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June 24, 2008

Let's Return Bathroom Stalls to Masturbation

Guest editorial by Kevin Jacoby,
Penn State University sophomore

One of the things I most hate about the modern world is the loss of traditional values, like how our politicians have all become crooked, or how families don't spend enough time together, or how some chick says she'll be a Facebook friend, but then she totally blows you off even though you listed her as "more than just a friend" and shit.

Or like how the johns at the Pattee Library are no longer a good place to spank your frank.

Take yesterday, for example. I'm in a stall on the fourth floor beating my meat like it's a piece of raw tenderloin when some fuckwad comes into the next stall. While I'm trying to dream about ramming Scarlett Johanssen in a schoolgirl outfit as she's bent over my mother's coffin, Dickweed in the next stall is all ruffling pages of his newspaper and shuffling his feet and shit.

Mission-fucking-impossible, I say.

Or the annoying idiot last week who interrupted my efforts to varnish my banister while shoving a freshly-scraped carrot up my ass. Dude sounded like he had the world's worst case of TB, hacking and wheezing and coughing up lung oysters and shit while I'm trying to blast 20 ccs worth of man-juice all over the toilet seat.

No can do, Pablo, and fuck you very much.

So, folks: either shit or git, as they say, 'cuz some of us are engaged in serious hand-to-gland combat, if you know what I mean. It's awfully tough to massage the purple-headed warrior if some asshole is talking on the celly while letting rip a nasty shart.

Bathrooms were made for one thing, mister, and that one thing is taking Little Johnny dancing down at Knuckle Junction, you dig?

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June 17, 2008

FSU Student: Contents of Lanced Boil Were "Epic"

(Tallahassee, FL) Recovering from a late afternoon boil-lancing, Florida State sophomore Kyle Yeagher told friends that he was "way psyched" about the pus and fluids that drained from a festering sore on his left thigh.

"Dude: that fucking boil had more pus than a ward full of gangrene patients," Yeagher boasted. "And the shit smelled worse than a dead whore's nether regions, if you feel me."

Yeagher, who opted to perform the lancing himself due to long lines at FSU's Thagard Student Health Center, explained his technique.

"First I sparked this big-ass spliff to dull the pain and steady my hands, 'cuz it's actually really hard to jab yourself with an eyeglass screwdriver," he said of his chosen surgical tool. "Then there was this gushing sound, and like a quart of this gooey, nasty sludge came a-pouring out of my leg. Of course, it was like watching in slow motion since I was blasted out of my fucking pumpkin, which made it even weirder."

Yeagher added that he is anxious to begin his next surgical project.

"I'm about to go ninja on this foot wart that's driving me all Hannibal Lecter and shit," he confided to roommates. "But I'm drawing the line at genital warts, a-i-i-i-e-e-e-t? No way I'm jabbing Big Jake the one-eyed snake with a chunk of dry ice and shit - a man can only take so much."

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June 12, 2008

Student Rednecks Adopt Yosemite Sam as National Emblem

By Billy Pilgrim, Codependent Collegian Rogue Editor

Sam: Not Quite a Klansman, but Close

(Lafayette, MS)—The American Redneck Student Society, commonly known as A.R.S.E., recently announced that its executive council unanimously voted to adopt beloved Looney Toons curmudgeon Yosemite Sam as their national emblem.

“Billy, as southern white men, we have few voices in mainstream culture,” explained Walt “Mad Dog” Bixler, a spokesman for A.R.S.E. “In an age gone mad with the internet and microbrews and that colored man runnin’ for president, our organization felt it was time to reassert our identity and pride in all things mustache-and-revolver related.”

Bixler continued to outline how the group’s commitment to “traditional values” helps A.R.S.E. gain increased membership and participation, even among on urbanite college campuses.

“You’d think a bunch of flannel-wearin’ belchers like us would only attract the worse breed of community college flunk-outs and habitual sex offenders,” Bixler intoned between sips from his can of Natural Light. “But it simply isn’t the case. We have Dingleberries—that’s what we call our members—at every level of higher education, from Dartmouth to Yale to Georgia Tech, not to mention our home institution here at Ole Miss [the University of Mississippi] where we can boast of nearly a thousand members. And now with that rascal Yosemite Sam as our symbol, the sky’s the limit until we get sued for copyright infringement.”

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