The Urban Issue by The Yale Record

Vol. 140, No. 3

The Yale

October 28, 2011

Record

The Urban Issue

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FISH WITH COATS TO HANG NOT SO UPSET ABOUT FISH HOOKS Dear Lady Gaga, I have an idea for your next hit single. It’s going to be a song in which you make it clear that you play a dominant, very independent role in your relationship with the man you seem to be singing to. At one point, you’re going to sing in a foreign language for a few lines. Then you’re going to make a music video where you wear a banana suit and lick your lips a lot while shaking maracas. Also, at the end of the video, you’ll be dressed like a baby, but you’ll be doing mixed martial arts and using a crib mobile as some sort of weird, multi-armed mace. Get back to me; I think we’ve got gold here. —The guy who comes up with Lady Gaga’s ideas

Dear Zyjlphorx, Oh, how I wish you were real. —A desperate Scrabble player Dear Mr. Jones, I hope you realize that when you made a purchase at our yard sale last weekend, you were not actually purchasing our yard. I’m sure it was an honest mistake, but I will have to ask you to pack up your tent and leave all the same. (Seriously, I’m going to call the police.) Cordially, John Black

THREE-QUARTERS OF ALL HOUSES THREATENED BY THREECLOSURE Dear Texan Governors, You know you don’t have to run for president, right? —A worried American

MAN MAKES NEW SANDWICH FROM INGREDIENTS THAT FELL OUT OF PREVIOUS SANDWICH dear american public i abstain from the authoritative significance of capital letters and also the finalizing mark of punctuation the style my method this puritan prose provokes your ponderings at what meaning is conveyed through lack of added meaning and now i will tell you my shift key is broken and so are all the punctuation keys —e e cummings

T he Y ale R ecord Dear Fred, You’ll never change me. —A counterfeit $100 bill

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YALE UNDERGRAD ACTUALLY KEEPS IN TOUCH WITH FRIEND WHO GRADUATED THE PREVIOUS YEAR Dear Mary, How inconvenient that, every time I call you, you happen to be in your car and approaching a tunnel. How many tunnels do you live near, exactly? Do you work and/or live inside a tunnel? How do you live with constantly losing your cell phone signal and forgetting to call people back? No matter. I’ve decided to write you a letter so that this terribly inconvenient tunnel no longer stands in the way of our correspondence. Sincerely, David

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Dear David, Oh, thank God you finally thought to send me a letter! The tunnel has kept me captive for three months. I keep walking and walking but the end never comes. Cars are always passing by but they never stop. I’ve been nourishing myself off of the litter thrown from their windows. When there are no cars, occasionally the tunnel talks to me. I don’t know why he sounds like Morgan Freeman. How did your letter even get here? When are you coming to save me? It’s…so terrible here. Tearfully, Mary

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Dear Yale Record, I heard a joke today that made use of a commonly known stereotype and also contained some edgy sexual innuendo. Needless to say, I laughed for hours and hours. —Someone who’s just kidding

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hen the Record set out to do an Urban Issue, it was with the goal of crafting an incisive compendium that would address the hottest questions in urban studies today. Cities were something that everyone knew about, something about which all of us could make insightful remarks. We confirmed this by spending an hour making a list of all the cities we had been to (New York, New York, New Haven, Amsterdam and Gilliganâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Island) and then another making a list of all the issues we deemed most important in urban living (dog poop, dog poop, human poop, street vendor-sold hot dog prices and criminal recidivism). David, Chairman of the Record and Urban Studies enthusiast, insisted that all of our jokes center on gentrification. I nixed the idea when a staffer asked if that was a plastic surgery procedure. Still, the writing cycle trundled along nicely. We were unjustly attacking a diverse range of cities. Mayor DeStefano had reportedly shut himself, weeping, into his office with a pile of Wenzels after receiving an advance copy. The joke I had made at a staff meeting about a yuppie, a hipster and a thug all walking into a bar and saying, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Ouch!â&#x20AC;? had received two laughs, which was at least two more than I had expected.

The Yale Record

Yet while the rest of the staff happily smeared city living, I was having personal doubts about our issue choice. I had grown up hating cities, believing them to be filthy, congested and smelling of desperation. (But I also thought the same of Jimmy Carter, so maybe it was just a phase.) It seemed that, with this attitude, putting together a scathing Urban Issue would be as easy as fighting rodent infestation. Yet I knew great humor couldn’t come from merely pointing out negatives; I also had to ferret out the positives of urban living and mercilessly slaughter them as well. So I made a list of things that were good about cities. Item number one: people do what they want in cities. For example, that guy with the eye patch in Bryant Park who wanders around playing the didgeridoo will always totter up to you to try to sell you peanuts, even if you try to frantically mouth “no” at him from far away. That man is nothing if not unbridled urban independence. Item number two: cities are full of Culture with a capital C. You can visit art museums, churches, former prisons, and the occasional church for art prisoners. Exposure to Culture lets you practice your more-enthralled-than-

thou face in five minute chunks (the time needed for four other people to consider and fail to understand the exhibit you’re all looking at). Item number three: cities are full of job opportunities, although according to my mother, I won’t get any of them because I’m a Literature major. Actually, let’s cross that one out. At the end of my list-making, I realized that I didn’t need to strenuously mock cities; they pretty much did it themselves. But just to be safe, we’re still publishing this Urban Issue. So kick back on whatever subway line you’re riding on and enjoy the magazine. There’s a little gentle teasing of every city, so don’t take it personally (except for Wilmington, DE, which gets fucking destroyed because they deserve it). And don’t forget to watch out for the dog poop on page seven.

—D. Zhu The Yale Record October 2011

Chairman: David Kemper ’13

Editor-in-Chief: Dana Zhu ’12 Publisher: Jerry Wang ’13 Design Editor: Sydney Shea ’14 Managing Editors: Alli Hugi ’13, Lincoln Sedlacek ’13, Michelle Taylor ’13 Art Director: Paul Robalino ’12 Online Editor: Jack Newsham ’14 Publicity Manager: Daniel Fraser II ’14

Staff Writers & Artists: Juliet deButts ’14, Matthew Dernbach ’13, Ben Green ’14, Andrew Kahn ’14, Yoonjoo Lee ’12, Sofia Nicholson ’14, Emily Sandford ’14, Ellen Su ’13, Autumn Von Plinsky ’13, Catherine White ’13 Contributing Writers & Artists: Aaron Gertler ’15, Victor Hall ’15, Spencer Katz ’13, Mitchell Nobel ’13, Zach Schloss ’15, Andrew Sobotka ’15, Ilana Strauss ’14, Clinton Wang ’15, Ruoxi Yu ’15, Sylvia Zhang ’15 Special Thanks to: Michael Gerber, Gwyneth Tuckett, and the 59th floor of the Empire State Building Cover: This month’s cover was illustrated by Paul Robalino and Ellen Su, who enjoy eating lunch perched on top of steel beams Founded September 11, 1872 • Vol. CXL, 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 2011 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.

CAROLYNNE SMITH, 8, OPENS NEW ART INSTALLMENT TO GREAT ACCLAIM The art scene has a new face – slightly chubby, cheerful, and smudged with chalk dust. That face belongs to enterprising eight-year-old Carolynne Smith, a newcomer to Rocky Plains’ sidewalk chalk scene. Smith has previously garnered acclaim for her private backyard patio showings of her work, but until now has been very selective about her audience. Today marks the opening of her new Spring Street installment, the first to welcome the public. Smith greeted visitors with the grace of a seasoned artist, mingling easily with fans and critics alike. Occasionally she stepped aside to take a milk and cookie break on a nearby park bench, classically scuffed Mary Janes kicking nervously as she watched the critics inspect her work. Smith ought not to worry, though— she may not have the wisdom of some of the more established street artists, but she certainly has the talent to match the best of them. The Spring Street installment includes such modern classics as “Hopscotch #2” and “Rainbow with a Unicorn,” as well as more controversial pieces like “Green Flowers, Black Leaves.” The pinnacle of the installment, though, is definitely “Self-Portrait” – the sight of Carolynne’s name written in clumsy cursive obviously portrays her fears of inadequacy and inexperience in a vicious, adult art world.

Though it would be foolish to claim that all of

the pieces of the installment are overly similar, they do have one major unifying factor: the colors. Carolynne uses a wonderful range of colors, even breaking into a jarring crimson in some places, but each piece boils down to the same six shades: pastel yellow, pastel pink, pastel blue, pastel orange, pastel green, and basic white. These light shades give her artwork a pale, dreamlike quality, reflecting not only the childlike grace of Carolynne’s thoughts and feelings as she pours them out onto the sidewalk for all to see, but also the heartbreaking fragility of those ideas in the harsh urban landscape of today. Your breath catches in your throat as you identify with the one emotion that manages to bind together all of Carolynne’s work: hope. Carolynne’s diverse and deep inspirations are reflected in the character of her work. “I really like puppies,” she said, when asked about her influences. Another important component of her artistry: her sassiness. “She really wanted to prove to her father that she was a serious artist, so she decided to work directly beside his parked car. He couldn’t miss it!” said Carolynne’s mother, Anne. “I’m very proud of her.” But who isn’t proud of Carolynne? Not every eight-year-old can become the darling of the art world. Her Spring Street installment is open 24 hours a day to the public, but make sure you see it soon. The exhibit is a once in a lifetime chance to see a young master’s early work, and the forecast for tomorrow is decidedly rainy. —S. Shea

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−A. Von Plinsky

MY PLAN TO SAVE NEW HAVEN I recently conducted a study of the average New Haven resident’s perception of his city. Responses varied from “Get the hell away from me,” to “Would you like to buy a flower?” all the way to “I’ll let you know at my house tonight, baby.” Using a rigorous and scientifically sound formula that features the same symbols as the one from Stat 103, I discovered that these responses showed that, on a scale from 1 to 10, the average New Havenite rates New Haven a 2.35. As the enterprising but simultaneously socially-conscious Yalie that I am, I decided that I needed to improve this number; I simply could not live with myself if I just let this fact be and did nothing to ameliorate it. At first, I thought the problem was that there is no good word for a New Haven resident. How can a city be united when its citizens have no word with which to describe themselves? Surely you noticed how awkward “New Havenite” sounded when I wrote it above. But then I realized that there is no such word to describe the citizens of Omaha, and they rate their city at a record-breaking 10.71 (my regression is still being tweaked to take into account people who cannot count to 10). I was not to be so easily discouraged. Every great city has a great park; I don’t know how anyone would survive New York if they couldn’t escape the cacophony of the city by slipping on their iPod and going for a relaxing Segway jaunt around Central Park with ten thousand others. I decided to check out New Haven’s park potential and headed over to the New Haven Green around 3 a.m., since I needed to keep my idea secret until I could reveal it in a Pulitzer Prize-winning YDN op-ed. I brought along the

underprivileged kids from a nearby middle school to help begin what I dubbed the Go Green! project. They asked to leave after their basketball was popped by a rogue heroin syringe and one of them found what looked suspiciously like a detached human ear on the ground. The restraining order that was imposed on me will delay the implementation of my reforms for the city. That’s when it hit me. Every true city derives its pride from its sports teams: they give people a common enemy and a way to simultaneously eat cotton candy, drink beer, and spit tobacco without the fear of social stigma. Some have had to settle for college teams, but you cannot expect even the desperate New Havenese to unite around Yale’s football team. I could fix New Haven if only I found a sports team around which we could rally. My search was not easy. I used all the skills of research Yale had taught me: Google informed me that the New England Seawolves were housed in Hartford. It then told me that they are now called the Toronto Phantoms, and I knew that no team that had smelled the fresh air and free healthcare of Canada would ever be tempted back. Strike one. My next hit was the Connecticut Sun, a WNBA team housed in Uncasville, CT. This was promising—but then I remembered that most New Havenians have little to no experience with the sun, and, wary that fear of the unknown would only exacerbate the issues plaguing the city, decided that this was not the way to go. Strike two. And then inspiration struck. The Connecticut Crushers: the Northeast’s preeminent women’s professional football team. Their 2010 1-7 record would have sealed the deal for me: who doesn’t like rooting for the underdog? Unfortunately, my college dean’s office told me that Sudler funding would not cover this innovative and inspirational idea of mine. Strike three. Confused, disappointed and discouraged, I decided to call up Uncle Steffy, my godfather. Everyone knows him as Mayor DeStefano, but he’s really close with my family, so we’ve all got nicknames for him. I can’t believe that wasn’t my first idea! He assured me that he would appoint me Chief Development Officer of New Haven for the coming fiscal year, provided that Daddy didn’t forget about it the next time he was writing campaign contribution checks. Uncle Steffy was happy to give an idealistic undergrad a chance, and now I will have all the resources of the city at my disposal to implement my brilliant reforms. Get ready for change, New Haven! —A. Hugi

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TIPS FOR WALKING ALONE IN NEW HAVEN AT NIGHT 1) Wear a Rolex, yacht shoes and a chip on your shoulder: no one will mug you if you carry a bit of the Yale bubble with you everywhere you go. 2) If you spot someone walking alone in the same direction, they’re probably nervous and would welcome the companionship of a stranger who suddenly appears from behind them. 3) Always carry a Dean’s excuse. 4) Every 50 yards or so, suddenly turn around and shout “GOTCHA!” at the top of your lungs 5) A Campus Customs BPA-free Yale-brand water bottle, when filled to the brim, makes a wonderful bludgeon. 6) It works even better when it’s open – and filled with pepper spray. 7) Go undercover: all you need is a false beard, a parka, and a shopping cart (steal one from an actual hobo, as Stop-N-Shop locks theirs down).

8) Pretend to hold a loud, witty conversation with the friends you wish you had. 9) The sketchier the neighborhood, the likelier it becomes that passing motorists will eagerly assist a nice, young hitchhiker who clearly lost his way; work those thumbs! 10) Never forget the Yale Blue Phone system: reliably delivering a uniformed officer five minutes after any criminal worth his salt has disappeared into Greater New Haven with your wallet, phone and dignity. 11) Don’t. 12) The ultimate response to any mugger: “I’m on a YSECS mission of the utmost importance, and you have no idea who you are dealing with.” 13) Stay within the same nine-square-block radius and you’ll never have to worry about safety, security, or the risk of interacting with people who’ve lived in New Haven for more than four years! —A. Gertler

“Goddamn hippies!” −S. Katz

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PROTECTING YOUR HOME FROM THE GAY MENACE: A COLUMN BY SHIRLEY NICHOLS Hello, readers, and welcome back to “Enemies of the State,” my weekly column where I take a look at some of the groups that are tearing America apart from the inside! Last week I talked about the homeless, those undercover advocates for socialism who try to drag us good, hardworking folk down into sickness by asking for money and then brushing their disease-laden hands against ours. We’re onto you, Mr. Hepatitis Hobo! Today, though, I’ll be looking at an even greater threat to our country: homosexuality—in your home. That’s right, readers: today’s culture is doing everything it can to turn you and your children gay. If you don’t believe me, take a look at some of the stuff on TV. I’m not even talking about those adult shows like Modern Family that have a “nice” gay couple being “funny.” Even kids’ shows are guilty! Dora the Explorer? I don’t know what she’s exploring, with her short hair and her little boy shoes and her tomboyish, mountaineering attitude, but I don’t want my kids taking part in her “exploration”! I’m not sure what your “mochila” is, Dora, but I have a feeling that if I reach inside it I’m going to find a map, all right—a map to gay. With TV going down this path, it’s not going to be long before Sesame Street’s inviting Lady Gaga to guest star, and she’s teaching your tots how to slip off their diapers in a sexy strip tease for that boy who sleeps beside them at daycare. You know what I do whenever my toddlers accidentally see something like that? Spank ‘em, so they’ll learn to associate that debauchery with everything bad in the world. And if you think you don’t need to protect your teenagers because they’ve grown up, you’re wrong. It’s never too late for society to turn some good, innocent Christian child into a cesspool of sin and homosexuality! I’m sure you’ve all heard the song by that tramp who kissed a girl and liked it? After I heard that trash, I took every flannel shirt in my daughter’s closet and burned it. She sobbed something about one of them being her boyfriend’s shirt. Well, I made them break up right then and there! What kind of boy would want his girlfriend looking like a man except a secret homosexual, hoping to convert my

daughter to his evil ways? If her boyfriend wanted her to stay interested in men at all, much less him, then he should buy her one of those cute little tank tops from Abercrombie instead of trying to make her look like a lumberjack. Some of you might say, “Now wait a minute, ShirlGirl! Gay people aren’t that much of a threat to our country. At worst, they make the line at Bath and Bodyworks longer; at best, they contribute to society just like any other good citizen!” And yes, you might say gays contribute to society by helping us spruce up our home décor and giving us all of that Broadway musical “culture.” But at what price? I’m not going to risk letting the gay influence into my house just so my living room can look a little trendier. I’ve seen the manager of Leading Linens, and his hair is a little too highlighted for my liking. I don’t know what gay subliminal messages are embedded in the patterns he sells, but whatever they are, I’m not letting them turn my husband gay just because my daughter thinks my good old Confederate flag curtains are hideous! As for all that “culture” stuff, that’s what’s causing the problem in the first place! It’s those sexy Broadway musicals like Rent and Cats that are making everyone believe that being gay is okay. People, don’t forget: all this “culture” is a part of the homosexual agenda to destroy America through a combination of sabotaging the U.S. military and secretly controlling the stock market! I’m not going to let this corrosive culture influence my child, and if that means that whenever he goes to a musical like Rent I have to buy a ticket for the seat behind him and scream “SINNERS!” every five minutes, so be it. Some of my friends take issue with my harsh parenting techniques, but I fear they only do so because the gay menace has already taken control of their minds. At least I know better than to buy into that “acceptance” and “tolerance” baloney that all of my neighbors have fallen for. I need to protect my family from the influence of homosexuality, even if it means throwing out my son’s new CDs. I’d never heard of Panic! at the Disco until I found the CD in his room the other day, but any band that does disco music after the 70’s can’t be straight. —L. Sedlacek

yale like a i'm so reco boss rd b itch Cred

Street for Street Art by Vic Hall

artist and must be avoided at all costs. A true graffiti artist knows how to find that perfect balance between “Why did someone spill paint on that wall?” and “I daresay, that is an excellent use of art as a social commentary on the plight of the Arctic narwhal.” It may be awkward at first, but if you start small and work your way up, your cred will grow with you. Before you know it, you’ll feel right at home spraying what looks like German wingdings on the side of subway trains.

Content

n an urban environment, your street cred is your most vital asset. For some, all it takes is a few muggings and a well-executed drive-by shooting before you’re trending on Twitter as a result of Ronnell Higgins’ recent discovery of the hash tag sign. Others find this route to be too mainstream, instead seeking to build street cred through the subtleties of the art form known as graffiti. The graffiti artist attempts to gain credibility in a unique way – one that can succeed wildly or flop disastrously. We at the Record have spent hours poring over the Wikipedia page for “graffiti,” and are proud to present our readers with the three factors that make the difference between leaving a mark in the city, and leaving your mark on the city.

like a blessing. The only exception to this is if you are actually a child. In that case, we say congratulations, because you’ve just earned yourself enough street cred to be cooler than the kid who always has two chocolate puddings for lunch!

he actual content of graffiti may seem important, but most people don’t actually give a fuck. What really matters is how you get that message across. For instance, “Fuck dat bitch Sara!” is an excellent tag. Do I know anything about Sara or the situation that led to someone scribbling this on three consecutive bathroom stall doors? No, and while I’m slightly curious as to why it had to be written three times, I, like most people, generally don’t care in the slightest. Direct, yet ambiguous (Is Sara fucking that bitch, or the one being fucked?), blatantly biased (Has Sara even been a bitch lately?), and incredibly profane (Fuck yeah!) – this tag has all the markings of graffiti worthy of some serious street cred. If you’re not Banksy, don’t pretend like you’re trying to send clear, deep, meaningful messages. This is graffiti – save the passiveaggressiveness for your suitemates, and aim for the sort of irrational, judgmental, vulgar statements that make people wonder if you’re secretly the love-child of Sarah Palin and a sailor with severe Tourette’s.

Context

ocation is everything for the graffiti artist’s street cred. The more people who see your tag, the better it is, and just as Michelangelo didn’t use crayons to paint the Sistine Chapel, a great graffiti artist needs the best materials. This is why spray-painting “Imabadassmothafucka” on the Brooklyn Bridge in huge letters would earn even Dane Cook some street cred, while writing the same thing in sidewalk chalk on a school playground would lead to a cred downgrade that makes an AA+ from S&P look

Legibility

egibility is also crucial to the success of a piece of graffiti. If other people can read or even mostly understand your tag, you’re doing it wrong. Spelling, punctuation, having a strong command of the English language – these are common pitfalls of the amateur graffiti

Guide to Drunk New Haven Dining Zagat has selected the best drunk dining restaurants in New Haven based on our most recent survey. This list includes the top rated drunk dining New Haven restaurants as listed in our Connecticut guide.

Alpha Delta

$10

Described by customers as “wenzel,” “wenzel,” and “wenzel,” Alpha Delta is known for its classic sandwiches. But don’t ignore the “sickened” atmosphere, which is “like a hangover for your eyes.” The delivery, on the other hand, “still isn’t here, what the fuck?”, although some argue “Dude, you just ordered it like five minutes ago!”

Yorkside

With pizza described as “not the worst” and “Did you know they serve Greek food here too?”, Yorkside is a popular destination among Yalies at all hours. However, make sure to stop by on a weekend after nearby Toad’s closes, in order to watch the parade of semi-naked and stumbling QPac girls, who make sure to stop by a restaurant they call “Oh, God, it’s so warm in here,” “I’m starving,” and “Where am I?”

Something You Make Yourself

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self

You can’t beat the convenience of “Fuck it, let’s just make something here,” but it’s important to consider the risks, because “What do we have to make anything out of?” The innovative chef, you, has been known to “just throw everything together” and, many say, “it’ll be great.” Remember, though, you don’t have a car on campus, so “maybe don’t start any fires.” Beyond that, options abound, as long as you’re willing to find out the answer to questions like, “Do Parmesan and hot sauce go together?” You may regret it in the morning, but it’ll have you saying “Oh man, this is so good, why have we never thought of this before?” all night.

Gourmet Heaven

self

$20

Most great New Haven nights include the phrase “Let’s go to G-Heav.” And there’s good reason; whether you want a “Bacon Egg Cheese,” a “fucking Philly Cheesesteak,” or “one of those weird fucking foreign candies that’s like kiwi or some shit,” you can’t go wrong. Plus, it’s hard to beat the convivial atmosphere, as you can expect to see “everybody I know” if you go at two in the morning. Be prepared to spend big though, as “this shit is expensive as shit.”

An Entire Bag of Chips

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self

Found in the back of the cabinets where “I totally forgot I had this bag of chips,” nothing turns around a sad and drunken evening like plowing into these chips, which are “so good.” Frequent eaters warn, “I probably shouldn’t eat this whole bag,” and, “Oh man, I’m so fucking full,” but, given that they say it through a mouthful of chips, take it with a grain of salt (Get it?). Still, if you’re looking for healthier options, be sure to try to “share some of those fucking chips, Brad.”

Written by M. Nobel - Designed by S. Shea

Written by Z. Schloss Designed by C. Wang

Welcome to New Haven: the greatest, happiest, & safest city on earth that’s home to a Connecticut Ivy League institution!

• New Haven Green: It’s perfect for picnics, stargazing and moonlit drug binges. Primarily the drug binges.

• Yale University: It’s a nice place. From here, it kind of goes downhill. • Beinecke Rare Books Library: The outside may look like a big container of ice cubes, but the inside is home to some of the rarest books in the world and five or six hobos. Rumor has it that, in case of a nuclear war, the building will descend into the ground below. Is this true? Who cares! • Grove Street Cemetery: A great place to go on New Haven’s yearly sunny day, when you can’t bear those suspicious, Vitamin D-induced happy sensations you’re experiencing. It will be sure to kill your spirits. And with the growing crime rate, you could end up here regardless of whether you want to visit or not. Have fun!

Do you want to have safe experiences and fun times? Great! We can only promise the latter, but way to dream big! Here are the top activities you must take part in to have the real New Haven Experience:

New Haven is a vibrant center of cultural (and criminal) activity. Before you leave or are assaulted by that mustached fellow who’s been following you for a couple of blocks, make sure you get a chance to take a look at some of our top attractions:

• Yale University Art Gallery: If you’re still drunk after Toad’s, you’ll love this. • The beach: Rumor has it that there is an ocean next to New Haven (they need somewhere to dump the bodies). Be the one to confirm these rumors! Note: Suntanning or more general fun-having is likely out of the question due to weather. • East Rock: From 500 feet, the flashing of sirens and the twinkling of flying bullets are only surpassed by the brilliant, autumnal colors of New Haven’s three trees.

• Toad’s Place: If you’re looking to reel in a scandalous woman or a nasty STD, you’ll get a 2-for-1 deal at this happening club. Their annual foam party is a big hit among Yale students also trying to kill two birds with one stone: sex and showering.

THINGS TO DO

THE SIGHTS

• Cutler’s Record Shop: Where Yale students go to buy posters of things that make them feel cool and cultured (you can never have too many Marilyn Monroe’s smiling down at you). Also where students go to buy vinyl records they have no way of playing. • Ashley’s Ice Cream: A great place to cool down during New Haven’s periods of warm weather (September 1-5).

• Edge of the Woods: The cashews cost $10 each, but they were grown by smiling, local farmers using sustainable, environmentallyfriendly methods, gold-infused fertilizer, and the secret ingredient: love. • Stop & Shop: Farther than Gourmet Heaven, but it’s worth it to try and steal the auto-locking shopping carts. Some people have mentioned that they actually charge less than $25 for a sandwich here. • Urban Outfitters: Because hipsters are a dying breed.

Despite all the burglaries and thefts, studies have shown that almost half of all New Haven residents occasionally pay for their goods. And here’s where they go:

SHOPPING & FOOD

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SLOGANS FOR UNDERAPPRECIATED CITIES Fargo, ND: Much More Exciting than Pierre, South Dakota New Orleans, LA: Somewhat Less Wild but Still Just as Wet! Detroit, MI: Come Right In – Nobody’s Home Albany, NY: Puts Buffalo to Shame New Haven, CT: Seriously, Our Crime Rate Isn’t Even in the Top 25 Hooker Hole, LA: Even Wetter than New Orleans Newark, NJ: Even We Have Nothing Good To Say Yum Yum, TN: Interpret However You Please New London, MN: You Can’t Fault Our Ambition Possum Grape, AR: Exceeds All Expectations Wilmington, DE: A Place to Be Somebody* *This is the actual city motto of Wilmington, DE. —A. Gertler SEXPERT ADVICE FROM THE LOVE DOCTOR Dear Love Doctor, My girlfriend and I have been having a disagreement about contraceptives. Both of us have been tested for STIs, and we’re both clean. She’s on the pill, so I don’t think we need to use condoms, but she still wants to, just to be extra-careful. Is there any reason why we should? Yours truly, Wanting to Escape Rubbers Dear Wanting to Escape Rubbers, No, you should totally keep using condoms. I mean, there are lots of like nasty diseases I saw on this video they showed us in school. More importantly, why wouldn’t you want to? I mean, it isn’t like condoms make sex worse. Do they? I don’t think they do. Someone probably would have mentioned that. Good luck, The Love Doctor Dear Love Doctor, My boyfriend really likes when I give him head, and I’m happy to do it. But I wish he’d reciprocate once in a while. Whenever I raise the issue, he says that he’s

“grossed out” and that he “doesn’t like the smell,” which honestly hurts my feelings. What can I do to make him more interested in pleasuring me down there? Sincerely, Moist and Unwanted Dear Moist and Unwanted, So you, like, put your mouth right on his, like, you know, and like, suck on it, and you don’t even mind doing it? But, I mean, doesn’t he... What do you do when he… Huh. Well, okay. Anyway, I guess you don’t seem to mind it, somehow. So you want him to like, what, put his mouth, like, on your, whatever, and… I mean, you don’t think that’s gross? I would think that’s pretty gross. And what smell is he talking about? Does that smell? Is it supposed to smell? What does it smell like? Good luck, The Love Doctor Dear Love Doctor, I’m a gay man in a happily committed relationship of three years. My boyfriend recently asked me if I would be interested in a threesome with another man. Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about it. I want to believe that my boyfriend cares deeply about me, but I worry because he hasn’t been in many committed relationships before this one, and it seems like this request might be evidence that he’s growing antsy with our relationship. Is this just an attempt to explore something new, or is he really beginning to grow sick of me? Thanks, Stuck in the Middle Dear Stuck in the Middle, Wait, I’m totally confused. I mean, like what would three guys… I mean, where would you put your, you know. Or does one of you, like, um, I dunno, become like the woman? But if you have three guys… Wait, so would you be like, you know, doing the, whatever, or would you like, have to be, you know? Either way, I mean, it doesn’t really seem like a good idea logistically. I mean, I don’t see how… unless… oh, god, you don’t intend to, like… ugh. Gross! Good luck, The Love Doctor —M. Nobel

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MESSAGES FROM CHIEF RONNELL HIGGINS To the Yale Community: I write to let you know that an act of aggravated douchebaggery occurred last night. The victim was an undergraduate who addressed a brother of an unnamed fraternity as “broseidon.” The brother reportedly skipped the undergraduate’s cup multiple times at the keg, forced him to take a shot of Dubra, and then spilled beer on the undergraduate’s boat shoes after insisting that he be called “Fratrick Bateman” or “Brosef Stalin.” The only weapons displayed were the brother’s “guns,” which were decidedly under-toned. If you have any information regarding this case or should witness suspicious activity, please report it immediately to the Yale Police at 203432-4400. As a reminder, please be aware of your surroundings at all times, always avoid walking alone after dark, pregame all fraternity parties, and make note of the emergency Blue Phones along the way. Sincerely, Ronnell A. Higgins, Chief of Police To the Yale Community: I write to let you know of increased prostitution activity in the area around the intersection of Broadway and York. The activity is primarily taking place on the weekends, when dozens of illegal sex workers establish themselves outside local establishments. The areas in front of Gourmet Heaven, A1 Pizza, Au Bon Pain, and Toad’s Place are particularly popular soliciting grounds. These prostitutes are not hard to recognize: they uniformly wear very tight-fitting, short, and often transparent clothing. Many claim to be students at nearby Quinnipiac University, but thorough undercover(s) investigations by the New Haven Police department have determined this to be false. The New Haven Police are investigating and we have increased patrols in the area. If you have any information regarding this case or should witness suspicious activity, please report it immediately to the Yale Police at 203432-4400. Sincerely, Ronnell A. Higgins, Chief of Police To the Yale Community: I write to let you know that a homicide occurred this

afternoon in the area of Temple and Elm Streets around 2:07 PM. A graduate student was approached by a female who gouged his eyes out, castrated him with a straightening iron, and then stabbed him 93 times in the neck with her #2 pencil. Minor injuries were reported. The New Haven Police are investigating and we have increased patrols in the area. If you have any information regarding this case or should witness suspicious activity, please report it to the Yale Police at 203-432-4400 when you get a chance. Sincerely, Ronnell A. Higgins, Chief of Police To the Yale Community: I write to let you know that from here on out, in order to save the money and time of the Yale Police Department, I will only send you emails on days when no crime has occurred. Please remember to always arm yourselves before leaving your residence and avoid people at all costs. Sell all of your valuables while you can and remember that prospective students serve as effective and efficient human shields. Good luck and please don’t call the Yale Police, especially in the event of an emergency. Trust nobody, Ronnell A. Higgins, Chief of Police —A. Sobotka

“Oh, that’s probably for Caroline in Sales... I think she’s expecting.” −P. Robalino

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TO SLEEP OR NOT TO SLEEP? To sleep, or not to sleep—that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of exhaustion tomorrow, Or to curse like a sailor at your professor And by burning the assignment, end it. To doze, to nap… …to pass out against your keyboard… Maybe? For with such rest we might relieve The heartache, and the weekly pains in the ass That are caused by 8 a.m. classes. Then, at least, These hallucinations wouldn’t be a cause for concern. To lie down— To fantasize—to imagine having sex: ay, there’s the rubber, It’s been in my dresser for the last 6 months. I’ll use it to tie my papers together! (I’ve run out of staples.) …But in that REM sleep what dreams may come When we have filtered out these traces of caffeine— They’re beyond reach…. Here’s the finished homework That comes from hours awake. For who would bear the increasingly complicated problem sets, The unfocused eyes, the endless lists of Spanish verbs, The desire to join the inebriated masses at campus bars, and the temptation to Facebook stalk, When he himself might a quiet sleep make With a simple pillow? Why would one risk the chance, Of dozing off during seminar, But that the dread of unfinished persuasive essays, The shame of having to explain to parents why they paid tuition For a couple F’s and probation notices, freaks us the fuck out, And makes us rather bear the long nights of sleep deprivation, Than risk ending up below the curve? Thus consciousness does make cowards of us all, And so the G-protein-coupled melatonin receptors Are overcome by some vague need to devour whole coffee beans, And a rampant spree to raid the local Walgreens for Red Bull and amphetamines Is spurred by cost and benefit graphs And the fantasy of a perfect GPA – Oh shit.

My mace-bearing roommate! – Please, though I’m keeping you up typing, Don’t dump out the coffee!!! —I. Strauss

WHERE THE IVY LEAGUES SHOULD REALLY BE Yale –Washington, D.C.: To ease the transition from college life into the White House, and because frankly, San Francisco is just too obvious. Dartmouth – Moscow, Russia: Cheaper vodka, warmer weather, and cleaner basements. ’Nuff said. Cornell – Palo Alto, CA: So Stanford will finally stop pretending it’s an Ivy League university once a real one shows up. Columbia – Anywhere in NJ: Living on a college campus in New York does not make you from “The City.” Neither does living in Jersey, but hey, at least now you have a good excuse to lie about it. Princeton –Greenwich, CT: So that two-thirds of the northeastern khaki pants market can be concentrated in the same town. Brown – Hogwarts Castle, Hogsmeade, England: Because it’ll never be the same without Emma Watson. UPenn – State College, PA: It’s time for UPenn to finally accept the fact that when people say “Penn,” ninety percent of the time they’re talking about Penn State, and the other 10% of the time they’re talking about a writing implement. Harvard – Mordor. —V. Hall

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A HOW-TO GUIDE ON DISCUSSING CRIME WITH MOM AND DAD Dear student, Whether you’re a freshman or a senior, you have undoubtedly realized that Yale is truly an incredible place: a utopia of academic challenges, stimulating discussions, and happy, beautiful people. You may have also realized that New Haven blows. Yale has some of the greatest, most elaborate libraries the world has to offer. New Haven has Toad’s. Yale makes you book smart. New Haven makes you street smart.* But, as we enjoy and fend for our lives here, our parents are left at home counting the number of New Haven residents on “America’s Most Wanted” and worrying about whether their “innocent, sweet baby” can make it in “such a damned shithole.” When they ask you how you like New Haven, you can try being evasive: “Since when do you guys ask so many questions?!” Or, you could try being straightforward: “School’s great, and my friends are great. Also the man next to me on the bus with the switchblade wants my wallet. Love you!” But, as has proven to be the case throughout most of human history, the truth usually just doesn’t cut it. Here are some helpful tips on how to talk to your parents about New Haven crime without making them buy a one-way plane ticket for you out of Tweed Airport.

New Haven doubled. What to tell your parents: “It’s incredible. Something about this place makes me really value my life more than ever before.” Fact: Between 2010 and 2011, the month-by-month number of non-fatal shooting incidents has increased, as have the 4-month moving averages. What to tell your parents: “Everyone here is really good at math.” Fact: The New Haven violent crime rate is 506% greater than the national average. What to tell your parents: “Everything about this place is exceptional!” Fact: New Haven is the fourth most dangerous city in the country, according to preliminary FBI data. What to tell your parents: “We did it, Mom and Dad! We beat Harvard!” —Z. Schloss

* Or dead. Fact: On September 14, a burglar broke into an offcampus apartment occupied by Yale students. What to tell your parents: “Yale students are enthusiastically encouraged to live on-campus. It creates a great sense of community.” Fact: On September 27, a graduate student was riding his bicycle when a male punched him in the face and stole his bike. What to tell your parents: “Everyone here is really ecofriendly when it comes to transportation.” Fact: New Haven had the 8th highest rate of robbery in 2010. What to tell your parents: “The city’s doing a great job of spreading the wealth around.” Fact: From 2009 to 2010, the number of murders in

“You should see where I parked my car!”

−A. Von Plinsky

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WHAT I WOULD DO FOR A SLICE OF PEPE’S PIZZA Heeeeeeeeeeeey Fraaaaaaaaaank…How’re you doing?! I feel like it’s been forever, man. We should definitely party sometime. What are you doing tomorrow night? Oh, studying? You should really go to Toad’s with us. No, it’s gonna be awesome. It’s always awesome. Are those…Swedish Fish? I. Love. Swedish. Fish. Can I…can I have…thank you. No, I don’t want my own box. I’m waiting for this sandwich. I can’t wait for this sandwich. I am so excited for this sandwich. Egg and cheese. Man, that’s so much shit from chickens. Wait, no. Cheese comes from cows. Fuck. Oh, whoops, sorry, didn’t realize I was still eating your Swedish Fish. No, but actually, you know what I really want? Pepe’s. Pizza. I mean, I love this sandwich. Like, I love it like I love my own mother. But I also love it like my girlfriend, if my girlfriend were Megan Fox. Oh, shit, don’t tell Alice, I didn’t mean it like that. But Pepe’s. Oh, man, there’s nothing like Pepe’s. The crust. And the tomato sauce. And the cheese. It’s perfect. It’s like Megan Fox with cheese. Shit shit shit. Don’t tell Alice. She hates when I talk about Megan Fox. Or pizza. But I’m not gonna lie, I would do anything for a slice of Pepe’s right now. Climb a mountain. Ford a river. Redistribute the wealth. Whatever that really means. What does that mean? Whatever it is, I bet it’s serious, and I’m serious, man, I’d give anything. A thousand dollars. A MILLION DOLLARS. I mean if I had it. Right now I only have…oh, shit, two bucks and three pennies. Hey, you mind if I borrow a couple for this sandwich? Yo, thanks, you’re a lifesaver. But Pepe’s. I don’t think you understand. Just, like, the feeling of that perfect pizza in your mouth. I would kill for that feeling again. It’s like joy, and love, and awesome, if they were put into a sandwich, but that sandwich was a pizza. It’s like the feeling of smiling if you could smile with your whole body. It’s like…it’s like lying in a bed of flowers, with the sunshine on your face, and the breeze in your hair, and Megan Fox on top of you FUCK, it’s my girlfriend, she’s calling, don’t tell her— Hey, sweetie. Yeah, I’m fine. Just waiting for this sandwich at G-Heav. What? Sure, I can come over afterwards. Hey…wait… you still have those pizza bagels?

Awesome. Yeah, can you put one in the microwave? You’re the best. I’ll be over soon. Love you too. Shit, man. Shit. I am so excited for these pizza bagels. —M. Taylor

UNSUCCESSFUL CATCALLS HEARD AT NEW HAVEN CONSTRUCTION SITES Hey, you! Yeah, you with the double-X chromosome! And the fallopian tubes! Doll, you a Women’s Studies major? Step on over and I’ll show you some antiquated patriarchal harassment! Let me introduce myself: Quinnipiac student body president, Class of 2011! Hey, sugar! I never learned to whistle, but if you come a little closer, you can hear my wolf-hum... Sweetie, I gotta take a lunch break — d’you mind holding onto this jackhammer for an hour or so? I may be union labor, but I’ll work cheaply for you! Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art hot. Y’know, like summer? Cutie, you a Yale student? Funny coincidence — I was an English major there, a few years back! ¿Ay, chica, como estás? What’s that — you study Mandarin? Damn. —A. Gertler

Officer Alan tries a “show, don’t tell” approach to teaching the dangers of binge drinking. −I. Strauss

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19th September, Year of our Lord 1546

Beloved Diarie, I had a rather Perplexing encounter this afternoon as I was strolling down the Duke of York’s Street. So engaged in speculation was I that I did not notice the entreaties of Old Haven’s famed Flower Maiden until they became most intolerably Vehemente. When I apologized, she asked me if I wished to purchase a flower, which I did not. Diarie, I must confess I left the Maiden with some Remorse plaguing my Goode Hearte—but it was soon forgot! For I had a moste frolicksome visit to the Toad’s Pond where dance the famed courtesans of Lord Kewpack’s Court! Lo, they are beguiling wenches indeed!

−S. Zhang

LIFE IN OLD HAVEN We’ve all been to Beinecke Library as a part of our obligatory Yale tour, but did you know that it contains actual books and not just walls painted to look like they have books so that it looks more impressive? The Record, while trying to decide which valuable ancient book to steal, chanced upon this journal from Percival Willoughsby Fairchild, who was a resident of the British town of Old Haven, from which New Haven draws its pedigree. In the interests of filling space, we present you with…. 15th September, Year of our Lord 1546 Deareste Diarie, Lo, this day has been Fulle of Revelrie, indeed! Mr. Daniel Rochester, Lord Chesterton and I were cavorting merrily in Mr. Rochester’s Chambers, imbibing with some carelessness whilst playing that most amusing of games, Five Digits (You must believe, noble Diarie, that I shall never see the Lord Chesterton likewise again—I should think there is not a stack of hay or a cove of studie in Old Haven where that man hath not had his revels!). Who burste in then but Hapsthwait, that incontinent scoundrel, making a most intemperate Clamour. Once we subduyed his raging humours, he revealed a new form of Merriment which combines both Sporte and Alcohol. He calles it Beer Croquet, and it is as fun as a trip to the market on St. Rufus’s Eve!

29th September, Year of Our Lord 1546 Vessel of the Muse, What Triales and Tribulations I have endured! I am luckie to be alive, for I have been well and trulie Harrowed! Laste night, as well you know, was the Acclaimed and Anticipated Annual Dance of Saftie, in which we make a fancie as if it were the eleventhe century. O, it is a Gay and Merrie occasion indeed! I wore the robes of Ethelred the Unready, a costume most gallant and happily received! My garb, however, was o’ershadowed by the most marvelous gowns of the ladies of our company, who, as is their custom, used the occasion make most merrie Scandale, if thou knowest what I mean. I saw more ankles than I care to divulge! So joyous were the celebrations that I imbibed unduly—my memory is as a black slate, for I remember naught! Alas, what remains is more than sufficient to draw a Blush to my Countenance. I distinctly remember expelling my Stomache upon the most ill-tempered Duchess of Worcestershire and later striking about the brow my friend poor William of Stonewald. I am ashamed to admit I know little else but that I woke in the Destination for the Unbalanced of Humour. Imagine me, encrusted with Leeches as if a common vagabound! I would have Left, but my Body was as if Hung over the stocks, and I rested for some time until the pain had subsided. Suffice it to say, I was the talk of Old Haven all week! —M. Nobel

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ININTHE THEHEART HEARTOFOFYALE; YALE;NOW NOWDELIVERING DELIVERINGININTHE THECHAPEL CHAPELAREA! AREA! NOTICE: THE YALE ORIGAMI CLUB HAS FOLDED Dear Willy Wonka, You can say, “What I see defies explanation,” as many times as you want, but the fact remains that when there are ten dead Oompa Loompas on the factory floor, someone’s going to have to go to jail. —Detective Johnston Dear Professor Gonzalez, You know, it’s not really awkward when the answer to a question you ask during lecture is “the uterus” or “the vagina.” What is awkward is when you ignore everyone who is saying “uterus” and “vagina,” apparently so that you can say it yourself and then smile creepily at me in the front row. —Maria Lopez, PC ‘15

Dear weather forecaster, Temperature! I don’t even know her ature! Signed, Someone I’m sure you want to smack right now Dear Botox, I understand what you’re trying to do, but at the same time, I think that asking patients to rate the procedure on a scale from a sad face to a happy face might be just a tad silly. You know, because their faces are paralyzed and all. Sincerely, The American Medical Association

SCHEHEREZADE RUNS OUT OF STORIES ON 1002ND NIGHT, RESORTS TO SINGING “THE SONG THAT NEVER ENDS”

PEEPING TOM WITH FOOT FETISH KEEPING AREA WOMEN ON THEIR TOES Dear walk in the park, I thought you were easy. —A sexually frustrated public space enthusiast Dear roommate, I can tolerate the fact that you hit the snooze button fifteen times every morning. And that you come into the room at 3 a.m. every Friday and Saturday, drunk, and often puke in my bureau. I can even get used to the fact that you scream in your sleep. But damnit, if you tell me about how flawed Socrates’ etymology was once more, you’re sleeping in the courtyard. —Your Molecular Biology–major roommate

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You: fleshy bag of saleable organs Me: the love of your life!

Dear Yale student, Really? You think that deciding between MATH 120 and PHYS 260 is “the hardest thing you’ve ever done in life”? Get some perspective, will you? —A guy coming out of the closet, a doctor about to tell his patient he’s terminally ill, and someone about to watch a Nicholas Cage film

GAY STILESIANS OUTED WITH THE LOSS OF SWING’S WALK-IN CLOSETS

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Dear cop who just got rolled into my operating room, What a coincidence! I’m three days from retirement, too! I didn’t get shot, though, so I’m probably going to make it. Oh, yeah, I should probably tell you, you’re going to die. —Dr. Harold Frasier Dear babies, You think you can do whatever you want with us? Well you can suck it. —Pacifiers To the Commissioners of Major League Baseball, I am writing to thank you sincerely for the wonderful work you seem to have done to encourage our youth to love and enjoy America’s most valuable sport. Whenever I see young girls supporting baseball, I feel proud of our great nation and the sport which continues to inspire it. —A man sadly misled by “Team Edward” and “Team Jacob” shirts

DEPRESSION RATE GOES UP AT LINCOLN TRAIL HIGH SCHOOL AFTER CPA-FILLED CAREER DAY

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PRESIDENTS’ CONCEPTION DAY NOW CELEBRATED NINE MONTHS BEFORE PRESIDENTS’ DAY

Dear Rome, I think I realize why you guys lost to the barbarians: you didn’t have any black guys to valiantly sacrifice themselves! —A guy who mixes up history and action movies

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Dear Sprinkles, the 4th grade class hamster, I will destroy you if it is the last goddamn thing I do. —Tiddlywinks, the 5th grade class hamster

Dear LGBTQ Co-op, Seriously, you guys, if you don’t change your name, we’re suing. —The Lion, Grizzly Bear, and Tasmanian Quarterhorse Cooperative

Dear after-dinner mints, You do such a good job of freshening my breath after dinner. If only you could freshen me up after other things… —A guy who just lost his virginity to a QPac girl

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TROOP LEADER TELLS GIRL SCOUTS THAT IF THEY CAN’T SELL ENOUGH COOKIES, THEY WILL HAVE TO ENGAGE IN “OTHER” MEANS OF FUNDRAISING

Dear English Channel, I thought you were a channel that I could go to if I wanted to watch Doctor Who or maybe the British version of Skins. Imagine my surprise when I arrived, sat on the couch, got out my remote, and drowned. —Jasper

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A m e r i c a’s O l d e s t C o l l e g e H u m o r M a g a z i n e Send an email to chairman@yalerecord.com for more information

Butterface A girl who’s as beautiful as freshly churned butter. Jeremiah: “Darlin’, you’re a right ole butterface.” City slicker Suzy: “What?!?” Jeremiah: “I mean, your body is worth hollerin’ about, but your face…it’s better than my ma’s bananer puddin’.” City slicker Suzy: “Um…thanks.”

Walk of Shame When you’re late to church on Sunday morning and have to sneak into the pews. Mrs. Johnson: “Lillian, I know you think no one saw your little walk of shame this morning, but you should know that God’s always watchin’.” Mrs. Davis: “Ah bejeezus, Violet, I know! I was so ashamed, but Saturday night prayer club ran so late that I was plum tuckered out this morning and overslept the rooster crow.” Mrs. Johnson: “Well bless your heart! I guess some people just have so many sins to atone for.”

Chicks before Dicks An old adage emphasizing the importance of feeding the chickens before fat Uncle Richard eats all of the feed. Earl: “Bo, your chickens are lookin’ mighty plump! Howd’ya do it?” Bo: “Well, you know—chicks before dicks.”

Sausage Fest The much-anticipated annual preserved meats festival. Farmer #1: “I’m purty excited about this year’s sausage fest! It’s gonna be a right good ‘un!” Farmer #2: “I know! I’m gonna wolf down so much meat!”

That’s What She Said References to Biblical quotes from the Virgin Mary. Pastor (bellowing): “As our Blessed Mother Mary did say, ‘I felt the son of God jump within my womb!’…and that IS what she said!” Congregation (shouting): “That’s what she said!”

One Night Stand Raising a barn in a single night. “Why weren’tcha at Jimbob’s one night stand yesterday? All the other men in town were there!”

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