We do not torture.

TheWake
STUDENT MAGAZINE
“We do not torture.”
HAP P Y H OLI DAYS FROM T H E WAKE
The U’s Fortnightly Student Magazine • December 14, 2005
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Staff
•
Volume 4; Issue 7
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www.wakenews.org
Contents
Established in 2002, The Wake is an independent
fortnightly magazine, produced by and for students at
the University of Minnesota. The Wake is a registered
student organization.
Editor-in-Chief
Managing Editor
athletics editor
athletics staff writer
Campus Editor
campus staff writer
Literary Editor
S&V Editor
s&v staff writerS
FILM CRITIC
FOOD CRITIC
Voices Editor
voices staff writer
Production Manager
staff designer
graphic design
Art Director
COVER illustration
illustration
photo editor
photography
WEB EDITOR
Business Manager
Office Manager
Advertising Executive
PR Executive
Copy EditorS
Distributors
contributing writers
Board of Directors
Kay Steiger
Lane Trisko
Craig Rentmeester
Jeff Barthel
Katie Gaughan
Jessica Mann
Kim Gengler
Michael Mitchell
Deric Brown
Ruth Zinsmeister
Chris Wilson
Taylor Eisenman
Colleen Hellenbrand
Tom McNamera
Eric Price
Shannon Licari
Shannon Licari
Eric Price
Sam Soule
Sam Soule
Brennan Vance
Eric Price
Clare Schuetz
Jeremy Sengly
Sam Soule
Molly Wick
Brennan Vance
Stacy Bengs
Brennan Vance
Andy Tyra
Andy Tyra
Tamara Swanson
Jamie King
Cameron Sorden
Clayton Benjamin
Kelly Frush
Gwen McNamara
Ryan Frailich
Jeff Barthel
Deric Brown
Louisa Cadwell
Tim Franzen
Emily Garber
Katie Gaughan
Haily Gostas
Jessica Mann
Tom McNamara
Kylee Minkkinen
Michael Mitchell
Jenny Odegard
Craig Rentmeester
Brianna Simonds
Kay Steiger
Liza Sylvestre
Brian Tolentino
James DeLong
Paul Froiland
Courtney Lewis
Kathy Schlecht
William Swanson
The Wake was founded by
Chris Ruen and James DeLong
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©2005. All rights reserved.
Yoo talking to me?
Campus .......................................................................................... 4
Brazilians are good at samba ... and volleyball
Athletics ......................................................................................... 6
Pop goes the culture
Voices ............................................................................................. 8
Don’t pet the tiger
Literary ........................................................................................ 10
George Bush’s brush with Islam
Gallery .......................................................................................... 12
Leo Kottke plays a mean story
Sound & Vision .............................................................................. 14
Not my child
Bastard ........................................................................................ 17
4
12
14
Letter from the editors
Finals are stressful for everyone. Students should keep in mind that they need to stay focused on studies, because
academics are the reason that we are at this fine institution. Making smart choices and keeping priorities straight
are essential as we close this semester.
Hey, Kay. Pass me the bottle of Jack.
Lane! Can’t you see that I’m trying to write the letter from the editor? I’m trying to make it a really good and
serious one this time.
Maybe if you weren’t so drunk right now it’d be easier for you to write it.
Maybe if you didn’t have to step out every ten minutes to feed your nasty heroin addiction, we’d be able to put this
magazine to print!
Oh, thanks for the reminder. I’ll be right back.
KAY STEIGER
Editor-in-chief
Lane Trisko
Managing Editor
4
Campus
December 14, 2005
Activists Challenge Yoo on Torture
Some protesters
refused to remain
silent
 BY jessica mann
The University of Minnesota hosts countless academic lectures and debates, but not
many of these events come with U of M Police
Department security patrolling the entrances
and aisles.
In a stuffy and crowded, University Law
School, lecture hall on Wednesday, Nov. 16,
John Yoo, former deputy assistant attorney general in the Office of Legal Counsel of the U.S.
Department of Justice, took part in a debate over
presidential war powers. Formally, he debated
against John Radsan, president of the IranianAmerican Bar Association and associate professor of law at William Mitchell College of Law.
Informally, Yoo faced an unfriendly audience, a
large portion were protestors and human rights
activists who exercised their right to free speech
in a number of ways.
Information sheets about torture were
passed around the room, some of them encouraging audience members to raise their hands or
stand up and read questions to Yoo in order to
disrupt the debate. Those who spoke up but did
not leave quietly were physically escorted from
the room by University security and police. “We
were asking Yoo questions about his record
and we spoke until we were asked to leave,”
says Carrie Anne Johnson, University alumnus
and one of several protestors who gathered at
the front entrance of Mondale Hall after leaving
the debate. A few demonstrators stood outside
the room with picket signs condemning torture
(some hung around afterwards, next to a table
that presented Yoo’s new book for sale), but
more signs were present inside the lecture hall,
propped up for the debaters to see. Other protestors made their presence known through a dramatic silence, their mouths and bodies covered
in bright orange.
The demonstrations were sponsored and
endorsed by several organizations, including T3:
Tackling Torture at the Top (a Women Against
Military Madness subcommittee), Anti-War
Committee, Iraq Peace Action Coalition, Amnesty U of M Chapter, Anti-War Organizing League,
and Youth Against War and Racism, but many of
the demonstrators themselves were driven to attend the lecture simply as concerned and upset
individuals. “It was Yoo that brought me out tonight,” says Amelia Smith, first-year University
student. “He’s a criminal. He’s helped our government commit atrocities and war crimes and I
came here to tell him that.”
Most of the controversy surrounds a 2002
law memorandum (sometimes referred to as
one of the “torture memos”) that Yoo wrote during his time in the Department of Justice. In this
memo, Yoo wrote that the Geneva Conventions,
the War Crimes Act and other international trea-
PHOTOS BY STACY BENGS
ties and federal laws do not apply to “non-state”
detainees. Accordingly, detainees who are members of Al Qaeda and/or Taliban militia are not
covered by any treaty or federal law that calls for
the humane treatment of prisoners of war. The
memorandum provided many reasons why the
protections of the WCA and Geneva Conventions do not apply to Al Qaeda and Taliban militia
fighters. The memo stated they do not represent
a nation state; they refuse to wear uniforms or
distinctive insignia; they do not observe the Geneva Conventions themselves. It also stated the
president may decide to apply Geneva and other
standards of conduct to the treatment of detainees if he so chooses. The memo was co-authored
by Robert Delahunty, Special Counsel, who now
is employed as a law professor at St. Thomas
University and has faced demonstrations there
as well. Yoo himself is now a professor at Berkeley, where protestors have demanded that he
renounce the memos or resign (neither of which
he has done).
Since, according to Yoo and Delahunty, treaties and federal laws prohibiting torture do not
protect “non-state” or rogue state combatants,
many people understand the memo is a means
to authorize or condone the torture of such individuals. They also believe these statements have
been used by the U.S. military in order to justify
acts of torture. However, there are others who
don’t find the controversy to be well-grounded
and point out that the memo deals with a strictly
legal matter and doesn’t
explicitly call for or encourage torture of any
kind.
Jason Adkins, law
student and president
of the Federalist Society student group who
helped to organize the
debate, says the purpose
of the event “wasn’t to
be controversial.” The
Federalist Society tries
to “stimulate discussion
and enrich the intellectual life of the law school,”
Adkins says. “Our events
deal with tough legal
questions and we try to pick important topics
that are pressing legal issues.” The group first
got a sense that the debate with Yoo might be
particularly controversial when lawyer Barbara
Frey, the head of the Human Rights Program at
the U, refused to debate Yoo. Demonstrations
also occurred earlier in the day at a similar event
at the University of St. Thomas. “Still, we didn’t
expect the U’s event to be as confrontational as it
was. It turned into a big fiasco,” Adkins says.
While protestors were allowed to pass out
literature, Adkins and other law students took
issue with the more disruptive ways that demonstrators made their voices heard. “I find it par-
ticularly ironic that folks who are so concerned
with the fair treatment of people can be so rude
and disrespectful,” Adkins says. To many of the
protestors, though, disrupting the event was the
main goal in attending it. “We just wanted to tell
Yoo that he’s not welcome,” Smith says.
Whether or not he got their message, Yoo
certainly heard protestors’ voices. “I’ve debated
this question at law schools all around the country,” said Yoo at the end of the debate. “But this
is the only one I’ve spoken at where there’s
been disruptions, I’m sorry to say.” Before he
could finish, many in the audience broke into
applause.
Campus
www.wakenews.org
Grinding Rails
5
PHOTOS BY BRENNAN VANCE
Snowboarders gathered in Stadium Village
 BY KATIE GAUGHAN
Hundreds of people bundled up to bare
the cold and cheer on riders in an urban ski and
snowboard competition which was held before
most ski resorts had even opened for the season.
A three-story scaffolding launch, grinding
rails and trucks of snow drew a crowd of ski and
snowboard enthusiasts to the parking lot behind
Stub and Herb’s on the East Bank of the University of Minnesota campus Thursday, Nov. 17.
The event, sponsored by Red Bull and
Oakley, included two free showings of the
snowboarding movie “The Community Project” at Oak Street Cinema. Following the film,
skiers and snowboarders, a mix of professionals and amateurs, participated in a friendly rail
grinding competition.
The “best of the best” skiers and snowboarders were there, says Doug Herman, whose
company Fresh Tip Design helped organize the
event and build the hill and rails. Before the competition, Herman went to snowboarding shops
around the Midwest to recruit riders. One pro
skier, 13-year-old Cody Lang, was there,. Two of
the snowboarders will be pro within two years,
Herman says.
Herman and his crew of seven people
spent three weeks planning the event. Between
answering questions, Herman would run off to
drive the caterpillar and shovel snow.
This event was the first time Herman had
contracted out with other companies. He also
founded the Midwest Massacre Competition,
which recurred for the third year this year.
Herman emphasized that it was not a high
pressure competition. “It’s about having fun, getting back to what it’s about,” he says.
Three of the riders were members of the ski
and snowboard club at the U of M, says Kevin
Christie, president of the club. Standing behind
a trailer of snow pulled by a Hummer, Christie
explained the snow was actually shaved ice from
Roseville Ice Arena in Bloomington, Minn.
Riders prepared their boards as they waited
their turn for the lift to bring them to the top of
the hill. “I’ve done rail jams, but not with scaffolding,” says Jason Kaas, a snowboarder from
St. John’s University who participated in the
competition. Kaas has been snowboarding for
10 years and competes a couple times a year. It’s
fun, he says. He did some meditation before the
event, and was feeling good, he says.
Another snowboarder, Isaias LeBaron,
came out mainly to watch the premiere of the
film. “I’m just here to have fun,” he says.
The film featured several professional
snowboarders including Travis Rice, JJ Thomas,
Shaun White and Sammy Luebke.
The snowboarders were shown taking private jets and getting dropped off by helicopter
on remote mountain sides. The movie showed
them grinding on handrails in New York City
and gliding across tree tops in places such as
New Zealand, Japan, Aspen, Alaska and Canada.
Most of the audience then walked from
the theatre to the launch to experience the
real thing.
when Queer Eye for the Straight Guy first came
out. They had people calling in to the show to
discuss whether queer was an acceptable word
some good.”
It’s important to remember that phrases that
have worked their way into our culture such as
“that’s so gay,” or referring to someone as homosexual when that person may not be comfortable
with the term can be hurtful. Grewe says that he
finds an especially high occurrence of hurtful
language in the residence halls, when first-year
students may feel isolated or alone already and
such negative language can amplify that. Two
groups that reach out to GLBT students as well
as allied (or students that support the rights and
interests of GLBT students) students on campus
are the GLBT Programs Office and the Queer
Student Cultural Center.
Identifying with Queer
 BY Kay steiger
The word queer used to be considered
derogatory. Now, it may be more acceptable to
refer to someone as queer than as homosexual.
“We in a sense are reclaiming the dignity that
we’ve lost over the years by having that word
used against us,” says Mike Grewe, co-chair of
the Queer Student Cultural Center. “Queer in
itself is a much more broad term then GLBT
because when you’re talking about GLBT you’re
talking about gay, lesbian, bisexual, [and] transgender, when in fact there are so many gray areas to gender and sexuality.”
Those who developed early psychology
definitions coined homosexual in the late 19th
century. The term homosexuality can be considered offensive because it was first used to define
a disorder. It was even coined before the term
heterosexual. “So it was like we were going to
define what was abnormal before we came up
with a word for what was normal,” says Owen
Marciano, assistant director in the GLBT office.
Similarly, terms like homoeroticism can
be viewed with a very negative connotation. In
the Nov. 9 issue of The Wake, I put the word
on a headline about the Delta Lambda Phi fraternity, whose membership consists of gay and
allied men on campus. This term was especially
frustrating to members of the frat, which abides
by a hands-off policy. The policy prohibits intrafraternity dating, or dating within the DLP frat.
We sincerely apologize to DLP for any misunderstanding. Although such missteps often raise
tensions, it allows a more open dialog to occur
on campus.
Marciano, the GLBT assistant director
recalls a moment on the Regis and Kelly show
Phrases that have worked
their way into our culture
such as “that’s so gay,” or
referring to someone as
homosexual can be hurtful.
to use. “That was such a huge step in the right
direction,” he says. “I have a lot of problems with
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, but it’s doing
For more information about related issues,
subscribe to the GLBT Programs Office weekly
newsletter by emailing [email protected].
6
Athletics
December 14, 2005
Brazilian Dig Artist,
Paula Gentil
photo courtesy of the university of Minnesota
The U’s
Defensive
Gem
 BY jeff barthel
Six years ago, Paula Gentil (Jen-SHU)
wouldn’t have dreamt about playing volleyball for
the Minnesota Gophers. At 16 years of age, Gentil left her hometown of Fortaleza, Brazil to add
English to her native Portuguese. Gentil traveled
to Orlando, Fla. and enrolled at Lake Highland
Prep School. She planned to spend six months
there, learn English and come back home to her
family. Six years later, Paula is still in America,
she’s merely moved from Florida’s southeast tip
to Minnesota’s Land of 10,000 Lakes.
Gophers head volleyball coach Mike He-
bert stumbled onto a volleyball gem he refused
to lose sight of. “When you walk by a court and
out of the corner of your eye you catch someone moving and darting, doing things that are
instinctive and intuitive the way Paula does, you
stop and watch,” says Hebert of when he first
spotted Gentil at a club volleyball tournament in
Florida. “She has a special gift that was immediately evident.”
Now entering the final stretch of her senior
season, this 5-foot-9-inch libero – a defensive,
backcourt position – has developed her gift to
become one of Minnesota’s most accomplished
volleyball players in program history. As part
of a senior class of three, along with Jessica
Byrnes and Athena Mallakis, Gentil aided Minnesota to its first ever Big Ten Championship,
an NCAA Final Four appearance and a National
Title match. Over the past four years, Minnesota
has won 79.8 percent of its matches – posting an
overall record of 115-29; including a record of 6416 in conference play.
Hebert says it’ll be hard for him to part
ways with a defensive wizard like Gentil. “She’s
had a wonderful career,” says Hebert, “I’m obviously sad [Minnesota] will have to find someone
new to pass the ball, but it’s going to be the end
of a great run by her, a historic run.”
“We are very proud of her,” says Paula’s
mother who resides in Brazil, but traveled for
Paula’s final regular season match against Purdue on Nov. 26. “She always was very athletic,
she played volleyball, swimming, squash, tennis,
whatever it was to stay active.”
Paula’s sister reflected on memories of Paula’s childhood as well. “We played a lot and were
always fighting with each other,” adds her sister,
“but we always loved each other a lot too.”
Gentil’s intuition has served her well as a
libero – a unique position that requires excellent vision and quickness. “She’s really good at
seeing things before they happen,” says Gentil’s
“To play a big hitter who hits
the crap out of the ball and I
deny her of a kill, that feels
good.”
mother, “Paula can read the court well. She’s
very intuitive.” Unlike every other volleyball position, liberos are not allowed to attack the ball in
front of the 10-foot attack line – which separates
the front and back of the court. As one of the
nation’s premiere liberos, a typical play for Paula
is as follows:
Before a serve, Paula loosely sways her
arms, anticipating the ball’s flight. She quickly
detects the ball, and dives, slides or jumps to
where she sees the ball heading. Then, to prevent the ball from reaching the floor, Paula uses
one of a plethora of her defensive maneuvers to
deflect the ball and, at the same time, prop it up
so a teammate has a clean look at the ball.
Successfully saving the ball from hitting the
floor and keeping the play alive is a “dig.” Getting a dig, Paula says, is her favorite aspect of
volleyball. “To play a big hitter who hits the crap
out of the ball and I deny her of a kill, that feels
good,” says Gentil. “Here I am this little person
and I’m not letting her score the ball.”
One achievement Gentil has yet to reach is
a national championship. Minnesota came close
last year, but lost the title match 3-0 to Stanford
after an unfortunate blow to Paula’s neck aggravated an injury from a car accident last fall, and
consequently removed her from the match.
Minnesota brings a 24-7 into the 2005 playoffs, along with a healthy Gentil. Coach Hebert
feels the Gophers are playing their best volleyball of the season. Whether or not the Gophers
win the championship, Paula’s legacy will forever be cemented in the hearts of Gopher volleyball fans.
Athletics
www.wakenews.org
End of the Semester Awards
 BY brian tolentino and craig rentmeester
Record-breaking running game award:
Minnesota Gopher football
It’s official, there will be no Gopher sightings
at the Rose Bowl this season, and the Orange
Bowl will definitely be Gopher-free. Despite
another disappointing finish and another middleof-the-pack bowl game, the Gophers’ recordbreaking running game is something to be
enthusiastic about. For the third straight season,
the first time in NCAA history, Minnesota has
produced two running backs with at least 1,000
yards rushing. A little-known school on the west
coast, the University of Southern California
(you may have heard of them), also produced
two 1,000-yard rushers this season, but USC is
still two years shy of tying Minnesota’s record. I
wonder if they got a bowl game.
Lactose Intolerance Award: Florida
Marlins Batboy and Major League
Baseball Rules
Milk does a body good. But what if you
drink a gallon in less than one hour? A Florida
Marlins batboy attempted to do just that after
making a $500 bet with Los Angeles Dodgers
pitcher Brad Penny before a game at Dolphins
Stadium. The batboy finished the gallon of milk,
but not in the designated one-hour time period.
If chugging an absurd amount of milk while
losing a bet is not bad enough, the batboy was
also suspended by the Marlins for six games
for his actions. The suspension for steroid use
at the time is ten games. Now let’s decide what
is worst: a kid with a fun summer job guzzling a
gallon of milk for $500? Or, overpaid professional
baseball players illegally taking steroids to cheat
their way to lucrative contracts and fame? I hate
tough questions.
Future Football Stars from the Big Ten
Brett Basanez – Northwestern
Basanez surpassed the 10,000 yard mark
for career passing yards this season. He is the
just the third quarterback in Big Ten history to
reach that milestone. He carried the Wildcats to
record of 7-4, earning them a bowl bid.
A.J. Hawk – Ohio State
This Buckeye tackled everything in sight
this season. Hawk finished the year with 109
tackles and 7.5 sacks. He received first team
honors in the Big Ten for his third straight year
and he figures to be one of the top defensive
selections in the draft.
Laurence Maroney – Minnesota
Behind an offensive line boasting two AllAmericans, Laurence Maroney ran tremendously
this year. He finished the regular season with
1,413 yards and 11 total touchdowns. He will
be an exceptional running back for those in the
market come April.
Worst Sports story award: Fox 9
investigations
College athletes are drinking alcohol and
receiving special treatment? No way. Impossible.
Word on the street is college athletes sometimes
also engage in pre-marital sex. Dumbfounding
isn’t it? Fox 9’s investigation about Gopher
hockey players drinking underage was equivalent
to telling us Paris Hilton is not a virgin. It just
isn’t newsworthy. Underage drinking is illegal
and should be controlled, but it isn’t worth an
undercover investigation.
Bet you didn’t know award: Minnesota
Women’s Cross Country
Not only did the women’s cross-country
team make it to the NCAA Championships for the
first time since 2001, but they also accomplished
one other small feat: the greatest finish in
Minnesota women’s cross country history. Their
ninth place finish at the NCAA Cross Country
Championship topped their tenth place finish in
1983 as the school’s best.
After taking a backup role in Tampa Bay last
season, Brad Johnson was released in March.
The Vikings nabbed Brad Johnson in free agency
and are pleased with their decision. Following the
Daunte Culpepper’s injury, Johnson has led the
team to a winning record. Although he isn’t the
most mobile quarterback nor does he possess
the strongest arm, his knowledge of the game
has proved to be invaluable. Congratulations to
Brad Johnson for showing that he still has what
it takes to be a starter in the National Football
League.
illustrations by molly wick
Still Got It Award: Brad Johnson
– Minnesota Vikings
7
8
Voices
December 14, 2005
Access to the Wrong Information
Giving up identity for
sameness
The emo rock band you listen
to tunes you out of current
events and tunes you in to
self-loathing. An image is
born. Eventually, individuals
with the same apathy for life
begin to congregate together
like geese at a pond.
consumer.
For example, the emo rock band you listen
to tunes you out of current events and tunes you
in to self-loathing. An image is born. Eventually,
individuals with the same apathy for life begin to
congregate together like geese at a pond. Instead
of a pond though, these gaggles flock to garage
concerts of a friend’s winy rock band. After the
show, the gaggle will migrate to the drummer’s
house and reminisce about past shows and past
parties that occurred at the same house with the
same people. Everyone at the party is wearing
the same major label emo band shirt. Everyone
is also wearing the same Dickies pants complemented by the same Hot Topic accessories. Everyone is the same.
What does this mean?
It means your favorite major label emo rock
band is living the high life by exploiting your
emotions with all-inclusive clichés that were
written with empty vowels and consonants. It
means you are struggling, possibly financially or
emotionally, while you have continually added
to their wealth and well-being. You have profited the companies that produce their music
and manufacture their image by buying their
albums, concert tickets, books, magazines, guitars, drums, clothes, posters, cell phone ring
tones, dietary supplements and candy. You may
have also adhered to their political stances, biases and religious beliefs, which are most likely
only artificial aspects of their image to be sold to
you: the unconscious consumer.
As an unconscious consumer you are also
unconscious to the actual reality around you.
This is the great evil images pose to the whole
of society. If one can be easily manipulated by
an image, then one is easily manipulated by anything. Eventually, this exploitation may result in
the suppression of original thought. Most Americans, if they are not already, will be puppets for
big companies and organizations to control for
their own financial gains and growth in power.
Therefore, either Americans cut the strings now
and become aware of their exploitation at the
hands of big companies and organizations or
America will turn into a vast puppet stage and its
people will dance like jacks on a string.
As of now, America is the great melting pot
for images of the 21st Century. Walk down any
street in any major American city and you will
see a representation of almost any group. This
should not be confused with diversity, because
many images create sameness. Sameness is the
result of images manufactured by organizations
and companies that are the producers of mainstream pop culture
Mainstream culture and information are
television, music, movies, newspapers, magazines, the Internet and, consequently, anything
that appears on them. Since all of these media
are privately owned, they are most often used
to facilitate the agenda of the owning company
and their constituents. As a result, you hear and
see mainstream culture every time you turn on
your TV, your radio plays or your computer
logs on. These mediums are incessant drones
of deliberate voices that are intended to subdue
the conscious person into the unconsciousness
The incessant drones of senseless voices bog
the unconscious world,
pounding the pavement I lose my responsibility.
The day, the time, the year are muted—
caught up in a coma of reality; prescribed the
minimum to survive.
Of routines, of deadlines, of relationships, of
worries—
the psyche seeks escape through empty
entertainment-amphetamines,
when the body withdraws, it is met with dry
heaves of worthless
information: regurgitated facts of fairytalenonsensical-irrelevantness
bombarded with scandal, with fabrication, with
justification—
My piece of Mind fiddles as certainty burns
doubtfully,
castrating my care by blunted blade,
motionless: I search for that escape into a
reality.
TOM MCNAMARA
America’s youth are naively succumbing
to manufactured images produced by America’s
big corporations and organizations for profit. As
a result, there are adolescents walking America’s
streets with no clue as to what reality is. These
males and females are mainstream culture consumers. They are caught in a coma of reality and
are subsequently sustained by whatever image
corporate America prescribes. Alone, this fact is
not a great evil or threat to humanity. However,
if one does not read the warning labels of particular images, then potential health risks to the
whole of society can occur.
illustration by jeremy sengly
www.ivorytower.umn.edu
The staff of Ivory Tower thanks
everyone for their submissions.
Look for the publication this spring.
The University of Minnesota’s Undergraduate Literary Magazine
Voices
A comment
on Minnesota’s
winter climate
TIM FRANZEN
The Weather Channel lists the average
high temperature of Minneapolis in December
at 26 degrees. So why does anyone live here?
Good question.
Every winter people call attention to the
many negative aspects of living in an arcticesque climate. It’s a view that fits in nicely with
overcast skies seasonal depression. But I am going to do a public service and try to cheer people
up.
Sure you may be paying exorbitant energy
prices just to keep your place warm enough to
keep your cheeks from freezing to the toilet seat,
but look on the bright side. Think of every morning you go about your business as a little lottery.
Except instead of truckloads of money, you may
win the ability to urinate without incident.
There are two simple remedies I recommend if you live in a drafty old house. First, throw
a party and play Kanye West’s “Gold Digger” at
least once every fifteen minutes. The body heat
For the men, it may be
depressing to see all the
girls bundled up in parkas
and galoshes. On the other
hand, there are usually a
few girls out there willing to
objectify themselves in the
frigid weather and wear a
miniskirt.
generated from the mandatory dancing should
heat your place in a jiffy.
The second option is for you to invite yourself to someone else’s place and complain until
they crank the heat. Why pay for something
yourself when you can guilt-trip it onto somebody
else? For the men, it may be depressing to see all
the girls bundled up in parkas and galoshes. On
the other hand, there are usually a few girls out
there willing to objectify themselves in the
frigid weather and wear a miniskirt. Those
brave souls help break the monotony of
seeing the non-insane girls walking around
campus. For the ladies, you may miss the
buffed up guy taking his shirt off before
any action that may cause him to sweat. For this
problem, I haven’t any solution mainly because
winter is my vacation from those guys. But relax;
they will be back before you know it.
Those who live in residence halls may seem
to have it easy compared to those of us who live
in apartments or houses and have to pay for
heat. They can turn the heat up to 90 degrees
and won’t pay an extra cent. They do, however,
face the unfortunate task of figuring out a way
to air out the puke smell in the room without
opening a window and exposing the whole hallway to chills. Also, the dormies have no place
to hang coats or put wet shoes. If you take one
step into your dorm room wearing anything wet,
the game is already over. Your whole carpet is
soaked. The snow will get everywhere and you
will feel it the next morning as you try to maneuver your way around the stolen lounge furniture
without waking up your roommate.
But let’s focus our attention on the positives of winter. I think I know the one great thing
about winter we can all agree on. Let me paint a
picture: it’s brisk to say the least. Your nose is
red and possibly blistering. Powdery-white snow
swirls around you eliminating much of your visibility. The wind knifes through your jacket, chilling you to the bone. And at that very moment
where you are sure that you cannot go one step
farther in this horrible place, and that you will
seriously investigate studying abroad in Siberia
just for some warmth, you see it.
Someone slips on the ice and falls over.
It’s nothing serious; the person gets up
a little wetter and a lot more humble. But for
that brief moment when you saw the arms start
to flail and the feet just so close to finding a
grip, you see the face of God. And he breathes
warmth into your soul that spreads to your body,
allowing you to forge onward in your journey to
class.
So anytime you are feeling down about the
weather, just keep an eye out for people who look
a little unsure of their footing. And if you are one
of the people falling down, keep your chin up.
You are helping everyone out. Furthermore, the
next time it’s someone else’s turn.
illust
ration
BY c
Miniskirts and Winter
lare s
chuet
z
www.wakenews.org
Wake every
week.
Coming next semester.
9
10
Literary
December 14, 2005
The Knoll at Night
 BY kylee minkkinen
Pink skirts shouldn’t walk
by themselves past nine.
Street lamps stretch
a gray mirror more
breakable than the sun’s.
Darkness released. Miasmic
in the air, I suck it up my nostrils.
It pools
above my lower eyelids
unblinkable. Men swirl like steam
out of my peripheral.
The mass of them suddenly
a solid contradiction
of my softness.
The shake of rabbit
eyes quake down my curved back
until I escape across
the last three cracks.
Lights flood him
from behind, he waits
for me in the door.
Gallant arm bridging it open.
The Tiger
 BY brianna simonds
Strays
Approaching echoes of
listless voices tiptoe across the rooftops
from a drowned city.
Shifted sands expand a body of strays
and shoves her beyond borders
He’s not as he appears.
He’s all stripes and seduction,
charm and confidence,
oh and he will drag you in
if you let him.
He will slink about
and bide his time,
playing to your vulnerabilities
with that lulling and luring voice.
Ocean has swallowed her breath – weakened
her pulse, exhausted and shaken she
continues to reach where her limbs have spilled over
At the corners of an island, she curls her fingers
over crag and digs in with her nails.
And you’ll be no match for
his hypnotic watch swinging
back and forth,
back and forth,
back and forth.
To claim and strain to stay
You poorpoorpoor thing.
It’s too late for you now.
How could you have known
that those sweetly smiling lips
hid sharp shining teeth
only waiting to consume you
with calculated relish?
And those claws just revealed?
You never stood a chance.
 BY LOUISA CADWELL
Echoes wash over her body
as she stands, the wake breaking upon her chest
Deepest songs her chords can muster will
Lead her worn and waded body back under rooftops
of a drowned city.
He will clean your bones,
and with a self-satisfied sigh,
desert this game of cat and mouse
until he’s hungry again;
Fluorescent medicine
untangles my unease,
but I never forget that he’s bigger.
not just for the capture,
but for the chase.
The Mouth of the River
 BY liza sylvestre
The mouth of the river
is what I want to show you.
How it bullies into the sea.
The push and pull,
the curl of the currents,
the fold of light and water and mud.
The river pertains to all things.
It carries the story of the man I once loved,
who had lanky arms and a fumbled step
and faith in a God I did not believe in.
Over time the river digs and curves.
It shifts great shoulders and pulls back from the sea,
empties its mouth of clams and pockets
and translucent sand crabs
that scurry and click with their delicate legs.
Creatures scatter after the waters sear,
and I worry that I will grow tired
because I want to hold things and name them.
My body will labor until I let go, the fullness leaving me.
illustration by rachel labine
Gallery
www.wakenews.org
A Narrative Primer
The following images are just a tasty sampling of the many artworks
that will comprise the upcoming exhibition “A Narrative Primer,”
which features student work from Diane Katsiaficas’ Narrative
Structures course. The class challenges students to create art as a
means of storytelling while enriching their ability to gain from visual
experiences. Their opening reception is Friday December 16, 6-8pm,
at the Regis Center for the Arts, West Building.
If I truly loved you, I’d kill you in your sleep • John Fleischer • Pillow
11
12
Gallery
December 14, 2005
The Masquerade • Gera Pobuda • Mixed media
Face #1 • Ryan Hansmeyer • Foil and glass
Self-portrait • Aaron Ridgeway • Ink on acetate alias
Gallery
www.wakenews.org
Antithesis Venus • Carolyn Halliday • Wire and paper
Untitled • Cheryl Wilgren Clyne
Untitled • Lora Stoyanova • Oil and ink on wood
April First • Jacob Baggenstoss • Color line drawing
13
14
Sound&Vision
December 14, 2005
Come for the Music
Stay for the
Storytelling
An evening with Leo
Kottke at the Ordway
 BY michael mitchell
PHOTO courtesy of rca victor
If Leo Kottke were to ever get sick of playing guitar (please, God, may that never happen)
he could easily make a career out of storytelling.
In addition to being a self-taught guitar virtuoso,
Kottke has an oddball wit like no other. At his
annual Thanksgiving weekend show at the Ordway Center, the Minnesota favorite proved that
he can effectively fill the room with the sounds
of his guitar, and between songs, with laughter
from an enthralled audience.
An intimate Leo Kottke performance is
something to be appreciated by guitarists and
non-guitarists alike. His playing was, as it always
is, impossibly virtuosic and clean sounding. His
fingers plucked out intricate, bright melodies
while still maintaining a steady, bouncy bass in
the low strings. Adding to the complexity of his
sound were the harmonics he so nonchalantly
dropped in, and the occasional use of a slide.
The guitarist entered the theater with his
twelve-string in hand and gave a slight wave as
he walked to the chair in the center of the stage.
In addition to the chair, there was only a guitar
stand and a microphone on stage — no elaborate
backdrop or set design to speak of. Without a
word, Kottke sat down and broke right into the
upbeat instrumental “Disco.” After playing a second song on his twelve-string, the guitar master
looked around and said, “If someone backstage
could bring me my six-string. It’s the exposedlooking one on the table back there.” To the
cheers of the audience, a man brought out the
other acoustic guitar, which Leo played for the
rest of the set.
Kottke took no time finding his stride; the
music was incredible from the very start. After
a few songs, he broke out the stories and the
quirky jokes. “I was looking at one of those
height-weight charts the other day, and realized
we’re all pretty fat,” he said, in lieu of introducing
one song. Before another, a cover called “From
Pizza Towers to Defeat,” he said, “This song was
written by Frizz Fuller about the last steady job
he ever had at a place called Pizza Towers. That
was over thirty years ago now.” Ranging from bizarre to insightful, his banter was always amusing.
Kottke is always a humble performer, and
had no problem stopping a few measures into
a song and starting it over. On one occasion, it
took three attempts to make it past the initial
seconds of a song. “You’ll never see Britney
Spears do this,” he said as he cleared his throat
and restarted.
Throughout the night, the guitarist had
more to say on pop music, telling a story about
the first time he heard “Alley Oop” by the Hollywood Argyles and playing the evening’s best
blend of guitar prowess and vocal quality,
“Rings.” The song, which I remembered hearing at the previous year’s Thanksgiving show,
was also featured on his latest release with Mike
Gordon, Sixty Six Steps (2005). With its catchy
beat and play-on-words lyrics, the track seemed
to embody the simultaneous virtuosity and lack
of seriousness that the guitarist can represent;
Leo Kottke can use the most mundane pop material to create music that goes unrivaled in demonstration of skill and taste.
On one occasion, it took
three attempts to make make
it past the initial seconds
of a song. “You’ll never see
Britney Spears do this,”
Kottke said as he cleared his
throat and restarted.
The songs that Kottke writes, in particular
his instrumentals, show us a composer who is
full of ideas. Tunes like “Snorkel” and “Too Fast”
contain several interlocking yet unique themes.
Each motif could stand alone, but take on new
meaning in the context of the larger songs. In
concert, such songs demonstrate the range of
this musician, and his ear for subtleties. For all
the insight he gave into the meanings behind
the names of songs and anecdotes about their
performance, Leo had little to say about writing,
an insight that would be interesting to hear.
Minnesota obviously holds a lot of meaning
for Kottke, who had settled here at the time he
recorded his first album, 1969’s 12-String Blues.
Before playing his encore, the classic “Vaseline
Machine Gun,” a nostalgic Leo told his audience,
“I played this song for the first time in Minnesota, at a place called The Scholar, which burned
down twice and no longer exists.” The song,
which has never sounded better, filled the room.
With a simple, “Thanks for coming, and I hope
to see you next year,” and a bow, the guitarist
left the stage, ending this year’s installment of
the best tradition in the holiday season, seeing
Leo Kottke at the Ordway Center.
Sound & Vision
www.wakenews.org
15
Straight Outta London: Beats
from the U.K.
 BY DERIC BROWN
PHOTO BY brennan vance
Local Band Offers Twin
Cities Something New
Coach Said Not To
has an original sound
that works
 BY michael mitchell
A good rock band can change the way a listener thinks about music, and simultaneously offer them something that feels familiar. They use
the best elements of a song and put an original
twist on them. This is exactly what Coach Said
Not To does on a consistent basis.
“We have a lot of practice
singing together, mostly in
the car when we’re driving.
That, and Linnea has super
perfect pitch.”
They have pretty typical instrumentation,
using guitar, bass, drums, and keyboards, but
the vocals are what will immediately catch your
ear. In the male-dominated realm of rock music,
Coach Said Not To, an entirely female group,
stands apart. The voices of sisters Eva and Linnea Mohn (the guitar and bass players respectively) blend incredibly.
When I met with the four women of Coach
Said Not To, one of my first questions was about
the vocals. “We have a lot of practice singing together, mostly in the car when we’re driving,”
Eva told me. “That, and Linnea has super perfect
pitch.”
“Vocals come easily to me,” Linnea said.
“Other things, like playing bass, were not as
easy to pick up.”
The band was also eager to answer about
their sound and their approach to making music. Their songs, which have adventurous deviations from typical structures, are a highly collaborative effort. “That’s how it has to be,” said Eva
Mohn. When I asked if this democratic process
has become speedier over the past few years,
keyboardist Lee Violet laughed and said, “No. It
can take a long time … to the point where we’re
asking ourselves ‘Why are we doing this?” After
listening to their EPs and seeing the band perform, it’s clear that the process has produced a
solid set of songs.
I saw Coach Said Not To at the Nomad
World Pub on Nov. 19, where they had top billing. Their live show accentuated the aspects of
their sound that set them apart. In many cases,
a song would start softly and draw the audience
in as it continued to build. Annika Johnson,
the drummer and most recent addition to the
band, was crucial in making these dynamics
work. Personal favorites like “Shadow Puppets”
showed that the band could make good use of its
strengths as an ensemble.
Equally as impressive as their ability was
the attitude that Coach Said Not To exuded. On
stage and in conversation, this group handled itself with a combination of humor and gratitude.
It’s good to see a band worthy of so much praise
that doesn’t take itself too seriously.
This month, Coach Said Not To will be busy
playing gigs in support of larger Twin Cities acts
like the Honeydogs and Mark Mallman. They’ll
be in the studio in January to record their first
full length album, but in the mean time you can
download the P.E. EP off of their website for free
(www.coachsaidnotto.com).
When one discusses the origins of hip-hop,
the United States immediately comes to mind.
This is not to say people fail to recognize hiphop’s global influence. In recent years, the Internet and other technology have propelled emcees
from the UK’s hip-hop scene into the limelight.
Yet, the artists exposed to the masses tend to
come out of a sub-genre of the UK hip-hop scene
called garage. The beats of this music are typically frantic drum and bass tracks laced with elements of hip-hop and reggae. With the dancehall
craze, it is no surprise that this sound is the most
recognizable UK hip-hop. Much like reggaetón,
garage artists often borrow musical and verbal
style from reggae. Since hip-hop arguably grew
out of the Jamaican sound-system subculture,
this is not an illogical relationship.
For many, UK’s garage scene is the only
British hip-hop they’ve been exposed to. But
there is another movement within the UK underground, which resonates more with Talib Kweli
than The Streets. Artists such as Jehst, Poisnous Poets, Task Force, Kashmere, and Lewis
Parker have been laying down organic beats
and rhymes in pure hip-hop fashion for years,
beneath the surface. While there is increasing
interest in the UK hip-hop scene, artists are
hardly garnering the support they desire. There
is a big push from fans and artists to get 40 percent of hip-hop played on British radio stations
to be from the local scene, but this goal is far
from met. Numerous artists stick to the D.I.Y.
model and release albums independently. This
often results in hungry lyricists and beat-smiths
forced to treat every track like it’s their last.
The hip-hop scene in London has been
around for more than two decades, yet many of
its brightest talents remain “like a gem stone in
a cess pit” as producer/writer Jehst says. Jehst
drops witty and meticulously crafted stanzas as
effortlessly as his beats infiltrate the heads of
hip-hop enthusiasts, and is considered one of
the greats of the scene. Tracks like “Extra Sensory Perfection” and “Manimals” will have you
Hungry lyricists and beatsmiths treat every track like
it’s their last.
hitting rewind repeatedly to pick up every gem
he drops.
The subject matter is quite similar to U.S.
hip-hop: struggle, survival, partying and bullshit.
There is also the infamous quest for fortune and
fame, as is evident from The Villains’ newest
12-inch release, “Gotta Get That Cash/Stress,”
which reeks of mid-90’s east coast influence, i.e.
D.I.T.C. UK hip-hop is not, however, simply a
rip-off of U.S. hip-hop . While there are obvious
similarities and influences, UK hip-hop bears
authenticity. You will hear styles and subjects
unique to their homeland, but fully accessible
to any hip-hop head. So, if you’re running out
of lyricists that are catching your third eye, you
may want to look outside of the U.S. borders. If
the accents do not turn you away, you will hear
quotables that would strike fear of admiration in
the hearts of top U.S. emcees. Just don’t get too
into any of them, remember you can only catch
them at the club 4,000 miles and an ocean away.
16
Sound & Vision
December 14, 2005
Music Reviews
Sun Kil Moon
Wilco
Tiny Cities
Kicking Television
Isaac Brock and Mark Kozelek know what
they’re doing. As the lead singers and songwriters in Modest Mouse and Sun Kil Moon, respectively, they’ve awed innumerable listeners with
their distinct styles and exceptional lyrics. They
sound wholly dissimilar — Modest Mouse’s music is skillfully cynical and impulsive, while Sun
Kil Moon’s sound touches its listener with wondrous, subtle harmonics. They are both daring
and successful, which is why Sun Kil Moon’s newest release, Tiny Cities, is so disappointing.
Tiny Cities is an attempted, yet failed, tribute
to Modest Mouse. Kozelek selected songs from
every Modest Mouse full length, from Sad Sappy
Sucker to Good News for People Who Love Bad
News, albums which visibly show the range and
capability of Brock as a songwriter. He then proceeded to tear away their variety, added droning
vocals and shallow instrumentals, and ended up
with uniform and pale covers.
The marriage of Kozelek’s voice with Brock’s
lyrics is an awkward match. The remakes have
nothing more than an acoustic guitar, abandoning Modest Mouse’s original intent. Kozelek’s
voice sounds stranded and nervous, transforming
the cyclic verses into something boring.
The one redeeming song on the album is
“Grey Ice Water.” The song is an achievement;
finally, Brock’s lyrics unite and blend with Sun
Kil Moon’s sound. Although it hardly resembles
the original, and lasts about half as long, there are
more layers and emotions in the newer rendition.
For once, it adds something positive instead of
taking it away. The song succeeds, basking in its
own invented complexity.
This one track is hardly enough to save the
other ten. He might have been trying to create
something new using old ideas, but Kozelek’s
renditions are superficial attempts at mimicry that
were only played off as reinventions. He comes
across as a lazy songwriter, failing miserably to
compliment Brock’s, or even his own, talent. For
fans, this album will do nothing except leave them
with a craving for Modest Mouse’s sound. There
was such potential here, room for something
great, but Kozelek’s daring experiment boiled
over and ruined what could have been. Simply
put, he shouldn’t have gone there.
I have always thought of Wilco albums as
works of art, congruent in their entirety, and
packed with layers upon layers of meaning.
When I heard they were releasing a live album
I thought, “This is great, I love Wilco.” When I
finally got the double-disc set in my hands, I was
confused. The songs were all out of order! There
were people trying to sing along to Jeff Tweedy!
Anarchy, in a sense.
As I meandered my way, bewildered,
through the first disc, it hit me: There is something here that I had not yet considered. Wilco
may be taking old songs and giving them new
meaning through this new arrangement. A majority of the songs are taken from Yankee Hotel
Foxtrot (2002) and A Ghost is Born (2004), both
of which were perfect in their original contexts.
Meticulously timed and deliberately sequenced,
these CDs are music for musicians. Many of
my favorite recent songs were used for Kicking Television in a context which caught me off
guard. “Hummingbird,” “At Least That’s What
You Said,” “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,”
and “I’m the Man Who Loves You” all place
themselves well within the collection, preformed
as expected favorites and used to showcase the
enormous talent of the musicians.
The first song on the album, “Misunderstood,” is lyrically derived from another song
by Peter Laughner called “Amphetamine.”
“Misunderstood” references one of Laughner’s
most chilling songs, written during a period of
extreme drug dependency. On the contrary, the
live disc is concludes with “Comment (All Men
Are Truly Brothers),” originally by 60s and 70s
funk icon Charles Wright. So what I have before
me is a compilation of Wilco songs, all fucked-up,
sloshy, and graceful in their own right. On either
side, I am confronted by mixed messages, one
of heart break and early death, and on the other
side, hope, brotherhood, and funk. To me, this
contradiction is what Wilco is all about, and what
is contained within Kicking Television. With this
new live disc, Wilco continues to enthrall me
with their ability to be in a drunken melancholy
while at times still exercising its listener friendly
classic rock sound.
EMILY GARBER
JENNY ODEGARD
Thelonious Monk Quartet with
John Coltrane
At Carnegie Hall
At Carnegie Hall may be 2005’s most unexpected release, as well as one of its best. Long
thought to be lost, the recordings of this concert
were unearthed at the Library of Congress and
released by Blue Note Records this fall.
The collaboration of Monk and Coltrane,
the former a brilliant composer/pianist and the
latter a visionary soloist, is breathtaking. Their
interplay on this live recording is so seemingly
natural that their studio sessions are stiff by
comparison. One listen to the opening track,
“Monk’s Mood,” and you’ll wish that Coltrane’s
tenure with this quartet had resulted in something more long-lived.
Regardless of your take on Monk’s use of
dissonance (represented here by the track “Epistrophy”), John Coltrane’s unmistakable tenor
sound will keep you listening to this record.
Rhythm players Ahmed Abdul-Malik (bass) and
Shadow Wilson (drums) are solid, but remain in
the background for the most part. Admittedly,
it’s hard to outshine a Thelonious Monk piano
run or a blistering, soulful solo by John Coltrane.
Absent from the record are some of Monk’s
more popular tunes, notably the rendition of
“Ruby, My Dear” that the two had recorded, but
it doesn’t matter. These pioneers could be playing a major scale in unison and it would sound
like nothing you had ever heard before. Almost
half a century later (the concert was given in
November of 1957), this show sounds fresh, a
testament to the abilities and vision of both artists. I think it’s safe to say that you need to hear
this record.
MICHAEL MITCHELL
Bastard
www.wakenews.org
17
BY ALEX JUDKINS
The Best of the Want Ads
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not to do my homework, but to be
pitted head-to-head in an intense
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WANTED:
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there’s gold in them lungs... too
soon?
WANTED:
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with all that junk. In... in your, you
know, uh, trunk.
WANTED:
A catchphrase to describe getting
run down by a semi.
WANTED:
A spoonful of sugar to help the
barbituates go down.
WANTED:
One of those laser pointer thingies
so when my professor points to
something on a map, I can use
mine to point somewhere else and
totally fuck with everyone’s head.
The Best of the Arbitrary Awards
WORST THING TO DRINK BEFORE A DATE
WORST IDEA
Poison
Jumping off a bridge, naked, tied
to a baby
WORST THING TO SAY TO A LITTLE GIRL
WHO JUST MADE HER FIRST FINGER
PAINTING
HONORABLE MENTION
MOST COMMON THING HEARD IN THE
BASEMENT OF ROBERT BRUININKS’
MANSION
“These chains are way too tight.”
Listening to Jason Mraz
“That painting is terrible.”
HONORABLE MENTION
WORST BAG
“You are ugly.”
Douchebag
LEAST LIKELY THING A VEGAN WOULD
SAY
“I just clubbed ten baby seals!”
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Dress up your college
student and send it to
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Put your clothes on!
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www.wakenews.org
Want Ads
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records: Beatles, Kinks, Yardbirds,
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LONGEST NAME OF DECEASED
Sir Edmond Jackal Walt
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Suicide farting
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17
16
Wakie’sPhotoPoll
By Stephanie Bartholow
December 14, 2005
What is an organization or cause that you stand up for?
Josh • Freshman, English
Haythm • Sophomore, Int’l Relations
Kristin • Junior, Comm. Studies
Amanda • Senior, LCD
Clean and concise areas of
misunderstanding.
Gold boots.
Getting rid of second hand smoke in
houses. My mom doesn’t like it. I support
smoking bans.
Money and resources to help crime/justice
victims on campus.
Davis • Senior, Chemistry
Randa • High school—U-Tech
Faduma • High school—U-Tech
I’m pretty against really religious people
that only accept their views and not
others’.
Jeina • Sophomore, Undecided
Brittany • Sophomore, Undecided
Recycling. We recycle bottles, cans, and
plastic bags.
Food. Hot lunches in high school.
Ae Park • Freshman, Undecided
Stuart • U employee
I don’t like the radio loud at certain times,
or during sleep.
Unions, teamsters, workers in general.
I think capitalism is out of control and
wages are stagnant.
Andrew • Freshman, Chemistry
Shawn • Freshman, Chemistry
Burrito Loco. We go with our friends every
Wednesday night.
www.wakenews.org
He/she travels to North Dakota.
Life is beautiful.
One day at the town waterfall, Morocco unpacks
his lunch, breathes in the beauty of all earthly
things and takes a peaceful bite of his cheeseburger. A small fawn ambles by and….wait! Holy
Damn piece of Shit! Hamburger?! Who the fuck
put cow meat in my vegan lunchbox?! The cruelty of life foils my happiness once again!
The Year with Wakie
While there, Morocco feels lighter, like a great
existential burden has been lifted. Morocco
suddenly feels inspired; the overwhelmingly
beautiful vistas and windblown, dusty air seems
to conjure the artist within Morocco. He/she
writes a haiku:
North Dakota rules
It makes me think of flowers
Spewing in cornfield.
Morocco is finally happy, thinking she/he has
found her/his true home. Morocco quickly
makes friends with Randy and Randy, two brothers who introduce Morocco to the subtleties
North Dakota living. Morocco helps them run
their Chandelier and Rubber Factory.
Morocco returns to la casa de Randy and Randy
only to find the two in a heated gladiator duel;
their divorce is imminent.
Without a word, Morocco flees to the woods.
With much time to think amongst the North
Dakotan foliage, Morocco has yet another life altering epiphany. He/she realizes what has been
left behind: his true family, the Wake.
15
14
TheYearwithWakie
December 14, 2005
Morocco “Saint” Moonlust Fights the Bear of Despair
Wakie awakens into an overwhelming
sense of doom, grappling with loneliness
and the shame of not having gender discriminating genitalia. Wakie feels her/his
life is directionless, headed down a dark
path to boredom and regret. As she/he
weeps, an idea strikes her/him: to start
over. Wakie drops out of school, gets a
haircut, vows never to eat animal products again and changes his/her name
to Morocco “Saint” Moonlust. Morocco
packs a lunch, burns his/her shanty and
embarks.
Although the research is at times successful
(look at Morocco fucking kicking ass in the Lost
Muthafucking City of Atlantis!!!), Morocco calls it
quits. She/he feels that paranormality is not the
avenue through which she/he can best taste the
many wondrous flavors of existence. Morocco
wants to feel that blissful magic the world
contains.
Morocco decides to pursue her/his first true
passion: paranormal research. After a few failed
attempts at paranormal sketches, Morocco hires
a photographer to document the findings.
Smut
www.wakenews.org
More titles from Trash in Print Publishing
Penetration in the Darkness
Lucinda Carlyle, a prominent New York attorney, comes home to find a naked man in the
darkness of her room. At first taken aback by her
discovery, she soon falls for the mysterious man
who never stays past night. Will this mystifying
hunk of sexual fulfillment reveal himself, or will
Lucinda be forced to turn on the lights?
A Man for a Man
Frustrated by his inability to find someone
to fulfill his unquenchable sexual urges, Maxwell Orgasmason seeks the advice of talented
sexspert Dr. Loveman. The Dr. assigns Orgasmason to sleep with as many women as possible.
Will he quench his lustful thirst, or will he realize his lingering desires for the well-endowed
Loveman?
The Principal and the Penis
The boys and girls of Sweatlust High are concerned over the
constant moaning coming from
Principal Big Dick’s office. When
the secretary mysteriously disappears, head cheerleader Mandy
Boobs seeks to find an answer
to the intrigue. Will she get to
the bottom of the mystery before
Big Dick gets to her bottom, or
will the whole school break into a
frenzied orgy?
Sex on Paper
People have sex and the author depicts it in
writing. Will it be trashy? Duh.
Take our survey and win
a $50 gift certificate to
the bookstore!
wakenews.org/survey
13
12
Smut
Love
&
December 14, 2005
Lust
Upon Waves
the
by
Melinda stared into the steely waves. Her
eyes darted from whitecap to whitecap and the
wind whipped her long blonde hair. She raised a
long and slender hand to brush away the golden
locks. It had been two weeks since her father’s
ship had been attacked by pirates and she had
been taken prisoner. The pirates had looted the
ship and then set it aflame. She had no idea if her
dear father had survived and been rescued by
the King’s fleet that also sailed these waters, or if
he was lost to her forever. An ache welled in her
heart as she thought of her father desperately
calling her name as the pirate ship sailed away,
leaving his vessel wounded in the water. Tears
began to form in her eyes, but she held them
back. She would not let Captain Maldrake or his
crew see her cry.
A chill ran down her body. She pulled her
shawl closer to her ample bosom and turned to
go back into her cabin. As she reached for the
door it opened and Captain Maldrake emerged
onto the deck. His shrewd gray gaze met hers
and she maintained contact for a moment before
averting her eyes. The wind rustled his white
shirt, causing it to expose his firm and muscular
chest.
“Good day, lady, how does this fine weather find you?” he asked in his rich, deep voice.
That voice caused Melinda to feel lightheaded.
She remembered the first time she had heard
it. He had come down to her cell and released
her from its confines. He told her there was no
reason to keep her locked up and had invited her
to dinner. She had been so hungry she couldn’t
refuse. In the past two weeks the Captain had insisted on eating dinner with her every night. She
had repeatedly asked why she had been taken,
LUCINDA SMITH-LOVELACE
if he wanted ransom, and what his intensions
were. Each question had been cleverly pushed
aside with that smooth baritone.
“I am fine, thank you,” Melinda replied.
“I was just going to my cabin because I felt a
chill.”
“Well, we can’t have you feeling chilly. I’ll
do everything in my power to warm your skin,”
Captain Maldrake calmly said as he leaned closer to her. His gray eyes twinkled with mischief
and Melinda couldn’t help but feel a tingle in her
stomach. She tried to move past his tall frame,
but his wide shoulders blocked the door. “Not
going yet are you? I was hoping to speak with
you,” he said with a grin.
“I am sure it can wait ‘til dinner.”
“Doubtful. I wanted to ask you what your
favorite color is.”
“My favorite color? What for?”
“You’ll find out at dinner.” The grin on his
chiseled face widened, exposing his white teeth.
They contrasted with his tan, almond-colored
skin. A large gust of wind loosened his dark hair
that he had tied back with a leather strap. Her
hair also blew out of control and he lifted a hand
to replace a strand behind her ear. His hand lingered at the side of her face and she closed her
eyes for a moment. His touch was so wrong, but
felt so right.
“It’s red, deep red.”
“I thought so,” and with that he turned toward the stairs, leaving her on the upper deck.
He was such a mystery and one Melinda wanted
to solve despite missing her father.
*
*
*
Melinda could hear the ship creaking as
it rolled on the waves. She raised her hand to
knock on Captain Maldrake’s doors, but before
she could the door opened and the Captain stood
in the frame.
“Please come in,” he said and placed his
hand in the small of her back to guide her into
his cabin. He quickly closed the door behind her
and indicated she should sit down at the table,
which had already been set.
“Thank you,” she said as he pulled out her
chair. He said nothing and went toward his armoire.
“Would you like to know what’s in here for
you?” he asked in his sly way. “Yes, tell me,” Melinda said, trying not to reveal her excitement.
All afternoon she had wondered why he wanted
to know her favorite color.
“You’ll have to say the magic word.”
“Please,” she said, watching his graceful
movements that had managed to get under her
skin and caused her to think about him more
then she should.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded in a
gruff tone. She closed her eyes and listened as
he opened the armoire doors. Soon she felt him
next to her. His body heat was hot and she could
smell the salty goodness of his skin. “Open
them,” he commanded and she obeyed.
In his arms the Captain held a deep red,
satin dress. Melinda let out a deep sigh, amazed
at how beautiful the dress was.
“This is for me?” she said, taking the sensuous fabric between her fingers.
“Yes and I want you to put it on,” Captain
Maldrake said. Melinda hesitated.
“I will if you leave the room.”
“It’s cold out there. I am staying in here
while you do it.”
“But I won’t put it on then.”
“You will.”
“What if I don’t? Will you make me walk the
plank?”
“Oh, you’ll experience my plank,” he said
smiling. Melinda felt her face becoming bright
red and the Captain continued to smile, his eyes
burning into hers. Slowly, Melinda rose from
her chair and began unlacing her dress. The
Captain’s eyes followed her every move. She was
half done unlacing it when he came toward her
and ripped her bodice and the dress fell from her
body. Melinda gasped at his audacity, but shivered with pleasure.
“What are you doing?” she asked softly.
“You were taking too long. I’ve waited
long enough to have you and I always get what
I want,” he said. A hungry and passionate look
came into his eyes and Melinda couldn’t help
but succumb to his touch as he ran his fingers
across her breasts. He pushed her onto his bed
and his clothes came off with an expert ease. He
tossed them aside and embraced her for a deep
kiss. Her soft lips pressed his with passion. His
hands ran up and down her body as they continued to kiss. He pulled away from her and looked
her in the eye. “Do you want me to go on?”
“Yes, yes,” Melinda cried out despite herself. Lust for his body overwhelmed her as his
skin glistened in the candle light. His hands were
hot as was his breath on her neck as he slowly
entered her. Her thighs straddled his waist as
his member penetrated her. She felt the greatest
ecstasy in his muscular arms and she forgot all
about being his prisoner and her father’s fate as
moans of pleasure escaped her mouth.
Screams
11
December 14, 2005
Confessions of a Waitress I don’t have time for
HEidi applebottom
Dear Diary,
I wanted to complete this entry before I
have to go to class, and then off to work again. I
just wanted to express my gratitude for the holiday season and for my job as a waitress at a bar
downtown. I am just so excited because the holidays bring out so many interesting and fabulous
people. Here are some of my favorites:
The girls who come in, stay for the duration
of happy hour and tip $1 or $2 for four drinks. I
mean, why should they tip normally or even extra because their drinks are half price? I’m glad
they don’t, though, because maybe then they
wouldn’t be able to afford the $400 Coach handbags they tote. I mean, seriously, I don’t work
in a bar/restaurant when the rest of the world
is partying because I need the money; I do it for
the free T-shirts and blinky key chains we get
from our Skyy Blue reps!
Also, I’m thankful to these girls for the
drunk guys they bring with them. I really love
it when guys put their arm around my shoulders
and lean in really close so that I can smell their
beer breath and have a chance at getting spit on;
as if they were giant babies in need of a burping.
I really like this because I don’t get enough of
their germs already from cleaning up after them,
so it’s nice to have the stinky breath exhaled in
illustration by
sam soule
my face and the sweaty armpits rubbing on my
shoulder. I’m all about boosting my immune system this year!
The guys I love more than the twentysomething babies, however, are the fathers. It’s
so cool when forty or fifty-something guys come
into town for whatever sporting event that’s happening at the Target center. Sometimes they tip
OK, but when they come back after the game
and ask me what I’m doing after work I get so
riled up! I love to go back to their hotel room
after a ten-hour shift and see which one of them
I get to fool around with! Gray hair really turns
me on!
Here’s something both guys and girls do,
though, and that’s stand in the service area. It’s
so much fun to dodge them when they stand
there! I realize that it’s dark and that they’re
probably too drunk to read the mat that says
SERVICE ONLY, so I make it into a game. I try
not to get elbowed in the face or have my tray of
glassware spilled and broken when I’m coming
back, and I try to carry all my drinks away without spilling them. It’s super fun.
The best, though, is when people argue
about stuff. Like, if papers for an ID are expired.
The customer asks, “What am I supposed to do?
Go get new papers?” And I’m just like, “Well,
what am I supposed to do? It’s a law.” They seem
like they’re arguing even though I know they’re
really just flirting and it makes me feel really
good. It’s so funny to see them pretend to get
all mad. I hope these people never remember to
get a state issued ID, a military ID or—worse—a
passport. If they had a passport maybe they’d
leave the country and never come back! That
would be a tragedy. We need all the intelligence
we can get.
Anyhoo, I’ve gotta get to class now, but I am
sooo looking forward to working tonight. I mean,
it’s Friday after all. Maybe if I’m lucky someone
will grab my butt while I’m there …
ethical dilemmas
Laguna Beach
occupies my attention
TIFFANY SNOTNOSE
Um, excuse me. I can’t be bothered with
the homeless Pakistani earthquake victims.
They’re not even American, anyway. It was cool
to care about the Katrina victims, but people
who care about Pakistanis are just losers. I have
to get home because my favorite TV show is
on. Seriously, Laguna Beach is supposed to be
a really good episode this week. Kristen is the
biggest bitch and I totally know she’s cheating on
Stephen. I mean, not that Stephen isn’t cheating
on her with LC. I hope there’s a bitch fight on
this episode. That would be super sweet!
The other day, in my Poli-Sci class, I couldn’t
believe we had to waste class when the know-itall professor said, “I think it would be useful for
us to talk about the factor our civic duty of taxes
interferes with our moral resolves like pacifism.
How do you feel about paying taxes to fund a war
that you may or may not agree with?” It’s not like
we can do anything about those things anyway.
People get all up in arms about it—they act like
we live in a democracy or something. I’m way
more interested in Desperate Housewives than
moral dilemmas. You don’t see them talking
Election?
What election?
about things like religion in politics! They’re way
too busy getting even.
Earlier this semester, my prof gave us extra
credit if we brought in our “I Voted” sticker.
Election? What election? Last year, it was a big
deal there was an election, and I only care about
it if there are celebrities involved. Last year,
Josh Harnett was on campus and everything.
I mean if there’s not a chance I’m going to get
diddled by P. Diddy at this thing, it’s not worth
getting out of bed. Like I have time to vote. I’m
way too busy planning my next downtown night
out where I can get my vodka Red Bull—there’s
nothing like taking a stimulant and a depressant
at the same time.
I was sitting in class the day we debated,
counting the minutes until I could get out of
class and check my text messages. That whole
no-cell-phone-reception-in-my-classroom thing
illustration by sam soule
is stupid. Oh, and then some kid got up and
started talking about how we should really stop
supporting bad corporations like Wal-Mart.
His hair was really long—at least four inches.
He was all, “Our purchases should reflect our
moral values.”
I mean, God, it’s not like people actually
stop shopping at corporations because they
do bad things. No one cares. They only care
about cool stuff. You’d think from the way he
was going off that people actually had to make
a moral decision over where to spend money.
I mean, if we didn’t shop there, how would the
corporate executives be able to afford their
extravagant lifestyles? I would feel bad for
them if they couldn’t get a new Mercedes-Benz
this year because I didn’t buy something at a
corporate chain.
Besides, I cannot live without my
Starbucks no-fat mocha turtle latte. Actually,
there’s a list of things that I wouldn’t be able
to live without:
•
OPI clear polish – it’s amazing!
•
L’Oreal platinum blond hair dye
number 673
•
Jason Mraz’s new album
•
Super-dark black eyeliner
•
Us Weekly
•
Clinique moisturizer and foundation
•
My Frequent Tanner card
•
Ugg boots: they don’t call them Ugg for
nothing!
If I didn’t have these things I definitely
wouldn’t survive the weekend. I have to look
good when I’m dancing on tables.
And it’s not like I—shit, that’s my cell
phone. I gotta go.
10
Scratch & Sniff
CD REVIEW
December 14, 2005
film REVIEW
Save Yourselves from
Saving Private Ryan
 BY franz butte
The Voice of Our
Jilted Generation
 BY haily gostas
We live surrounded and smothered by a
collapsing music industry. It has specifically
been a tiring year thus far, in between unstoppable Gang of Four rip-offs and the constant string
of Canadian bands with ‘Wolf’ in their name. In
these desperate times, we need a savant, someone to rise up from the ashes of a train wreck of
shit. And, praise Jesus, our prayers have been
answered! October has mercifully brought us
the most important indie rock album of this year,
perhaps even of the decade. Quite simply, Ashlee Simpson’s I Am Me is a punk masterpiece.
There is very little I’m sure of these days, but I
know this much—Ashlee Simpson is totally the
next Fugazi.
Forget that her moderately creepy Baptist
father is her puppet master—er, manager. Or
that she grew up in the shadow of her vacant
sister Jessica. With all the tight drumming, deliciously dirty power chords, and groundbreaking lyrics like, “Woah, woah, woah” and “No, no,
HA”, Simpson is surely the messiah to our jilted
generation.
And that voice! Simpson dethrones even
Gwen Stefani, whom everyone knows is the
greatest female vocalist. Seriously. Stop picking
on her for the “SNL acid reflux debacle,” alright
guys? Her voice is anything but hollow and slickly produced, as she proves by biting back with a
ferocious, full-bodied growl. Christ, you go, girl.
And for the record, she was so punk to
freak out, dance a jig, and blame the drummer.
After all, that’s, like, anarchy, right?
It’s finals week. Not entirely unlike war, finals degrade your respect toward mankind and
make you want to go out and hurt people you
don’t even know. And for that reason, I decided
to take a look at Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan. I loved the Indiana Jones movies (especially when that dude in the second one rips
guys’ hearts out Mortal Kombat style!) so I figured the man who brought us those classics, not
to mention Jaws and Hook, would do something
pretty freaking awesome with WWII.
Basically the plot goes like this: instead of
going after Hitler and kicking some Nazi ass,
the United States decides it’s more important to
save the last surviving sibling of five brothers.
Apparently their mother is the sort of intimidating woman who would nail the president in the
junk if he didn’t save her last little boy. So Tom
Hanks joins the army, not entirely unlike Polly
Shore, and leads a crew of whiny soldiers to kidnap Matt Damon from fighting the good fight.
So obviously Steven Spielberg has never
seen a John Wayne film (editor’s note: neither
has Chris Wilson). John Wayne knew how to
fight those Nazi bastards: ride into Berlin on his
trusty steed and grab Hitler by the balls! That
was the basic plot of The Searchers if I recall.
And then for dessert, John Wayne rode a damn
nuclear bomb into Hiroshima in Sands of Iwo
Jima! Or something like that. Anyway, the point
is Steven Spielberg doesn’t know shit about making a WWII movie.
Now I don’t want to say that Saving Private
Ryan was entirely bad. After all, I heard someone made a porn with a similar title and plot. But
what bothered me most was the lack of production values. The whole thing had this washed out
look to it. It was like I was watching something
historical. And who wants that? Plus, the camera
work was terrible! It’s like someone took a handheld camera and started jumping around while
filming people being blown up. There was this
one guy who lost his arm and I wanted to feel
bad for him. I really did. But I couldn’t quite concentrate on welling up my feelings of sympathy
with vomit welling up inside me from all the bad
camerawork. It was like Bourne Supremacy II
or something. In fact, both have Matt Damon in
them. Coincidence? No way.
I will tell you the biggest travesty I saw in
the film. An amazing action star like Vin Diesel
is relegated to a boring, minor role. Who came
up with that dumb idea? We all know Vin Diesel could kick the crap out of Tom Hanks. Hell,
Vin Diesel could maybe even kick the crap out
of John Wayne. And Hitler for sure! Of course
we’ll never know now. Steven “Sissyman” Spielberg wimps out instead of giving this grudge the
celluloid it deserves. A visionary director like
Michael Bay (Pearl Harbor, Bad Boys II) would
have seen this injustice and remedied it — and
added in a lot more explosions, too. In fact, I’ll
bet Michael Bay would be smart enough to cast
Tom Hanks as Hitler! Then we’d be able to answer two of those three questions. If only John
Wayne were still alive…
Experimental Band More
Independent Than You Ever
Thought Possible
 BY PENELOPE CALLOWAY
“CDs are just too corporate for us. We record and make copies on tapes only. We like
to keep it grounded, you know?” Lead singer
France Wilder sat down on top of a pile of dirty
laundry in the basement of his parents house
in South Minneapolis. He took a few pieces of
popcorn out of his hemp jacket pocket and continued. “The point isn’t even for people to listen.
The point is to make music that starts a revolution. And I think we’re doing that here. Today.”
“The point isn’t even for
people to listen. The point is
to make music that starts a
revolution. And I think we’re
doing that here. Today.”
The room we are sitting in smells like mold
and has stacks of dusty tapes all over the place.
Randy, the bassist saunters in from his smoke
break. “Dude, I ran into your mom outside.
She says dinner is at 6 p.m. and to take off that
jacket before your grandparents get here.” As
he turned his head he caught a glimpse of me.
“What is that chick doing here? Why is there a
tape recorder in her hand? Fuck you, France.
You know how I feel about press.”
“Nice tits,” Randy added.
Randy, who comes from a farm in North
Dakota, is notorious for throwing lit cigarettes
at reporters who try to give their band publicity.
I continue with my questions, hoping to finish
the interview before I get sent out in a hailstorm
of ash.
The Wake: What would you describe your sound
as?
France Wilder: Our sound is like nothing else
you’ve heard.
The Wake: Can I hear some of it?
FW: Fuck that, man. Next question.
The Wake: What are your goals as a band?
FW: I told you, to start a revolution in music.
The Wake: How?
FW: If I told you how it wouldn’t send shock-
waves around the nation when it happens.
The Wake: How did you guys all meet?
FW: MySpace. Duh.
Randy: Hey fuck you man, we don’t tell people
that.
The Wake: So can some of your material be
found on MySpace?
FW: No.
Feeling that my interview time may have
expired, I put my tape recorder down and started putting on my winter gear. Out of the corner
of my eye, I caught Louis Hunter, the keyboardplaying hermit of the group sneaking out of the
bathroom and heading for the stairs. Finding the
opportunity irresistible, I tiptoed over to him. I
smiled and tried to stick out my chest, hoping
that would encourage him to stay and talk for
a second.
“Hey, um would you mind answering a few
questions?” I asked.
“No,” he whispered. “But come over here
for a second and you can listen to some of our
stuff.” Louis motioned me to the dark corner
which I had thought was the bathroom. Under
a damp blanket lay a tape deck and some headphones held together by duct tape. My heart
Louis motioned me to the
dark corner which I had
thought was the bathroom.
Under a damp blanket
lay a tape deck and some
headphones held together by
duct tape. My heart began to
pound in anticipation.
began to pound in anticipation from the music I
was about to hear.
In my car on the way home I had to turn off
the radio and smoke a cigarette I had bummed
from Randy. They were right; I don’t think the
world is ready for what they have to offer.
Scratch & Sniff
www.wakenews.org
9
PHOTO BY preston whispers
A spectator stares in awe at an exhibit of Cadmus’ latest piece, “Eonian Pain of the Boy in Flower.”
Art You’ll Never Understand, Made by People Who Are Convinced You’re Retarded
 BY CARL MARKS
In the basement apartments of Manhattan, a new school of artistic thought is emerging. It has yet to be named, but I think it’s safe
to call this group the Group that Will Make the
Definitive Statement About Art for the Next Few
Centuries. Led by a man who goes by the name
Cadmus Fairbanks, these young innovators are
changing the way we think about art.
“You think you know,” said Cadmus, “but
you have no idea.” This puzzled me, and I decided to get a second opinion.
“We decided to get rid of everything that
art has stood for since its creation,” said Noble
Lakewater, one of the group’s brightest young
minds. “It’s time that art was something more
than just a bunch of fucking pictures.”
Their art, which they would actually prefer we didn’t call “art,” is highly conceptual. So
conceptual, in fact, that there is no physical
aspect to it.
“It’s all in our heads,” Lakewater says. “My
stuff is so outside the box that if I were to actually create it, you wouldn’t understand it. You’d
go fucking crazy just trying to figure out what
I’m trying to tell you. So instead, I’ve decided to
keep it in my head.”
Aficionados all over New York are trying to
get their hands on as much of this new school
art as they can. The only problem is there’s nothing to collect. Instead, they send money to the
artist in exchange for the bragging rights of being able to say that they understand this new art,
that they’ve somehow acquired the “meaning” of
the anti-art.
I attended a recent opening for a gallery
that was “showing” the concept art of Fairbanks,
Lakewater, and others. Upon entering, I realized
that every wall of the gallery was bare, and that
the artists just stood in the corner with smirks
on their faces. “It’s going to work kind of like
osmosis,” said Fairbanks. “If you’re supposed
to understand the art we didn’t create, it’ll just
come to you while you’re in our presence. If not,
I suggest you go look at some goddamn Botti-
“We decided to get rid of
everything that art has
stood for since its creation,”
said Noble Lakewater, “It’s
time that art was something
more than just a bunch of
fucking pictures.”
celli painting and worship a dead god that goes
by the name of Art!”
I sat and stared at the blank wall, hoping
to think about something that the artists were
thinking. The only things I could think of, however, were things like, I hope I put enough money in the parking meter and, Did I leave my mom
handcuffed to the radiator?
All the concepts that the anti-art represented were sold that day to the typical big spenders.
When I asked one collector if he’d ever loan out
any of his Lakewater concepts, he said, “Yeah
right, kid. This belongs to me now.”
In spite of the fact that this new art doesn’t
physically exist, I’ve opposed the hoarding of
said art by rich aficionados for private collections. The disillusionment of the Group that Will
Make the Definitive Statement About Art for the
Next Few Centuries stems not from too many
people failing to understand their art, but rather,
from a lack of accessibility. But what do I know?
I like Boticelli.
8
Scratch&Sniff
December 14, 2005
Photo illustration by garden fresh
 BY taylor eisenman
Too Cold
to Go Out
I got stoned instead
I was going to write this article about happy
hours and drinking on the weekdays. I am a fan
of occasional weekday drinking. Those days
when you succumb to that devil on your shoulder and drive giddily to Rainbow at midnight
for some Mike’s Hard Lemonade and a sixer of
Miller Light or stroll to a Dinkytown bar only to
karaoke to Margaritaville for your roommates
and the only bartender on staff. (Not that I’ve
done either of those things...)
My plan was to partake in Sally’s Tuesday
specials starting with a Mexican appetizer from
their free taco bar available 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. and
then stay for their $2 cheeseburgers offered
from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m., and when the clock had
finally ticked it’s way to 9 p.m., $2 pints, rails, Bacardi drinks, or Washington Apple Shots were
to pass through my lips like a sinner drinking
from God’s cup. Then, once my devil and I were
Everything was a whole new
level of delicious.
sufficiently sloshed, I was going to head over to
the Steak Knife to see my friend’s band play. I
was going to do all of it … that is until I had to
fight icy sidewalks and cold winds carrying an
army of snowflakes on my way home from class,
making that highly ambitious plan lose its luster
faster than I could pull my hood up over my hat
to stay warm.
So, instead of trudging across town for tacos and burgers and Bacardi, I am at home and
stoned. I have already engaged in high-pitched
and happy conversations bouncing from subject
to unrelated subject leaving me with a stomach
sore from laughing at conversations about sacred-bong chants and what it would be like to
be monkeys in a zoo. Then, in the kitchen, I
watched my stoned roommate hold onto a new
jar of Miracle Whip, her head down in defeat,
like it was her sandwich life preserver; she was
contemplating if she could even make the sandwich or if it was too much work getting plastic
off the jar’s lid. That incident sent me into a giggling fit so fierce I collapsed and began rolling
on the floor.
After I composed myself, I feasted on Cajonsweet trail mix, chocolate-coated everything, hot
cocoa and then some and then some. Oh, and vanilla frosting with pretzel rods, yum. My review
... everything was a whole new level of delicious.
And now I am full and sitting on my couch, laptop warming my lap, writing and watching the
Real World Austin Reunion ... Reunion ... I’ve
never watched an episode of the show. But, let
me tell you the reunion is enthralling with all the
yelling and the bleep, b l e e p i n g!
I give up on the profanity and turn to channel 17, public television. Don’t give me that look.
The Scrabble show on Tuesday nights is public
television dressed to kill — its only visuals are
the game board, letters and host, who is no more
than a set of hands and a voice. People call in
with team names like Tony Danza and Tour De
Bong and play against the host. Someone got a
scrabble with the word marmots ... those cute,
furry mountain creatures. I knew I would be glad
I stayed in … ha marmots. That is funny.
Shmathletics
www.wakenews.org
Olympic Sports Changes
Three new sports to be added
 BY sporty mcdoucheball
When curling became an Olympic Sport
in 1998, many in the sports world thought that
rules should be in place to preserve the Olympic
spirit of athletics. However, the Olympic Sports
Committee recently voted to add three new
sports to the summer Olympic Games in 2008.
The sports are borderline ridiculous and sure
to draw athletes of all ages. The new additions
are laser tag, wood whittling and the underwater
maze/obstacle course.
The addition of laser tag will draw athletes
from across the world to play the game at its
highest level of competition. There will be two
separate categories, team play and singles.
Teams will be comprised of three people, men
or women. Singles will also be coed. Training
for these finely-tuned athletes involves hours of
team play at local entertainment places. Vol Patolga of Russia, Laser Tag magazine’s man of the
year said, “Get that microphone out of my face!”
He seems to be extremely excited to participate
in the upcoming Olympic Games. The only rule
in this intense sport is no target blocking. This
event is sure to draw crowds of at least twenty
people.
With the recent success of the Great Outdoor Games, the Olympics are attempting to
steal viewers and draw big-name athletes with
the addition of Wood Whittling. In this event, the
athletes will each start out with four foot long,
three feet wide logs of wood. The only tools the
The Underwater Maze is
not meant for smokers but
neither is the Olympics.
participants will be given is a hammer, a knife,
a chisel, and a suicide pill. There will be a 30minute time limit on the event. At the end of the
30 minutes, the three contestants who carve the
most exceptional objects from the wood will be
awarded medals in the traditional manner. The
rest will be forced to take their suicide pills. This
event looks to be a crowd-drawer. Jack Lumber
from Marshfield, Ohio said, “I can’t believe I
finally have the opportunity to whittle at an international level.” He is a 309-pound woodsman
who whittles as a hobby. I can’t wait to see this
crap on television.
The Underwater Maze is not meant for
smokers but neither is the Olympics. The course
is submerged underwater in a monstrous pool.
The competitors must dive into the water and
upon their entry they must navigate the course.
The swimmer who reaches the other side of the
pool in the fastest time wins. The course consists
of walls, which serve as alleys, leading the swimmers to various parts of the pool. The maze is
filled with plenty of sharks, water mines, and
dead ends to confuse the swimmers. Choosing
the correct path is sure to be the toughest challenge in this event. One underwater maze enthusiast said, “You need to have lungs of steel and
balls the size of Texas to compete in this sport.”
For those athletes who survive, this event is expected to be mentally and physically draining.
7
6
Shmathletics
December 14, 2005
More Than
Just A Suit A view of the U through
Gopher eyes
 BY goldy
There are some definite benefits and drawbacks to being Goldy the Gopher. To clear up
some misconceptions, when the camera turns
off and game day is over, I am still a gopher.
Many people think it’s as easy putting on a suit,
but there is no suit and the fur is real. That said,
I am about to give you a look at what life is like
when you’re a six-foot-tall gopher in an unforgiving city.
When I wake up in the morning, I immediately have to clean myself so I don’t attract fleas.
I must brush my two teeth with a toilet brush
so they are pearly white for photo opportunities.
Then, I have to select clothes to wear depending on the events that I have to attend. This is
where the trouble comes, since I usually have
Most people give me crazy
looks since I’m smiling while
some speaker is talking
about inner city hardships or
the Armenian genocide.
to make more than one appearance in the same
day. When this is the case, I must lug around a
duffle bag full of clothes for each event—I don’t
have time to run home and change.
I live out of a suitcase at various times of
the school year and traveling can really wear me
down. This becomes a major problem late in the
football season when the scheduling people at
the university decide to have home football and
hockey games in the same day. For many people
this means twice the excitement. For me, this
means a twelve-hour day of work. The football
game starts at 11:00 and the pushups usually
start around 11:30. If we’re playing Central Florida or Our Sisters of Christian Health and Science
School for the Blind, that means I will be doing
pushups non-stop for almost three hours. Whoever decided that the mascot must do pushups
for each point scored at a football game needs
to be taken out back and shot. After the football
game is done, people give me hugs, high fives
and even kisses. But as soon as I get a breathe of
fresh air, I must change and prepare to skate at
Mariucci. At the hockey games there is usually
a different crowd than the people who attended
the football games. This means I am expected to
be energetic for another three hours. It can be
quite demanding.
Other than the sporting events, there are
many other functions I am required to attend. In
the past week I have been at three charity dinners where chicken and steak have been served.
I have been to two alumni functions celebrating
past graduates of the university whom I have
never met. I think one of them invented a cheaper Silly Puddy, or something. When I started this
job, I thought all these dinners where amazing.
After eating more than my share of fellow animals, I have become a vegetarian. Also, at these
dinners, I can’t stop smiling because I need to
represent the university. Most people give me
crazy looks since I’m smiling while some speaker is talking about inner city hardships or the
Armenian genocide.
The games are probably my favorite part of
this occupation but there are times when I wish
I wasn’t property of the university. Although
they have outfitted me with a fine apartment on
campus, it’s difficult to prepare my own meals
since my hands are freakishly large. The apartment staff and supervisors won’t let me into the
hot tub after a long day since I am an animal.
Another drawback is trying to meet other gophers. Lady gophers assume I am well-endowed
since my hands and feet are so big. Living up
to those expectations can be quite challenging.
Thus I have focused my attention on the other
white meat.
I must include some of the advantages to
being Goldy the gopher. First, girls on campus
are easy to attract since I’m big, cuddly and always smiling. Plus, they consider it a challenge
to sleep with the mascot. Second, the cold winters are easy to overcome since I am covered in
fur from head to toe. Finally, I am a role model
for all gophers that are struggling to make it in
this cruel world where gopher rights aren’t even
on the agenda of most politicians.
On the whole, being Goldy is a pain in the
ass but is also rewarding at times. I am not allowed to take pictures for press purposes even
though I wrote this damn article. But I do have
everything a gopher could ever want. I am safe
of cars since I ride in them instead of being hit
by them, like my friends that used to dwell near
I-94. I have plenty of food throughout the year.
I never have to pay for medical or dental since
its part of my health plan through the university.
But, hopefully the U can capture another gopher
to take my position. I have plans to move down
to Florida after this gig is over. I hear the folks
at Florida State are thinking of changing their
mascot from the Seminole to the Swamp Rat.
Give me a case of Eosinophilic Meningitis and
that job is as good as mine.
Off-campus
www.wakenews.org
5
Month of Meanness Inspires Hate Following
Pansy-ass Month of Kindness
Megaphones provided
 BY JESSICA MANN
A University-wide event dedicated to
“spreading kindness throughout the community,” the Month of Kindness (MOK) promotes
events that range across student and community
organizations in order to better everyone’s lives.
Luckily, though, all of this good will, compassion
and love of humanity promptly ends December
10. What follows is the University’s most popular
month—the Month of Meanness.
MOM began a few years ago when University faculty noticed that students’ performance on
finals was adversely affected by all the “bringing
people together and supporting others” that had
taken place in the preceding month. Evidently
students who had devoted so much time and en-
ergy to “helping the homeless,” “filling the bus”
and “agitating for kindness” had also seriously
neglected the truly self-serving acts of studying
and completing coursework. After all, what’s
more selfish than spending time working for a
better grade just for yourself and your personal
four-year plan? An A on an exam only throws the
curve off for everyone else in class and every pa-
Luckily, all of this good will,
compassion, and love of
humanity promptly ends
December 10th.
per you turn in is just another paper some weary
T.A. is forced to grade. Overwhelmed by the
spirit of kindness, students seemed to abandon
any notions of competition, the driving force behind many hard workers. University grade average plummeted.
What was a highly peaceful but academically pathetic University community to do? In
order to rectify the problem, it was determined
(through scores of web-based surveys and incomprehensible emails from University higherups) that, while kindness was all fine and dandy
and certainly a good thing to encourage, students needed a balance of emotions in order to
properly perform. And MOM, in all of its wicked
glory, was born.
MOM begins Monday, Dec. 12 and continues through the University’s winter break
for three weeks into the biting cold of late January and early February. The horrid Minnesota
weather and the stress of approaching finals in
the first week make it rather easy for students
to be mean and, frankly, after a month of hugs
and thank-you notes, most students are ready
to drop that Minnesota nice and release all of
the anger and frustration that MOK requires a
person to suppress. “My first year here, man,
by the second week of December, I mean, I was
just like, ‘If someone tells me to call my grandparents one more time, I’ll…’ and I don’t know
what I would’ve actually done, but it probably
would’ve been pretty unkind,” says University
dental student Eric Martin. “MOM really helps
me deal with those feelings.”
During the Month of Meanness, various
groups and organizations provide students
with “30 ways in 30 days to negatively impact,
in a small yet effective way, your world.” MOM
events include: yelling at anyone walking on
the Mall (megaphone provided during all four
weeks), collective selfish thought and behavior,
several scheduled riots (starting outside Williams Arena), “Don’t Bus Your Tray in UDS”
Day, vandalizing select bridge panels, not volunteering and organized groups of students that
slowly pay in pennies on city buses (especially
if there’s a line of people out on the cold, wet
“...I don’t know what I
would’ve actually done, but
it probably would’ve been
pretty unkind. MOM really
helps me deal with those
feelings.”
curb). Further ideas are located on the Month of
Meanness’s website, which also provides a list of
choice insults like “lose some weight, fatty,” or
last year’s favorite “you make a better door than
a window, so move it before I hit you in the head
with this crowbar” to make use of throughout
the month. The month is partly sponsored by
TCF Bank and is led by the student group STFU
(Students Today: the Future’s Unkind).
illustraion by sam soule
4
Off-Campus
December 14, 2005
One Student Found
Not Drinking
 BY BOBBY BRIGGS
During a house party bust in the Como
neighborhood Friday, Nov. 25, campus police
found a University of Minnesota student engaged in something never seen before on a
weekend near campus: not drinking.
The police were called by a neighbor who
reported seeing several students passed out on
the lawn while a few others clumsily practiced
Tae Kwon Do in the street. University of Minnesota Department of Police officers rushed to
the scene with ammunition and clubs in hand.
As officers did somersaults out of the squad car,
about 50 university young adults ran from the
house. Witnesses reported seeing rainbows of
plastic cups of beer flying everywhere.
Officers searched the house and froze in
“If these parties continue I
might have to start making
scrapbooks with other
themes, such as types of
nut-butters or words that
rhyme with sparkle.”
their tracks when they witnessed the most unexpected thing. Nineteen-year-old Norman Sparkle, the roommate of the host of the party, was
found not drinking. Instead, he was sitting in his
room pasting paper cutouts of stars onto glittery
paper. Officers were baffled at the situation and
arrested Sparkle on the count that he must be
up to something. “It was just too strange,” says
Officer John Daniels.
Sparkle was brought to the station for intense questioning. Officers started by asking
him about the party at his home that he chose
not to attend.
“We assumed the party was thrown to celebrate some sort of sporting event,” says Daniels. “However, we found out the party was to
celebrate a new dance move that student Babs
McCormick dreamt up the night before.”
According to secret campus police informants, the dance move involved a lot of shaking
and bobbing of the head while lip synching the
words to Prince’s “When Doves Cry.”
Officers asked Sparkle exactly what he was
doing when they came in his room. Sparkle responded that he was working on his scrapbook
for the letter “S.” The book is full of handmade
pages with stickers and drawings of things beginning with the letter “S.”
“I already made one for A, B, C, D, E, F, G,
H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q and R,” Sparkle says.
“If these parties continue I might have to start
making scrapbooks with other themes, such as
types of nut-butters or words that rhyme with
sparkle,” he says.
Police officers were stunned that a student
at the University of Minnesota would rather
spend their Friday evening not drinking that
they asked him to recount the activities of his
entire day.
Sparkle says he woke up around 8:30 a.m.,
styled his curly hair, put on his vest and walked
slowly to class. He stopped at the library after
class and worked eight chapters ahead in his
Spanish workbook. He returned to his house at
1:20 p.m. and made asparagus and Kraft cheese
singles for lunch. After watching five episodes of
Sex and the City on DVD, Sparkle fell asleep on
the couch where he remained for the next six
hours.
Sparkle woke up to the sounds of his roommate and friends singing loudly to “Mmmbop”
and opening cans of beer. The sober Sparkle
then stomped up the flight of stairs to the dark
lonely cave of a bedroom and began organizing
his Post-it notes.
Determined to find the “to do list” he made
for himself during the previous night of not
drinking, Sparkle went through every drawer
and threw papers everywhere. With no luck, he
decided to write a new list.
At the top he wrote “scurry over to Staples
and buy more Post-it notes.”
After Sparkle had made a schedule of 37
pointless activities to abide by, he turned on his
computer and played online poker 18 times. “I
was a smidget away from beating Gilbert Bumpernickel from Oklahoma,” Sparkle says.
Shortly after, Sparkle moved the cursor
PHOTOS BY dale cooper
“I’d rather have a refreshing cola, thank you very much.”
over to the web address and checked his University email. Nothing yet. He sent a friendly “Wuz
up? Nada here, lol,” to his studly friend Andrew
Maxwell Parish. Then he signed in and out of his
email 89,264 times, just to be sure he didn’t miss
Maxwell Parish’s response.
“Sometimes the email can be tricky,” Sparkle says. “It’s not like AOL Instant Messenger
where you know right away when someone has
responded.”
Sparkle spent the next few hours making
up synchronized swimming moves on his floor
and gazing into his own eyes in the mirror. Then
he began to ask his reflection hypothetical questions about his fame and glory from being a sexy
model for a series of romance novel covers.
“It would be nice to just, once, drive in my
Porsche without swarms of beautiful babes chasing after me,” says Sparkle’s reflection.
After journeying down to the kitchen to get
a raspberry spritzer and some snowmen-shaped
sugar cookies, Sparkle suddenly had an idea and
pushed through the drunken guests all the way
back to his room. Then he got out some more
Post-it notes and began thinking of things that
began with the letter “S.”
Daniels asked why Sparkle preferred solitude instead of partaking in the sloshy norm of
students his age.
Sparkle answered that when drinking on
campus, there is too much risk involved with being caught by the police. “I would just die if I saw
my face all over the credible Fox News station
for underage drinking,” he says.
December 14, 2005
Staff
•
Volume 4; Issue 7
•
www.wakenews.org
Contents
Established in 2002, The Wake is an independent
fortnightly magazine, produced by and for students at
the University of Minnesota. The Wake is a registered
student organization.
Editor-in-Chief
Managing Editor
athletics editor
Campus Editor
campus staff writer
Literary Editor
S&V Editor
FILM CRITIC
Voices Editor
Production Manager
staff designer
Art Director
COVER illustratioN
photo editor
WEB EDITOR
Business Manager
Office Manager
Advertising Executive
PR Executive
Copy EditorS
Queen Lafitaf
Lance Urkunden
Roger Thatt
Nahguag Eitak
Blue Mann Solo
Lucinda Smith-Lovelace
Carl Marks
Franz Butte
[email protected]
Jupiter Assblaster and the
Underage Boys
Mohammad Jihad
Chip Squatch
Panda Lover
Garden Fresh
11000111011101
Mr. Moneybags
Mom
Candy Ballafonte
Spin Doctor
AP Manual of Syle
Kate Turabian
I just took a huge pop bong
Off-campus .................................................................................... 4
The little gopher that could
Schmathletics ................................................................................ 6
Art that makes your head explode
Scratch ‘n’ Sniff ............................................................................... 8
Spill beer on me, please
Screams ....................................................................................... 11
Love and lust upon the waves
Smut ............................................................................................. 12
Wakie brings poetry to the people
Wakie’s Photo Poll ........................................................................ 16
Our baby was born of good, married, Christian heterosexuals
Legitimate .................................................................................... 17
The Wake was founded by
Chris DeLong and James Ruen
The Wake
1313 5th St. SE
Minneapolis, MN 55414
Send letters to:
[email protected]
Please include your name, year, and college. The Wake does not publish anonymous letters.
4
©2005. All rights reserved.
9
16
Author’s Note
For all you serious literary lovers out there I am pleased to unveil an excerpt from my upcoming novel Love and
Lust on the Waves. As a serious attempt to capture the rise of the British Empire, I feel the novel touches on the
human condition and the moral dilemma of family versus fornication. Love and Lust on the Waves was inspired by
a recent fishing trip I took. The gyration of the boat and my stiff fishing rod prompted me to create the character of
Melinda, who is very close to my heart. For this reason I am incredibly happy The Wake offered to debut my novel.
You can pick the entire work up at your local grocery store just in time for the holidays.
LUCINDA SMITH-LOVELACE
Literary editor
BizarroWake
N
Turn over to read
the normal Wake.
STUDENT MAGAZINE
The U’s Fortnightly Student Magazine • December 14, 2005