The Mystery Issue by The Yale Record

Vol. 145, No. 3

THE YALE T he M ystery I ssue

Oct. 7, 2016 1

RECORD The Mystery Issue

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FRESHMAN COUNSELOR ACCIDENTALLY COUNSELS SOPHOMORE To The Yale Community, I write to let you know that a certain student has been stealing a certain other student’s soap on a regular basis. You know who you are, you dirty rotten thief. Cut it out. If you have any information regarding this incident, please call the Yale Police at (203) 432-4400 or send an anonymous text tip through our Bulldog Mobile (LiveSafe) app. —Ronnell A. Higgins Director of Public Safety

BEANBAG CHAIR NAMED CHAIR OF ENGLISH DEPARTMENT, MARKING A SIGNIFICANT VICTORY FOR THE INANIMATE OBJECT RIGHTS MOVEMENT

Dear partygoers, Please note that you must be at least 21 years of age to be older than 20 in the state of Connecticut. —Ronnell Higgins Chief of Yale Police

Dear fan, I’m a big fan of your work. Sincerely, A delirious-from-heat-stroke freshman, hallucinating that her fan is Paul McCartney

GROSSLY INTIMATE FRESHMAN COUPLE TURNS HEADS AT TOAD’S BY REPEATEDLY EXCHANGING FACEBOOK PASSWORDS

SCIENCE CREDIT FOR NON-SCIENCE MAJORS LOOKS “ACTUALLY SUPER INTERESTING” LIES DESPERATE SENIOR

Dear Mirror, I’ve been struggling to find a mirror that’s my style, but after looking at you there’s no doubt--you are SO me. —Meta Valley Girl

COLLEGE FRESHMAN DOING GREAT AND MAKING LOTS OF FRIENDS, MOM

Dearest Stephanie, I miss your eyes. I miss kissing you. I miss cuddling you in bed. Everyone always looked when we walked down the street, but I know it was out of jealousy. Love, Fred, who named a potato Stephanie and started dating it

GRANDMOTHER CALLS, LEAVES MESSAGE

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FRESHMAN DISAPPOINTED AFTER BEING ASKED OUT FOR DELICIOUS FROYO, ONLY TO RECEIVE SATISFACTORY SEX 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

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

Hey female comedians, Since I give you all of your material, does that make me a feminist? Sincerely, All Catcallers P.S. NICE ASS

SCHWARZMAN CENTER TO BE EQUIPPED WITH SOLARPOWERED MONORAIL SYSTEM, ESCARGOT VENDING MACHINES, ROBOT TUTORS, STILL NO AIR CONDITIONING Dear Jonathan, You’re right, trying to get them to stick IS fun! Regards, Stephen A. Schwarzman, throwing dollar bills at a naked Peter Salovey covered in peanut butter

DUMB BOY MAKING YOU WAIT 8 MINUTES FOR “HILARIOUS” YOUTUBE CLIP TO BUFFER Dear Peter, Why, thank you for asking; yes, Jonathan Edwards College would make a great place to replace with my statue! Sincerely, Stephen A. Schwarzmann P.S. Our friends in Zürich will have a present for you soon.

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RETURNING YALIES EXPERIENCE SHOPPING CRAMPS IN LEAD-UP TO SHOPPING PERIOD

NEW SEA WORLD RESTAURANT OFFERS DINERS CHOICE OF ANY ANIMAL IN THE PARK TO EAT

To the cleaner, Dispose of the journalist. He knows too much. Sincerely, Donald Trump’s mindcontrolling toupée

Dear guy in the LDub suite facing Elm Street, If you don’t want everyone to know you’re circumscised, please use the window drapes at your discretion. Sincerely, The entire Yale community minus Vinny the Voyeurist

YALE FRESHMEN START EMPTYING ENTRYWAY CONDOM BAGS IN SHOW OF VAST OVERCONFIDENCE Dear England, Ya doon messed oop now, laddie. Sincerely, Scotland

NERVOUS SALOVEY REPLACES HANDSOME DAN WHILE KIDS ARE AT SCHOOL, HOPES THEY WON’T NOTICE Dear librarian, I’ll stop coming to the library when you make the Beinecke less sexy. Sincerely, Bibliophile

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STUDENT ADMITTED TO YALE AFTER SENDING IN A BAG OF BEETS INSTEAD OF AN APPLICATION Dear Westboro Baptist Church, I gave you divine mandate to do WHAT? Sincerely, Steven H. God P.S. Whad did you say about my boy?

LOCAL LIAR ACTUALLY HAD TERRIBLE SUMMER

Dear students, On May 28, we will be hosting a ceremony on Cross Campus to celebrate the life of a hero that went too soon. We invite you to all put your dicks out for Harambe at that time. Sincerely, Dean Jonathan Holloway

MICHAEL BAY’S ENTIRE CAREER REVEALED TO BE THE RESULT OF A DRUNKEN BET MADE THIRTY YEARS AGO

Dear McDonalds cashier, I’m sorry that I’m taking so long to decide what to get off the menu. I have a craving, but yet--what I want cannot simply be contained to one physical item. Yes, your menu spans multitudes, but does it really mean anything, man? We, all of us, are just standing in lines, just to stand in more lines so we can stuff more food into our faces. That is to say, what I really want--crave--is an idea. Sincerely, Jeff, a twenty-something hungry for knowledge

Emmy Waldman ‘11

t was a hot night when she knocked at my door, the kind of night that’s so hot it struggles to be taken seriously in a professional environment. She said her name was Alison, and that something was missing, something only I could find. “You’ve come to the right place,” I said, leaning back in my chair in the office of The Yale Record Private Investigation Incorporated. You see, print media was as dead as the prostitute found in the alley in the first five minutes of an episode of Law and Order: SVU, and the Record had adapted to the times. And now, our private investigation firm was taking off like the career of a young actress who got her start playing the prostitute found in the alley in the first five minutes of an episode of Law and Order: SVU. I was the firm’s top detective, though I hate to play by the rules. “Rachel,” said Alison, “I’m almost done with design for The Yale Record’s Mystery Issue, but I’m missing your editorial. I know you hate --“ “I hate to play by the rules,” I said. “Yeah, I know. But I really need it.” This broad knew her stuff. I took a swig from the Jack Daniel’s bottle that I keep in my desk for just this sort of occasion. It was full of water of course, but I had left my Morse Nalgene at home and was trying to stay hydrated before Theta Crush, which I hoped to be invited to the following April. I decided to take the case, but I knew I needed backup. A missing editorial was no cheap joke: this was worse than the time all four Record Managing Editors fell into a gorge. Even worse, since Lizzy, Jake, Matt, and Nathan were still stuck in that gorge, my usual support system was running low. So I called Madeline, our Online Editor-in-Chief-of-Police, to ask if she had any leads. I could tell she had been playing Kim Kardashian: Hollywood, because she picked up after one ring. “This sounds like quite the case,” she said. “You might have to play by the rules this time.” I wasn’t so sure. You see, I was the kind of detective who did the opposite of playing by

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the rules. That was my whole thing. But I knew this wasn’t your typical case. It was much more personal, like a pan pizza or my years-long feud with Brian. So I promised her I would play by at least three but no more than four rules if she could point me in the right direction. That direction was towards Sterling Memorial Library. At Sterling, things got off to a rocky start, like the beginning of the 1976 boxing drama starring Sylvester Stallone. After four hours of yelling “Anne Fadiman” at the security guard, believing it to be the secret code that I needed in order to gain access to the books, I was removed from the premises. If I were the type of detective who played by the rules, I might have given up hope of ever finding The Yale Record’s Mystery Issue editorial, but that—unlike dark wash jean jackets and bangs—just wasn’t my style. So I called on my trusty Record editorial board for help. Unfortunately, no one on the editorial board seemed to know we were even writing a mystery issue, which seemed ironic. Or perhaps not ironic at all, since the rules of irony were among those by which I did not play. In any case, the others did not totally understand my request. Chasan brought a stack of Nate the Great paperbacks, while Lane purchased the entirety of the Nancy Drew series. Vicky located the Nancy Drew computer games, but we had to ask to borrow my dad’s Dell before we could play them. Next, Ben and Chris came with the Bobbsey Twins while Adam, Alex, and Daniel appeared with The Hardy Ben Rudeen ’17 Chairman

Rachel Lackner ’17 Editor in Chief

Boys. Graham couldn’t find any copies of Encylopedia Brown, so he and Archie snuck in under cover of night to Brown University to steal volumes III-IV of their treasured Encyclopedia Britannica. And Sam had misheard “Yale Record Mystery Issue Editorial” as “Gourmet Heaven Avocado, Bacon, Egg, and Cheese,” which I was happy to accept instead. No one brought the Cam Jansen books, but that was okay because we already had them memorized. Alison arrived just as we started reading The Boxcar Children #48: The Case of Why Are They Still in the Boxcar. “Do you have the editorial for me, Rachel?” she asked. “We’re three weeks late.” “Don’t you see, Alison?” I said. “The real editorial was right here all along.” Alison looked at me, and I looked at her. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife—but a good knife, not the disposable kind made of corn that snaps if you try to use it. I knew I had to break the silence somehow. “I know it doesn’t conform to your rules about what an editorial should be, but if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t…” “Play by the rules?” “Exactly.” And in that moment, I realized I had played by the most important rule of all: friendship. —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:

Special thanks to: Carolyn Keene, who wrote most of this issue. 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.

I’M MRS. PEACOCK, AND I PREFER THE LEAD PIPE

LESSER-KNOWN NOSTRADAMUS PROPHECIES

So we’ve all determined that Mr. Body was killed with the revolver. This terrible crime could’ve been committed any one of us– except for me, of course. Because we all know that I prefer the lead pipe. If I had done this murder, the murdered gentleman here would’ve received a blunt force trauma to the head and the plumbing would be all sorts of messed up. If I were to kill someone, which I haven’t yet, I would definitely only do it if I had access to the uniformly round surface of a lead pipe. I wouldn’t even compromise with the candlestick, even if it were made of lead. Or a pipe that was made of iron or, god forbid, even steel. Only lead pipes for my murders! In fact, I might even be tempted to kill if I just happened to find one of those bad boys hanging loose around the house. Fortunately for everyone, there aren’t any pipes of adequate heft in this house, which I know because I checked. So it looks like we’re all safe!

The nature of a democracy will inevitably produce a candidate with a tenuous grasp on the English language, nonexistent understanding of human decency, and a lack of awareness that he appears to be an actual orange Oil will emerge as the most coveted energy resource until its replacement by a fortuitous overabundance of bored retirees and cheaply produced human hamster wheels Snail secretions and bee venom will emerge as popular skincare products The human race will reach new heights in practicing moronic behavior, but they will learn to follow such behavior with the all-absolving phrase, “It was just a prank, bro!” Same-sex relationships will be condemned until a blonde musician most famous for a song about second-hand clothing stores speaks out through his art Sovereign states will find a way to work out their differences through peaceful dialogue and it will be called the League of Nations and it will be a resounding success, probably O.J. did it Humankind shall attain its greatest achievement with the ability to transmit limitless knowledge instantaneously in the air to any part of the world, and 90% of it shall be used to share images of naked women Chipotle –C. Helschien

–L. Unsworth HOW TO GET AWAY WITH A MURDER OF CROWS Put the crows in a bag Put the bag in your car Drive away –S. Savitz

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HOW TO BE A MYSTERIOUS VIXEN THAT ALL THE BOYS LOVE AND FEAR

Wear a leather jacket that says “Scorpion” on the back When you wear a leather jacket that says “Scorpion” on the back, you send a myriad of lovable and frightening messages to all the boys. One is that you are wealthy enough to afford real leather goods but mysterious enough to make terrible purchases. Another message is that you care more about being a mysterious vixen than you do about animal cruelty. The final message it sends is “Scorpion.” Reject capitalism but refuse to disclose an alternative economic and political system You may be thinking, “Isn’t taking a definite stance on an issue the opposite of my goal to become a mysterious vixen that all the boys love and fear?” This is an excellent point. However, you can still save face if you remain vague when confronted about your thoughts on sustainable replacements for the free market. You’re not like the other girls, who bask in the glow of a capitalist hellscape, and it’s time for all those boys to know that. DO NOT use Pinterest to curate your life and home I cannot stress this enough. You may think your “wedding inspo” and “frightening plants” boards are yours and yours alone, but the internet is free and public, and all the boys can see and copy your DIYs for themselves. Then the mystery behind your perfectly curated life and home will no longer be a mystery, and the boys will neither love nor fear you.

THINGS BETTER LEFT A MYSTERY Why I’ve never seen any pictures of that farm upstate where my parents sent my dog Bluebell Why that old homeless man keeps screaming my social security number outside my window at night Why my mom says I’m her second favorite child Why my mom only had one child Why my senior prom date kept dancing with Mark from AP Biology and insisted on taking photos with him and wouldn’t stop calling me weird and telling me, “I’m not going to the dance with you, stop following me!” What my TA was saying as she spoke seductively to the slurpee machine in our local 7-Eleven Why someone keeps writing “Sally sells her body down by the sea shore to pay for her college education” all over my diary The elderly Why my girlfriend’s search history includes “How to have sex with a micropenis” If Buzzfeed quizzes are always accurate or just most of the time If I can beat that man with a history of cardiovascular disease in a foot race The political and social repercussions of a Donald Trump presidency –C. Helschien

Murder exactly one-half of all the boys When you murder exactly one-half of all the boys, the remaining boys will fear you for your actions, but love you for sparing their lives. They will wonder many things, like “Why have you done this?” And “What kind of terrible person could do such a thing?” The answer to both questions is that you are a mysterious vixen that all the boys love and fear, but keep that quiet too or you will cease to be such.

–R. Lackner

—L. Unsworth

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WHAT YOUR HOROSCOPE SAYS ABOUT WHEN YOU WERE BORN Aries: Between March 21st and April 20th. Taurus: Between April 21st and May 21st. Gemini: Between May 22nd and June 21st. Cancer: Between June 22nd and July 22nd. Leo: Between July 23rd and August 21st. Virgo: Between August 22nd and September 23rd. Libra: Between September 24th and October 23rd. Scorpio: Between October 24th and November 22nd. Sagittarius: Between November 23rd and December 22nd. Capricorn: Between December 23rd and January 20th. Aquarius: Between January 21st and February 19th. Pisces: Between February 20th and March 20th. —R. Lackner FIVE THEORIES ABOUT EGG 1. Egg is white, and sometimes yellow. The moment my Father first presented me with Egg, I cracked it open to see its innards. Most of Egg was white. Cool. Also, part of Egg was yellow, and that’s gross. This means that Egg is white, but some of Egg is also yellow. 2. Egg is good to be inside me. Father told me about a thing called Protein, which climbs inside of my open mouth with its hideous Fingers when I do Eating. He said that Egg has so many Proteins that make me strong enough to punch walls, like Father does. He says that this is good. 3. Egg is a gift of Farm Bird. I looked up Egg in Father’s book of Facts, and it told me that Egg comes from a horrible bird who lives in a farm barn. The Farm Bird is mean except for that it creates Egg as an offering to humans because we keep it alive. I hate Farm Bird, and say terrible words at it to punish it for its sin of meanness. But I love Farm Bird’s Egg, so I must only whisper these terrible words, for fear of No Egg. 4. Egg was also a man who fell and died. Before I went to sleep in my big bed, Father told me the story of Humper Dumpling, a fat Man-Egg who was foolish enough to fall down and be killed. He deserved his death, and the village ate very well that day.

5. Egg can be smashed once Father leaves the house. Once a day Father goes to the lab to pour chemicals into his mouth and leaves me home with Sister and Egg. Sister taught me how to sin, so now I love using Egg to do bad and goop up Father’s walls, which are so covered in his punch holes. –J. Houston LIES ABOUT ORCAS Every twelve seconds, an orca forgets that Michael Jackson is dead Orcas have two spleens, which of course gives them a greater appreciation for the little things in life Orcas have a gestational period of two trillion years The only holiday orcas celebrate is the Jewish holiday Tu B’shevat Orcas are the second least intelligent mammal that weighs over two tons. The first is your mom. A group of orcas is called a Jerry Springer of orcas In 2008, orcas were declared the intellectual property of Apple “You need to crack some eggs to make an omelet” comes from a much more racist orca expression Orcas consider the ending of Free Willy to be bittersweet, because although Willy is freed into the wild, he never gets to kill and eat the little boy –B. Beitler WHAT WAS THE GROUP IN SCOOBY DOO CALLED AGAIN? What was that name? They totally had a name; it wasn’t just those meddling kids. Was it the Scooby Doo Bunch? The Mystery Folks? Crime Buddies? It couldn’t have been the Scooblers right? That would have been crazy. But I didn’t just come up with that. That couldn’t have come from nowhere. The Mystery Gang? No, that sounds like a real gang. There’s no way that would have been on a children’s show. Why can’t I remember this? I know all their names: Verma, Charlies, Turtleneck Jenkins. But the name of their group escapes me. Hmm. I guess we’ll never know. –B. Rudeen & C. Rudeen

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Writing by: B. Rudeen | Design by: N. Rae-Grant

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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

Red Herring Actually a Red Herring BY VICKY LIU STAFF REPORTER Seattle, WA – While investigating a series of thefts at a local fishery, detectives from the Seattle Police Department were dismayed to discover that the red herring they had found at the dock was actually just a red herring. Not only did the gilled creature provide no clues for potential suspects, but it also smelled like death. “I thought it was staring at me,” said one detective, who asked for his name to be withheld as this was the third pun-related

blunder since he began working for the SPD. “I don’t know, maybe I thought if I stared back long enough, it’d tell me something. It had smoky eyes, you know, but like, literally smoked. And crispy. And salted to perfection.” “An Atlantic herring packs 18 grams of protein,” declared his partner, Officer Stonecipher. “That’s 18 grams of gains. If you were a fish thief, you wouldn’t just leave this bad boy behind on accident. Or so we thought.” Onlookers noted that detectives on the case wasted, quote, “a lot of time” relishing the fact that their red herring that was

actually a red herring actually was a red herring and not some other color or species of fish. “A particularly strong curing is required to produce a true red herring,” Stonecipher said. “Did you know that they used to be dyed red during World War One to avoid having to smoke them for so long? That way, they could be sold quickly and easily. Good to know that this one’s the real deal, and that we haven’t lost ourselves in this capitalistic hellscape.” Several days after the find, a report was released to the public concluding that no thefts had actually occurred at the fishery.

... Instead, Marvin McGraw, owner of the fishery, admitted that overfishing was to blame for his decreasing supply of fish, and that he had planted the red herring himself in order to throw the detectives off from suspecting the truth. “In the end,” stated McGraw, “the reddest herring of all was friendship.” Record sources were unable to confirm this statement. A blue herring is unfit for consumption. A blue heron is a bird. Contact VICKY LIU at join@yalerecord.com

IDIOT DOG ALMOST SOLVES MURDER, MESSES UP LAST STEP BY JAKE HOUSTON STAFF REPORTER TERRYTOWN, LA – Fourand-a-half-year-old Bertram, local Cocker Spaniel and general dumbass, failed to solve the murder of Doreen Ellswhite, a wealthy widow whose body was found stabbed to shreds in her mansion last Thursday night. After hearing about the murder Friday morning, the idiot pooch promptly arrived at the scene of the crime. Armed with scent-tracking capabilities that were apparently wasted on this sad excuse for a canine, “Enemy of the Town Bertram,” as he is now locally known, located a bloody knife next to the body, then found a scent on an unfamiliar scarf that matched that on the knife. The dog discovered tire tracks leading away from the mansion and followed them until he located the car, which was abandoned in a

lot next to Tucker’s Pond. He took note of the license plate, like any living thing with half a goddamn brain would. But just when he had reached the end of the line, Bertram royally fucked up the whole investigation. He tried to type the license plate on his owner’s computer in order to identify the driver of the

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car, but according to his owner, 38-year-old Paul Michaels, the Spaniel’s crude dog hands would not allow him to enter the simple series of letters and numbers. “It was just sad,” recalled Michaels, who describes himself as “incredibly ashamed of [his] poor judge of character” in adopting this nightmare of a furry companion.

“Bertram just kept pounding on the keyboard like he was having a fucking seizure. It would have taken him a whole day to put that license number in. After an hour I told him to move over and let me type the thing in, but he just looked at me with his dumb cow eyes, like he had forgotten the code.” “Thanks to Bertram the Asshole Dog, the murder of Mrs. Ellswhite will take months to solve, with little hope for an answer,” reported Manuel Hines, the town’s beloved mayor. Hines recently announced that he will be running for reelection this fall with the slogan, “Send The Horrible Crime Dog Back to Hell with the Atheists Where He Belongs.”

Contact JAKE HOUSTON at join@yalerecord.com

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Roanoke Mystery Almost Definitely Maybe Solved BY LIZ KINGSLEY STAFF REPORTER CHARLOTTE, NC – A new report released by the Society for American Archeology asserts that it is completely plausible that scientists might be on the right track to begin to solve the mystery of the “Lost Colony” of Roanoke. The report’s authors believe they have found the answer, “sort of,” to the question plaguing every American history buff: did the settlers of Roanoke split up into groups to migrate to North Carolina and integrate themselves into Native American tribes? “With new developments,” states the report, “we think we almost certainly could have it-maybe.”

Archeological evidence shows it is almost unquestionably possible that the settlers split and integrated into Native American tribes on the mainland. Archeologist and co-author of the report, Harold Bradley, writes, “The discovery of a 16th-century gold ring in North Carolina suggests some minimal degree of likelihood that English settlers could have migrated there. It definitely, probably, could not be the case that Native Americans took that object to the mainland without the settlers. The Archeological community is pretty sure they are excited by this advancement. “We’ve gone from a degree of possibility to a degree of likelihood. What a leap for history this could be,” exclaimed Bradley’s colleague,

Joan Stern, in an interview. It seems undebatable that this mystery almost definitely may be solved, if not now, then sometime in the next year. “Or maybe the next ten or twenty or one hundred years. This stuff takes time,” added Bradley. Stern commented, “But just look how far we’ve come in the past 429 years. We’ve kind of ruled out many potential explanations for the Roanoke mystery. Alien invasion. Time travel. Dinosaurs.” “Well, of course we ruled out dinosaurs. Everyone knows those weren’t real,” Bradley interjected quickly. “Take something like the Ten Plagues,” added Stern. “They also occurred during the 11,000 years of the Holocene epoch, so they’re not completely out of the

question. We give them a 30% chance of having killed off the settlers. It would’ve been 40%, but the God part brought down the average… didn’t exist in North America yet.” Bradley continued, “There you have it: we can say to a mediocre degree of certainty that it wasn’t the Ten Plagues. This is the work we put our lives into, and we probably could not be more proud.” Bradley and Stern added that they are currently accepting suggestions from the public for what could have happened to the settlers of Roanoke, and that the prize for guessing correctly would be a pair of tickets to the revival of Cats, the musical. Contact LIZ KINGSLEY at join@yalerecord.com

Local “Private Ear” Too Good at His Job BY NATHAN EWING-CRYSTAL STAFF REPORTER Five local couples have filed separate lawsuits against Hear for Hire, a local “private ear” investigative company recently founded by well-known amateur detective John P. Diddleworth, for mistakenly arresting them in the midst of what one couple described as “Mommy and Daddy’s special closed-door acting time.” “Kinky kidnapping roleplaying sex, that’s all it was,” one complainant clarified. “Can’t I just bind and gag my girlfriend in peace without some wannabe vigilante detective barging in at the first bloodcurdling scream?” Diddleworth is known for having opened the city’s first “private ear” company upon closing his previous private eye business.

Multiple previous employees cited “blindness,” among other reasons, as an impetus for the restructuring. However, Diddleworth publicly denied such claims, insisting that his innovative approach has nothing to do with the fact that he suffers from a degenerative disease that has cost him most of his sight in both eyes, but rather stems from his entrepreneurial character. Initially, the business was a resounding success. Diddleworth, who is a selfdescribed specialist in “booms, crashes, bangs, smashes, the occasional kapow, and even a thwack or two now and then” was celebrated by the community for his innovative approach to crimesolving, as well as his ability to adapt to, rather than mourn, the loss of his sight.

which Diddleworth followed his hyper-sensitive hearing to a secluded sex-dungeon and called in the arrest of a many-tentacled Nazi kidnapper, was the fifth in as many months which ended in innocent, if sexually adventurous, civilians filing suit. If the thespian desires of the citizenry prevail over Diddleworth’s invocation of the age-old legal statute, “better safe than sorry,” the detective has indicated that upon closing Hear for Hire, he intends to begin work as a stage-foot at the local theater – a job that he will surely excel at, given his congenital lack of hands. However, many worry that Diddleworth has improved the “ear” aspect of his business at the Contact NATHAN EWING-CRYSTAL at expense of the “private” aspect. join@yalerecord.com Last Tuesday’s incident, in

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You’ll never believe what these sneaky felons have been up to!

While fellow inmates slept, three convicts at the Oakwood Federal Correctional Institution scaled five fifteen-foot walls, leapt over a poorly-maintained gator pit, and constructed a makeshift raft using only coconuts, seaweed, and three pairs of tattered Hane’s men underwear. From there, they traversed 10 miles of water to gain entry to the more accommodating and maximally-secure neighboring Jeffrey Island Prison. Wow! After clocking into his shift, profoundly dumbstruck and underqualified prison guard Bo Rickman found on his desk a hastily-written letter from the three escapees. The letter was peppered with boasts that the convicts would soon be in a more amenable prison with hot shower water, twin XL beds, and unassailable security features. “They also left 52 pages of fastidious notes on our guards’ schedules and weaknesses, a mind-dizzying breakdown of our insuf ficient security system, and an enthralling description of superior prison destinations,” Harris reported. “We knew we were fucked.” The future for the prisoners is still unclear. For now, however, they’re spending their time enjoying three nutritionist-approved meals per day, playing on the prison’s slowpitch softball team, and being utterly unable to find even a single fault in the prison’s impressive security system. It looks like these prisoners know how to get what they want!

Writing by: C. Helschien | Design by: D. Hoogstraten

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3 FOOLPROOF WAYS TO LEAVE A LOT OF EVIDENCE

pops up in all the legends could be the last in a line of extinct humans.

Lick everything Bleed haphazardly Just be yourself

After all, other underwater cultures across the globe share similar legends about human-like creatures. The Sasquatch in North America, the Yeti in Asia...they all share certain features with humans: standing upright, hairy, and violent. How could all these different cultures have the same legend if there wasn’t some truth to it?

–L. Unsworth NOTABLE THINGS ABOUT BIG FOOT OTHER THAN HIS BIG FEET His kind heart His tender touch His silky brunette tresses A bit protective, but only because he’s so loyal Makes great cedar plank salmon His tasteful vinyl collection of mid-century jazz, which he doesn’t make a big deal about having Great with parents

–B. Foot

LOCH NESS MONSTER: I KNOW HUMANS ARE REAL Humans exist. I know I sound like one of those conspiracy-theory nuts, but I promise you I’m not. For example, I don’t believe in some mythical above-water lost continent of Atlantis. I know that plesiosaurs have landed on the moon. And I don’t think there was a second shooter in the John Flipper Kennedy assassination. So you can believe me when I say that I have seen humans with my own eyes. I know all about the previous “confirmed sightings” that were just hoaxes. I know that the famous photo of a “human” was just staged with a toy monkey in a bathtub. And I know that the Ministry of Underwater Affairs sent a team to do a sonar scan of the edges of Loch Ness, failing to find any results. People tell me all the time, “Humans died out thousands of years ago.” But is it really that inconceivable that one human (or herd of humans) still survives at Castle Urquhart on the shore of Loch Ness? This “Urkie” that

But the reason why I am sure that humans exist is that I actually saw one. I was watching the surface of the lake one day when I saw a splash. There was a shape in the water: it had four limbs like a frog, but it was too big to be a frog. All the other 300-foot-long intelligent sea serpents think that it’s impossible for a creature like a human to still exist out there. But I know what I saw that day. –S. Savitz PEOPLE YOU THOUGHT WERE DEAD THAT ARE STILL ALIVE Listen folks, anyone who’s an independent thinker knows you can’t trust the media or the feds or the afterlife illuminati. We all know that JFK, Tupac, and the Lindbergh Baby are alive, and that George Bush is keeping them in a secret lair beneath the decommissioned Yucca Mountain Nuclear Waste Repository. But what you’ve heard is just the tip of the iceberg, baby! Here’s a rundown of everyone the lame-stream media told us died but is actually just in hiding for reasons as sinister and mysterious as they are utterly irrational: Peter Salovey’s Mustache Alexander Hamilton Alexander Hamilton (but like, the sexy Lin-Manuel Miranda version) Leonard Nimoy from Star Quest Garrett, your second grade class hamster Ben Garfinkel, former Record Editor in Chief and your third grade class hamster Your Aunt Donna (you really should call her) Cousin Carl (you really should never call him again. He remembers what you did.) Stor Blinkus American Democracy –C. Hall

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INNOVATIVE TECHNIQUES THAT DON’T ACTUALLY IMPROVE TV SHOW DETECTIVES’ CRIME-SOLVING ABILITIES* Licking Being lactose intolerant A strong pro-Oxford comma stance An emphasis on “sneaking” Turning one’s helmet into a thinking cap Turning one’s beard into a guessing goatee Synergy Consulting the stars and asking for a celestial sign to help you solve the death of your beloved schnauzer, whose tragic murder was never solved and haunts you to this day A passion for Cream of Wheat Knowing who did it, with what, and where *According to the person who rejected my numerous pitches for a new crime show on USA –L. Unsworth LESSER-KNOWN HARDY BOYS BOOKS #93: The Mystery of Mom’s Friend Jeff #77: Frank Has A Funny Feeling About That Island #11: 2 Hardy 2 Boys #159: The Secret of Frank’s Changing Body #8: Unfortunately They Couldn’t Quite Solve This One #17: Good God No! NOOO!!! #132: The Lagoon of Mystery #133: The Cove of Ill Repute #134: The Lagoon That Looks Suspiciously Like A Cove #49: The Clue in the Secret Mystery #45: Cam Jansen Sucks

Nicole Brown & Ron Goldman As Kim Kardashian famously said, “if the glove doesn’t fit, then we must quit” searching for their killer. Though I have a feeling it might be that old All-American NFL running back, Walter Payton. The Zodiac Killings Justice can wait on this one. Senator Cruz’s removal from Congress might prove too catastrophic to risk. John F. Kennedy Sure, it was probably Ted Cruz, but who can say for sure? Macaulay Culkin Huh. Haven’t really heard about him in a while. He’s gone, right? Hearing about his death would really ruin the tale of his heroic survival all alone at home like that. RIP Macaulay. My freshman year roommate who ate all my Chex™ Mix and reported my illegal Beyblade ring to the Dean Huh.. Really could’ve been anyone. –G. Ambrose

–M. Kaplan MURDERS WE NEVER WANT SOLVED Tupac Shakur However horrible it was to lose Tupac, the emotion surrounding his unsolved 1996 murder will help him create even more of the beautiful music we’ve come to know and love. Inspiring.

—L. Unsworth

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WHY MEN HAVE NIPPLES Once, not too long ago, a lone traveler ascended a mountain with only one burlap sack full of canned and packaged delicacies slung over one shoulder. Months of travel made him weary. The sun bore down on him, giving him a devilish beard tan that would’ve been quite embarrassing had he returned to society and to his Gillette Fusion razor, which would offer him outstanding shaving performance, even on sensitive skin. It was cold and he had lost a toe. But such is life. One can afford to lose many toes in the pursuit of truth; that is why we have ten. The truth he sought had been a mystery to humankind for centuries: Why do men have nipples? The traveler wrenched his bedraggled body over the final cliff ledge and looked deep into the mouth of a primordial cave. There he saw an ancient sage enrobed in very many robes. There he would find his answer. The sage beckoned to him with one of his fingers barely protruding from his robes, as he was wearing very many robes that enrobed him very muchly. “What do you wish to know, my child?” the sage inquired through his thick veil of robes. The traveler leaned into the sage’s robes, which were many, and tenderly whispered his question. “Hold out your hands” the sage bellowed from deep within his multitude of robes. The traveler obeyed, and the sage enrobed the traveler’s hands in his. The traveler was suddenly transported to a dense, steamy forest of prehistoric times, where the sage pointed to a pool. The traveler looked into the pool. At first he only saw rocks, and various aquatic shrubs, but after a moment he saw it. In the pool, small a school of nipples flurried about in the water. Nipples of all shapes and colors swam about the pool. Mesmerized by the myriad of nipples, he reached his hand out and touched the surface of the water. The pool began to bubble, and quickly the traveler was engulfed by the pool and was no more. The sage chuckled. “Men do not have nipples,” he said. “Nipples have men.” –L. Unsworth

26 ALPHABET MYSTERIES WE’D HAVE WRITTEN IF IT WERE UP TO US A is for Accidental Death B is for Bacchanalia C is for Cookie Dough D is for Despair E is for Elephant F is for Freak Accident G is for Gross Negligence H is for Human Error I is for Indecent Exposure J is for Joules K is for Klutz L is for Liability M is for Mystery N is for Now That I Think More About It, Maybe Let’s Not Go In There O is for Oopsies P is for Plausibly An Accident Q is for Quite Surely An Accident R is for Romaine Lettuce S is for Spontaneous Combustion T is for Tragedy U is for Unpreventable Tragedy V is for Vaping W is for Witchcraft X is for Xylophone Y is for Yttrium Z is for Zoophilia —A. Lessing CLUE CHARACTERS WHO DIDN’T MAKE THE CUT Mademoiselle Mauve Adjunct Professor Peach My Great Uncle Nicholas Commodore Ketchup The Angel of Death Archbishop Amethyst No really, Uncle Nick was almost in Clue Fräulein Fuchsia Joe Biden

—A. Lessing

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STUDENT SPARKS SCHOLARLY STONEHENGE SQUABBLE This week, a controversial new paper presenting an unusual theory on the meaning behind Stonehenge was met with strong condemnation from many experts – all of it directed at the author, 17-year-old Bobby Rockwell, who wrote the paper as a summer research report for his high school’s Ancient History class. After procrastinating for three months and left with no time to actually research the facts on Stonehenge, Rockwell opted to write his own take on the landmark’s dubious origin, creating a hypothesis so original and bizarre that it was bound to raise some eyebrows. “Maybe Stonehenge is really just a circle of old rocks,” Rockwell posits. “Five thousand years ago, some people probably just got together in a field in Wales and thought, ‘Hey, some rocks would probably look pretty good right here.’” The assignment received a grade of 91% for being completed on time. Many respected voices in the archaeological community have taken issue with the paper’s high marks, however. “When educators reward students for inventing facts, they are promoting anti-intellectualism,” says Mary Carlson, Editor in Chief at National Geographic. “For instance, when Rockwell says that Stonehenge is ‘just some shitty rocks’, he completely neglects all the evidence indicating that those rocks attain mystical healing powers at high noon on the summer solstice.” Others have criticized the “complex assumptions” used in the paper’s arguments. “We typically find in practice that the best conclusions are drawn from straightforward explanations,” notes Charles Northridge, host of the acclaimed History Channel series Spooky Magic Secrets. “So when Rockwell claims the builders of Stonehenge ‘used levers to stack the rocks,’ he brashly assumes that ancient humans understood the laws of physics when in reality, it is much more likely that the lifting was actually done using the anti-gravity features of UFOs.” The most vocal protest, though, has been directed towards the paper’s insinuations about the Stonehenge builders’ morality. “Frankly, we were disgusted by Rockwell’s profane suggestion that people ‘may have gone to Stonehenge to smoke or have sex,’” remarks David Sorkin, Smithsonian Institute CEO. “It has long been the Smithsonian’s firm belief that Stonehenge was originally a portal built by Satan for transporting the ancient Welsh to Hell. However, in light of this new heretic writing, we now believe that the Dark One may be able to find room

for one more.” Despite the controversy, little of the backlash seems to have affected or even reached Rockwell himself. Next week, the high school senior is expected to submit a paper on the Bermuda Triangle for his Creative Writing class. —M. Abuzalaf HISTORY’S MYSTERIES: YALE EDITION Secrets of the Stacks: An ancient stone building on Yale’s campus houses untold volumes of archaic technologies like VHS tapes. By day, it presents an unassuming facade to tour groups and bookworms, but at night, those wandering its halls often hear strange moans and shuffling in dark corners. Is there a ghost inhabiting this stone colossus? Or could it be something even more...sinister? Visitors from Another World: Some say that visitors come to Yale from a far-off place, a land with a strange, alien name: Quinnipiac. On a pre-ordained schedule, these visitors arrive in their vehicles and descend on the campus. Occasionally, they interact with Yale students, and there are even tales of the visitors mating with Yalies. Some conspiracy theories have claimed that the government houses these visitors at a secret facility, referred to only as “Toad’s”. Divinity School--The Lost Continent: Legends tell of a glorious kingdom, ruled over by illustrious monarchs, full of untold riches. Some claim to have seen this shining city, but no undergraduate has laid eyes on it in centuries. Is it a real place? Or just a figment of joggers’ creative imaginations? Only God knows. Mystery of the Moustache: Once upon a time, a glorious moustache lorded over Yale from one of the university’s most exalted positions: President Peter Salovey’s upper lip. But one day, with no warning, it vanished under mysterious circumstances. Rumor has it that the moustache knew something about Salovey: perhaps a secret he wanted to keep quiet. Did it flee? Or was it…murdered? -S. Savitz

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“DON’T CROSS THE FINNISH LINE,” DEMANDS NORWEGIAN BORDER PATROL To the Yale community, A Yale college student was admitted yesterday evening to Yale-New Haven Hospital with a probable flesh-eating disease. What is left of the student is currently doing well and is being closely monitored. We are hopeful that they will make a swift recovery. Wash your hands, Dr. Paul Genecin

“THE CZECH HAS BEEN CACHED,” REPORTS FLAG-STEALING SQUIRREL

Dear diary, The first Record meeting is going great so far. Nothing’s caught on fire, and all the freshmen seem so smart and funny! I bet they won’t even notice I wrote a self-referential mailbag trying to flatter them. Sincerely, Rachel Lackner

WE DIDN’T BELIEVE IT. WE FACT CHECKED IT TWICE. THE NEXT TRAIN ARRIVING ON TRACK 10 IS TRAIN NUMBER 623 EN ROUTE TO HARRISBURG

DONALD TRUMP JUST TRYING TO MAKE HIS FATHER, BEELZEBUB TRUMP, PROUD To the Yale community, I write to let you know that a party occurred at the corner of Crown and Howe at approximately 9:00 pm. Many of the security guards and Yale faculty members engaged in jovial dancing and “strip poker.” If you have any photographic evidence regarding this incident, please refrain from posting it on social media. Sincerely, Chief Ronnell A. Higgins

H u ng e r Dismised!

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CONJOINED TWINS SPEND THREE HOURS ARGUING AT FORK IN THE ROAD Dear freshmen, Do you want to join our slamp poetry group? Sincerely, A group of stoves crossed with lamps that do poetry

IN WAKE OF DEATH, YALE EXTENDS OFFER TO HANDSOME DAN’S COUSIN UGLY PETER THE SALAMANDER TO FILL IN AS MASCOT Dear Free Jazz, Nobody likes you.

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