Philander’s Most sPlendiferous source of news and GossiP.

Vol. 3, issue 4

october 14, 2010

in case of Power outaGe, take shelter under this issue

Next Mark Zuckerberg Probably Steve, Imagines Steve
By Sheridan Whiteside GAMBIER — The next Mark Zuckerburg will probably be Steve, imagined Steve on Friday evening. Envisioning himself as a misunderstood genius, Steve called his imaginary girlfriend, Melissa Campbell ’07, and arranged a meeting at Middle Ground. According to entirely fictional sources, Steve spoke in run-on sentences and made blunt, insensitive observations about Campbell, adopting a nervous, evasive demeanor and casting baleful looks at nearby athletes. “When I finally couldn’t take any more, I called him an asshole and told him it was over,” said an avatar of Campbell on Steve’s World of Warcraft account. “He just goes, ‘You have part of my attention — you have the minimum amount,’ whatever that’s supposed to mean.” Steve, a sophomore math major, learned he was rejected by the Stairwells more than a month ago. Steve’s humiliation, tempered by his rejec-

InsIde ThIs Issue
Laundry Almost Done

tion from the DKEs freshman year, evolved into a volatile core of rage that culminated in taking the Mt. Vernon shuttle alone to see the much anticipated film The Social Network. Choking back tears over his large popcorn for one, Steve realized he had finally found his calling. That night, after running home to Mather in a Gap hoodie, Steve opened up his laptop and began furiously programming to a soundtrack of minimal techno while drinking

Steve, after intensive photo retouching and airbrushing.

bottles of Heineken. “First, I knew I was going to need to hack into Moodle. Their firewall was packet-based, so I bypassed the filters by spoofing the IP using a custom protocol based off some algorithms I had been working on. Once I had the e-mail addresses, it was just a question of consolidating the data into a system where the user’s individual-

Vulcan School Board to Do Away With Illogical Arts Program Indoor Kid Has No Identity To Steal Report: Everyone Knows It’s You Pooping

Continued on page 5.

Sophomore Day The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year Student Withdraws Passing From Dinner with Professor
By Ming Shei Huarez PEIRCE LOUNGE – Proving that children’s wishes do come true, the class of 2013 set aside their stresses and celebrated the heartwarming traditions of Sophomore Day on Tuesday as a spirit of cheer and goodwill towards all, coupled with the faint scent of pine, pervaded the first floor of Peirce. “It was so lovely to get together and see people I hadn’t contacted since before Orientation,” said Kate Mallerwitz ’13. “I always get nostalgic around Sophomore Day, but this year’s celebration was truly lifeaffirming, ” added Dean of Students Hank Toutain. From 11 AM to 1 PM, a crowd of about ten students who had nothing better to do gathered around the unlit fireplace in Peirce Lounge, eagerly awaiting Dean Martindell’s holiday address. “[Martindell] made me think of all the important things that I forget when I get caught up in
t he kenyon collegiat e

my workaday life. How often, for example, are you reminded that a ‘WP’ on your transcript is nothing to worry about? Or that I can go to the registrar’s website to learn more about calculating my GPA?” gushed Harold

By Jean Shortz

“Consider my heart-cockles warmed.”
Richbour ’13. Richbour then fanned out his many forms and fliers. “Just look at all this colored paper! I feel so informed. Consider my heart-cockles warmed.” According to one of the dozens of surveys conducted online by LBIS, sophomores reported feeling a “renewed sense of family” after the festivities. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I was lonely. They used to do all kinds of things for us when we were firstyears— sings, parades, names in books — but this year, I was lost. I

Continued on page 3.

KENYON INN — After forty-two minutes of consistent failure to put forth adequate effort, junior Ellie Ottley ‘12 stood up from her dinner with Professor of English P.F. Kluge, announced that she was withdrawing passing, and left the table. Ottley, along with three other students, had won the opportunity to dine with the beloved professor at the Junior Class Auction, a fundraiser designed to raise money for class events, senior dues, and the class gift. “I thought I was bidding on something else. I wanted the dance lessons,” said Ottley, “but then when I realized what I had gotten myself into, I figured, ‘Fifteen dollars for a meal at the Kenyon Inn… what have I got to lose?’ Turns out, a lot.” Ottley started the evening by showing up five minutes late to dinner, explaining that her alarm had not gone off. Professor Kluge had not

expected her to come, since she had not responded to the email asking her to confirm her attendance. Ottley said that she had actually responded, she was sure of it, but for some reason her Internet must have messed it up. “I really thought I sent it. Maybe I forgot to attach it. Sometimes, it’s so weird — my attachments will just plain, like, not work. I promise I sent it, though,” said Ottley of the missing RSVP. At the moment of her arrival, Ottley interrupted one of the other three students, Charles Reid ’11, who had been speaking about the tradition of serving bread at dinner. Reid cited the tradition‘s Neolithic origins and noted that characteristics such as grain, thickness, shape, and texture varied from culture to culture. “Interestingly enough, archaeological evidence confirms that the

Continued on page 3.

WKCO DJ Describes Funny Thing On the Internet
By Gunderson Threeply FARR HALL – Leslie Johannsen ’13 made WKCO broadcast history last week when she described something humorous she had found on the Internet during her show, “Hyperbeam Cougar Explosion Magic.” “So, I was checking my newsfeed the other day,” Johannsen told her faithful listeners, “and someone had linked this really funny video! You know those Old Spice commercials? It’s the one where the guy is all, ‘Hello ladies, look at your man,’ and he’s all like super buff and handsome and stuff? Well, my friend linked this thing to my other friend, and it was the same thing, but it was Grover from Sesame Street doing it! Too funny!” Johannsen went on to describe other funny things she’d seen on the World Wide Web. “My friend showed me this hilarious blog the other day! It’s called Look At This Fucking Hipster. It’s got all these pictures of hipsters looking stupid. Hipsters are so dumb,” she added, “and then there was this great website called Texts From Last Night! I hope I don’t end up on there— wuh oh!”

“Yeah, it was dangerous, but I’m a DJ who’s not afraid to break the rules.”
Johannsen, who normally only plays Weezer and lo-fi covers of Lady Gaga songs, decided to mix it up “off the cuff” when her iPod died in the middle of “this really great ‘Buddy Holly’/’LoveGames’ mashup” she had found on Kenster. “Yeah, it was dangerous,” she admitted, “but I’m a DJ who’s not afraid to break the rules every once in a while.” Jim Langley ’14 was one of the listeners who heard the broadcast. “It was magnificent,” he said. “She [Johannsen] spoke, and I could see a picture of what she was describing inCollegiate artists reconstructed this image based on Johannsen’s description.

side my head! It was like Christmas, my birthday, and black tar heroin all rolled into one glorious moment!” “I don’t want to sound hyper-

Continued on page 4.

New Study: People With Lice Are Assholes Freshman Gets Care Package, Instant Popularity
By Boat Thorpe GAMBIER, OH — There is a positive correlation between head lice infestation and being a total buttwipe, according to a Village of Gambier Public Health Office report released last Thursday. The Public Health Office conducted in-depth interviews with hundreds of students, faculty, and community members and found that those who had had head lice in the past year were almost 200% more likely to be assholes. Dr. Casey Brock, who coordinated the study and conducted many of the interviews personally, described the recently lice-riddled as “inconsiderate, unpleasant, conceited… just class A douchebags.” The results were uniform across race, class, and gender lines. The only demographic group that did not display a lice/asshole correlation was that of children under ten. Brock and his team did not find this anomalous, however, since “it’s okay when you’re a little kid.” Brock and his team consider the connection between lice and dickishness to be more than just a correlation. “We can’t say for certain that being a douchenozzle causes head lice,” said Brock, “but we think the under-ten exception provides some pretty compelling evidence. To put it in layman’s terms, why would you get lice as an adult if you weren’t a total dickbag?” The report advises that Gambier residents protect themselves against lice by staying at least three feet away from assholes at all times. “Sometimes they’ll rub their head on your head and give you lice, just to be fuckheads,” said Brock, “but, really, unless you hang out with a bunch of chodes, you’re pretty much safe.” By Clams Casino POST OFFICE – Speaking from the top of the stairs at the Gambier Post Office, Jonah Waters ’14 announced Thursday that he had received a package. He immediately underwent an extreme transformation from leader of the nerd herd to hotty superbomb. Tara Moskowitz ’12 was mailing an absentee ballot when she heard the announcement from the post office steps. “I heard this kid yell, ‘Waaaah I got a package!!!’ and I was like, ‘Oooh, a package? I wonder what’s inside,’” Moskowitz divulged. “It made me really want to get to know him.”

“Why would you get lice as an adult if you weren’t a total dickbag?”
The report’s findings came as no surprise to Kenyon students and staff, many of whom had always suspected that the recent lice outbreak was the work of assholes. “I knew it,” said Gerard Truce ’12. “I mean, who gets lice in college? You’d have to be, like, a total dildo.” Nurse practitioner Yolanda Greb confirmed that most students who come to the Health Center looking for lice treatment products are in fact assholes. “Seriously,” said Greb, “go back to Pre-K. Douche.”

“It wasn’t until I saw him holding that giant box . . . that I noticed what a great, tight ass he has.”
While the proclamation alerted some students to Waters’ existence, others that already knew Waters found that their opinion of him as a human being was radically changed. Simon McMillen ’14 was smoking a cigarette outside the Black Box when he saw Waters on the post office steps. “Jonah did Writing and Thinking PreO with me, and frankly, I thought he was weird and smelly and kind of mean, but seeing him carrying around that big box… it really made me realize how loved he must be” Eyewitness accounts report that Waters had already eaten lunch but decided to go back for Extendo in order to parade his massive package

Several varieties of lice, probably from some asshole’s head.

around the dining area. “He’s so mysterious,” gushed Lilly Thomas ’13 while eating a bowl of Mallow-Oates. “I think I’d seen him on Middle Path before, but it wasn’t until I saw him holding that giant box in Upper Dempsey that I noticed what a great, tight ass he has.” On his way back to McBride Residence Hall with his care package, Waters reportedly received three exclusive party invites from people standing in front of the market and a nomination for President of First Year Council. Some members of the student population were vexed by Waters’ speedy rise to stardom. Waters’ Upper Classman Counselor Alex Mendelson ’12 voiced his contempt for the supercool freshman: “I mean, last week I walked around with my Zappos box all day, but that was because I didn’t have time to drop off my package in

Waters with his package.

Continued on page 5.

2 p l ease

recycle issue b e f o r e o r a f t e r r e a d i n g

The Solution to Every Problem: A Shitload of Cats

From ‘Sophomore Day,’ page 1.
was on the verge of saying ‘Bah, humbug!’ to the whole Kenyon experience,” reported Richbour. “Phaedra Fawcett barely looked at me when I turned in my transcript request. I thought I had been forgotten,” added Mallerwitz, helping herself to some OCS brochures. “But that’s the magic of Sophomore Day: today I was reminded that it really is a wonderful life.” Dean for Academic Advising Jane Martindell, dressed as the traditional folkloric figure Sopho-Claus (not to be confused with Sophocles, ancient Greek playwright) affirmed the importance of the event as well. “Declared, undeclared — they can all come together on this magical day. I just love watching their little eyes light up when they get to the paragraph about transfer credits. Makes me wish I’d charged the batteries in my camcorder,” she said. While most sophomores enjoyed munching on the free popcorn and following the zippy paper pathway into the lounge, some expressed resentment about this year’s celebration. “It’s just gotten so commercial, what with all those gaudy posters. I think we’re all forgetting the true meaning of Sophomore Day and getting lost in secular sin,” griped Ian Yest ’13. “I was raised in a home where sophomores were sacred. This is just a cheap party.” Yest nevertheless vowed to visit the CDC next week to start looking at summer internships, saying, “I guess some of this stuff is kind

By Anna Roblinson ’13 Well, Collegiate, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, but how about them cats? Kenyon kitties are pouring through the hills of Gambier, and I’m not the only one jumping for joy. EVERYONE loves and benefits from the sultry stare of a feline companion, even if they don’t realize it (ESPECIALLY if they don’t realize it). Already, I’ve seen a cornucopia of cats: Striped cats! Green-eyed cats! Yellow-bellied cats! Smart cats! Sexy cats! Sarcastic cats (or, as I like to call them, “SarCATstics”)! Funny cats! Dumb cats! Portly cats! Ritzy cats! Crazy Cats! Cats that like cheese! Cats wearing cat-sized catsuits! The list goes on and on and on. But the other day, I saw the most important cat of them all: the pregnant cat! Do you know what this means, Kenyon? Well, I’ll tell you. Ever since I was a young lad, I’ve had this recurring dream. I’m sitting on a bed of tuna, wearing a suit of armor made of kitty litter boxes, and there are cats — cats as far as the eye can see. With the introduction of several more pregnant cat-mamas, my dream can finally become a glorious reality (excluding the

kitty litter armor part)! Remember a little society called Ancient Egypt? Well, back in Ancient Egypt, they revered cats as gods. Egypt could fuck shit up in the ancient world--I’m guessing mostly because of the aforementioned cat worshipping. I envision a Kenyon society where all cats are treated like the furballhacking deities that they are, and where Kenyon students will reap the benefits directly. Think of the employment opportunities! There will have to be people manning the kittydoors 24/6 (royal cats stay inside on Sundays). Plus, who’s going to carry them around in their golden thrones, anointing them with essential fish oils? (Unfortunately not I, for I’ve had a lifelong fear of all felines ever since a cantankerous Siamese bit off my father’s ear when I was three. Just FYI.)

From ‘Dinner,’ page 1.
Egyptians used yeast, both as an agent in the leavening process and in the brewing of ale, as early as 4000 BC,” Reid stated. He then related the history of bread to all four classes in which he is currently enrolled. Chrissy Hamilton ’13 chimed in, “And, like, it’s just interesting the way that they, like, did that the way that they did. Like, I don’t know. Just, like, how it felt so, like, primitive, and, like, at the same time, like, the way, like, James Joyce and Gertrude Stein, and, you know, like, New Formalism.” The remaining student, Harrison Davidson ’12, rolled his eyes and continued texting under the table. Ottley conspicuously avoided eye contact to hide the fact that she had nothing to add to the conversation. Professor Kluge redirected the conLewis Hyde Creative Writing versation to the topic of entrees, asking each student what they might like to order. Reid began speaking about each of the entrees and how they were reminiscent of other foods that he had eaten that day, but Davidson quickly cut him off and ordered the ribeye. Hamilton ordered a dessert and, upon realizing her severe misreading of the menu, faked a coughing fit to hide her tears and excused herself to use the restroom. Kluge then asked Ottley what she wanted. It was then that Ottley informed Kluge of her intentions to mulligan the meal. “I hadn’t done the reading of the menu because I’d pulled an all-nighter and hadn’t had time, so I just decided, fuck it,” said Ottley. “I’d had two other meals that day anyway, and my parents don’t care about me missing this one dinner.”

Think of all the cats . . . with their stories to tell about their cat-frats.
Think of all the cats, the walls and walls of cats, with their stories to tell about their cat-frats and their secret cat societies that only they know about! Cats, clawing and crawling their way through every nook and cranny of this hilltop college. My grandpa once said something very wise to me, which was, “When you can’t count your cats, your cats will count.” Amen to that, Grandaddy. If only you had heeded your own advice instead of getting hideously mutilated by that orange tabby back in ‘67. Aaaah, cats... you just can’t hate ‘em. Hannah Santa Anna ’14 Prissy Doodle ’14


Bryse Horse-Rosenthal ’12

Christine Wheeler Assoc. Dir., North Campus

Totals so far: Students: 28 Faculty: 31

Where could one find an Ewok? What do you call Santa’s helpers? What is the best statue on campus? What does the ocean remind you of? Total Correct
In Absalom! Absalom!

as Sutpen’s mistress! Elves, if one was so inclined.

The second moon of Endor! Subordinate clauses! The one of Bambi! Our mortality. Four

In my new book, perchance! Little devils. I do fancy the Moore in the science quad. Yellowfin Tuna. David Foster Wallace. One

Star Trek. Do you think I’m a dum-dum?

The forests of Canada. What the little girls said.
Manship’s Indian Hunter and Proghorn Antelope.

Fabulous and giving. Gund commons! Who’s with me? My new babe! One

Henry Moore is a God. Post-colonialist implications of The Tempest. Zero

Ahab and his whale.

k enyon.collegiate@g m a i l . c o m


Greet Kenyon People: K.D. Williams Honeybucket’s Guide To Hide-Savin’
By Ed Strictly Many aspire to become a model Kenyon student, but few can match the credentials of K.D. Williams, who will be graduating from NYU this spring. Since elementary school, his magnetic smile and unique face have adorned the brochures and websites of his schools, from Trinity Cathedral Academy’s in his native Trenton, where his face still greets you on the home page, to the bulk of Kenyon’s public affairs releases. “I’ve been really lucky,” Williams said in August 2007. “My parents have worked hard to send me to great schools all my life, and I’m sure seeing me on the website makes them proud.” Posing for the camera aside, Williams is a true role model. Before he arrived at Kenyon as a freshman, he took part in the Kenyon Educational Enrichment Program that brings firstgeneration, first-year college students to the campus for a six-week transition. And during the twelve weeks that he was a member of Kenyon’s Class of 2011 four years ago, he was enrolled in an “okay” IPHS seminar, quit the soccer team “for personal reasons,” and even once volunteered at the Wiggin Street Elementary School. During September of that first month, he also worked twice as a generous host to other students like him. Enrolled in New York University since October of 2007, he’s now majoring with honors in economics, with a minor in sociology. Friends say that he has thrived in his new setting, where he frequently visits the nearby Greenwich Village, and is said to love Grey’s Papaya, a hot dog chain that also serves fruity drinks. His Facebook profile also implies that he’s in a relationship with someone named Chloe. During his college interview in December of 2006, Williams said, “I’m worried about coming from the city to a small rural environment like Kenyon.” Dean of Admissions Jennifer Delahunty remembers that moment. “I told him there’s always something

By Luther Honeybucket Now unclog your listenin’-hole and gather round the knowledge pit, my little mud-maggots. But no runnin’— those toe-slugs are slippery! My brain bugs have been a-chatterin’, and they be sayin’ me, “earwax ain’t nothin’ but maple candy and string beans.” And they also be sayin’ me, “it’s safety week.” “Safety week?” I be sayin’, “I thought it was the week of Jup’ter’s prairie-jaunt!” But them brain bugs’s right after all! Now Luther knows a tic or two about steering clear of that ole hagmadam Death, and that sure ain’t easy, for she’s bigger’n a bullfrog’s

K.D. Williams, attended Kenyon 08/2007-10/2007

Hometown: Uh… Trenton, NJ. Why? On his iPod: Please give me my iPod back… Just for Fun: Look, I gotta go. Guilty Pleasure: What? Who are you? Top Movie: You’re From Kenyon, Aren’t You? Top TV show: I Already Told You People. I’m Not Coming Back. Never. It Just Wasn’t For Me. Favorite place on campus: Ugh, fine. I kind of liked Ascension? going on,” she said. “Something different all the time—a concert, an a cappella group, a play.” Now, hopefully with the aid of Kenyon’s Career Development Office, Williams is in the Big Apple, where there are even more concerts, more plays, and no a cappella groups. It was in a dirty train on the N line that we finally tracked him down. Asked when he would be returning to his old stomping ground, Williams said, “What? Well, [I’ll] never [say no to a trip back]. How did you find me [because I’m so happy you did]? I’m leaving [definitely sometime this month].” Always modest, he added, “And take that picture of me off the website.” When we stop being so proud of him, maybe we will.

croak-sack. So if you’ve got half a tater in your head-bucket, you’d best pay attention. 1. If’n you hear a crick-cracklin’, you’s got a fire under your hind-paws. Now don’t panic. You scoot your burnin’ bottom over to Bo Hunkiss’ hut-shack and set that possum-tonguer’s home ablaze—that’ll teach him not to pilfer my Blue Ribbon bobcat molars! 2. Got a ‘lectric-sky on yer hands? Don’t panic. Them’s just the clouddwarves sanding their toenails—but watch out, they’ll poke yeh! Just shimmy up the nearest pine and holler evils through your throat-pipe till them dwarves is whimperin’. 3. After a night of tickle-burr whisky, you may find yerself one finger short of eight. Don’t panic— a toadstool’s worth of bog algae’ll sooth your hurtin’ and keep you from moldin’. 4. What’s that? Bo Hunkiss is comin’? And he brought his peckermunchin’ rat-varmint Ezekliel along? PANIC!! Well, better scamper! Grandpa Puh’s cauldron of owl butter is ripe for the spreadin’! Hoodily-how!

Car Crashes Into a Wall Of Flavor
By Roy McKluskin’ MT. VERNON— In a disastrously delicious turn of events, a Toyota Yaris crunched into Fiesta Mexicana restaurant in Mt. Vernon on September 25, pinning a man to the side of the building the way a spicy Fiesta Mexicana enchilada pins your taste buds to the roof of your mouth with excitement. Describing the crash, onlooker Chelsea Cobblefroth said it was “zesty, just like the tostada I just had, which was piled high with golden rice, refried beans, spicy jalapenito sauce and cool sour cream and which costs just 3.99 for a limited time only.” The car chomped away at an exterior wall when Mt. Vernon resident and driver Leslie Lip lost control of

the wheel, which some speculate was due to distraction caused by the sweet, sweet smell of grilling fajita meat emanating from the establishment. The man hit by the vehicle, 45-year-old Fiesta enthusiast Jim Carmichael, said he was walking into “that mouthwatering temple of genuine Mexican flavor” when “the car came between me and the slow-roasted chipotle-chocolate mole taquito platter I was planning on ordering.” Carmichael’s injuries seemed minor to onlookers who described the gashes on his legs as “similar in depth to the pool of cheese around a medium-sized nacho platter.” While events continue to develop, only one word can really describe the events of that fateful day: ¡muy caliente!
Fiesta Mexicana, moments before disaster struck.

From ‘WKCO,’ page 2.
bolic,” said Lawrence Guffman ’12, “but hearing this was pretty much the best thing ever--even better than that dream I have where I’m talking with God and he tells me that I am his most beloved creation, but without the part where he exhales spiders and they strip the flesh from my bones.” After the success of last week’s “Hyperbeam Cougar Explosion Magic,” Johannsen expressed interest in doing a similar show soon. “There’s so much untapped humor on the Internet,” she explained. “I mean, there must be literally hundreds of videos on there. Have you guys seen the one about the sneezing panda?”

p l ease recycle issue b e f o r e o r a f t e r r e a d i n g


Freshman Can’t Even Count How Many Drinks He Had Last Night
By Granny Hayes

From ‘Package,’ page 2.
my room. Jonah is just using his care package to climb the social ladder. It’s sick.” During First Year Orientation, Mendelson reportedly showed Waters how to log in to Student Access pages, gave him the inside scoop on the Peirce Servery hours, and divulged secrets on distribution requirements. “I practically created him,” Mendelson continued. “I used to be the king of this place. Who does this douchebag think he is?”

It Was Probably A Lot

MATHER RESIDENCE HALL— Freshman Greg Boomer ’14, the firstfloor long-side resident from Palo Alto, became increasingly intoxicated last night after drinking several different alcoholic beverages at several different locations on campus. “The night started when me and Platz [James Platz ‘14] shotgunned two Keystones we found next to the Mather tire-swing,” Boomer recalled. “But then, I got on the swing and did all kinds of sick shit and totally booted like three seconds later, so that first beer doesn’t even count.” Despite a killer hangover this morning, Boomer was able to recount to each of his hall members how many drinks he had and where he had them. “Greg told me he went to Andy Harris’s [‘14] room in Lewis and did, like, ten shots,” Amanda Regis ’14, Boomer’s next-door neighbor, said. “But it was half-proof or something so it was really like five shots, but he said Popov burns so bad that it might as well be ten, but then he said it didn’t matter because who’s really counting.” “I don’t even know Greg Boomer,” Ferrah Blume ’14 said, “but he saw me in the hall outside of the bathroom and said that his head was

From ‘Steve,’ page 1.
ity was central to the experience. That was the key: sharing. That was what was going to make Sharester exclusive. At midnight, it went live. Two hours later, the servers were down.” Despite Steve’s claims, Sharester — a public, campus-wide p2p network that allows users to share files — failed to generate any public interest whatsoever, crashing servers when at 2:34 AM a Denison student hacked in, downloaded the list of campus e-mails, and spammed each one with gay pornography. However, according to a dream Steve had Saturday night, Steve is breathing the rarefied air of Kenyon success. “It’s just a whirlwind of sex, drugs, and money,” said Steve from a make-believe nightclub full of beautiful make-believe women and interesting make-believe people. Meanwhile, on campus, Steve’s celebrity status has only continued to grow. “I saw him nursing a pitcher of beer by himself in one of those booths in the Cove,” said one source. “He was mumbling something about DKEs and revenge.”

‘crazy pounding’ because ‘dudes’ in the DKE bullseye were ‘slapping the bag from midnight straight on till morning.’ He told me not to even ask how many glasses of Franzia he probably had. But then he said if he had to guess, it was probably eight or nine.” Boomer similarly surprised Josh Murry ‘14, when soliciting some Advil Liquid Gels to “shake his monster headache.” “Normally, Greg only comes by to hang out with my roommate Howie [Dortle ‘14],” Murry said. “But he came by for some Advil and asked how my night was.

Boomer, pictured somewhere, apparently drinking.

I told him I just stayed in and ran lines for the Renegade production of Twelfth Night, and he told me, ‘that sucks,’ because he pounded ‘like one and a half brass monkeys in under three minutes outside of Leonard while some Betas chanted, ‘Boomer! Boomer! Boomer!’ ” “Man, I was sooo blitzed last night” Boomer said. “If I even tried to count how many drinks I had, I couldn’t, but I did try, and it was around 23” As Greg walked away he chanted “Boomer! Boomer! Boomer!” under his breath.

Masturbation Simulation Nintendo Wii-ner Takes Campus by Storm
By Clams Casino GAMBIER – There’s a new game in Gambier, and it’s really taking a stranglehold on campus. It’s called Nintendo Wiiner, an astoundingly clever play on the words “Wii video game console and the word ‘wiener’ as in ‘shaft’ as in ‘penis’. “We’re really jacked about this new game.” said Wii-ner enthusiast Nico Wesley ‘14, “One of the best things about this new game is the jizzy, ahem hurm hem, jazzy soundtrack. Featuring Vitamin Semen, a-Ha I’m Cumming, Ben Chodes 5, The Decemberdicks and David Blowie.”

The Collegiate reported that KCDC’s production of The Lover and A Kind of Alaska was “eagerly awaited.” The word ‘eagerly’ turned out to be pushing it. “Awaited.” That’s about right. The Collegiate also mistakenly reported that there was nothing going on in New Apts. Apparently, things ended up getting pretty good just after we left. We apologize for the error. Furthermore, The Collegiate reported that Kent from your econ class was totally in love with you. However, new information has come to light revealing that he’s pretty much like that with everyone.

“This game really jerks me around,” said Feldstein. “I mean, cum on!”
The concept of the new game is founded in the act of masturbation. Players use the remote Wii-ner remote to simulate the act instead of actually doing it. President of the brand new Wii-ner enthusiast Nicholas Winters exalted the Wii-ner, “People are re-

ally choking back tears over this new game!” Alec Beasley noted that, “No one ‘s semen this one comin’,” “It’s semen like a real job.” “This game really jerks me around,” said Linus Feldstein ’13, “I mean cum on!” Professors have spoken out about the game calling it, “time consuming”, “counter productive” and “ill-

Three Kenyon students firmly gripping their joysticks.

advised.” Alan Curtis ’11 spoke out on the subject, “Well ex-sploooooooge meeeee!!!!” Kenyon administrators have even expressed concern for the safety of the students involved, “One of the games got so rowdy, the winning player got ejaculated.” “But he was a bad seed.”

k enyon.collegiate@g m a i l . c o m


While You Were Away:

By Boat Thorpe

Roommate’s Boyfriend Fakes Interest In Your Life

Pure Decadence During Reading Days

By Elgin Marbles Elgin Marbles here, guy about town. Those of you who were wise enough to stick around likely already know, but for those who foolishly squandered precious jet fuel for a few days on the coast with Mom and Pop, you oughta know: Reading Days proved to be pure decadence. I mean don’t get me wrong, this moi was totally planning on spending the entire break pouring myself into my honors project on Proust, but campus presented too much of a heathen pleasure-fest to say no! Allow me to illustrate. Wednesday: I was sunning outside Middle Ground, following an especially taxing History of Sexuality midterm (those who can, do! am I right?) when these two pixie-perfect sophomores from my poetry workshop flitted down to invite me to their room. Sure, I thought to myself, I deserve a break. What would be the harm of a little punch before I turn in for an early night in Watson? But before I knew it, there I was, reclining naked in a portable hot tub beside the bay

CollegIaTe sTaff
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windows of Leonard, sipping hot toddies with the ladies, eating strawberry ice cream and singing show tunes while someone practiced the harp. I remember thinking, ‘I bet Liza Minelli and Marc Jacobs do this sort of thing all the time.’ I woke in a feather bed somewhere behind the KAC. His name was Jean. He was visiting his sister. Thursday, I headed to the BFEC, looking for hoping for some solitary sunshine. But no sooner had I exclaimed, “I’ll try anything once,” than I found myself in dawn’s harsh light, surprisingly bruised, sprawled spread eagle in the (under seems like he got buried) under the pine grove with fuchsia lipstick on my linen shorts and a fawn licking the sleep from my eyes. Only when I looked in the farmhouse mirror, staring at my pine needle headdress and the mud smeared on my face, did I realize that at some point I had exchanged undergarments with a rather buxom lady. Friday, I had resolved to stay in, listen to a little Joanna Newsom, and get back to Proust, when my international neighbor, Kazoot, came a-calling, insisting he had just too much pot to smoke alone. After eating all of his hummus and a tub of cream cheese, we wandered into a kind of luau on the freshman quad, complete with a limbo stick and suckling pig, attended by the entire Anthropology department. Apparently, they were celebrating some kind of solstice. Saturday, the Friday Café ladies were feeling experimental at The Parish House. Add to that Professor of Drama Andrew Reinert, Kenyon’s local specialist in costume design and artisanal bread, there was just no stopping them. Somehow it was my good fortune, along with a few other lucky pleasure-seekers in the right place at the right time, to put away mouthfuls of luscious rum creams, plum tarts, chocolate lava heavens, and even these itsy-bitsy kumquat soufflés. Add to that the free massages in Wellness and mani-pedis sponsored by the Zetas and I was spent. But before the long weekend could truly come to a close, I ran into my friends from the food co-op, sampled some of their homemade corn whisky, and ended up burning all my clothing and toasting the crescent moon in the graveyard before parading through the south quad with an impromptu Samba band of music majors. Ah, Reading Days, what a pleasure-fest, and not a single word read.

LEWIS HALL— Experts have confirmed that when your roommate’s boyfriend, Thomas Horber ’14, came by last Tuesday night and asked how your classes were, he was only pretending to be interested in the answer. The conversation lasted roughly eight minutes before your roommate got back from a cappella practice, and at no point during this time did Horber actually care what you were saying. Body language expert Greta Maybon, who often consults for the CIA, FBI, and Mossad, viewed security footage of the conversation to determine Horber’s precise level of interest. “At first glance he does appear to be listening,” noted Maybon, “but if you look closer, you can see that he’s looking past you, not at you.” Maybon also drew attention to the first few seconds of the tape, in which Horber can clearly be seen glancing around the room in search of your

roommate and rolling his eyes when he realizes you’re the only one there. Psychologist Peter Gunterberg, who has written several books on awkwardness-aversion behavior in young adults, also viewed the footage. “This is a classic case of ‘false camaraderie’,” he said. “These people have absolutely nothing in common with each other and don’t particularly get along, so [Horber] creates an appearance of camaraderie to avoid eight minutes of awkward silence.” When asked to confirm or deny allegations of not giving a shit, Horber shrugged and said, “What? I was just making small talk.” Your roommate, however, came to Horber’s defense, saying, “Thomas always acts super nice to her, but she’s always all awkward and bitchy. Plus, she like never leaves the room. I don’t think she has friends.” You could not be reached for comment.

By Barker D. Flugelhorn

Local Prophet Accurately Predicts Reading End Days Are Upon Us

GAMBIER, OH— In a startling turn of events, Kenyon’s Reading Days weekend led to a significant population of Kenyon students and faculty ascending to rapturous off-campus locales, including the Holy cities of New York City and Pittsburgh. Those who stayed on campus “were totally left behind,” said Gordon Vogel ‘12. “Instead of having a good time, we all felt compelled to contemplate the error of our ways, and burn in a pit of fire, brimstone, and unproductiveness from Wednesday through Sunday.” Students who remained on campus over the reading days were subjected to a “Vengeful, wrathful, all-encompassing inability to perform scholastic activities,” said Graham Doxon, ’13. “I didn’t think it would happen. I didn’t prepare myself for the End of Work, and I guess I played the immortal price.” Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this diaspora was its diviner, a local priest who foretold these events. Father James Fennisten, an expert on

End Days and the Second Coming of Mt. Vernon Mike, says he knew it was going to happen “like I know the back of my pulpit. And I know that pretty well.” Fennisten, who engraved his prophecy deep into the Beta Rock last Tuesday, is well versed in the legendary tales of the Reading Rapture. It has been foretold in the past that reading days are times of much studying, reading, and rejoicing, but Fennisten said he had “a sixth sense” that this year’s Reading Days would be the deciding factor in the salvation of mortal souls. “Scholars maintain that they’re called Reading Days because the ones who read ‘depart to mythical metropolitan areas.’ What’s the one book that those who stay on campus should be reading at a time of potential supernatural conflict? The Bible,” said the Episcopalian pastor at his office in Mt. Vernon Nazarene University. “But obviously, they hath revealeth their party-loving souls to the eyes of the Lord, and all we can do is pray for their non-work-doing vessels.”

Fennisten, fortelling our procrastination.

t he kenyon collegiat e


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