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In This Issue

• The Issue of Suicide
• Potential Hobo Camp or Wussy Veldt?
• Choose Your Own Fed-venture
• Letters To and From The Editor
• Thumb-Addled Troglodytes
• Ed-in-Chief Joins Staff Diaspora
• Jesus is a Crappy Dermatologist
• Action Jacksons
• News Briefs
• On Action and the Philosophy of Inaction
• Wacky Fun Whitey Meets a Bum
• Fed Bash a Spanking Success
• Point / Counterpoint: Actions and Words
• Horoscopes Will Keep You Regular
• Revenge for Your Shitty Housing Lottery Number
• Columbia Needs Real Affirmative Action
• News Quiz
• THEY Watch
• The Staff of 16.9

Who rocks the party that rocks the body? Uh, that would be the Fed. The Inaugural Fed Bash exploded all over the Lerner Party Space on April 12th. Cleaning crews are working around the clock to remove the stains in time for next semester's Bash.

The Fed Bash was conceived in an attempt to pull the Fed out of debt. Sisters in arms Conversio Virium agreed to lend a hand in throwing the party, without asking for anything in return. They sure are troopers. Of course, a few days before the Fed Bash, it was discovered that the Fed's "debt" was actually an accounting error by ABC, and that we never really had any financial problems. But who's counting?

With CV's co-sponsorship in place, the theme of the party seemed obvious: Sadomasochism. To bring the dream of public flogging in Lerner Hall to fruition, the party planners enlisted the services of Master Steelow, a professional dominator with a special interest in Japanese rope tying.

But we couldn't possibly just offer live S&M. There had to be more. So, we added to the mix a few bands (Cadre Bravura, Rut Row, Super Lucky Cat, MC Nuggets and the Astronuts, and Jeff Bance), a DJ (Mycroft Holmes), a flamboyant host (Gerald Jackson), an El Camino full of beer, and an amount of junk food the likes of which have not been seen since the great Snack Cake Explosion of '87.

The event kicked off with the witty song-craft of Jeff Bance, former West End bartender. Next, the crowd was treated to the filthy lyrical stylings of albino-legged MC Nuggets and his Astronuts. Mr. Nuggets was joined on stage by a parade of sucka MCs who called him sire. As DJ Mycroft Holmes serenaded the drinking public and the energy in the room raised to a fevered pitch, it was obvious that the time had come for the main event of the night: a fire drill.

Just when we thought everything was fine and the S&M show would be a smashing success, some moron had to go and get stuck in the package room corridor. The New York Fire Dept. gets the award for Best Dressed at the Fed Bash. Yum yum.

Once the building was swept for bombs, the revelers were allowed to return, and after some poking and prodding, the party was back in full swing. Master Steelow and his merry wench presented a half hour of tantalizing fun. You had to be there.

The party continued on its merry road to Hell with sets by Rut Row, Super Lucky Cat, and Cadre Bravura.

But the real party didn't start until the next morning, when the Fed staff hijacked a plane to Amsterdam and spent the profits of the Bash on hashish and sex shows. As soon as we round up our layout staff, we'll start publishing again. Mom, send more money. See you next year.

View Photos from the Fed Bash