Lost Cambodian Tourist Found Leading Econ Discussion

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Volume 6, Issue 4
one hundred and fifteen years of happy secular holidays, you hellbound heathens
Lost Cambodian Tourist
Leading Econ Discussion
Despite Not Speaking English, Earns Average Evaluation as a GSI
Government officials located 38-yearold Cambodian tourist Malol Ka-Pan
at 1PM Wednesday, surrounded by
students in 134 Lorch.
A confused and frustrated Ka-pan
began running a discussion section after being separated from his
campus tour group while taking pictures of the Dollar Dog stand. University President Mary Sue Coleman
apologized for the mix-up, saying, “I
am deeply troubled by this accident.
It reflects poorly on the prestigious
conduct of our fine university, which
has a long tradition of making damn
sure we publicly take credit for
every weird ethnicity that sets foot
on campus. Someone put another tick in the
ʻLost Cambodianʼ column. And check the
pool, I think I had a twenty on this one.”
According to the students, Ka-Pan had
been inadvertently leading the discussion
since the beginning of the term. “The first
day he kept pointing to the words ʻKampong
Saom, Cambodiaʼ on the chalkboard,” said
LS&A freshman Jessica Frazier. “So we
just kept calling him Kampong and he kept
nodding. He was okay compared to my past
GSIʼs, whom I swear were looking for Ellis
“I just thought he couldnʼt get the
shit out of his mouth. I mean, Iʼve
had worse GSI accents before,” said
Marc Branson. “When I asked questions, he always said something like
ʻPadeese kwals majeen-kaas, neega
pee, rey yoo-boo. Oranja feeshaat.ʼ
I was sure he was screaming, ʻPrice
equals marginal cost. Nigga please,
read your book. Orange fish hat.ʼ I
found out later he was actually saying
he was lost and missing the birth of
his first child.”
Some students grew weary of KaPan after attending his office hours,
This guy is Cambodian.
held nightly in a dumpster outside of
the Business School from 1AM to
Island. His indiscernible screaming and 7AM. “One night I went and he was naked
crying after the fourth week was annoying, and washing his clothes in his own urine,”
and totally got in the way of my eBay shop- said LS&A freshman Jen Hess. “Then he
ping and IMing.”
started yelling about the orange fish hats
Ka-Pan kept returning to the weekly class again and took my Jimmy Johnʼs. I would
because the students were the only people he have reported him to the cops, but Iʼm
thought could help him, since they nodded counting on that recommendation heʼs writafter whatever he said--common practice ing me.”
for LS&A freshman with foreign GSIs. StuAlarmingly, the students still gave Ka-Pan
dents soon stopped real interaction with Ka- average scores on their GSI evaluations. “In
Pan, as he grew more and more hysterical my other classes the GSIʼs seemed to be
with each passing week.
SEE GSI PAGE 7
Noted University Professor Caught
Using Backup Vocals in Lecture
KALAMAZOO, MI-Late last week,
esteemed Professor Sal Hempsworth
of WMUʼs psychology department was
caught using backup vocals during a
lecture on Piagetʼs stage theory of development. Approximately twenty minutes
into the 90-minute lecture, students were
perplexed when Hempsworthʼs voice
droned on even as the professor took a
drink of his coffee. Hempsworth realized the costly mistake seconds later.
“He kind of shrugged his shoulders,
and then did some exaggerated hopping
dance moves that reminded me of an olʼ
fashioned ho-down,” said Rob Hollins, a
Your mouth say ‘No,’ but your...um...
student present during the slip-up. “His
...mouth says ‘Yes, yes, yes!’
GSIʼs just kept right on going with the
power-point presentation, though, like noth- of acid reflux that was making his voice
raspy. Hempsworth went on to blame his
ing was wrong.”
GSI
underlings. “Itʼs not really my fault, my
After the lecture concluded, Professor
assistants
started playing the wrong lecture.
Hempsworth returned to the classroom and
Itʼs
all
their
fault. Hold them responsible.
apologized for the mix-up, citing a bad case
Iʼm a spoiled, flippant cunt.”
Hempsworthʼs manager, Psychology
Department Chair Stanley Gumpsmiller,
rushed to support Hempsworthʼs actions.
“Just like any professional lecturer, Sal
wanted to put on a good show. But I assure
you, this is the only time backup vocals
have been used in my department.”
The incident exposed what many
consider to be a frequent practice in
academia: using a previously recorded
lecture track to support a professorʼs
verbal stylings. A number of students we
spoke with recalled experiencing similar events. “One of my professors actually had a stroke and collapsed during
my freshman English class,” said junior
Jennifer Davis. “There was probably
time to get help before she died but the lecture just kept on going, so we just kept on
taking notes. I mean, I feel for the woman,
SEE LIP SYNC, PAGE 6
December 2004
Here at the E3W, we
revel in the misfortunes of
others. Yes, even when that
“misfortune” is a gruesome death.
We invite you to search through
this issue of our high-caliber publication to find the
rotting corpses that you love (or rather, that you used
to love-or, that you may still love, you sicko). Enjoy!
-the management
INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
FDA Has Midlife
Crisis; Quits Job,
Starts Smoking
Weed In Parents’
Basement
Map On Back Of
Declaration Of
Independence
Leads To
Douche-Bag Actor
Clinton Library
First Presidential
Library
With Adult
Book Section
Jewish Kid Made
Fun Of For Not
Celebrating
Thanksgiving,
Even Though
He Does
Campus Nutritionists Disturbed
by Disproportionate Ratio of
Sausage to Taco
World Scrambles
To Fill Unexpected
Vacancy Of
“Ugliest Man”
Throne
2
Study Reveals Rove Ignored Dangers of
Extensive Exposure to President Bush
FDA Finds President’s Assistant Liable for Deaths
Resulting from Complications; National Shame
Rumsfeld. Their success
A study released by the
was evidenced in the 2002
FDA Tuesday shows
elections, when Bush
conclusively that Karl
users filled most of the
Rove, CEO of the United
nationʼs most important
States of America and sole
positions.
distributor of President
Domestically,
Bush
George W. Bush®, was
brought with it additional
aware well over ten years
side effects that affected
ago that Bush was not
the entire sample, instead
“suited for public conof a select group. Among
sumption.”
these was the Patriot
According
to
the
Act of late 2001, which
report, Rove continued
essentially allowed Bush
to promote and distribute
to penetrate a larger group
Bush even as the evidence
more easily. Many people
of Bushʼs ability to kill
No, kiddo, that isn’t Santa. But if you turn
previously unaffected by
grew to undeniable levels.
some of those letters around...
the product then began to
Among
the
ignored
evidence was a small, controlled study conducted from feel the effects of Bush.
In addition, Rove was responsible for the marketing
1995 to 2000 in Texas that revealed Bush produced a
campaign aimed at increasing young childrenʼs
significant amount of fatalities in a sample population.
Bushʼs national—and shortly thereafter, international— exposure to the effects of Bush, known as the “No
release in the winter of 2001 marked the inception of a Child Left Behind” campaign. This campaign angered
troubling period in the history of the nation. Nine months many media and political watchdogs, of course, but was
later, the first problematic aspects of that inception were nonetheless completed.
Although controversial data condemning Bushʼs
borne, as certain ethnic populations were found to
suffer severe side effects after coming into contact with place in society grew during the years of 2001-2004,
many members of the general populace seemed to
a heavy dose of Bushʼs religious fundamentalism.
In response, Rove, along with other concerned ignore the seemingly damning facts. Bush apparently
members of his administration, led a humanitarian effort is also addictive when combined with a penchant for
to search out the affected persons and permanently end “meaningless, religiously-fueled rhetoric,” says the
their exposure to Bush. Although mostly unsuccessful, study. Despite its dangerous side effects, Bush has
Bush executives still declared the effort a “Mission not yet been recalled. In fact, it has been approved for
Accomplished,” baffling Wall Street analysts yet an additional four years on the market. The FDA and
increasing domestic support for Bush and those who other governmental agencies are expected to review the
declared themselves to be affiliated with Bush and productʼs performance in the ensuing years.
other similar products, such as Cheney, Ashcroft, or
Bush Twins See 600% Increase In Hate-Fuckings
Barbara echoed her
In the weeks following their
sister. “Look, Iʼve been
fatherʼs electoral victory over
fucked in the ass before,
John Kerry, twins Jenna and
but it was always out of
Barbara Bush are reporting
love. Some of these
a staggering increase in the
guys in this past month
frequency of hate-fueled penetration. Early estimates by
have really been pumpthe twins have the increase
ing away with a vengeas high as 600 percent over
ful, vindictive fury,
the course of the last month,
and seriously, if I get it
though they admit the number
blown in my eye again
could be even higher if they
Iʼm going to start wearwere able to remember certain
ing chemistry goggles.”
I call the fat one.
sexual encounters forgotten
The sisters, dismayed
on the count of binge drinking
by the continuing trend,
and narcotics abuse.
have expressed hope that gradually slightly less than half
“Weʼre really getting fucked hard these days,” said of the countryʼs burning hatred of their father will fade
Jenna. “I could barely walk during the week after the away and allow their promiscuous sex lives to continue
election. Now, admittedly, even a pleasant, gentle night without the fear of soreness or any sort of blinding semen
with an entire Longhorn defensive secondary would do accident. For one, this reporter both doesnʼt foresee that
that, but I think some of those guys were really upset.”
happening and has dibs on the fat one.
National News
IN THE NEWS:
O.D.B. Gets Welfare Check At Funeral
STANTON ISLAND, NY—The hip-hop world was shocked
recently at the death of rapper Olʼ Dirty Bastard, beloved father
figure, crack connoisseur, and former member of the Wu Tang
Clan. Friends and fans alike took part in the funeral procession,
which to the surprise of many stopped at the relief office to pick
up a welfare check.
“I must say that at first I did think it was odd,” said Julia Guild,
a friend in attendance, “But it was just like Big Baby Jesus to
do something like this. After all, the wake was held at a crack
house.”
“In compliance with the welfare reform bill passed in 1996, we
present this check to the deceased for $200,” said Tom Davis, a
government official at the relief office. “According to the welfare
reform bill, a successful rap artist working for a large media conglomerate may collect welfare entitlements as long as there are a
sufficient number of single black mothers who need the assistance
more.”
“However, this will be the last welfare check that he will receive,”
said Mr. Davis. “Because in six more months, Mr. McGirtʼs Social
Security benefits should kick in.”
DECEASED:
The Next Person Who Tells Me to Read The DaVinci Code will die where
they stand seconds after finishing their sentence. They will be survived by
the Next Person to Tell Me to Get a Facebook Account, who will die shortly
there after. Services will be held immediately on a homemade funeral pyre
when I burn the body of my future victim as a warning to the others.
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DISCLAIMER
The Every Three Weekly is a satirical newspaper and is not intended for
readers under the age of 18 years. The Every Three Weekly uses invented
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Weekly are not necessarily the views of its sponsors, UAC, or the University
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The content of this paper is Copyright © 2004 by the Every Three Weekly
and may not be reprinted or retransmitted in whole or in part without the
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Campus News
CAMPUS NEWS:
Student Suffers Fatal Accident En Route To Sink
Yesterday, on her way to the sink in an effort to clean her dinner
plate, Engineering sophomore Katie Williams suffered a fatal
heart attack and collapsed on the ground, mere inches from her
destination.
“Iʼll get to that later,” said Williams, with her dying breath.
Williams is survived by her seven housemates, who all claim
that, even if she had lived, the odds of Williams actually “getting
to that” were slim to none.
“Really, Katie, really?” said LSA junior and resident of the
upstairs bedroom on the right Harland Grinnell, when informed
of the tragic news. “That girl will try anything to get out of doing
work. But dying? Come on, thatʼs so unoriginal.”
Other housemates seemed less concerned with the untimely
death of their friend, and more concerned with the resolution of
a house mystery.
“Finally, we know whoʼs been leaving plates just a few feet away
from the sink!” remarked Melissa Rice, a sophomore majoring in
Art History. “I wanted to kill that bitch for not spending the extra
few seconds necessary to reach the sink and clean their dishes.
My only regret is that stress and cholesterol got to her first.”
“Now I can sleep at night,” said additional housemate Judy
Davidson. “Before, I used to toss and turn wondering who wasnʼt
cleaning their dishes and pondering why everyone wasnʼt as
obsessively compulsive as I am. Now I know that God just made
some people better than others. And when I say ʻsome people,ʼ I
really mean closeted homosexuals, insecure smart kids, and pretentious neat freaks like me. Hehe!”
Noted theology scholar E. W. McKenna concurred.
“Judy has quite a point there,” said McKenna. “Cleanliness is
next to Godliness, and even though the two ideas seem to be independent of one another, itʼs right there in the Bible. And who
are we to question the Bible—the divine word of God as orally
recited by generations of men before finally being written down
from memory, with only a few parts altered, changed, or omitted?
After all, itʼs all Greek or Aramaic or Hebrew to me! Little theology humor there, for you.”
McKennaʼs point, although nonexistent, was not lost on some
housemates.
“I hate to speak ill of the dead,” said Business junior James
Oxford, who certainly does not live in the basement should anyone
involved with the Ann Arbor Housing Authority see this. “Now
that I said that though, Katie was a whore. A dirty, snobbish, messy,
irresponsible whore. Did I say baby-killing? Baby-killing.”
DEAD:
Any Hope for Familial Love was killed viciously on Thanksgiving Day
this year from injuries sustained during a verbal attack. The sister, a
widely known whore; father, a fat, pompous ass; and mother, a ʻdrunken,
delirious cunt;ʼ were identified as the attackers. The attack began
when the conversation turned from amicable ʻhellosʼ to ʻchildren being
ungrateful bastardsʼ who were ʻmistakes that ruined our careersʼ and
then from ʻwho were the guys last night, slutbag?ʼ to ʻat least I wasnʼt
drunk when I wrecked daddyʼs car.ʼ The Hope, who followed the deaths
of Familial Respect and then Tolerance, was the last surviving member
of the Possibility-of-Forgiveness Family. The Hope will be survived
by his close friends Burgeoning Drug Problem and Urge to Murder My
Parents.
Americansʼ Giving a Fuck died November 2, 2004 around 10 p.m.
AGaF lived a long life until shortly after 9/11, when he was injured by his
brother Americans Not Giving a Fuck. The death of AGaF follows the
passing of ʻAmerican Common Senseʼ and ʻDignified Voting Systemsʼ.
Surviving AGaF is his son General Apathy by Educated Voters and
cousin Democrats Putting Fuckbags in for Candidates. Services will be
held next nuclear winter in the Bush family bunker.
End of Football Season Brings Welcome End to
Marching Band Season
3
Students, Fans, Faculty, Band Members’ Parents United in Hatred of Marching Bands
As it seems everyone on campus
a cancer nourished on footballʼs sucunanimously agrees, there is
cess. “Since I couldnʼt ever really get
one positive aspect of a Michigan
a girl or friends, I found love in my
football season closing--the end
drum. Me and my snare have been
of the Michigan Marching Band.
through a lot together in high school:
The Marching band, commonly
Senior Prom, Saturday nights in my
referred to as “the infected, pararoom alone watching Drumline, my
sitic growth that feeds off football
first and only sexual experience with
season” will end its daily, boistermy uncle Larry--during these the
ous practices that have driven studrum never left my hands. But then,
dents to white-hot murderous rage.
when I came here, people started to
Student complaints have been
hate me for playing ʻKaren,ʼ as refer
increasingly intense this semesto her. I just wanted to spread joy on
ter, some escalating to the point
football Saturday mornings at 7AM.
of violence. “Well, one afternoon
And to the residents of Hill and Dividuring midterms I considered
sion: must you really throw feces at
sniping them from my apartment
me when I walk back to South Quad?
for blasting away everyday. But
Iʼm getting sick of going home to
then I looked through the scope
clean the stains, and daddy drinks
into their moist, pimply faces and
when Iʼm home.”
well, I realized that their horns
Most students find the halftime
They aren’t geeks, really.
and drums are really all that they
entertainment
shows anything but
We swear.
have,” says Jacob Whitner an LSA junior. “Regardless, I entertaining. “Theyʼre so loud and lame, Iʼd rather watch
kneecapped some horn-toting douchebag.”
the band be eaten by lions…hey now thatʼs an idea! And
Adding to the studentʼs anger is the class credit band itʼd be quiet enough to talk on my cell!” said one fan.
members receive. “They get credits for claiming to be part
Even the current band director admitted his disdain for
of the football team while playing with such useless and his job. “Well, one day when I was directing I realized
unwanted instruments every afternoon? Theyʼre reaping how much I actually hate marching bands. Such ugly,
the rewards without doing the work. Itʼs like, Iʼve watched pompous, annoying people producing such un-enjoyhundreds of hours of hardcore pornography, but Iʼm still a able sound while parading around each other, staring
virgin. At least, I am until Christmas break. Ever since my blankly forward with nauseating smiles…and the odor!
Cousin Betty got her hysterectomy, sheʼs been pretty des- God, where did my life go awry? I wanted to be a musiperate for attention. Ooh, boy!” exclaimed Derek Johnson, cian! Now what am I? A ringleader for these wretched
an Engineering sophomore.
mutants that incessantly play cover songs to annoy the
According to second-year percussionist Mervin Jalopski, entire crowd and school body!”
The director then promptly ran into oncoming traffic.
members of the band are part of a greater tradition, not just
I Know You’re Whacking Off in the Stack Next to Mine
by Elissa Friedman
Yes, it is late, and the stacks are mostly empty. Perhaps you think that because I cannot
see you, I cannot hear you. This is not the case. I know youʼre whacking off in the stack
next to mine.
Working quietly on my calculus problem set, I was distracted a few minutes ago by heavy breathing and a distinct “thupping” noise. I ignored it
and continued with my calculations. A moment later, I was struck
by the unfortunate realization of what was, in fact, taking place
not two feet away. Horrified, I turned up the volume on my iPod,
but I was unable to shake the visual.
Why in the name of God are you so turned on at 1:45am on
the left side of the sixth floor stacks? Is it that you find enclosed
spaces particularly erotic? Perhaps itʼs the possibility that a passing librarian will fall under the spell of your throbbing manhood? I
picture you, jeans around your ankles, constructing elaborate fantasies
based on the initials scratched into the heating vents (for example, you
calling RK for a good time while JT watches).
Donʼt get me wrong: masturbation is normal. Itʼs your choice of location that
Iʼm taking issue with. This is not your bed. This is not even your roommateʼs
bed. People are trying to study. If youʼre feeling compelled to masturbate in public, let
me suggest the Science Library, where there are far fewer people.
Sincerely,
Elissa Friedman
P.S. Please accept the packet of Kleenex I
have thrown over the divider. You will find
my number written on the back.
4
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The E3W presents:
A Message from God:
IT’S ABOUT REVENGE
Well, here we are again, another Christmas season. And, no big surprise, all of thou down there on Earth are
fuckething it up again. Look, how many hyper-expensive Hollywood blockbusters do I have to have churned
out before thou shalt remembereth that Christmas isn’t about money and material goods? How many madefor-TV movies before thou shalt stoppeth being such consumer whores? How many re-showings of It’s
A Wonderful Life again and again and again, how many repetitions of the phrase “every time a bell
rings, an angel gets its wings” (which is preposterous, by the way; an angel gets its wings every time
Ludacris goes platinum), how many country artists’ covers of “The Little Drummer Boy” before thou
shalt finally putteth away thy checkbooks and get down to the real, basic meaning of Christmas:
cold-blooded vengeance?
That’s right, I’ve been trying to tell thou all this for two millennia, and by Me, thou shalt
getteth it right this time! I’ve had quite enough of this pansy, peaceful, “brotherly love” crap
thou all speweth from thy mouths in the Christmas season. Looketh, if thou wantest to walk
around being a fairy, thou hast missed thy chance at Halloween. Christmas from this day
forth shall be about one thing and one thing only: finding, and beating the asses of, the
bastards who nailed My Son to a piece of wood.
Now, I know what thou all art thinking. “But God,” thou sayeth, “what about the
whole Holy Trinity thing? The forgiveness for our sins? I thought you liked us!” And
to thou I say: shutteth the fuck up! I can’t believe any of thou bought that Holy Trinity
bullshit. I mean, Me-damn, how canst thou possibly believeth that an omnipotent
being, His wimpy, pacifist Son, and Casper the Horny Ghost are all the same entity?
No, the only Holy Trinity thou shouldst believe in stars Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher,
and Harrison Ford. I don’t forgive thou for thy sins! Thou suckest! Thou art
probably going to Hell pretty much no matter what, especially thou, George
Lucas, who hast soiled Mine own perfection!
Listeneth, if thou wantest to redeem thyself in Mine eyes, the only way
thou art going to do so is by kicking a whole lot of ass this Christmas
season. Since those Gomorrhans who killed My Son are dead, and
their blood so intermingled with the human race that I would have
to smite pretty much everyone who doesn’t watch anime in order to
cleanse it from the species, I have in My wisdom decided to change My
decree slightly. If any of thou pointest out that this makes Me fallible,
I swear to Me, I will smite thee so fast thou shalt not even be able
to turn thy head before thou turnest to salt . Thy new order is this:
thou shalt seeketh out the ass of the man who did the voice acting
for Jar-Jar Binks in Epsiode One, and thou shalt then beateth
the aforementioned ass unrelentingly! This shall be only the
first of many Christmas vengeances! Thou shalt next raineth
unwavering blows upon the bodies of the Wachowski
Brothers as punishment for The Matrix: Revolutions! And
upon the body of Halle Berry for her weak character
acting in X-Men! In fact, thou shalt repay her ass doubly
for doing it again in X2! Thou shalt continueth in this
manner until thou reachest the dark lord himself, and
thou shalt throweth Mr. Lucas at My feet and forceth
him to beg My forgiveness, which he shall not receive!
And when he has suffered my eternal punishment, we
shall get really tore up on egg nog! For Mine is the
Kingdom, and the Kingdom is going to get ripped!
MUERTOS:
The United States of America met an untimely end
when every country on earth launched a nuclear missile at Ohio. In an ironic twist, the missiles veered
off course into the other northern states, allowing
the leftover southerners to revert back to their roots
of uncontrolled inbreeding. The eventual five-armed
three-headed genetic disasters wandered into the
radioactive wasteland, eliminating the last trace of
American society.
The USA is survived by its loyal poodle, the United
Kingdom. France delivered the eulogy on December
28th, in an especially poignant moment when Prime
Minister Jacques Chirac said solemnly, “Do we still
have to keep EuroDisney?”
Ron Artest AKA D.C.P. died unexpectedly last
week. After legally changing his legal name to “Da
Crowd Puncha,” his recent leap into the crowd was
only surpassed by his immediate leap into the rap
world. As customary with all rap artists, he was shot
and killed by an angry black man in Detroit, identified by an onlooker wearing a Pistons jersey as “not
Ben Wallace.” He is survived by his four children
and a large bloodstain on Woodward Avenue.
My Roommate Chris died last Thursday night as he
attempted to talk to me during an episode of the O.C.
He was buried promptly at 9:05PM. I hope in the
afterlife he still believes it was worth it to find out if
he could borrow some peanut butter without waiting
for a commercial.
Mario Mario died today, at approximately 4:30
P.M., for the fourth time in twelve minutes while
trying to complete level 4-4, inadvertently running
at full speed into a revolving rod of fireballs. The
incident came after repeated attempts to get the notorious castle in which Mario was running at the time
to stop repeating itself. Super Mario Bros. player
John Whitmire, a U-M sophomore who had known
the eight-bit man since he turned on the television,
said of the tragedy: "Goddammit! First the weird
cloud thing, then the pits, then the koopas, and now
this. This castle is a freakin' nightmare." Mario had
been known to entertain countless young children
and teenagers avoiding their homework. He is survived by two more lives, which Whitmire, concluding his speech, said "had damn well better last me
until at least world six."
Routine, Effortless Sex died last year upon the dissolution of my relationship with Mary Wordsworth.
It was a saint in its time and will surely be welcomed
into Eternal Paradise where it may frolic freely in
the elysian fields next to Chain Smoking and Bud-
weiser. It is survived on earth by its ugly stepsisters
Prostitution, Regrettable Sex with Distant Exʼs, and
its glorious Godchild Masturbation.
Eli Whitney, some number of years old, died on
an unimportant date of a cause that no one but he
cared about. Eli did a lot of things in his life, none
of which were worthy of note. Then he invented the
cotton gin, which played a vital role in the American
economy of the early nineteenth century. Instead of
a funeral, his name and single contribution to the
world were included in history textbooks everywhere,
despite their complete unimportance to anyone but a
die-hard history nerd. He is remembered by eighthgraders everywhere.
The quadratic formula, the four-thousand-year-old
offspring of an ancient Babylonian mathematician,
died this past Tuesday when it was accidentally integrated by a sleepy graduate student. The quadratic
formula lived as a minor celebrity among its peers,
but never achieved the fame it had dreamed about
since its days as a lemma, in large part because its
would-be adorers were too busy memorizing that
Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin, which played
a vital rule in the American economy of the early
nineteenth century. It will be deeply missed by the
square root of b squared minus four ac, which owed
its whole career to the formulaʼs success.
Obituaries, etc.
E3W
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Megan
Ganz
ASSOCIATE EDITORS
Charley Crissman
Joe Ferrentino
Ben Stein
Nathan Sterken
LAYOUT/DESIGN EDITOR
Jeff Nover
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ONLINE EDITOR
Dave Miller
STAFF WRITERS
Steve Lake
Chris Kammerer, Jake Meyer, Julia
Nachman, Joseph Raisanen, Anthony
Ristow, Lisa Wood, Joyce Wu,
Courtney Young, Casey Curtis,
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Yael Granader, David Guzman,
John P. Norris, Joseph Ruple,
Justin Wynn
FEATURED WRITERS
Eric Jackson, Lauren Kantar,
Gabriel Kloet, Kel Powers, Mat OʼDay,
Jesse Singal, Brian Zapf
ARTS STAFF
Jeremy Bronson,
Rachel Bullock, James Rocker
EDITORS EMERITI
Rich Cantley, Mike Chu, Brian Cook,
Carl P. Grant, Paul Malewitz,
Amol Parulekar, Claire Stano
5
Mad Libs!
Commencement Speech :
Coming-Out Speech:
Winter graduation is upon us, and for any commencement speakers out there
fretting over last-minute speech preparation, the E3W is pleased to provide this
handy guide. Just fill in the blanks!
The holidays can be a time to gather the whole family around, open presents, and
reveal your personal sexual preferences to everyone. Here’s a template to get you
through this potentially difficult experience.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines (noun) as a(n) “(adjective), (adjective)
(noun),” and I, for one, think that definition sums it up pretty well. While that nearly
completely encapsulates our class, I also am reminded of (government-sponsored
program), which truly affected us all, not just the (racial term).
Yes, our class has had our rough times, like (major historical event). But who could
forget the time you (embarrassing activity)? Not me, for sure, especially since you did
it in my (room of house or bodily orifice).
But now it is time for us to go off into the (reality television show). There we will
encounter (adjective) bosses, (adjective) (plural nouns), but hopefully not (Shakespeare
character)—(s)he (verb), and I hate that.
But I do not hate all of you, like the (persecuted group) hated (major religious figure).
In fact, I (verb) all of you, just like I (same verb) my (family member or nickname for
genitals). There, now Iʼve said it. Iʼm afraid I must go now. (Way to say goodbye).
(Family member or nickname for genitals), Iʼm glad you could be here. (Other
family member), not so much, thatʼs why I didnʼt mention you before. But the fact
remains that you are here, so letʼs do the damn thing.
Guys, I have something Iʼve got to tell you. I like (gender), and not like (famous
celebrity) likes little (same gender), but more like Uncle George likes (same gender).
Iʼve been this way ever since I saw (corrupting media); I never even thought about my
sexual orientation before that. But ever since that day, Iʼve known that I like (same
gender as before).
In fact, Iʼve met someone. His/her name is (name), and we are thinking of getting
married. Of course, we canʼt in (current state), so weʼre thinking of moving to (different
state). Then we will brutally steal the word “marriage” from all heterosexuals, just as
white people are trying to steal (racially-charged slur) from (racial/ethnic group).
Now letʼs open presents.
If You Recline Into Me With Your Seat,
I’ll make Your Flight a Living Hell
Look, I know we don’t know each other. We haven’t even met. But I
have to let you know: I’m behind you right now, with an aggregate 12
centimeters of legroom for my 6’1” frame, so we have to see eye to eye
on this issue.
If you recline your seat any significant distance, I’ll punch you on the
top of the head, right in the soft spot. If you were a baby, I would kill
you. Then again, if you were a baby, why would you be flying by yourself? That would puzzle me so much that I would once again be forced
to kill you.
It won’t stop there, either. Continual breeches of our mutual trust will
result in further verbal and/or physical ramifications, including, but not
limited to, kicking, screaming, and savage beatings with the AirFone.
You don’t think I’m serious? Try me. I’m trying to get some work done in
the name of legitimate journalism and you’re trying to prevent me from
solidifying my position as “featured writer.” If you were to turn around
right now, you’d see me readying my arsenal of random airplane objects
for use in this crusade against unchecked douchebaggery.
So let’s recap, shall we? It’s difficult enough for me to write while the
circulation to my feet has been cut off, and if the top of your chair is
squarely under my nose, the situation isn’t going to get any rosier for
either of us. So don’t complain and learn to fucking sleep sitting up.
Thanks for flying the friendly skies, asshole. (On another note, if the flight
attendants would kindly stop beating the motherloving shit out of my left
elbow with their fucking drink cart, that’d be fucking stupendous.)
6
Even More Hilarity.
Want Me To Go Get You Five
Despondent Bronze
Medalist Phelps Looks to Bottle
Or Six More Beers?
by Trevor “T.J.” Johnson
So youʼre a freshman, huh? Do you like
Michigan so far? Thatʼs cool—yeah, I think
this place kicks ass. Bros, brews, and parties—what more do you need? Thatʼs college
for you.
Hey, it looks like youʼve just about topped
that one off. Want me to go get you five or
six more beers?
I mean, the line
to the keg is
pretty long, so
it would make
sense to stock
up like that.
No?
Okay.
Just let me know
when you want
me to go get
you more beer.
Because
Iʼve
been working
out, so I can
kind of push
through the line
to get at the keg, and—
YOYO J.C.! HOLLA! WORD, DAWG!
THIS PARTY IS PACKED TIGHT WITH
ILL BITCHES! AIGHT BRO, PEACE!
Heh, sorry about that. That was my boy
Ben. We call him J.C. because he kind of
looks like Jesus and nicknames kick ass.
He pledged with me. Did I mention Iʼm in
a frat? I am. To me, Greek life keeps this
campus together.
But enough about me. What do you want
to study here? Art history? But arenʼt those
classes filled with fag—I mean, uh, thatʼs
cool! Yeah. Art historyʼs pretty ballinʼ. Like
LIP SYNC, p.1
that dude who made that statue of that naked
guy. I mean he shoulda put clothes on him—
Iʼm not cool with that, believe me—but itʼs
still cool how he carved him out of stone or
whatever. Iʼm in the B-school, myself. So I
got that going for me.
Are you sure you donʼt want any more
beer? If you
do, like I said,
just let me
know. Youʼre
in
college
n o w—i t ʼs
time to let
loose and just
go nuts and
shit.
YO JILL!
YOUR ASS
LOOKS HOT
TONIGHT!
Thatʼs my
girl, Jill. She
was my bro
Derekʼs chick before, but then he did too
much coke and threw a cinderblock at her.
It didnʼt hit her, but that still wasnʼt cool of
him. At all. She wanted to get on me once,
but I was like, “Dude, no—that would not
be cool since youʼre with Derek.” I definitely take relationships and shit like that
seriously—you could say Iʼm a one-woman
man.
Want some of my beer? I still got a good
amount left, but I think Iʼm gonna go get a
fresh one. While Iʼm up there, Iʼll get you a
few, too, if thatʼs cool.
Sweet. Here you go. Iʼll be right back.
wants to be the professor who canʼt pull it
together for those key lectures late in the
but I gotta think about how this is going to term. Those guys end up living out their
affect me getting into Law School. All those career as some one-hit wonder teaching
hours I put into kissing her ass for recom- basket weaving at a community college
mendations are shot to hell. Maybe if I rob somewhere in North Dakota. Or worse yet,
her lifeless body and sell her organs on the they end up doing thirty second spots on
black market, the Bar association will think horrible Made-for-PBS documentaries.”
A student of Prof. Hempsworthʼs class
Iʼm a lawyer already.”
One faculty member, speaking on condi- managed to place the incident in a wider pertion of anonymity, reported that professors spective. “What do I care if this guy pulled
use support vocals quite frequently. “Itʼs a a page out of Milli Vanilliʼs playbook?” said
tremendous strain on our voices giving 90- sophomore Dalton Aimes. “Weʼre all cheatminute lectures twice a week, and nobody ing like hell on his tests anyway.”
from
MORT:
My Grandmotherʼs Holiday Waldorf Salad, aged 63, was laid to
rest after more than six decades of never being eaten. The festive yet
unappetizing dish, a blend of cranberries, celery, carrots, apples, orange
zest, and walnuts, had graced our Thanksgiving and Christmas table for
as long as anyone cared to remember.
Waldorf Salad was born in 1896 at the famed Waldorf-Astoria Hotel
for Comfort
SALISBURY, MD--Nineteen-year-old Olym- drunkenly drive your Land Rover over stop
pic bronze medalist
signs!” said UniMichael Phelps was
versity of Michigan
arrested three weeks
student Joby Canago outside Baltitonelli. “Thatʼs obvimore for driving
ously what alerted
under the influence,
the police officer to
after the swimmer
your condition in the
ran a stop sign while
first place—an SUV
“trying to make it
driver
demonstrathome in time for
ing blatant regard for
Desperate
Houseposted signs, and a
wives.”
near-complete lack of
The nation as a
desire to go off-road
whole appears to be
whenever
possible.
willing to ignore this
Itʼs a shame, really.”
unfortunate incident,
Perhaps the most
just as it ignored
revealing comments
15-year-old soccer
on the whole situation,
sensation
Freddy
though, came from
Aduʼs attending of
Phelps himself, who
University of Maryissued a statement
land fraternity parshortly after incurOh, sweet, sweet hops, never leave me
ties and responded
ring the charges.“I
to
18-year-old again. Oh, and moral America, fuck you. realize now that I
I’m gunna run over your kid tonight.
Mary-Kate Olsenʼs
will never escape
eating disorder with
my disastrous past
a collective, “Michelle, did you think you as a failure--I mean, bronze medalist,” said
had to eat less just to win Uncle Jesseʼs love Phelps. “That is why, in recent months, I have
away from the incredibly thin and attractive tried to find solace in various alcoholic conRebecca Romjin? Cause you were right, you coctions. I now believe that this is the wrong
fat whore.”
solution to my problem, however, and that I
At press time, John Stamos was bemoaning will never find happiness through alcohol. In
his lack of a career in a basement somewhere, the process, I let down myself, my family, and
and was unavailable for comment. (Note: my 3,785 Facebook friends, to whom I owe a
Please do not write us about John Stamos.)
huge poke of apology.”
However, not all of Phelpsʼs fans feel the
These allegations are not expected to hinder
same way. In a written statement, Missis- Phelpsʼ marketability. In fact, the pitchman
sippi University for Women student Brianne for Speedo, AT&T, and others has reportedly
Schwadron said, “I do not know Michael already been approached by Monday Night
Phelps personally, but as a swimmer I appre- Football.
ciate his TALENT, and the representation
“Phelps was drunk and he wanted to get
he made for the U.S. In my opinion, I think home to see Desperate Housewives,” said
Phelps represented the U.S. with charm and MNF spokesperson Sufjan McElmurry.
dignity, except for that time he could have “What more could the average football fan
possibly killed someone by engaging in an ask for? Uh, besides, of course, responsible
activity which could conceivably result in a drinking and safe sexual practices. Undervery large fine, some community service, and age drinking is wrong and women are not
a suspended driverʼs license. That wasnʼt objects. Iʼm sorry, excuse me, I need to spit.
nearly as cool as the whole swimming thing.” Even saying that just leaves a bad taste in my
“Oops, Michael, youʼre supposed to mouth.”
in New York City, NY. It was an instant success with the homeless
people who ate buffet leftovers out of the hotel dumpster, and the
recipe quickly spread nationwide. It first appeared on my familyʼs
table in 1941, shortly after the start of WWII rationing, which made it
impossible to acquire anything worth eating.
During its lifetime, Waldorf Salad managed to avoid consumption
by everyone except my grandmother, who would carve a lone scoop
out of the corner each year; all others quickly shuffled by on their way
to the yeast rolls and gravy boat. Despite its lack of popular appeal,
the dish persisted for many years because my grandmother rules the
holiday kitchen with an iron oven mitt.
Waldorf Salad leaves behind a tattered recipe card adapted from
Readerʼs Digest, a chipped ceramic dish, and a serving spoon with a
handle shaped like a turkey drumstick. An intimate viewing will take
place on the curb outside my grandparentsʼ house, an hour before trash
pick-up. My grandmother has yet to announce Waldorfʼs successor
in the holiday line-up; rumor has it the smart money is on low-carb
mashed potatoes.
Yet Another Page Of Stuff!
Clarett: “Tressel Eats Babies”
Former Ohio State running back
Former Ohio State quarterback
and current bastion of awesomeand Academic All-American Craig
ness Maurice Clarett has stated, in
Krenzel, when reached for comno uncertain terms, that Ohio State
ment, said, “This situation reminds
head coach Jim Tressel feasts on the
me a lot of the trp operon, in that
entrails of small children. The comthe very proteins being produced
ments come during a string of scanby the operon are those that serve
dals that have plagued THE Ohio
to regulate it. You see, in this case,
State University, with allegations
the ʻproteinsʼ are the players being
ranging from illegal monetary donaproduced by the ʻoperon,ʼ or the
tions for star players, to homosexual
University. I majored in Molecular
relationships between Ohio State
Genetics, you know.”
Athletic Director Andy Geiger and
Krenzel then went off to turn the
Brutus the Buckeye.
ball over some more and lose some
“Yo, man. Tress, like, he didnʼt
more games for the Chicago Bears,
want anyone to know that he liked to
the loser.
eat babies. He was all like, ʻYo, hey,
It seems as if THE Ohio State
Maurice, yeah, like, donʼt tell no one,
Universityʼs reputation as an honest
ok?ʼ and I was all like, ʻNo man, Iʼm
and decent institution has been tarnot taking yoʼ fall. Right?ʼ” Clarett
nished by this one loose cannon,
said, during a press conference on
“The fuck do I care?” (Ed. Note: It
which should come as no surprise
Thursday.
should be noted that these were the only to anyone whoʼs paid any attention to
Neither Tressel or Geiger were avail- five coherent words that Katzenmoyer Columbus, Ohio throughout the years.
able for comment, but former star and grumbled, and his overall comprehenIn another note, Michigan Football
current nobody Andy Katzenmoyer did sion of the English language during the Coach Lloyd Carr called the allegations
provide some insight.
interview was at the level of a cabbage.) “tremendous.”
Daily Sports Headline Writer Looks Ahead
to Bleak Winter, Lack of Punny Surnames
Phil Nelson, writer of sports headlines for
Michiganʼs student run newspaper does not
have a lot to look forward to this winter,
and neither do the readers of the Michigan Daily (114 years of “Why yes, yes
I do write for the Michigan Daily”).
Nelson has expressed his apprehension in a tone some described
as “melancholy” or “unpublishable” in a recent interview in
the Daily.
“I donʼt know what Iʼm going
to do. Nobody on the basketball team has a generic
name that I can play off of,
except maybe [Michigan center
Graham] Brown, but you can
only go so far with ʻBrown vs.
the Back-Board of Educationʼ and
headlines that incorporate basketball and poop,” said Nelson. “Plus, he
recently threatened to use my head as
a jawbreaker.”
Praised by many of his
fans who are also his mother,
some of Nelsonʼs recent jewels include
“Playing With Hart,” “The Hart of the
Matter,” “Beans, Beans, Theyʼre
Good For Your Hart,” as well as
“Does that Carr Have a Henne?”
and “A Henne Saved Is a Henne
Earned.”
Nelson describes his critical process in the interview,
“I usually just sit down with
a thesaurus and a roster and
pound myself on the head
with a hammer for hours on
end, and, when Iʼm finished,
weʼve got the front page. I
consider it the toughest job Iʼll
ever love.”
Update: Phil Nelson was
recently found dead in the
street near his home on Packard.
The preliminary autopsy reports
indicate the cause of death to be
an overstuffing of the rectum with
sports pages bearing the headline
“Horton Hears a Whoʼs Your Daddy”.
DOOD:
13-year-old virginity was found dead Sunday morning in high school seniorsʼ cars across America. She will be survived by her sistersʼ
12-year-old and 10-year-old virginity. Death came swiftly at the end of a long battle she had with disintegration of pre-teen dignity--mostly
caused by Britney Spears, slutty vicarious mothers, and MTV. Services will be held in five years in the basement of Beta Tau Epsilon fraternity in the form of a soggy biscuit gangbang.
TOTEN:
Rick James died August 6 from a massive, cocaine-induced
heart attack at the age of who gives a fuck. He is survived by his
wife, children, and millions of “Chappelleʼs Show” viewers who
believe that his name was actually Rick J. Bitch. Throughout his
illustrious, fifteen-minute-spanning career, James was a champion of womenʼs rights, releasing such non-misogynistic anthems
as “Super Freak,” “You Turn Me On,” and “17,” an epic ballad
about Jamesʼ preferred amount of simultaneous sexual partners.
Estee Lauder, 97, was found dead in tub of self-loath, despair
and honeydew scented bath oil. Her makeup and fragrance empire
has persevered through the years by supplying 65+ grandmothers
with a means to cover up their natural “old woman smell” with
the pungent scent of roses that hangs on your clothes at least three
days after grandmaʼs visit. Estee was survived by 9 cats and a
ferret named Duchess Sophia.
The Lord Jesus Christ passed away yet again this year on
August 15th, when The Passion of the Christ was released on
DVD. Although no funeral arrangements will be scheduled due
to the possibility of resurrection, you may feel free to vicariously
relive his death over and over again in the Anti-Semitic safe haven
that is your own home for the low, low price of just $20. MGM
studios handled the wishes of his will, distributing all His possessions to Mel Gibson.
Rodney Dangerfield. In keeping with the comedian's wishes
and his lifelong dream of having "no respect", the E3W has decidednot to give this shmuck the dignity of an obituary.
Christopher Reeve was found dead lying face down in his
home swimming pool last October. He apparently forgot to lock
the gate to the pool and was pushed in by his 4-year old son, who
then locked the gate and stuck a toy Tonka truck up his nose. Reeve
got his first break in a Broadway play entitled “A Matter of Gravity,”
which would be in poor taste were it not actually true. Unfortunately for anyone who finds spinal cord research irresistibly arousing, you will have to go to Hell to have your way with him in the
afterlife. Reeve was apparently sent there after losing to God in
a shut-out match of Heathen Stomping. God released the following press statement following the match: “Superman my ass. I
smoked that bitch!”
Ken Jennings' 15 Minutes of Fame were killed on Tuesday
during the airing of a taped episode of Jeopardy!. Jennings, the
most famous Mormon since that guy from Waco, had his record
setting string of seventy-four consecutive appearances uninterrupted by a sexual experience broken by a real estate agent from
California who was more than likely fed the answers. Ken's 15
Minutes wants the public to know it won't go down without a fight,
and will appear on every network talk show in existence before
they run out, at which point it will move to cable.
Me Not Putting My Human Penis Into My Cat's Cat Vagina
passed away Tuesday, the victim of 20 years, 364 days, 23 hours,
and 57 minutes of sexual frustration and a fervent desire to not
enter my twenty-first year as a virgin loser. Me Not Putting My
Human Penis Into My Cat's Cat Vagina is survived by PenelopeLee and Katy-Meow, the two cat-people offspring conceived at
the time of its death, as well as Me Not Putting My Human Penis
Into My Car's Car Vagina, which is expected to live until I get
lonely and/or can't find any cats.
from
GSI, p.1
from another planet, not just from some third-world country where you can get 9-year-old hookers for balls cheap,”
recalls Andre Williams, an LS&A junior. “I mean, he did
accidentally teach me the marginal cost concept, which is
a shit-load more than what that dirty F.O.B. Xol Xg did
for me in my Calc class.”
Ka-Pan has since been put on a cargo ship to his native
life in Cambodia, where he manages a restaurant and adolescent prostitute disposal service.
BUY
AN
EVERY
THEY’RE
AND
FOR
EMAIL
OR
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ON
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MAKE
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ANYONE,
THE
FOR
INCLUDING
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GREAT
[email protected]
LOOK
BE
WEEKLY
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PRESENT.
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FOR
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T-SHIRTS)