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Kenyon Collegiate Issue 3.7

Kenyon Collegiate Issue 3.7

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Published by: kenyon_collegiate on Dec 31, 2011
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By Charlie AdamsGAMBIER — Last Monday, amid astorm of criticism over perceived se-curity problems, College President S.Georgia Nugent announced an ambi-tious new plan to monitor all Kenyonstudents via radio tracking. Nugent’sproposal, which is backed by the Col-lege’s Board of Trustees, would allow
for every student to be tted with a ra
-dio-frequency ID tag that would grantthem access to campus buildings. Theannouncement comes on the heels of a heated debate over student involve-ment in policy change.“I’m writing to inform you of up-coming changes to Kenyon’s securitypolicy,” began Nugent’s statement,which was delivered to students viae-mail. “In drafting these changes,Dean Hank Toutain and I have soughtinput from many parties, includingthe Ohio Department of Corrections,the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service,and the National Cattleman’s Beef Association. Based on their advice, aswell as the comments of two carefullyselected student representatives, wenow present a program we’re callingthe ‘K-Tag Plan.’”
According to the Ofce of Campus
Safety, the K-Tag Plan will come intoeffect early next semester. Beginning
with the senior class, security ofcerswill tranquilize each student and t
them with a stapled-on plastic radio-
. 3, i
7 d
8, 2010
the kenyon collegiate 1
Nugent Presents New Student Radio-Tagging Plan
By Gunderson Threeply and GrannyHayes PEIRCE HALL — Over the pastmonth, Kenyon students have takenpride in declaring what they loveabout their bodies: everything from“my ass in heels” and “my ragingmegahuge boner” to “that weepingcyst on my sternum” and “my ves-tigial twin Barney” adorned the bul-letin board outside the coat room inPeirce. However, one student existswho has no business taking pride inany part of his body: Craig.“I know we’re supposed to fosterall that ‘blah blah everyone is beauti-ful’ crap, but have you seen that guy?”said Bernadette Holmes ’12. “He’slumpy, sweaty and smells vaguely of cheese. Quite frankly, Craig shouldbe ashamed of himself.”Local pastor James O’Leary ex-pressed similar sentiments. “Everytime I see that boy,” he said, “I startto question the existence of God. He’s
like one of those blind cave lungsh
you see on
Planet Earth
, except morerepugnant. I shook his hand once aftera sermon. It felt unclean for weeks.All I’m saying is that if God madeCraig in His image . . . what hope isthere for the rest of us?”Of course we all remember lastyear at Sendoff when Craig got a holdof a Keystone Light while ravenouslysearching for the remains of a meatystromboli in the Cove’s dumpster. Assoon as the liquid touched his harelip,a drunken monster had been releasedon the unsuspecting revelers. He ap-peared shirtless on the moonbounce,
immediately deating the structure
and injuring dozens. When asked todescribe the sight of Craig without ashirt, Delaney Bingly ’11 began vom-iting uncontrollably and had to be
Kenyon Students Love Their Bodies, Except Craig’s
By Barker D. FlugelhornGAMBIER — In what comes as asurprise to many, a coalition of angryKenyon students have come forwardwith allegations that the smattering of Allstus asking for rides to the airportare in fact serious pleas. Much to thechagrin of several airport-going Ken-yon students, the requests have beenlargely ignored — even as their ur-gency increases.“Due to the random, open-forumnature of Allstu, I think that somepeople are under the impression thatthese ride requests are jokes, or somesort of attempt at a legal joyride,” saidHarrison Bleeker ’11. “But as some-one who has a cousin who is gettingmarried this Thursday — yes, this up-coming Thursday — in New Hamp-shire, I want people to know that ourrequests are no joke.”“People, we are travelers in need!”said Kaleigh Wurlitzer ’12, whoseexperience with Allstu has shattered
her condence in the Kenyon com
-munity. “Did you think when I saidI needed a ride to catch my 3:30 a.m.
ight to Nairobi to reconcile with my
estranged father, I was just sendingthat out so someone would read it?No. I had a plane to catch.”“I don’t know, I just assumed thatsince I sent an email to literally
student, someone would see it,”said Bethany Lundgren ’13. “Butsomehow, out of the 1600-odd kidswho go to this miserable little school,
Continued on page 3.
Continued on page 2.
a G 
Four students enjoying the hassle-free new system.
President Nugent ForgetsK-Card, Gets Locked Out Of Cromwell CottageCampus Life To Suck Until April
Continued on page 4.
Students Really Not Kidding WhenThey Ask For Airport Rides On Allstu
Ofcers will tranquilizeeach student and t themwith an ear tag.“Quite frankly, Craigshould be ashamed of him
Beer And Sex, AVI Part-ner For Health Center– Approved ‘Dat Good Gumbo Plunge’
“Did you think I was justsending that out so some
one would read it? No.”
please recycle issue before or after reading 2
December 7, 2011
By Roy McKluskin’GAMBIER — Student Council votedunanimously last week to deactivatethe dormitory K-Card lock system,sparking campuswide debate. Thenew policy would reverse a Decem-ber 2010 decision to restrict accessand enables students to enter build-ings without the use of their IDs onweekdays. Some students object tothe new policy, while others havevoiced their support. Still others, likeLinus Daniels ’14, “don’t care . . . atall. Is this a Peirce thing? I don’t careabout Trayless Tuesdays. Whatever.”“What really bothers me about itis how they just let students vote onsuch an important issue,” complainedBelanie Smalls ’15 over Allstu. “Icame to Kenyon three months agothinking that this was a place with acompetent and decisive administra-tion, but now I know differently. Thecollege is being reckless.”“All I know is that things werebetter before, when the doors wereunlocked,” said Kyle Normand ’12.After realizing that he was describingthe current state of affairs, he added,“Oh yeah. No, I meant that I wantedthe other thing. What I’m saying isthat everything was better when I wasa freshman, whatever it was like.”Despite of the online clamor, fewstudents have taken action. “Some of us were going to organize a protest,but Peirce was having breakfast fordinner and my comps are due in just
ve months,” said Small. “Regard
-less, I think our rage gave the admin-istration something to think about.”
From the Future Archives: 
Dorms Unlocked, Community Disturbed
“Everything was betterwhen I was a freshman,whatever it was like.”
Some students have called re-cent rule changes ‘“the end of theopen Kenyon community.” Here’sa look at some other controver- sial moments from the history of  Kenyon’s safety policy:
August 28, 1825
— Bishop Philan-der Chase conceives of a Matricu-lation Book signed by all students.Sadly, this plan brings him no closerto catching the vandals who paint-ed “Mrs. Philander Chase” on hishorse.
March 12, 1927
— Kenyon Col-lege begins hot-iron branding all in-coming freshmen to prevent nearbyDenison University from rustlingstray students.
September 29, 1972
— Plagued byconcerns over how to make the ea-gerly awaited Student Union a truesafe haven for the community, col-lege administrators resolve the issueby deciding never to build it.
May 10, 1980
— Rattled by anopening-night showing of 
Fridaythe 13th
, the Board of Trusteesmakes the unpopular decision todeadbolt all doors on campus andturn on all the lights in every room.
February 30, 2007
— In a triumphof grassroots campus activism,twelve brave student senate rep-resentatives unanimously defeat aproposal to install K-Card locks onKenyon dorms.
From ‘Tagging,’ page 1.
Special Report: The K-Card Debate 
ID ear tag. The K-Tag, which con-stantly broadcasts a weak radio sig-nal, will supplant the often malignedK-Card in opening locked doors,making campus purchases, and pro-viding entry to the Gambier Grill.“The switch over to RFID technol-ogy is a long time coming,” said Ke-
nyon Security Ofcer Brock Eivaz.
“You look at Yellowstone NationalPark where they’ve been tagging andtracking their wolf population foryears, and it’s just disgraceful howfar behind we’ve fallen. How can theCollege be expected to keep a studentsafe without knowing their location,migration patterns, and heart rate?”Despite the support of Eivaz and
other College ofcials, the K-Tag
plan has met staunch opposition fromthe student body. The issue has beenhotly debated over Allstu, where se-niors and freshmen alike complain of feeling mistreated.Despite the vocal criticism of thestudent body, Nugent claims that theBoard of Trustees remains undaunt-ed. “Our next target is Middle Path,which has sadly grown obsolete overtime. We plan to install a state-of-the-art system of industrial livestockharnesses to safely hoist students toclass on time. It’s all in the interest of 
lling each of you with as much raw,
steaming education as your fragilebody can handle.”
The proposed changes would affect all doors on campus.
By Clams Casino OLIN LIBRARY — All was quietwhen Nicholas Appleburn ’14 report-edly walked into the men’s room inLower Chalmers on the Monday afterThanksgiving break. “That bathroomis my secret lair. I call it the Room of Requirement,” noted Appleburn. “It’salways there when I need it. I canlock the door to the stall and the outerbathroom so I can really be sure noone’s going to interrupt me.”When Appleburn felt a pressureincrease in his lower abdomen while
writing his nal paper on Dickens,
he realized it was time to pay a visitto the hallowed hall. At the strokeof midnight, Appleburn lowered his
milky white derriere, ecked with
patches of raven hair, onto the ceram-ic toilet seat. Hesitating a moment inanticipation of the cold, his buttockstrembling with tenderness, he nestledhis privity onto the basin’s rim.Clenching and releasing hissphincter, Appleburn began to movehis bowels. It soon became apparentthat this was no ordinary meadow
mufn. “I was like, Wow, I don’t
think I’ve pooped this much inmonths. Then I realized, Aw man,this is the Thanksgiving poop. This isThanksgiving dinner.”It was a poop for the ages, a poopfor all time, a poop for all seasons.After ten minutes of rocking backand forth, coaxing the sordid beastfrom his rectum, Appleburn resortedto new methods, alternating betweendeep breathing and shifting weightfrom left to right butt cheek. At the
fteen–minute mark, the tail end of 
the giant poop neared the aperture,slid out and plopped into the waterwith a satisfying splash.As Appleburn turned to bid fare-well to his ordure, he noticed some-thing peculiar. The giant poop beganto stir. Appleburn became frightenedas it started quaking, turning violentlyabout in the murky liquid. The fresh-man wanted to run for the door, but
his piqued curiosity held his feet xedto the linoleum oor.
Out of the brown mess peeked a
sharp beak and a eshy protuberance.
A head and neck poked out, squawk-ing as it came. Like a phoenix risingfrom the ashes, the Appleburn fam-ily’s Thanksgiving turkey rose fromNicholas’s poop. The poop turkeyspread its majestic wings, drippingwith excrement.“Nicholas,” the turkey’s voice re-verberated, “Nicholas, I have some-thing very important for you. Reachinto my mouth.”Eyes wide with fear, Apple-burn nodded at the renaissance of his Thanksgiving dinner and did asthe sage bird demanded. In the tur-key’s mouth, Nicholas Appleburnfelt something cold and rough. Hegrasped it and pulled forth a shiningsilver sword with a ruby-encrustedhilt and the inscription “Vive memorleti, memento vivere, memento mori”on the blade.“It’s a sword of remembrance, mychild,” squawked the turkey. “Re-member the turkeys that have diedso that you might feast upon themin copious quantities. Remember theturkeys next Thanksgiving when youslather their carcasses with cranberrysauce and boiled fat. Remember theturkeys when you eat your cold gel-atin-like turkey cold cuts in PeirceServery. Remember the turkeys . . .Remember the turkeys . . . Remem-ber . . .” With that, the poop turkeytouched his wing to the lever and
ushed himself down the toilet drain.
“Remember . . . Remember . . .”Appleburn has reportedly ceaseduse of the Lower Chalmers basement.“There’s too many memories there,”laments the freshman. “The poop tur-key certainly elevated my awarenessof animal rights, but I don’t need torelive that experience every time Idrop the kids off at the pool.”
Reborn Clairvoyant Thanksgiving Turkey Delivers Gravy Message
collegiate@kenyon.edu 3
By Teddy ThoroughgoodI know, I know — you don’t have totell me, brother! There’s somethingmissing on the Hill, and I’m not justtalking about a department focused
on international nance. Everybody’s
been thinking it, so I’ll just say it: thiscampus needs more all-male a cap-pella!Just think about it. There are onlyeight a cappella groups at Kenyon.Eight. That means there’s only, onaverage, one a cappella concert ev-ery week and a half. Yeah, believeit, pal! That’s just one over-blown,
gloried children’s recital every ten
days! That’s why me and the othertwo dozen guys that got rejected bythose douchebags in the Kokosingershave decided to start our own group.OK, I hear what you’re saying.Sure, Sinatra, you got the pipes, buthow is this group going to be differ-ent than any of the other windbags onthis campus? Easy: we’re only goingto sing all of today’s hits. Yeah, that’sright. We’re going to be the only all-male a cappella group on campuswith a focus on contemporary, Top40 hits.Yeah, I know the Kokes performcurrent music, but they also sing old-ies. Who wants to listen to anotherSam Cooke yawner when you cancome hear us stomp out a funky JasonMraz cover? The people have spoken,Kokes, and they want more Ke$ha.Covering classic songs written bytimeless artists was your second mis-
take. Your rst? Not taking me. Bet
you’ll be regretting that one when Iknock your socks off with my TreySongz solo, huh?As of now, we haven’t decided ona name, but I think we’re leaning to-wards VoiceMale. Get it? You see, itsounds like the word voicemail (likethose messages you get from Motheron your iPhone 4) but it’s spelledvoice-male, like the voice of a man.You’ll understand when we spraypaint our very own banner to hang inPeirce over all the clocks. It’s eitherthat, or Tone Thugs N’ Harmonies.
Guess you’ll nd out come our rst
concert this spring!
This Campus Needs More All-Male A Cappella With A Focus On Contemporary Hits
excused.“I heard he tried to drown himself in the Kokosing, but Mother Na-ture’s got a mean sense of humor,”commented Huey Langstrom ’13.“Apparently after being stuck in thewomb for eleven months, he devel-oped a single gill that saved him atthe brink of death. If there really wasany cosmic sense of justice in the uni-verse, there’s no way it would havelet Craig exist for as long as he has.”When asked about his completeand utter lack of respect for any andall bodily aesthetic principles, Craigemitted a sound resembling a howlermonkey singing “Non Je Ne RegretteRien” by Edith Piaf, and a pall of existential dread came over every-one who heard it. Craig made a fewmore barely mammalian cries beforescampering off into the woods, leav-ing all of us to question what it meansto be human, and what it means to beCraig.
From ‘Bodies,’ page 1.
By Clams Casino and SheridanWhitesideMT. GILEAD — Returning latefrom his Greek archaeology seminarWednesday evening, Assistant Vis-iting Professor of Classics DonaldMorris discovered that he was “Not,”according to student review websiteRate My Professor.Morris opened the door to his pre-fabricated bungalo in Mt. Gilead,Ohio, dejectedly surveying the Spar-tan interior. With a resigned sigh, heplaced the keys to his Buick Road-master in the ceramic bowl his ex-wife Linda had given him for Christ-
mas shortly before ling for divorce.
Dialing the only Chinese restau-rant in a forty-mile radius — PandaSurprise — Professor Morris askedfor Combo Panda for one.“Donald orders this every night,”said Wong Ku Fung, manager of Pan-da Surprise, “He’s a sad man.”He then sat down at his television,not bothering to turn on the lights.“Usually I watch
Two and a Half  Men
for an hour or two. Sometimes,Charlie Sheen makes me forget thatI’m living alone in a pre-fab bungaloin Mount Gilead, Ohio. Not tonight.”After quietly eating his Chinesefood in his kitchen illuminated by anexposed light bulb to the tinny wail of Billy Joel from the single speaker of a Sony alarm clock, he looked around
the room until he spied the ickering
alien glow of his desktop computer.“This loneliness is worse thandeath. I needed to blow off somesteam.”Sitting down at his computer, heproceeded to masturbate apatheticallyand without passion to soft-core por-nography until he ejaculated. “It wasneither a release nor a satisfaction, itwas merely a mechanical bodily ex-pression that left me feeling emptierthan ever before.”He then logged on to Rate My Pro-fessor and saw that he was “Not.”
Visiting Classics Professor Discovers He Is ‘Not’
Morris receives the troubling news.
By Stan BiddickWait, what? No, you gotta be fuckin’kidding me. There’s another all-malea cappella group being formed oncampus? Not just those ass clownsin the slacks and blazers, but an en-tirely different group? Sweet fuckin’
Jesus. That’s it. Someone re up an
oven in Peirce, because if I have togo to another a cappella show, I willkill myself.Listen man, it’s not that I don’tenjoy a good tune. Hell, I don’t mindsitting through a couple hours of ob-scure indie covers and the subsequentawkward downtime between songsonce, maybe even twice a semester.But another group, really? There areso many goddamn a cappella groupson this campus that I’m bound toknow someone in all of them, andthen guess what? I feel guilty as fuckwhen I don’t go to each and everyshow.I’m sorry, but I would rather drivemy piece-of-shit Oldsmobile off Sun-set Point than force another round of 
awkward laughter when you can’t g
-ure out the right pitch on your littlemetal pipe. Listen, I think it’s greatthat you love to sing, but give me afreakin’ break here. I love playingbasketball, but that doesn’t mean Istart my own team and make you goto all my games when I don’t makevarsity, does it?You know what? Fine. Whatever.Start another a cappella group. Butwhen you can’t put together a showbecause there are more a cappellagroups on this campus than music be-ing produced by the rest of the world,don’t come bitchin’ to me about it,
OK? Jesus, ne, when is it? Yeah,
OK, OK. I’ll come to your show. Butyou can bet your balls I’m not gonnabe sober.
If I Have To Go To Another A Cappella Show I Will Kill Myself
“Listen, I think it’s greatthat you love to sing, butgive me a freakin’ break.”

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