This is the online component of the humor section of the Argus, the Wesleyan University newspaper.


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Sweater is the new sweatshirt. —Piers

Article Needs More Jokes, Says Ampersand Editor

When Ampersand writer Danny Witkin ’13 presented his new article, entitled “Michael Roth Wears Adult Diapers,” at a recent staff meeting, he expected it to be well-received by the staff. But while his reading of the piece did elicit a few chortles, it failed to impress Ampersand co-editor Benjamin Soloway ’13.

Soloway, who had been texting his girlfriend throughout Witkin’s reading, remarked that the article’s subject matter was little more than a lackluster rehashing of comedic themes thoroughly explored by the Ampersand in the past, and suggested that Witkin “add some jokes about St. Augustine or some shit.”

Witkin was at first dismayed by Soloway’s lambasting of his piece, but later acknowledged that it was indeed lacking in the joke department. “I was really hungover when I wrote it,” Witkin explained. “From drinking Dubra.”

“It’s pretty inside-jokey,” remarked Ampersand writer Daniel Nass ’13. “And it relies too much on meta humor. Nobody likes that shit. Especially not me.”

Zach Schonfeld ’13, Soloway’s co-editor, was more measured in his criticism.

“I thought it was pretty good,” Schonfeld remarked, “but maybe you could rewrite it as a series of Das Racist tweets.”

WSA Presidential Candidates Maybe Having Second Thoughts About GRS Group

This article is a work of fiction. Zachary Malter said none of the following, though we have reason to believe he appreciates a fine Womanchego as much as the next guy or gal.

According to sources close to the candidates, Zachary Malter ’13, Joe O’Donnell ’13, and Melody Oliphant ’13 may be having second thoughts about going into GRS together. The three had reportedly discussed securing a WSA-themed apartment together on Pearl Street, tentatively named “The Sexxxecutive Suite.”

“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea,” explained Oliphant via Facebook chat. “Things are kind of heating up right now. I know I said we wanted to improve transparency, but that doesn’t mean I want to see Joe in his underwear.”

The three had initially hoped to secure a Lo-Rise, but failed to recruit a fourth person. “They propositioned me to join their group right before the GRS deadline,” Eli Meixler ’13 recalled. “Malter tried to bribe me with extra Cheese Co-Op. Like, fuck no, man.”

O’Donnell has expressed concern that his abrasive living habits could pose an issue.

“I’m a pretty tenacious roommate,” O’Donnell explained. “I’m less concerned with these ‘working relationships’ with roommates obtained through always being ‘diplomatic’ than really going to bat for myself.”

Only Malter remains in favor of the idea.

“We could host some pretty suite parties,” Malter commented. “Pun intended. Plus I can score mad Womanchego from the Cheese Co-Op since I, like, pretty much invented it. And Joe apparently has a great Rahm Emanuel party mask.”

“He says he uses it for roleplay,” Malter added, frowning. “I didn’t know Joe was involved with student theater.”

WSA Elections Not Dickish Enough

This year’s WSA elections lacked the most critical component of modern politics: douchebaggery. Sure, there were plenty of candidates who had their parents print out and ship business cards for them to hand out as they went door-to-door canvassing for votes. But business cards don’t win elections, the spirit to rip out your opponent’s heart and cram it down hir gender-neutral throat wins elections.

Where were the attack ads filled with baseless accusations of bestiality? Why didn’t anyone bother taking advantage of the campus’s radio station to deliver bile-spewing tirades? If these students are going to be the next generation of leaders, they need to show that they’re willing to act like adults by engaging in petty politics, the foundation of our great nation.

The most disappointing thing about this entire election? Not one scandal. No one mentioned that a particular rival regularly attempts to fuck everything that moves in the library, and some things that don’t. “So?” you might say. “I do that, and I’m the one making the accusation.” I can only shake my head in dismay. Nobody cares what actually happened.

“But Sam,” you whine on, “I only have a week to make my case, and in between classes and trying to bone anything with a pulse, I just don’t have time to dig up dirt.” Well, in that case you gotta just roll up your sleeves and set to work on one of the oldest and most hallowed political traditions: making shit up. I’m confident even groggy, drug-addled post-adolescents like yourselves can pull it off. Chop chop, Wesleyan!

Ampersand Receives Ampersand Award for Video Activism

A delegation of Ampersand representatives traveled to Butterfield C on Thursday to receive the prestigious Ampersand Award for Video Activism. The Ampersand, which recently made waves with its pro-Ampersand video “I Have Sex,” is proud to accept the award from the Ampersand, which regularly seeks to promote Ampersand awareness on campus through new media initiatives.

“We’re presenting this award on behalf of the Ampersand to honor a timely example of political activism on an issue that matters to the whole Ampersand,” explained presenter Ben Soloway ’13, who then hopped down from the COL Lounge podium to accept the award with tears in his eyes.

The Ampersand Award for Video Activism honors “an individual, family, or institution for their outstanding philanthropy on behalf of the Ampersand’s mission and commitment to Ampersand health and rights.”


A New Kind of Firefighter: Samuel Bolide’s Experience in the Middletown Fire Department

The word firefighter isn’t quite right, at least in my case. I’m a “pro-fire firefighter.” I’m not really with the Department to put the fires out, but just to have access to them. I wasn’t one of those kids that always knew he wanted to be a firefighter when he grew up, but I’ve always been fascinated by fire. I remember when I was just a little kid, we—my parents and I—lived in a one room house in the Catskills, and some nights in the winters my parents would make a fire and sit me down in front of it while they went and, you know, did it in the bed behind me. So it’s always been there, my love of fire, ever since I can remember. And I really do love my job; I just hate doing it.

When I started working for the MFD, I would drive really slowly to whatever fire I was dispatched to. Back then I thought that if I was the last one there, I would get to see the fire when it was at its largest—I wanted to be able to see the house burning from a few streets away. But usually, by the time I got there, the fire would be more or less out. The other guys really are there to put the fires out, I guess. So I would see a lot of smoke, but that was more or less it.

Now I’m the first one there every time. There’s nothing I like more than those two or three minutes when I’m alone and I get to lean against my truck and watch the tongues of flame flickering. Usually I’m sweating a little bit. Some people find walks on the beach romantic—me, I think nothing’s sexier than a house on fire at twilight. If I had a wife, I’d bring her with me every time. But it’s great by myself—at least until the other guys show up. They don’t even stop to appreciate it;they just roll out the hoses and start spraying.

You know, I do understand how some people might see me in a negative light, but I don’t agree with that. To me it’s all about how you come at your job—attitude and all that, you know? When people tell me I’m not doing my job right, usually I don’t say much, but I think about those Freedom Fighters. They weren’t fighting against freedom—they were fighting for it. That’s not necessarily justification for how I do my job, but it is interesting to consider, at least I think so.

Anyway, I just like watching shit burn.

Idaho Review