip to the zoo! I just wish I could sleep since I have a big spelling test tomorrow. I think I’m going to have to get up and tell them because I really want to get a good grade so Mr. E. likes me.

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Getting closer, I begin to hear my favorite song, Careless Whisper (just because I’m only 6 doesn’t mean I can’t like old music), along with the sounds Mommy and Daddy are making. I pull the door back and what I see is the weirdest thing ever!

Mommy is dressed in some kind of super tight black skin and is on top of Daddy. They both have super duper red faces, and they are all icky and sweaty. Then out of nowhere a loud buzz comes and Mommy gets off Daddy who is breathing a lot, adjusting her singlet. The mat on the floor reminds me: I forgot their big wrestling match was tomorrow! I wish them good luck and head back to bed.

Though I think I’m going get a big fat stinkin’ D on that darn test.

–S. Wang WE NEED TO HAVE A TALK There’s no easy way to say this, but you and Dad raised me to be honest no matter what, so here goes… it’s time for you guys to move out. I know this is difficult to hear, but we all knew this was coming. You can’t just live in my childhood home forever; I’m 25 years old and have a life to live. It’s time for you both to spread your wings and move on.

I love you guys, but this cohabitation thing is getting a bit ridiculous. For one, you don’t carry your weight around here. When I spilled spray cheese on my shirt the other day, who washed it? Me. When the phone rang this morning, who had to answer it and pretend to be the homeowner’s grieving widow in order to avoid talking to the bank? Me, again. I’ve had dates not call me back after learning that you two still live at home. And I should be able to have my band rehearsals without your constant complaining about the noise. Besides, you know music is my life, even if it hasn’t quite paid out yet. But there’s yet another point. Both of you have jobs and could easily afford to move out and get an apartment, but I can’t. You know this.

Anyway, I’m really glad we were able to have this talk. I went ahead and took the liberty of setting up an appointment for you to meet with a realtor tomorrow. It’s in the evening though, so one of you needs to leave some money for me to order a pizza since nobody is going to be home to cook dinner.

—L. Cone

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WHAT CONSERVATIVES THINK “LIBERAL FAMILY VALUES” ARE Mother-daughter abortion brunches Queering Applebee’s Giving your daughter a pantsuit for Christmas and your son a pamphlet on sex changes with a card that says, “There’s still time” Not celebrating Christmas at all Celebrating Christmas but doing it sufficiently secularly that it doesn’t really count Vaccinating children with polio so they can be like FDR Family movie night featuring only movies directed by Gregg Araki or Chantal Akerman Sacrificing a goat to Hillary Clinton Being on welfare, and loving it Non-existent, as the nuclear family is a capitalist construct –M. Kreutter WHERE ARE THEY NOW? Whatever happened to the talking baby from the E-Trade commercials? His stock portfolio consisted of holdings in Blockbuster, Radio Shack, and Borders, and thus he found himself destitute, crawling the streets of New York City. He was most recently serving as a senior economic advisor to the Trump campaign.

You might be wondering about Wendy, too. The doctor informed her that pale, freckled skin predisposed her to skin cancer, so she adopted an indoor, sedentary lifestyle, only leaving the house to eat at her namesake restaurant, as her contract required. Soon her figure ballooned and the neighborhood children began to call her “Baconator,” “Dave’s Triple Mistake,” and “Extra Large Ginger Frosty.”

And Little Debbie? She left the farm for the big city.

But Debbie didn’t fit in with the city folk, because she was a country bumpkin who said “y’all” and had a full bush.

Increasingly alone and isolated, she found love online with a very convincing man and joined ISIS. She seems to be fairly happy, though.

Finally, you may wonder what happened to the famous Gerber Baby. As the milk his parents fed him contained bovine growth hormone, he hit puberty at the age of six, cutting short his promising child modeling career. Hormonal, moody, and desperately needing a shave, he was expelled from elementary school shortly thereafter for humping his teacher’s leg.

—J. Baize

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INTOXICATED SAE MEMBERS FOUND TRYING TO SNORT SASHA PUP FOR THE THIRD TIME THIS YEAR Dear Peter, In the interest of transparency, we would appreciate if you could disclose the nature of this $25 purchase. On your annual expense report, it is listed at “altitude adjustment.”

Sincerely, The Corporation

“I HAVE SO MUCH TIME ON MY HANDS!” REPORTS SAD, LONELY MAN WITH TWO WATCHES

Dear Corporation, In the interest of not fucking with my groove, the students must never know about the step stool behind my podium.

Sincerely, Peter Salovey

“THERE’S NOTHING MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN BEAUTIFUL LINEN PANTS,” REPORTS A CAT WEARING BEAUTIFUL LINEN PANTS Dear West Nile Virus, Wish you were called West Smile Virus.

Sincerely, Anyone with half a brain

IN EFFORT TO INCREASE ITS VISIBILITY, YALE CORPORATION GIVES ALL STUDENTS MAGNIFYING GLASSES Dear Peter, You mean you’re that tall with a step-stool?

Sorry Bud, The Corporation

NEW YALE LUDDITE FEMINISTS CLUB FOUNDED, DEDICATED TO SMASHING THE PATRIARCHY AND INDUSTRIAL MACHINERY

H u nge r Dismised!

Stop in and take a study break

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“ALWAYS THE BRIDESMAID, NEVER THE BRIDE,” WHISPERS TIM KAINE, SOBBING INTO ORNATE WEDDING GOWN PURCHASED OFF EBAY Dear clothing manufacturers, Why are breast pockets always on the left side? We get cold too.

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“YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN!” SAYS A MAN WITH ANTEROGRADE AMNESIA Dear manslaughter, I love making you happen!

Sincerely, A comedian who forgot a space between the “mans” and the “laughter”

STUDY: 9 OUT OF 10 DENTISTS RECOMMEND COLGATE TO TREAT PLAQUE AND DELIVER GRIDIRON ASS-KICKING Dear manslaughter, I love making you happen!

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