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In This Issue

• Toddler Sex Toy Secrets Revealed
• Belgian Makes Fun of Belgians
• Sobriety: Mardi Gras Withdrawal
• Letters to the Feditor
• John Ashcroft = Scary
• Marauding Interviewer: Ass Virginity En Masse
• Inside the Real ROTC
• Columbia's Just Being Nice to Get You into the Sack
• Unleash the Flood Waters
• Your Local Forecast
• Oompa-Loompas' Fingers Too Short for Shocker
• Portrait of the Masturbator as a Young Man
• And Now, the Fed Translates the Creepiest Ad Ever
• Jacko Makes Cocktail Party Chitchat
• Spring Fashion: Haute Couture in Haute Alert
• At Your Local Supermarket
• Ode d'Orange
• THEY Watch
• Wacky Fun Whitey Wets the Bed
• An Outdoor Conversation
• Roboninja
• Poor Orange
• The Staff

January 27th, 2003: The ad in the right appears in the Columbia Spectator.

February 1st, 2003: I call the number in the ad, mostly just curious about the details. Reading his ad, visions of myself as Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman danced through my head. Would he want me to wear the black miniskirts and thigh high early 90s vinyl boots? Would Jason Alexander make a grab for my cooch?

And what in God's name did "youth development or follow-up" really mean anyway?

I'm sure you, the reader, would have the same questions. Here, I provide the answers that I got in my many telephone conversations with the advertiser. This is all based on truth. He really did expect many of the things included here in this translation.

On the day I called my almost-Daddy-Warbucks to tell him that I had decided I wasn't interested after all, he offered me a free lunch in Lincoln Center. "I don't know about you," he added, "but I'm 6'3" and very healthy."

No, no, I told him, I had to insist because I am too young to make this life decision. "You're 20? Well, yuk, yuk, I'm quite a bit older than you, but you're an adult! You can make rational decisions."

March 6, 2003: The Fed prints it.