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Spring 2023 Issue 1
Spring 2023 Issue 1
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The MACALESTER
HEGEMONOCLE
Probably Macalester’s First…. And now Last…. Humor Magazine
Volume 26, Issue 1
Spring 2023
Head Writer
Daniela Martinez ‘25
STAFF
Anina Peersen ‘23 Emma Malcolm ‘23 Morgan Niven ‘24*
SHOUT OUTS
Audrey’s sister for letting us Talk about her dead cat
To Harold! The MVP of MAcalester Printing
Porn Phone in CC206, wherever you may be now
To our sons (Wac Meekly) for following in our footsteps
Whoever completely rearranged CC206 to give us a podium
Red, for believing in us
characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead,
is purely satirical.
Follow us on instagram and twitter: @hegemonocle
email: Hegemonocle@Macalester.edu
s? Idk
I'm alright Reference
ly know
with kids man, I bare
e
how to writ
RAVING
REVIEWS
Smoking good babysitter - Kaitlyn D. burned my house down "as a treat" - Kim L.
Macalester’s Most Controversial
Donors
ALPHA MALE PODCASTER
@AlphaMail (sic) donated sixty thousand dollars (two
entire weeks of tuition) after having a live-streamed
meltdown. “The woke police aren’t gonna like this one,”
he exclaimed, and then subsequently injected himself
with multiple polio vaccines, tied his dick in a knot, and
donated the allowance his mother gave him to
Macalester College.
MALE MANIPULATOR
Macalester Financial Aid and Admissions once received a
letter promising a $200,000 donation:
“Hey, if you’re comfortable (absolutely fine if not, no
worries at all), I would love some pictures of your breasts
(not my male fantasies showing their true colors lmao).
Not that I’m trying to monetize your body or anything
(although you certainly have the right to make money off
of the sexualization of women’s bodies if you find that
empowering!), but I’d be willing to donate $200,000 just
for a lil’ wank to those bad girls!”
When Macalester refused, another letter arrived:
“Okay. Personally I think that your body is beautiful and
should be in the fucking Louvre, but if you have
internalized misogyny and want to hide your body in a
burlap sack then I can’t help you.”
LORI LOUGHLIN
Well…
“THE SPERM DONOR”
One night a bag of cash filled with soggy, cum-ridden
Benjamins showed up in front of the chapel, alongside a
note with cutout magazine letters reading “All my ‘love’
*wink wink*, The Sperm Donor.” If The Sperm Donor
wanted to remain anonymous, then it’s really weird that
they soaked their donation with some of their most
traceable DNA.
ANOTHER MEN’S RIGHTS PODCASTER (???)
Drinking game where you take a shot every time
Macalester gets a donation from a men’s rights podcaster.
Two shots isn’t that much but it’s still enough that it’s
weird that it keeps happening to us. It’s also entirely
possible that The Sperm Donor and the second men’s
rights podcaster are the same person.
PRINCE PHILLIP
As the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Phillip is believed to have
accidentally funneled millions of dollars into Macalester by
telling the office that ran his finances to give his extra money to
“the fecking Scawts you whorish baustawd.” (He took his duties
as Duke of a Scottish city very seriously.) His advisors then
donated his money to the Macalester Scots. What most don’t
know is that Prince Phillip was effectively dead for months
before his official death (for twelve weeks he just lay in his bed,
not moving, but eyes wide open), so his financial advisor
decided that it would be a good time to reveal to Prince Phillip
where his money had been going; after all, what was Phil’s more
or less corpse supposed to do…respond? No! However, upon
hearing the news Phillip reportedly gasped and sat straight up
immediately, banishing his poor financial advisor to a tyrannical
rant.
“Ah, fock. Fockity fockity fock. You motherfocker. I want to fock
you up the arse so you’ll be shitting my incestous DNA for
years. What am I supposed to tell those li’il Scottie focking
cunts now,” Phillip reportedly wheezed.
Are Hot Cheetos Promoting
a leftist Agenda???
Recently, our intrepid voice of reason, Tucker Carlson, bravely
called out the M&M mascots for promoting a secret agenda and
grooming our children with wokeness. However, I believe there is
an even more obvious case of this phenomenon with another
popular snack, Flamin' Hot Cheetos.
(Che)etos...
In our last Fall Issue, we begged for your sperm. Some readers were wondering
why, accusing us of being “fucking weird” and “borderline creeps”, but we have our
reasons. Bon Appetit and the Biology Department were working together to make a
new student staff full of weird creatures, because, according to the Cafe
Mac Managers, “nobody wants to work these days.” Rather than making your entire
student work force have to ignore their schoolwork to work a shift that they
honestly donʼt get paid enough or properly trained
for, they decided to spend thousands of dollars to
purchase unfertilized chicken eggs and beg some
students for sperm (who were quick to accept).
We honestly didnʼt have to ask you guys for sperm,
the school just thought itʼd be more fitting if we did.
Some of these lab creations came out alright and ready to exploit, the rest are
funny little guys work whenever. They don't do much other than make noises and
whimper when the human staff talk to them. Is this ethical? Who knows!
Remember this is a school that charges outrageous tuition, housing, and pressures
students to live off campus when rent is high as shit and minimum wage won't
cover it. They donʼt really care if we live or die! We canʼt complain though, weʼre
scared that President Rivera will pluck us one by one and replace us with weird
creatures if we insult the school one more time :( Weʼll end the story since the
Creatures are behind us now by Riveraʼs command.
“What the fuck?” I murmur as I look at the pile of rice. I swear I saw it move and talk.
“I know you’ve wanted us for a long time...We are here now. Please...stay for a
“I..uh…sure I’ll stay?” I say as my head slowly looks around. Suddenly, there was
nothing around me but rice walls. I stumbled back in fear, pressing against the wet surface. The
people who were loudly chattering disappeared. I was in a room of nothing but rice and now
standing before me was a body–a body formed like a sculpture of rice. Voids of holes making
eyes and a mouth. “What the hell?!” I screeched as I pushed myself back into the moist walls.
“I’m sorry! We didn’t mean to scare you,” Uttered the rice quickly, holding up their suddenly
formed grainy hands. “We just wanted to make sure no one bothered us again.”
Again? What does it mean by that? I look at it, wide eyes, unable to speak. I am unsure
how to even react to this rice. Rice, unlike any of the rice I have normally been forced to eat, has
suddenly transported me into this bizarre world. I swallow a glob of spit, trying to wet my dry
throat. “W-Where am I? What are you doing?”
“We are vast and mighty, Y/N. We are able to mold our rice, space, and time. We
just needed to have this moment to tell you that you are the reason our rice feels so
fluffy and well formed.” It spoke, it was like hissing steam from a rice cooker.
“You’ve always wanted us. You’ve never had a day where we were not on your
plate or bowl,” it started, “through our crunchy and our mushy moments. You still
returned to us.”
That wasn’t…wrong. I am a simple person. Whenever I see rice at a food station I know I
have to take the risk and hope that it is finally good. That it finally has the fluffiness and fullness
that every student wishes for. No matter how many times I have been disappointed, I always
return to them…
“Without you, who would come back to us everyday with a burning hope that we
can be better? We wanted to make sure you could feel how much this mattered to us.
That finally, we are the softest and most fluffy rice that you could ever dream of.”
After those words left the gaping hole that could be called its mouth, I was pulled into the
moisture of Rice surrounding me. Holding me in a
warm, moist, and steamy embrace. A hug one could
argue.
“It was nothing,” I murmured, “I just wanted to
keep trying for a good bowl of rice, that’s all.” Was
that all? I truthfully don’t think so but as this warmth seeped into my bones, I couldn’t really
think anymore. I am only thinking of Rice. It was heir steam that was causing my face to heat
up, not the blush of feeling a tight hold surrounding me.
“We can treat you to a good meal. So stay with us...for tonight. Let our softness
hold you tight and show you the reward for believing in us,” they whispered. The warmth
rolling in the room. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could only smell the rice, the
stickiness attaching it to what bare skin was available.
The next morning, before prep work arrived, I was in the back kitchens. Sprawled on a
table, surrounded by…dry rice. The moisture of Rice went to keep me nourished sacrificing itself
for one night with me. To be left dry and scattered leaving me a message spelled on the ground,
just for me:
omega
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