Letter to the Editors

Dear Editors,

We are very excited to be sending our son, Bartholomew III, to Wesleyan! This is our preliminary shopping list. What else should he bring? Boy, does this bring me back...

• Smoking jacket
• Tie
• Tuxedo
• Pledge pin
• Invisible ink (crib notes? good for the ol' GPA!)
• Fake coin for cigarette machine
• Large paddle
• The Douglas Cannon

Any other suggestions?

—Bartholomew James II ’62, P’15

iPhone Conversation

Letter From Louis’s Mom

Dear Wesleyan Office of Admissions staff,

I’m writing this note just to let you all know that the information session I attended was neither informative nor sessionating. My son Louis and I learned not a thing about Wesleyan University. Your WestCo Café looks like it hasn’t served coffee in years. At least there is a space on campus where my son can contract hepatitis with his friends. I tried to ask an admissions officer about what kind of alternative dining options are available, because Louis has a hormone imbalance? And it’s difficult for him to process certain foodstuffs? Instead, the panel took another question from a concerned dad about what happens if his son, who wasn’t even paying attention, wants to have a roommate. I saw that kid staring at his iPhone the whole time, googling things like “vagina farts torrents download.” Great, Louis could be living with a vagina fetishist; I really wonder what kind of students you’re trying to attract here. An institution of higher education should be focused on actual problems, like why Ziploc bags come already closed. I think Louis put it best when, after I asked him what he thought about Wesleyan, he said to me in a text message during your tedious session, “this place [freaking] makes me want to leave already even after just arriving to it.” Rest assured that you did help us make our decision, re: Louis’s college search. I didn’t really want to send him to an all-girls’ school anyway.

—Louis’s Mom

A Note from the Editors

This is the Children’s Issue, as you might have realized. Over Winter break, we ate so much play-dough that we regressed into childhood. Plato ate play-dough. The Children’s Issue is dedicated to former Argus Editor-in-Chief Katherine Yagle, who is in now helping orphans in India; her reign of terror has ended, and now we can do whatever we want (even more). Our long national nightmare is over.
—Benjamin & Zach

Kids Gain Right to Vote (ONLINE X-KLUSIV)

A break in the Congressional session amid a debate over America's voting age may have created a rare window of opportunity for kids in their long struggle for self-determination: for the next month, kids (or "young people" as they prefer to be called) under the age of 18 will legally able to vote.

"This is perhaps the most exciting development in our history as a collective struggle for freedom," said Junior Jackson, chair of the Coalition for the Untied States (CUSS), which, according to its website, is "an advocacy group for young people who have not yet learned to tie their shoes." It has made strides in recent years to separate itself from the velcro strap lobby.

Already, a number of collectivized initiatives have been drawn up among kids, but with a system of organization based upon birthday presents given and classroom rebellions, child politics have always drawn criticism from adults, sometimes referred to in the community using the derogatory term "bores." They accuse child politics as being needlessly cruel and developmentally inappropriate, with the numerous opportunities for exposure to Congressional sex scandals – the lengthy discussion of the Sen. Larry Craig's "wide stance" in a bathroom stall in 2007, for example, prompted the now-famous outcry from Milbank Finster, "Well, what happens if you sit down on the potty and your tummy hurts real bad?"

Such issues are brought into ugly light every 8 or 10 years, when the class of Child representatives, at the age of 16, is completely turned over, almost invariably to younger siblings. "I'm glad I get to be next in line," said Bobby Young, 8, as he chased a small girl around the schoolyard and yanked on her pigtails forcefully. "I don't know what I'd do with my life otherwise." Young's siblings (there are four of them) are notorious for demanding juicebox favors in response to their votes, but they have also been involved in many charitable causes, in 2005 donating a month's worth of Lunchables to an entire school district.

In the words of the much-revered Tommy Pickles (C-AZ, now 20 years old and in hiding at a small Northeastern liberal arts college), "a baby's gotta do what a baby's gotta do." The formation of political parties is the next step in the journey of the young people. Many names that appeal to opposing tastes, such as the "Pokémon Party" and "Digimon Party" have been bandied about over the years, but today the "Disney Channel Party" and the "Nick Party" have a special, even permanent, appeal. "We're trying to think of what kids will want way in the future, like, when I'm in high school," said one young person at a CUSS rally.

Tweet from Piers

“It is my fervid hope that my new mustache will impress my new peers.” —Piers

JUST "4" KIDS: Word Search

Foto Essae: KIDCITI Childerns Musuam

Kritic's Notebook: Toys

We here at the Ampersand are fully devoted to keeping our readers up to date with the newest, most popular toys on the market. Doing so is one of the most important parts of our charter, right after the bit about requiring a minimum amount of illicit substances at every meeting and the other bit about not allowing raccoons at meetings anymore (yes, those two are related, and no, we’d rather not discuss them). So I trekked down to my local toy store and evaluated the selection.

Batman Action Figure: I never saw the appeal of action figures. You lift the arm up, you put it down. You make him hold the little plastic gun, you take it out of his hand. I placed Batman in a sexually compromising position with multiple barbies and moved on. Score: 1.25/5

LEGO Pirate Ship Playset: I’m a huge fan of creative play. If I have kids, I’m not going to just go out and get them some pre-made plastic piece of malarkey—they’re gonna have to work for their toys, like I did at that carpet factory in Weehawken. But apparently the other parents in the store didn’t feel the same way,because I kept getting a bunch of weird looks because of the tribute to the filmography of Ingmar Bergman that I constructed with this playset. Score: 4/5

Spin and Say: This seemed like a fun and educational toy, but I couldn’t really tell, because at this point,the staff and some of the other parents were starting to get really pushy about me leaving the store. I tried to explain I was there for legit journalistic purposes and kept reaching into my trenchcoat to retrieve my laminated Ampersand reporter ID, but everytime I did they’d just start shrieking again. Score: Probably a 3

NERF Vulcan Machine Gun: Now this is what I’m talking about. Score: Kanye/5

Kritic's Notebook: Juice

Though Mott’s is far too brawny and full-bodied for this reviewer’s delicate sensibilities, its bouquet is exquisitely varied, with undertones of chestnut, Peruvian apricots, rich soil, cane sugar, lanolin, musky caramel, sandalwood, and margarine— evocative of unrequited love. The palate entry is elegant, but mid-palate tapers into a jarring broadness of crunchy, autumnal qualities that squander the harmonious nostalgia of its first notes. This apple juice is overly emotional, but shows promise. Would be delightful served at a mid-November Bris with braised lamb-shank and sauteed mushrooms in a bechamel sauce du jour.

Gold$mith to Host Birthday$

Citing an alarming dip in funding for the Film Studies department, representatives of the Goldsmith Family Cinema have revealed plans to host children’s birthday parties regularly throughout the spring semester.

“MAKE YOUR SPECIAL PRINCE OR PRINCESS A STAR FOR THE DAY WITH GOLDSMITH!!!!” reads a banner on the department website. “WE HAVE THE RIGHT STUFF TO MAKE UR BIRTHDAY A HOLLYWOOD HIT!!!!11”

But department chair Beanine Jasinger insists the change will not affect the scheduled Film Series lineup.

“We’ll be going through with our Impressionistic 1920s German Horror series as planned, no doubt. And we already have a fifth grade party lined up for next month’s showing of Bergman’s Cries and Whispers,” assures the prominent ilm historian. “But you know, we’ll also have balloons and ice cream cake. Kids eat that shit up—literally.”

Amendments to the calendar will, however, be permitted for special cases, Jasinger adds.

“We’ll screen The Making of Transformers 3: Inside Shia LaBeouf’s Dressing Room if Michael Bay wants to have his daughter’s birthday party here. Then again, it was kinda cool that time Michael Bay gave us $4 million and we didn’t have to sing happy birthday or scrape up vomit. Do you think maybe he’d be willing to do that again?”

Viagra® Kids

FGSS Savant Wows Profs

This semester, students may notice a new face on campus. At age 10, Klaus Abu-Lubshod ’14 may be a bit younger than the rest of the student body, but he’s no ordinary little boy.

When Klaus was born, doctors told his parents that he would probably never ever be able to speak, read, or interact with his peers. But despite profound retardation across nearly every area of intellectual, social and hygienic functioning, Klaus has proved to possess a remarkable capacity in one isolated field: gender studies.

“We first noticed Klaus’ special talent when we were reading him Mike Mulligan’s Steam Shovel and he launched into a brilliant critique of the book’s paternalistic representation of male phallocentric technocracy,” says his father, Dietrich Lubshod. “We thought it might have been a fluke, but after seeing The Land Before Time he insightfully identified the dinosaur necks as a prehistoric psychosexual representation of male phallocentric technocracy! That’s when his mother and I realized he was truly remarkable.”

Savant syndrome is a rare condition in which people with developmental disorders excel in one restricted area. Savants have been depicted in popular films such as The Rainman and Angels in the Outfield.

While Klaus cannot tie his shoes or handle solid foods, his post-Lacanian critiques of globalized hegemonic capito-sexual phenomena are regularly published in journals such as Post-Radical Womanism, Biosemiotic Ontological Critique Quarterly, and Sports Illustrated for Women.

“At the age of ten, Klaus is already deconstructing at the level of a post-graduate student,” says Wesleyan FGSS Professor Cherri Gough. “We have a veritable feminist, gender and sexuality studies Mozart on our hands. Gender studies hasn’t seen such a formidable but deeply defective mind since Judith Butler.”

Some, however, are not so impressed by Abu-Lubshod’s talents. “I tried to talk to him about race,” says Professor of African-American Studies Kwame X. Rosenbaum, “but he just drooled on my shoes.”

Dumbo vs. Die Antwoord

While you were stuffing your fat face with sugar plums, & contributor Rachel Pincus was creating this epic mashup. Merry Christmas.

Editors' Note

A note from the editors: In light of recent events, Ampersand Editor Piers Gelly has chosen to step down from his position and flee the country. If anyone wants to talk about it, they should come find him, because he’ll only be around for a little while longer. Keep calm and carry on.

Also, please enjoy the torrid dialogue written by Ampersand Editor Emeritus David Wolovsky ’10.

—Piers, Benjamin & Zach

Dennis to Attend Christmas Dinner

This year’s Christmas Dinner will be different than in previous years, due to the presence of Dennis Grayling, 56, your mother’s new boyfriend.

“Well, Dennis and I have been getting pretty involved lately,” explains your mother. “Also, his daughter and her fiancée said that they want to have some time to themselves this Christmas.”

“It’s just not Christmas without Dennis’s famous southwest coleslaw,” reports Dennis as he places the plastic container on the platter in the center of the table where the roast beef is supposed to go.

“The secret ingredient,” he discloses, “is bacon.” Dennis wants three things for Christmas this year: his new heartburn medication, tougher immigration legislation, and your mother’s thighs. She punches his shoulder teasingly and you avert your eyes as her attempts to sexily nibble his ear result in her licking his sideburns. “How’s Barber College going, Cowboy?” teases Dennis, who makes it up to you by showing you his tattoo of a Harley Davidson motorcycle above the words, “Spring Break, 1976.”

Over dinner, Dennis talks about the dry cleaning company that he runs with his older brother, that time he went to Miami, and how he’s happy for his ex-wife, despite all the raw shit she put him through. “So Cowboy,” he asks you, “got any special lady in your life?” “No,” you say tersely, prompting him to reassure you about how it will all work out, how you’re a good looking kid, and how forlorn he was after his wife left him, only to find a beautiful new woman who lets him do things his old wife never would.

“I want you to know that I am in this for the long haul,” Dennis says after dinner, tipsily readjusting his Santa hat, “never turn back, that’s my motto.” Maybe it’s not so bad. At least your mother seems happy. But Dennis’s breath smells like Pepto Bismol and you’ve never really felt like a Cowboy. Nonetheless, Dennis understands what you’re going through. He’s a child of divorce himself and, hey, he turned out pretty good.

A Dialogue

Two freshpersons in Fauver discuss their winter break plans.

Dirk: Dude, are you going home, or what? I’m gonna stay here and it’d be cool if I could move our beds together and make a king.

Champagne: Yeah right. Your bed is like a salad bowl. Fuckin’ gross-ass hipstard.

Dirk: Oh yeah, right. Blame the hipsters. As USUAL! [Pushes his black, thick-rimmed glasses up his nose]. You know, it’s a good thing I’m not a hipster, or I’d consider beating your ass right now.

Champagne: With those straws for arms? And you ARE a hipster. Just admit it, you FUCKING hipster.

Dirk: What d’you mean?

Champagne: Your glasses. Your skinny torn jeans. Your flannel everything. Your Madmen style side-part, and the mustache. Come the fuck ON about that mustache.

Dirk: Whoa man. Don’t rag on the stache, bro. I can’t stress enough how much I will teabag you if you talk about my facial hair one more time. And would a hipster wear a huge chain with a dollar sign on it all the time?

Champagne: You’re disgusting.

Dirk: YOU’RE disgusting. This whole fucking country’s disgusting.

Champagne: I’m gonna pack a bowl.

Dirk: So, is it cool if I push our beds together?

Champagne: Pay me $100.

Dirk: Are you kidding? I don’t have that much money. I can barely pay for college and weed.

Champagne: You’re an upper-class white kid. Stop pretending your parents aren’t giving you money to spend.

Dirk: You are so presumptuous. And racist. It makes me sick. I’m just gonna push our beds together anyway once you leave.

Champagne: OK. And I’m gonna steal $100 from you.

Dirk: Yo, lemme get a hit?

Demi-Priapus Penetrates Drawing I

On Wednesday, a display of remarkable modesty sent six Drawing I students to the Davison Health Center with complaints of whiplash, and a handful to OBHS with renewed feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy. While the unveiling of the class’s nude self-portraits elicited the usual giggles and downward gazes, sophomore Drew Johnson’s charcoal sketch evoked a different response.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Holy fuck!”

“There’s no way it’s that huge!”

“What thoughtful commentary on the effect of mass media on male body image!”

Johnson’s colossal johnson, disproportionally large for his scrawny 5’6” frame, aggravated and astonished members of the class. Hecklers railed the student for his obvious exaggeration, and those who did not shield their eyes or stare intently at their feet insisted that he prove such endowment.

Johnson conceded to the requests, pulling down his pants to reveal an appendage of gargantuan, inhuman, what-the-fuck proportions. Hecklers choked on their claims, others on tears, and the demi-Priapus led the CFA after tucking it back into his sock.

Johnson received a D for “Damn” on the project.

FourLoki

WesLeaks Scandal Shocks Campus, Reveals Nothing

A trove of classified internal North College memos released by WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange revealed pervasive corruption at no levels of the Wesleyan administration.

“At first we were pretty pissed about the conidentiality breach,” said a North College oficial. “But Wesleyan has no secrets. The only one who’s going to be in trouble is that albino turd, Ass-ange. Get it? Like ‘ass.’ ”

On Thursday, the leaks were disseminated to the ACB and WestCo listserv, where they met with derision and ironic detachment, respectively. Assange has been “bumming around” campus since early this week in the hope that Wesleyan’s reputedly radical student body will recognize his contributions to apolitical anarchy.

Students, however, seemed unperturbed by the majority of the leaks, alarmed only that Bon Appetit has been substituting tofu for seitan in an effort to cut costs.

“No embezzlement, no problem,” said Helen Ingalls ’12.

“DGAF/talk to the hand,” said Eli Meixler ’13.

Among the documents released was the entire contents of Medievalist Gary Shaw’s hard drive, which comprised a 2006 Chanukkah wishlist and a cell phone photo of the Sutton Hoo mound. Shaw expressed interest in receiving another Anglo-Saxon dictionary and a then-recent Tracy Chapman release.

PSafe has nevertheless issued a red notice for the elusive Australian, who they currently suspect to be taking refuge in the basement of the Beta fraternity house. In a campus-wide email, PSafe Director Large H. Collider cautioned students that the presence of the INTERPOL fugitive has “renewed [their] concern about illegal and unsafe behavior on Beta’s premises,” and encouraged the community to remain vigilant as long as the “palefaced bitchbicycle” is at large.

No Piers Bros. Spring Semester

Students may be dismayed to find that there will be no coffee next semester.

Pierce Brothers, the company that supplies the campus with fair trade coffee, will leave Wesleyan along with kingpin Piers Gelly ’13, who runs the company with his two younger brothers, Bennett, 17, and Clement, 15.

“Even though I’m really busy with my homework and robotics club, I still find time to help my brothers produce delicious, ethically harvested coffee,” said brother Clement, who is currently a sophomore at the American School in London.

Piers and his brothers began their foray into fair trade coffee production at the respective ages of 12, 10, and 8. On an ecotour of Borneo with their parents, the Gellys were inspired by the warmth and vivacity of the local coffee growers.

“It was really inspiring to see how they made their coffee with love,” said Bennett, who is the power forward of his high school’s basketball team. “After that trip, I could never really look at Starbucks the same way.”

Since becoming disillusioned with traditional coffee offerings, the Piers brothers have provided a wide range of all-natural brews, including the Twix Latte, the Chai Charger, and the Salty Ivan.

“Ivan was a coffee picker we met in Ecuador,” said Piers, who does not drink coffee. “Ivan was salty, but he was a really sweet guy.” Piers chortled as he recalled the irst time Ivan showed him and his brothers the proper bean-crushing technique in the Jipijapa area, Manabí province. “We really learned a lot from that guy.”

Piers and his brothers are sorry to be leaving the campus without adequate coffee.

“You can drink coffee at Espwesso if you want to drink poop,” said Clement.

Bennett interjected, “People at my high school and at Piers’ college agree that our coffee is the greatest.”

Pi Cafe, for the time being, will only serve the disappointing sesame tofu wraps made by rival brother trio, the Gracchus-Gibbonses.

“We will continue to make sesame tofu wraps,” said Morton Gracchus-Gibbons ’11. “Please start buying them.”

Ultimately, the absence of Piers and his brothers from campus will hit students—hard.

Upon hearing the news, Becca LaFollette ’14 tried to suppress her rage.

“Now which trio of brothers will furnish my daily Fogbuster™? Where else am I gonna find coffee that is 100 percent organic, 100 percent fair trade, air roasted, and kosher certified?”

Piers and his brothers will return in Fall 2011.

Wespe&k Spectacular

VIEW IT HERE

Thanksgiving Funny Video

Several Ampersand comrades have produced a humorous video! Watch it here or on YouTube.

The State of the &

Now that exactly 81 percent of the semester has passed and Thanksgiving thrusts itself upon us like a horde of Mongols out of the Far East, it is once again time for serious self-reflection. When a man turns his gaze inward, he knows not what he will find.
As the ageless cedars stand resolute in the face of autumn and winter winds begin to whisper along the Sea of Marmara, we find it appropriate to note a few of our modest achievements.

Thus far, we have:

— Ushered in a renewal of enterprise reporting and rigorous database analysis in campus journalism
— Appointed the first Ampersand Ombudsman (from the Old Norse umbuðsmann)
— Re-popularized basketball jokes
— Given due exposure to crawling and other non-walking lifestyles
— Abstained from the delicate topics of gender identity and sexual orientation
— Refrained from defaming Michael Roth

Seagulls circle the masts of ships and the slim peaks of minarets. The late-day sun draws a world of steam up from the currents of the mighty Bosphorus. A turbaned spice merchant leads a line of chained African eunuchs to the bustling caravansari, through the crooked streets of the Bazaar. The murmur of cloistered women emits from a chink in the wall of a seraglio; they will never leave the harem, their gilded labyrinth of pleasure.

We wish you a safe journey home and a cornucopia of plenty during this harvest season. And let us give thanks for all that is, all that was, and all that will come to pass.

With utmost sincerity,

Your dear friends Piers & Benjamin

Index of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein"

N.B. The author of this index has never read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. The following are a compilation of presuppositions, particular to the author, based on hazy memories of Mel Brook's Young Frankenstein (1974) and the Sparknotes “Character List” and “Themes, Motifs & Symbols” pages.

Dreary afternoon, Prologue i-xxiv; William, Justine, and M. Krempe die of ringworm, 1;Victor lonely, narrates chapter of The Inferno in full, 5-27; “It was a dark and stormy night…” Also, some lightning, 31; Realizes that due to inferior craftsmanship, project will have permanent stitch-marks, also eight feet tall, green, 32; Painstakingly teaches monster to speak, results typical of uncommitted foreign language student 37-109; Monster discovers literature, confines himself to library, 115-178; Description of insufficient lighting in library, 116; References to Paradise Lost, 150-162; Monster decides John Milton is a “phony,” 162; Victor fails to notice Elizabeth, 190; Elizabeth weeps, stares out window, 191-207; Monster goes to town, unfulfilling conversation with cobbler, 210; Monster refused seating in luncheonette because he is “colored,” 215; Monster lonely, Victor lonely, 217; Elizabeth lonely. No one notices, 218; Victor plans female monster, monster overjoyed, 220; Victor: “Psyche!” 221; Monster burns Victor’s library, 225-240; References to Paradise Lost, 240; Victor: “I’m not angry; I’m disappointed,” 243; Monster and Margaret picnic in country; sexual ellipsis, 255; Descriptions of Nature, 260-327; Monster learns to play clarinet, seeks Victor’s approval, 330-361; Elizabeth weeps, 380; Margaret: “I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on,” 422; Margaret: “No one notices me!” 435; Elizabeth weeps, 436; Monster cast in Wicked as Scarecrow, 490.

Thanksgiving!

International students unfamiliar with the American holiday “Thanksgiving” often ask how it originated. It’s actually a pretty
straightforward story. Basically, when the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock hundreds of years ago, they realized that they were
totally unprepared for life in America. Luckily, the Native Americans invited the Pilgrims to their harvest festival. Historians imagine that it probably went something like this:

Native American: Hey, I hope you enjoy our delicious harvest festival. We don’t always have enough food to feed ourselves, but we’re totally willing to share with you out of the kindness of our hearts. After all, the land doesn’t belong to anybody, and its crops shouldn’t either.

Pilgrim: Hey, thanks! I can’t wait to eat your food, steal your land, rape your women, viciously subjugate your people using firearms, give you diseases like smallpox to which you have no immunity, kill the animals you feed off of, fight several wars with you, burn down your villages, constantly drive you onto smaller and smaller parcels of land, and ultimately attempt to make amends for killing off 95 percent of your people and relegating you to a lower social class by giving you small areas on which you can make casinos and fight amongst yourselves about who is native enough to reap the profits, and all because your religious views haven’t developed in the exact same way as ours!

Native American: Wait, what did you just say?

Nowadays, celebrating Thanksgiving is pretty easy. You get together with your entire extended family and eat a ton of very specific food items. These include:

Cranberry Sauce — It looks like a can because it came out of a can. The red color represents the spilt blood of the indigenous.

Corn — Squanto, an English-speaking native, taught the Pilgrims how to grow corn by burying fish. The corn then helped Pilgrims survive and kill natives. It symbolizes the white man’s triumph, and should not be eaten by vegetarians.

Stuffing — Proof that turkeys are, in fact, made of delicious bread filling. Should be eaten slowly while contemplating the meat-grain continuum and discussing the food pyramid as an inaccurate representation of the food groups.

Gravy — Liquid fat. Will doubtless be poured over everything.

Mashed Potatoes — A nod to the Irish potato famine.

Oysters — Delicious, but not served at Thanksgiving. Godspeed.

Turducken — Key/uck/icken

Turkey Roast — Should be eaten.

Following the feast, you sit around and try to avoid hearing for the sixth year in a row about the time that Aunt Jean saw the back of Woody Allen’s head when she went to New York City in 2004, while the vegan tryptophan slowly and mercifully puts everyone to sleep on the couch in front of the television.

Nimrod Levy, Falconer

“Achashverosh, strike!”

The roof of Judd Hall serves as an unlikely perch for campus’s one remaining competitive falconer, Nimrod Levy ’12. Levy’s prize falcon Achashverosh can triangulate the whisker movements of a field mouse from six hundred feet.

Levy is the finest falconer in the NESCAC league, having defeated Coxsackie College, Slippery Rock University, Amherst, and Williams in September and October.

“Achashverosh is my second falcon,” says Levy. “I had to dismiss my other falcon, Hester, when he became embroiled in promiscuities. I knew the whole while that all he wanted to do was find mates. I brushed his feathers every day, and I even took him to the pigeon-man in Meriden when he was sick and he couldn’t fly, and see how he repaid me?”

Falconry is a sport that dates back to the Western European fiefdoms of the late Middle Ages, where the violent pageantry of the
lordly hunt was an archetypal motif in tapestry and poetry.

“Achashverosh is totally the shit,” Levy continues. “He brings me the most squirrels of any falcon I’ve had. Squirrels make a great stew. He knows how to skip out on the mice, because mice only please him, not both of us.”

Levy says he keeps a low social profile at Wesleyan, since he would likely be skinned alive if it were discovered that he has been
secretly cooking squirrel stew in the kosher kitchen. However, between his lonely room in 156 High, his perch, and sexually frustrating Tomb parties, he has begun to express desire for a human mate of his own.

“If any girls just want to, you know, cuddle or whatever, you know where to find me,” says Levy. “I have bird seed.”

ONLINE EXCLUSIVE: Censored Article

*This article did not appear in the print edition of the Argus. It is entirely possible there was good reason for that decision. You have been warned.

Women’s Lacrosse Captain Bruce Duncan ‘12 Named NESCAC Player of the Month


In many respects, women’s lacrosse captain Bruce Duncan ’12 is no different from the rest of her teammates. But unlike them, Duncan spent the first 21 years of her life as a self-identified male. Now, after overcoming extraordinary odds, she is being honored as NESCAC’s female player of the month.

“Discovering I was a woman was, uh, pretty life-changing,” said Duncan, who sports a full beard. “It was just like, bam. Maybe the whole reason I’ve been staring at girls’ asses my whole life is because, like, I secretly wanted to have one.” Duncan, who had previously been a substitute on the men’s lacrosse team, eventually confided her gender confusion to men’s lacrosse coach Max Grillo, who strongly encouraged Duncan to embrace her identity.

“Bruce was never a great defender,” said Grillo, “but I knew he’d make a damn fine lady-defender.”

Wesleyan Athletics Director Jackson Danielson was at first hesitant to make an exception to the biological sex rule, after Ashley Greene’s tragic mishap on the 1992 men’s football team. “Greene died,” Danielson said. “But I saw that Bruce could really hold her own out there.”

As Duncan began the rocky transition into womanhood, the athletic community provided her with unquestioning support.

“My life changed a whole lot,” said Duncan. “Except I knew I wasn’t gonna be one of those girls who shave their pits and stuff. Also I’m a lesbian.” Duncan graciously declined any separate locker room accommodations.

From these humble beginnings, Duncan has built an illustrious career as a lacrosse star; she now leads the league in goals, yards, interceptions, and manglings. NESCAC’s board remarked upon her “extraordinary transition” in their commendation, praising her relatively quick adaptation to the rules of women’s lacrosse.

“Growing up I was always told not to hit girls,” said Duncan. “But now it’s okay because I am one. Groin shots don’t work as well as they used to.” Duncan has since been informed that no form of physical contact is permitted under the rules of women’s lacrosse.

At 6’3 and 200 pounds, Duncan is one of the biggest girls in the conference, but her teammates would never think to exclude her from Girls’ Night Out. Last Thursday was Cosmo night. Bruce thought they were tasty.

Bruce’s friends do not see him any differently.

“When he plays lacrosse, he’s a girl,” said Stieg Larsson ’12, “but when he’s hanging out with us, he’s just another dude.”

Bruce’s team is glad to have her. “People may give Bruce shit, but this is our best season yet,” said teammate Becca
Tompkins ’13. “We need more girls like Bruce.”

Experimental Theater Production Wows

Second Stage’s fiercely anticipated, plein-air production of “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” opened on Andrus Field this past weekend. What makes this play so compelling is its pervasive physicality, which is simple but philosophical. The characters, members of a bifurcated collective, all seem to be aware of the fact that they are tiny, inconsequential beings living fleeting lives; some are fine with this knowledge, while others are mystified, fascinated, or devastated.

Rather than character, the meat and potatoes of typical Second Stage productions, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” submerges itself in a ruthless commitment to action. Easily the most ambitious Second Stage project since “Shoot the Duke,” the student body has embraced the play with near-ubiquity. The Saturday matinee drew an unprecedented contingent of alumni and parents.

A small-college play at heart, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” does not quail in the face of big themes: homoerotic obsession, negation of self, identity and conformity, violence and submission, and humans reduced to numbers. Performed in the round, the actors were constricted to a white rectangular grid painted onto the grass, with abstract pronged/phallic structures at each end.

The action centered on the fraught exchange of a single object: a misshapen pigskin vessel that characters alternately
cradled like a small child or hurled like a live explosive. This dichotomy of violence and tenderness, a clear comment on social media in a post-oedipal society, prompted enthusiastic audience investment in the plight of the characters, most of whom were dressed in identical red, white, and black attire, with bulky shoulderpads and helmets. The line seemed blurred between the
actors and the raucous audience.

I would attempt to chronologize the events of the play, but this would defeat the sensual experience of the theatergoer. The director, who also acted in the play — dressed in black slacks and a white-and-black striped button- down — actually encouraged people to keep on their cell phones, cameras, or video cameras, which made way for a flurry of pictorial and video documentations of the performance, now available on YouTube. The internet does wonders for entertainment.

If there was one negative thing that could be said about the performance, it would be that it was terribly inaccessible. Not until halfway through the third act could I truly suspend myself, and even then, I still felt lost in the hubbub of everything. The
director, whose name I don’t have — I was unable to attain a playbill — seems to lack a sense of, or appreciation for, tone. Though it is an essential thing to pave the way for new, innovative, and experimental works such as “Wesleyan vs. Amherst,” the one-dimensionality of this play made me feel, at times, as though I were watching a sports match. The director manages traffic effectively, but the play’s scattered structure and lack of a strong focus on its central character deprive it of forward momentum.

Last year, “Shoot the Duke” taught us what “injury” means for the individual. This year, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” teaches what “defeat” means for the collective.

Luscious Action Sports Photo in Full-Color

This Week's Sports Stats

Star Fencer Reveals Ulterior Motives

Adam Trachtenberg ’12 has long been the heart and soul of Wesleyan’s fencing club. In leading them to victory after many a passionate bout, he finally admitted his true motivation for fencing.

“It’s all about the love,” he said. “Girls just love the way I wield a foil or a 33-inch sabre.”

Girls across campus concurred.

“There’s something so erotic about men in fencing gear,” said Marsha Cooley ’11. “You feel so safe because they can defend you.”

Although they are not as brolic or imposing as actual recruited athletes, the fencers are largely known as the biggest ladykillers on campus.

“You’d assume that they’d be really nice, but if you really think about it, they’re trained to locate your heart and stab it,” said Sarah Mills ’14. “Ten times out of ten, that’s exactly what they’ll do.”

They may not qualify for NCAA Fencing, but it seems that WesFencers joust a mean bout of love.

Sport Event Happens

Last Saturday at some athletic field somewhere on campus, an athletic situation arose, the nature of which there is some controversy about. According to student reports, an athletic team affiliated with the university did something athletic somewhere, which might be a good thing or, at the very least, an athletic thing.

“The University is proud to announce this athletic accomplishment to the entire Wesleyan community, and that we think it is unquestionably athletic in nature,” commented Director of Media Relations David Pezzi. “We think it involves balls or pucks or maybe something else.”

“Go Wes,” Pezzi added, shrugging.

“We’re proud to have sports at Wesleyan, because it shows that we have sports and we’re proud,” concurred Vice President of Student Affairs Mitch Whale. “Also, did anyone else see those weird sticks with the nets at the end?”

Popular New York Times film critic A. O. Scott reportedly witnessed the unidentified athletic event, which he praised for its subtle ambiguity.

Ampersand Moved To Friday; In Spite of This, Ampersand Gets Even Funnier

The &mpersand will now print in the Argus on Fridays. It will be available to read online 9am - 2pm Tuesday through Thursday (excluding national and religious holidays).

In other Sports news, check out this beautiful header.


& those t&&th.

Día de los Muertos Getting Out Of Hand

University officials, parents, and community members are once again objecting to Wesleyan’s raucous Día de los Muertos celebrations.

“It’s the same thing every fall,” complained Brian Roberts, a resident of Fountain Avenue. “They make candy skulls, they offer marigolds to the spirits of their ancestors, those damn shrines pop up everywhere. A big group gathered outside my house, talking and praying. I almost called the police.” With participation unusually high this year, the community had begun to question the university’s traditional practice of turning a blind eye to the celebrations.

El Día, which occurs every year on the second of November, has always been popular among young people because
of its affecting synthesis of Christian and indigenous spirituality.

“They go fucking nuts,” said Haggis Bert, a Wesleyan Public Safety officer. “We have to triple Indian Hill patrols so they don’t leave brooms and weird little cakes everywhere.” The cakes are pan de muerto, a sweet egg bread that traditionally accompanies El Día festivities.

Cakes or no cakes, the holiday has grown considerably in recent years, perhaps fueled by ‘goth’ culture or the popularity of large parties. “Yeah, we had a Muertos party,” said Brian Goldstein ’12, a Psi Upsilon brother. “People dress up in costumes as calaveras [skeletons] and we’re all like, who makes the best tamales? It’s awesome. We actually had a Día de los Angelitos party the night before to amp things up a bit,” he said, adding, “That got so out of hand.” According to some reports, Psi Upsilon honored at least five hundred dead people by the end of the evening.

“Traditions really vary,” said Allie Doherty ’14. “Adults are always like, ‘this is so out of control, look at all this skull
worship,’ but that’s only a few people acting stupid and ruining it for everyone.”

Public Safety noted that the hundreds of candles, tequila bottles, and ofrendas left on High Street were not just the work
of a few miscreants.

Doherty argued that the tequila was ceremonial in nature. “Please,” she said, “El Día isn’t about getting drunk. We’re
just trying to do right by our ancestors.”

Middletown resident Gus Sherman contends that El Día has become a force for evil. “When I was a kid we had a little Día de
los Muertos get-together,” he said. “Nothing big, mind you. Now these students travel in packs, carousing, telling anecdotes about the deceased. It’s despicable.”

Important!!!

Coming Soon: I Can't Believe It's Not Pierce Brosnan®

WesTomfoolery

“The Social Network” Sequel To Be Set at Wesleyan

Aaron Sorkin will follow his blockbuster The Social Network with another screenplay about campus entrepreneurs who use the internet for evil.

“I heard about CollegeACB.com while researching Harvard’s social scene,” Sorkin said. “My new screenplay, The Gossip Site, also
explores how young, bitter men are able to use the internet to appeal to the dark side of human nature.”

The new film will follow Frank Peter, a Wesleyan freshman who takes a small message board and expands it into a national gossip empire.

“Frank’s a fascinating character,” Sorkin said. “He understands everything about human nature. The question is whether or not he’s actually that much of a cad.”

In one scene, Peter’s girlfriend breaks up with him, leaving him with nowhere to turn but his website.

“Frank posts a heartfelt confession of his heartbreak,” said Sorkin. “But the only replies are ‘2/10,’ ‘GTFO prefrosh,’ and ‘Nice try, Mytheos.’ It’s only when Frank personally experiences the anarchy and scorn of the ACB that he begins to understand the responsibility he holds.

Peter does not believe the film will affect his reputation. “I’m untouchable,” he says.

The Gossip Site will go to production later this year, with The Social Network director David Fincher at the helm.

“It’s going to have a lot of stylized night scenes,” said Fincher.

What Were You For Halloween?

&&& Manifesto

The Ampersand is the official organ of the Wesleyan Spartacist Tendency. Our mission is to consolidate a democratic workers’ center in order to prosecute total war against the ruling bourgeois clique in North College and their running dogs in the WSA. Ours is an international, revolutionary, proletarian publication informed by a scientific interpretation of Wesleyan University’s historical trajectory towards socialism. Death to the bourgeois reformists at Ostranenie and the revisionist utopians of the Hermes.

Parents' Weekend PoV

A Letter From My Parents

Dear Colin,

We won’t be there for parents’ weekend. It’s not that your stepfather Gordon and I wouldn’t love to be there—you know what huge Bill Cosby fans we are. And it’s not that we don’t want to see you. It’s that we just don’t want to be seen with you.

All the other parents will be meeting their children’s friends and taking their kids out to nice dinners. But somehow (call it mothers’ intuition) I doubt you’ve been doing too well in the “friends” department.

And do you realize how mortifying it is for us when you have to ask for dairy-free meals at restaurants? Seriously, who can’t handle milk? It’s milk, Colin. Babies drink
it.

God, I need a drink.

What shirt are you wearing right now? You’re wearing the Comic Con 2010 shirt, aren’t you. Jesus Christ, Colin.

I noticed the Weird Al poster isn’t in your room at home anymore. There also seems to be a suspicious lack of anime bullshit on the walls. You brought them to hang in your room, didn’t you? I know you don’t want to hear this from your mother, but that’s no way to get girls. Why don’t you try out a sport? Maybe a sport that isn’t “ruining your parents’ lives”?

Damn your asthma, Colin!

Sorry, that was Gordon. He’s had a little too much to drink. No, Gordon wants me to tell you that he is not drunk. In fact, he’s “never seen more clearly in his whole goddamn life, Linda.”

I hope you’re not too upset about our not coming, sweetie. I just really don’t think we’ll be able to make it this year. Also, we’re visiting your brother Rick at Brown that weekend.

Hugs and kisses,

Mom

And Now, A Hamster Collage

FourLoko y Su Hijo

You’ ve done your job pretty well by all accounts. You pulled your anxious offspring through a year of SATs, applications, and acceptance letters, and you lived to tell the tale. All that’ s left to do is pay tuition bills, feel good about yourself, and, every now and then, sneak into your child’ s room, clutch an old stuffed animal to your chest and stare wistfully out the window. Still, you can’ t shake the feeling that something isn’ t quite right, that maybe, somewhere along the way, you made a mistake. And you’re right. You can tell because your child now drinks FourLoko.

FourLoko is an alcoholic energy drink that costs very little. With ten distinct flavors, it’s the malt liquor equivalent of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. And it is the high point of your child’s week.

“I did Blue Raspberry last week,” said Your Child ’14, who has been looking forward to this moment since his hangover wore off at approximately 4:35 last Sunday. “Tonight I’m drinking the Orange flavor.” Well gee, you think, maybe it’ s not that bad. It’s not as embarrassing as crack or vodka-dipped tampons.

“It fucks you up!” said Your Child as the neon colored liquid seeped down his shirt.

Where did you go wrong? Why does your baby boy now turn to that canned fluorescent nightmare on a weekly basis? Maybe you shouldn’t have let him drink so much soda. Maybe you shouldn’ t have used a needle to keep him from wetting his bed.

“Wanna come back-a to my room,” Your Child told Some Girl ’14, “we’ll listen to dubstep, lookit my penizz….”

Well, there’ s really not much you can do about it now. You’ re not about to take the kid out of school, not after the ordeal it took to get the little bastard in. This is the direction society is headed in now, inching toward the inevitable tumble of Western civilization in the year of our Watermelon flavored malt liquor, 2012Loko. You’ re just going to have to get used to it. Here, try this. It tastes like kiwis, if kiwis tasted like refuse and disappointment.

Your Child ’ 14, vomiting, is unable for comment.

My 1st Article: Fall Break

Last week, Wesleyan’s campus students spent its fall break at the same length that it has been over the past however many fall semesters. But students interviews across castes and different social groups disagree unanimous, partially because of unhindering devotion to campus activity and also partially due to wanting to spend larger time with their friends or even families.

In interviews last Saturday, Richie Starzec Freshman testifies: “There is very little
commotion for me with which to occupy myself here during the course of fall break at Wesleyan,” he said. “Everybody’s going away, to home and other places, but my house exists in so far away a locale, that I can’t bring myself to receive transportation to this locale of which I mentioned before so vigorously.”

As it demonstrates with Ms. Starzec, many students see zeself being in unsmiling dilemmae as regards to the certain pickle of the vacant figure of activities, parties, and other on-campus incidents, especially after a certain instance of nighttime swallows campus whole and refuse to belch and vomit.

“The ground assigns a definitive aura, however hazy and unkind, though foggy, of,” said Adriin Brandi Freshman, “death.” “Especially when Wellesley hits fall break,” she affixes to her statement that was previously made prior to the instant she made her current statement, thank you, Adriin, the interview is now over.

“Eat, sleep, blaze; it sums up to equal my mid-October,” PERSON DID NOT WANT TO BE IDENTIFY.

Overall, regardless, people, most students some teachers delight in the prospect of the
return of the winters. But in subsequent autumns most campus denizens suspect a more
confident quality of longer Octobers due to camp’s remoteness control.

Let’s get that remoteness control.

Where Is Waldo?

Gendering the “Other” in the Butthole Tree Diaspora: A Senior Thesis

If a tree falls in the Butthole and no one is there to deconstruct its performatively enacted de-ontological teleological construction, does it make a sound?

Let me rephrase. I propose that the recently fallen perennial wooden entity (hence referred to as“Arnold”) manifests its phallic symbolism by positing a hyper-eroticized Other to the flaccid foundation of Summerfields (hence referred to as “Frank”). I propose further that this grotesque sociopolitical foliage-troll—“Arnold”—renders its post-linguistic meta-discourse by forging a grueling post-ideological dialogue with beloved grey-haired “Frank” cashier Susan.

“I knew that damn thing was gonna fall,” Susan tells me, her baby blue eyes alight with the anarchistic byproduct of de-systemized normative construction. “It glared at me, all ugly and ready to crack.” She scowls, her brow furrowed in neo-pedagogical instability. “Points or meal, hon?”

How poetic, then, that our nutrient-sucking phallic friend engendered its own gruesome demise— what I term its “meta-ontological collapse,” of body and of spirit, of bark and of biomass—in the etymologically charged public sphere that is the Butterfields Courtyard. How telling that its homonormative de-edification of the self manifested an ugly ideological counterpart in the seedy throng of frothy, foaming Public Safety officers reporting to the scene.

And, finally, how fitting that its veiny, throbbing, forest-dwelling member blocked Butterfield
access just as its sordid, infective, post-normative meta-presence blocked access to a perceived sort of ideological homeostasis between “Frank” (hereby referred to as “Summerfields”) and “Arnold (hereby referred to as “that goddamn tree”).

This, I propose, is no ordinary tree disaster. This is fierce socio-erotic sabotage.

Advice From Katherine Yagle

Of all the intriguing characters that roam Wesleyan’s campus, there is one in particular whose habits and history baffle us all: The Argus’s own Katherine Yagle. Her upbringing on the mean streets of Fairfield, Connecticut, a town epitomized by the soulful lyrics of pop-rock-blues king John Mayer, bred in her an unparalleled hunger for success. Here, Yagle provides tips on how to stay fresh and avoid being filthy:

Be Involved: In addition to being both inventor- and editor-in-chief of all Wesleyan news, Yagle also heads 90% of clubs on campus, her favorites being Students Anonymous, the Antianticruelty Society, Students Against Naysaying, the Club Club, the Bear Cub Club, and the Wesleyan Spirits. According to Yagle, a full schedule is a student’s best friend. “If you’re sleeping, you’ll end up sweeping… my kitchen floor for a living, you lazy bitch.”

Be Proactive: Not only does Katherine Yagle get things done, she gets them done early. Like, really early. She has received six diplomas worth of credit by finishing assignments for every course that is, was, or ever will be available. She has invented and completed three majors. Yagle is also preparing to teach a course this spring: “An Interdisciplinary Approach to Eyebrow Piercings and Power Walking.”

Be Creative: With no time for research, Katherine Yagle has successfully Mad-libbed every paper she has ever written. Her senior thesis, titled “The Effect of Purple Boogers on Education in My Pants,” will be published by Random House next year.

Be Unavoidable: According to Yagle, students should begin networking early. Whenever possible, befriend prominent faculty or alumni, and anyone who looks like a future CEO, politician, or the offspring of somebody famous. Yagle adds, “When you meet someone who would look good in a suit and may shit cash, attach yourself to them. Grasp them firmly in your bloody talons, and never, ever let them go. Follow them to their classes, parties, and to the bathroom. Who really enforces restraining orders anyway? Sink your teeth into them.”

With methods like these, Yagle is bound for success. She’s only a junior, but her plans for the year include getting EMT-certified, building a media empire, and bearing a strong, healthy son. If that doesn’t work out, she’ll probably open a Yagle’s Bagles shop in Middletown.

Wesleyan Dorms Go Green