Codependent Collegian

Left: Cochrane sees the benefits of torture

(Washington, DC) Georgetown University education major Tad Cochrane, speaking with Codependent Collegian reporters, defended Vice President Dick Cheney's comments about waterboarding.

"Listen up, y'all - these are the bastards who took down the World Trade Center, and who want to attack every library and grade school in the good old US of A," he said. "The VP was right on this one, and I think we ought to put Cheney in the room with the terrorists. I'll bet he could get them to talk in 10 minutes. Any dude who would shoot his friend in the face with a shotgun has the righteous cojones to be a good interrogator."

Cochrane believes that current interrogation techniques leave much to be desired.

"Oh, definitely. The CIA needs to hook up with some Quentin Tarrentino films to see how the job really needs to be done," he said. "Like that scene in Reservoir Dogs where the crazy mobster cuts off the cop's ear. Let's see how Mohammed Akbar or whoever stands up to getting an ear sliced off. Yeah - drugging, nails yanked out, toes smashed - by any means necessary, you know?"

Left: Cheney demonstrating a terrorist choke hold for reporters

Cochrane said that he would like to volunteer for the interrogation detail.

"Hey - it's not for everyone, and you need some kick-ass people like me who won't get all wishy-washy about civil rights," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Like this fight I was in when I was in high school. Dude comes up to me, acting all bad, and BAM! One punch, goodnight. Kicked him in the ribs for good measure when he was on the ground. That's the kind of person you need, so call me, Mr. Cheney."

Guest Editorial by Jared Crenshaw, Penn State Class of 2009

Some guys, as they say, have all the luck.

Like that little kid named David from Malawi, for instance. One day he's crawling in the mud with a hundred other AIDS orphans, then BAM! Madonna adopts his lucky ass.

I wish that Madonna would consider adopting me.

Yeah, I know I leave my shit all over the dorm, but if Madonna was my mother I would put everything away where it belongs. I'd even sweep, for Chrissakes, although I'd draw the line at dishes. Hey - isn't that why she's got a butler?

Would you be my mommy? Please?

If Madonna adopted me, she wouldn't have any custody problems like with that Malawian goat-herder. My mom and step-dad didn't even notice I left for college, and my old man's such a drunken sot he could probably get bought off with three months' trailer rent.

If she wanted, I wouldn't mind Madonna dressing me up like a baby, and - unlike her Malawi brat - I'm all about the breastfeeding. I'll bet that kid is so hooked on the bottle that he could never take to the proffered breast, like I would. Mmmmmm!

Plus, let's face facts. Madonna is the Queen of Freak, and you just know she's going to want to get all Oedipal on a kid at some point. And let's just say that I got his toddler ass beat in that department. Bad.

So, I know you're out there reading this, Madonna. Call me, Mommy, 'kay?

Left: Mixed blessings for Porter

(El Paso, TX) A trip to a campus restroom brought UTEP freshman Kyle Porter more than he had asked for.

"I felt it coming on about halfway through my Econ class, and I wasn't sure if I was going to make it," said Porter, still visibly shaken by his near-brush with bowel overload. "I made a mad dash to my favorite stall in Graham Hall and let 'er rip. Talk about your hazardous waste disposal - this baby should have come with a HazMat sticker."

The result, according to Porter, was a "perfectly-formed" section of fecal matter in the toilet bowl.

"I can't begin to describe the sense of relief I felt when that moment passed," he said, looking off into the distance. "But the popcorn I ate last night made this bowel movement - well - kind of a scratchy experience. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as I sat there cooking that butt burrito."

Left: Porter in mid-dump

The confluence of pleasure and pain, said Porter, brought him new insights into the creative process.

"I think I know how those poets get their inspiration," he said. "As I was in the throes of evacuation, I think I kinda became one with God, and for a moment it was like the beginning of all time, you know? It's too bad I didn't have a tape recorder in there - I might have come up with a good rap lyric or something after unleashing that intestinal leviathan."

Guest editorial by Jacob Whitten, Class of 2008

(Ames, IA) I don't really know how to say this, so I guess I'll use the direct approach.

I have been staring at your sexy butt ever since you left the Memorial Union.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not a stalker or anything. I walked out behind you from the Union, and I was, well, transfixed. I have never seen a more perfect-looking ass in my entire life, not even in a magazine.

I was actually just going to the Alumni Hall, the next building over, but I just couldn't help myself. I just kept walking and reveling in the unparalleled beauty that is your rear end in those oh-so-tight jean shorts.

Oh, I know what you're probably thinking: "Like, what's the number for campus security?"

Can you blame me?

God, I know I sound like a creep. I swear I've never done anything like this, unless you count that semester in Chemistry when I spent almost the entirety of every class period staring down the shirt of this girl who sat across me with low-cut tops, beautiful braless breasts just staring - STARING - back at me.

I followed you past Beardshear Hall, past Marston Hall, and even past the library. I even followed you past Spedding Hall until you got into your car in the parking lot, maybe gone from my life forever.

But if we ever meet again, would you like to go out sometime? Or could I just get a picture of your butt in those shorts to - err, save for posterity?

Thanks a million!

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Left: Haskins losing his grading will

(Ann Arbor, MI)—University of Michigan lit professor Gilbert Haskins has always taken great pride in his “student-centered philosophy,” which has seen him consistently return essays within three class periods for the past 27 years.

However, now that he is only one year away from retirement, Haskins’ raging addiction to crappy TV dramas and reality shows has slowed his red pen to a near-halt while innumerable stacks teeter on the corners of his office desk.

“I should probably start those Shakespeare responses, but I’m already behind on the Milton reports,” revealed a groggy Haskins as he scratched his rear through oversized sweatpants. “Besides, ‘Deal or No Deal’ is coming on—did you know they have three models all named Megan? You’d think the producers would’ve put the kibosh on that shit.”

Left: It's all a matter of priorities

And while some educators would take this pedagogical lapse as a stain on their reputation, Haskins appears to take his procrastination in stride.

“Look, after three decades, I’ve taught so many sonnets I wanna puke blood,” mumbled a bemused Haskins as he munched a fistful of Pringles. “Besides, the A students are kiss-asses, the B students regurgitate my lectures, and the C students refuse to proofread before hitting ‘print.’ Everybody else is a fucking retard. Damn—I’m missing a new episode of ‘Lost.’ You guys need to split.”

Not surprisingly, Haskins’ students have tired of anxiously waiting for their esteemed professor’s feedback, and are nothing short of exasperated.

“I’m an economics major, and this Renaissance class is my last humanities requirement,” muttered a frustrated Ian Post as he puffed a fresh Marlboro Light. “I’ve sent that old bastard nine emails since Monday. If I don’t pass this class, I swear to God, I’m mailing 10 lbs. of mule shit to his house.”

Left: Hammond examines site of 'strange gurgling'

(Athens, GA) University of Georgia sophomore Bradley Hammond, in an exclusive interview with Codependent Collegian writers, reported that "totally non-human noises" have been emananting from his intestines since this morning.

"There's definitely something bizarre going on in there," he said, lifting his shirt and pointing. "I have never heard anything like this before, and frankly - I'm worried."

Hammond believes that the gastrointestinal disturbance may be related to his food and beverage consumption last night.

"I did drink quite a lot of beer, plus I ate a half-dozen chili dogs and a couple of orders of onion rings," he admitted. "I think that the leftover cabbage rolls that I packed away just before I crashed might have really done me in, though."

What most concerns the engineering student is the uncertain outcome he faces.

"If this is going to turn out to be just some wicked farts and a giant turd, I'm OK with that," he said. "But I am afraid this might be a sign of a world-class case of the Hershey squirts, in which case I'll be chained to the toilet for the next two days. I definitely don't look forward to 36 hours of non-stop rectal tabasco, you know?"

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Hagerstown’s parking lot reflects its inner loss

(College Park, MD)—University of Maryland dormitory Hagerstown Hall found itself inconsolable this morning as many weekend partiers began the mass exodus back to their sober, collegiate lifestyles, leaving the dorm filthy and partially vacant.

To make matters worse, many of Hagerstown’s favorite residents will spend the remainder of the day cramming for a full week of coursework, thus leaving its halls in a sort of emotional purgatory.

“God, I feel so alone,” bemoaned Hagerstown, as some blackbirds fluttered from its shrubbery into the overcast horizon. “There are only nine people on the second floor right now. And half of them are sleeping. I wish someone would shower just so I could feel some warmth.”

Hagerstown’s loneliness was compounded by its sense of aesthetic disarray.

“Have you seen all these goddamn beer pong cups?” lamented an embitter Hagerstown. “They’re everywhere — in the bushes, under beds — hell, there’s even one in washing machine 7. Somebody’s boyfriend puked in stairway D, and my urinals are full of nickels and condom wrappers. God, I need some Xanax. Stat.”

Haggerstown’s colleagues had little sympathy this weekend, however, citing its chronic pessimism and insatiable need for attention.

“What a bitch,” huffed Baltimore Hall, as it savored the wafting smoke from a crushed Parliament menthol. “She thinks she has it bad? I had three rapes occur inside me last semester, and she didn’t even offer condolences. I felt so, so dirty. Hagerstown can burn to the ground for all I care.”

Left: Looks can be deceiving

(Madison, WI) The spotless, pimped-out gold Cadillac of Kevin "K-Unit" Peterson thunders through the normally quiet south side neighborhood, with its R Alpine subwoofer driven by a KCE-510M amp thumping at over 200 decibels.

Chamberlain Avenue resident Theresa Bowers remained unimpressed.

"That little punk-ass ain't nothing without his pimp mobile," she said, shaking her head. "He's driving that to compensate for his shortcomings in other areas, if you know what I mean."

Bowers said that she once caught Peterson in an embarassing situation.

"I come home from work and the lazy bum is watching the movie The Notebook," she said, hands on hips as the Cadillac sped away. "Not only that, he's crying like the last kid picked for kickball. Pathetic. What kind of man even watches crap like that?"

Left: Bowers tells all about K-Unit

Bowers said that "almost everything about" Peterson, a business major at Wisconsin-Madison, is a thinly-veneered lie.

"The tatoos? Henna. His blonde hair? Dyed. His 'posse'? Bunch of poser high school punks," she told reporters. "The first time we made out he was all "I'm gonna rock your world" and 'Oh, baby' this and 'Mama you so fine' that. But he went all limp in bed, blaming the weed the smoked. Couldn't even finish. If you ask me - I think he really likes short-haired men in tank tops. His room is covered with posters of guys like that."

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

(Austin, TX)—University of Texas freshman Melissa Burke has always prided herself on maintaining a healthy diet, trim figure, and most importantly, a genteel bathroom schedule that affords her both privacy and anonymity among her peers.

However, Burke’s confidence in her digestive processes has been shaken to its very core, since her first semester of college dining has wreaked havoc on her waistband and bowels.

“I gained four pounds in September, and then lost eight in the past week and a half,” Burke revealed while fuming over her calculus homework. “It’s like Russian Roulette, except like, no one dies or anything — I just don’t know what jeans will fit me when I wake up in the morning.”

Burke places the blame squarely on the campus dining services, which have single-handedly ruined her sense of femininity.

“Before I ate this greasy stuff, I…I went number two every day at 8:35 a.m. like clockwork,” a nervous Burke revealed with great candor and trepidation. “But just yesterday, I almost blew my pants out during sociology class…I had to let one of those squeakers out, and it smelled worse than a jockstrap full of squirrel guts. Professor Howards ended class twelve minutes early. Jesus, now everyone knows me as ‘Fart Girl.’”

The only foreseeable solution, according to Burke, is if her parents consented to a larger cash flow, which would allow her to shop off-campus at independent grocers and organic markets. Sadly, this is a move that the Burkes are unwilling to accept due to their daughter’s booming social life.

“Dad thinks I’m gonna use the extra money to like, get an abortion or something,” added a tearful Burke. “But has he ever had to take a massive grumpy at 3:30 in the morning? Doesn’t he know how unnatural that is? Ugh. I gotta go. I ate leftover pizza for breakfast.”

A Guest Editorial By Owen Burlington

The Ohio State University, Class of ‘08

Listen, Professor Isaacs. I realize you have a PhD in literature and stuff, and it’s probably from some really good school with a crucial reputation. I also appreciate the fact that you get something published like, every four nanoseconds. All good man, all good. But your expectations of competency in this lit class are just, like, fucking ridiculous for someone with my social obligations.

Let’s start with the basics: fifty pages of reading a week? And then a quiz on that shit? Langston Hughes seems like a pretty cool dude, but I don’t know why I need to read six of his poems. I mean, I Googled him before class this morning—and I dig that mustachio of his, very hip—but he uses the word ‘negro’ a lot. And I ain’t down with that. I don’t know what kind of whack, reverse-racist agenda my man had, but count this white boy out.

Besides, I can’t be the only one blowing off these readings. It’s really hard taking five courses when you hate reading as much as I do. Hell, I didn’t even read that letter my grandfather wrote me before he died. I got about nine lines into it and then…BOR-ING. For every sentence I read, bro, I miss out on precious, precious mackage. And that Sarah Weaver girl across the hall—I needs to get wit’ dat.

Which brings me to my last paper: it was an admirable two pages. I know you asked for five, but I thought you’d appreciate my brevity—in fact, I wrote the whole thing with you in mind. I see those stacks of essays in your office. I see that solitary desk light shining from your window long after dinnertime. So there’s no need to write shit like “this is the most banal, cursory attempt at college-level analysis I’ve read all semester, and doesn’t deserve a grade.” Ouch, bro. Ouch.

I’m glad we had this chat. I feel a lot better. If you can lower your expectations, and understand that I’m gonna be late most mornings, we should be fine. Which reminds me—I gots to jet. Today is chipped beef day in the cafeteria, and that shit be like, my dream deferred.

(Dayton, OH) Victories by Ohio Sate, Louisville, and West Virginia - all favorites of admitted college football "insaniac" Chris Jackman - brought the 26-year-old little solace.

"I don't understand it - all of my teams won," he said, looking over at a blank community college enrollment application. "And yet I sit here on the couch feeling even worse about myself - and life - than I did before College Football Saturday. It wasn't supposed to be this way."

The unemployed millwright said that he took great pains to ensure his football viewing was "totally primo."

"We had iced beer, lots of munchies, and the pizza arrived right on time," he recalled, eating a handful of leftover Chex Mix. "But after the last game ended, I still feel a sense of unfulfillment, like there's more out there. I just don't get it."

Left: Buckeyes win, but Jackman still blue

Jackman said that he even left a "kind of weird" message on the voice mail of his ex-girlfriend Lindsay late last night after the last ESPN-2 game.

"I hope that she's not like freaked out or anything, because I was kind of rambling," he admitted, looking off down the street. "I vowed I would never call her after she left me, but it was like I needed some human contact, you know? You would think that watching 100,000 people cram a stadium for a big game like OSU-BGSU would be enough, but it's like there's something missing in my life. At least there's always another Saturday, right?"

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

(Reno, NV)—Ian Falco, a junior in Special Education at the University of Reno, withheld his silent abhorrence for children in wheelchairs for years, but was unable to conceal his disgust during this week’s hectic round of midterms.

“I’ve always wanted to help others since my mom was a teacher for 30 years,” said Falco, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. “But after five sets of exams, I can’t stand these emaciated retards anymore. They’re freakish and need to be burned alive.”

Falco said that a recent experience in student teaching at a special needs school cemented his thinking.

"This kid with cerebral palsy wheeled over to me and started honking like a goose, and all I could think about was smacking him," he said, wringing his hands. "That, or taping his eyelids open and shooting a Super Soaker at the little bastard."

Left: Falco wavers between "disgust" and "revulsion" toward the physically challenged

Falco’s close associates corroborate his profound disdain for the handicapped.

“The guy really hates the needy, case closed,” remarked Sara Hubert, a former girlfriend of Falco’s, who remains his co-worker at a local Barnes & Noble bookseller. “One time I tagged along during his student teaching appointment downtown, and saw him pinch this girl all during snack time. I’m no psych major, but it seems to me that he picked the wrong profession.”

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Martinez happily mopping another pile of puke

(Vermillion, SD)—University of South Dakota custodian Jose Martinez takes his job seriously: he never arrives late, he always keeps his cart fully stocked, and he never shies away from even the most gruesome displays of human filth.

However, an increasing trend among male students to ‘pre-flush’—flushing before any release occurs—has challenged Martinez’s patience and has sown the seeds of resentment on this sleepy, rural campus.

“Why flush before the pee?” Martinez philosophically intoned while wiping flecks of toothpaste spittle from a restroom mirror. “Some these guys flush two times, pee, and then no flush again. Is crazy.”

Martinez has considered the possibility that pre-flushing helps in awkward moments of silence when personal flow becomes an issue, but maintains that the wasteful act has become dangerously popular, and is not limited to such situations.

“Yeah, ok—another guy comes in, all quiet and stuff, I understand that. Pre-flush to get rhythm back,” Martinez admitted. “But explain this: some these guys pre-flush in stall, poop, and leave without real flush or hand wash. Who teaches pooping? Is crazy.”

Martinez’s newest fear is that the university will hold its custodial staff responsible for the increase in water usage, a burden the 5-year veteran passionately resents.

“Pretty soon, I have to hang ‘out of order’ sign on working stuff—urinals and sinks—to save the waters,” Martinez lamented. “These guys don’t…don’t appreciate things matter most. Water is life, you know? Is crazy.”

(Evanston, IL) Northwestern University freshman Marty Jamieson began the semester with high hopes after snagging a lucrative scholarship package.

However, after too many weeks of excessive drinking and Madden 2006, Jamieson is failing two courses. Worse yet, the deadline for withdrawal has already passed.

Jamieson has thus morphed into a professor's worst nightmare.

"If I am going to flunk, I am going to do it with style," he chuckled. "I have now devoted myself to a new purpose - becoming the biggest asshole in the history of Northwestern."

Jamieson described the first act of his new scholastic drama as a "doppelganger scheme."

"I bought an inflatable doll, and when I went to class, I left the doll in my chair," he laughed. "Then I announced that I had an important meeting to go to, and that the doll would be taking notes for me. Hilarious!"

Jamieson's next plan called for a bit of mimicry.

"I came to class wearing the same clothes as the professor, including the black T-shirt he wears under his suit jacket," he chuckled. "Then I called the professor a copycat; man, you should have seen that guy tweaking!"

Left: Nothing gets 'em like the old fake poop trick

The best gag that Jamieson has played this month required a high degree of concentration.

"I pretended to be asleep until five minutes before the end of class," he said. "Then I woke up in an annoying way with lots of loud yawning, said that I missed the lecture, and asked the professor to summarize what she talked about. Priceless!"

Northwestern University, citing confidentiality rules, said that it could not comment on Jamieson's status.

"He is free to act like a total dick if he wants to," said a spokesperson. "We get paid either way."

Left: Calderone in his OSU office

(Columbus, OH) Ohio State economics professor Scott Calderone, pouring a double shot of vodka, began to open up about the "complete lack of intellectual ability" he has seen among this year's Macroeconomics students, and noted that Absolut vodka is the only thing between him and a straitjacket.

"It's hard to believe, but they get more stupid every year," he groused. "I'm grading the first exam, and no less than five idiots tried to define monopoly as a board game by Parker Brothers. When I asked them about it, not a single one of them was even trying to be funny. They honestly had no clue."

Calderone said that he knew from "day one" that he was up against perhaps his worst year ever.

"So I'm passing out the syllabi, and this imbecile asks if he really needs to buy the textbook," he said, shaking his head and pouring another stiff drink. "There's 'stupid,' and then there's 'dumber than a sack of dirty underwear.' This class is even beyond that."


Left: Calderone "not sure" how he would keep it together without vodka

Calderone has found that the "utter brainlessness" of this year's students has resulted in "near-continual" consumption of alcohol to cope.

"I keep a bottle in my briefcase and a case in my office," he said, knocking back another double shot. "If I didn't stay drunker than a Kennedy at a clambake I couldn't do this thankless job."