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In This Issue

• Blind Guy Shows Us the Way
• Columbia's Cruel Iron Maiden
• Letter From the Editor
• Daddy Was a Shrink; Momma Was a Street Corner.
• Columbia Socialist Pronounces ‘Bourgeois’ The Right Way
• Holiday Thoughts for the Dysfunctional
• Dear Alma Mater
• Columbia Vs. Colombia
• WHAT TYPE OF DYSFUNCTIONAL IS YOUR FAMILY?
• Uncut Tales of Dysfunctional Literacy
• White Boys Need Money
• I Am So Not a Man
• Thanks, My Ass: Mohican Joe speaks out
• Press 'M' for Mezzanine... if Ye be Brave Enough
• Your Daily (read: Monthly) Horoscope
• Wacky Fun Whitey: Evil Just Like your Mom
• Newsbriefs
• THEY Watch
• The Staff of 17.4

I stopped to ask the time from the Spartacus Youth Brigade who were passing out subversive flyers on campus. "That's not fair-trade coffee is it" fired a Marlboro smoking socialist. I wanted to point out that my cup of coffee might have been a notch below PC, but he was practically sucking Jesse Helms' dick.

But Columbia revolutionaries are all forgiving and his comrade pulled up her sleeve and angled her wrist in my direction. She shouldn't even be wearing a watch, she confessed. Adding considerable pauses, ‘like's and ‘ya know what I mean's, she went on to say that "chronological fascism" reinforces Western constructs of linearity and eternal Progress.

I appreciated her ideological sacrifice and agreed to hear her poem:

Enslaving the working man with all your capitalism,
America, you put out the light of the multicultural prism!
You see through US self-interest, Noam Chomsky
Citibank! WTO! NAFTA! We need Trotsky!
Gender Studies! Free abortion! End world trade!
If it wasn't for patriarchy, I'd be getting laid.
Right now you purchase Nike's and drive SUV's
But soon the proletariat will force you to your knees!
The selfless justice of Hamas and the Taliban,
Bush just hates Bin Laden because he's tan
Western logic creates innumerable schisms
Only Columbia Socialists have the right ism's

"I tried to alternate every rhyme masculine and feminine to show the engrained gender hierarchy of western language," she explained. She would have continued, no doubt, but the ring of her cell phone cut her short. It was one of the clever kinds that play snippets of Beethoven and Mozart.

I took this as my cue to exit, but her smoking companion shoved a clipboard in my face. Lacking not only a watch, but also a writing implement, I asked to borrow his. I was in luck - he had a Uni Ball.

But I smelled a rat, and a craven capitalist one at that. It wasn't just that it cost as much as breakfast and still didn't give me good handwriting. No, I noticed something more than false advertising. I'll be damned if I didn't see a little speck of dried six-year-old Indonesian wage-slave blood on the cap.