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In This Issue

• Students Wrestle for Squid God
• Summer Job Pays to Choke Chickens
• Dolphins: Not Just for Sex Anymore
• Letters to the Feditrix
• The Confessions of a Burgeoning, Fecund Fury
• Suicides Are Fun for Those Who Don't Participate
• Military + Animals = Hours of Deadly Fun
• When Will Columbia Girls Go Not Ugly?
• You Wouldn't Know Hot Ass Even If You Bit Mine
• Necrophilia: Hey, It's Not Like They Mind
• Columbia Hipsters Leave Brooklyn to Strut Stuff
• Want Me!!!!
• I'm Still Drunk After All These Years
• He's Like Larry Flint, but Super Gay
• At Least the Fed Thinks I'm Cool...
• An End to the Planet
• Steve and Cornelius Are Now Chicks, Like to Play with Own Va-Jay-Jays
• Building a Bomb to Put in the Fed's Open Arms
• Oedipus Family Circus
• The Staff of 18.9
• THEY WATCH

I've never been all that popular with the ladies. I've tried everything, but the "how to seduce women" books, "instantly attract any woman" pheromones, and "Rohypnol" date-rape drugs didn't do anything but turn me into an asshole, make me smell like cat urine, and erase my memory of the fifth grade. Sure, the penis-enlargement pills I saw advertised on the Man Show worked as promised, but it turns out that telling women about your fifteen-inch penis gets you fewer dates than one might think.

But I think I've finally found a foolproof way to get women to have sex with me. I'm going to destroy the Earth. In the planet's final moments, there will be hordes of beautiful women desperate to catch one last thrill before death, and every woman in the world will become as easy as a terminally ill cancer patient.

I don't yet know how I'm going to do it. A nuclear holocaust would happen too fast for me to get my share of that hot "we're all going to die" sex, the giant meteor crashing into the Earth scenario is kind of played out, and for some reason all my killbots come out programmed for love. I was thinking about somehow stopping the Earth's core from spinning, eliminating its magnetic field and allowing fiery microwave beams to boil the oceans. But then I watched The Core and realized what a stupid fucking idea that was.

On closer consideration, my chances of actually ending all life on the planet by myself seem pretty slim, especially with the Department of Homeland Security doing such a bang-up job. Maybe I could find a way to piss God off enough to make Him throw the world into sexy, sexy chaos. But then again, if I were in a position to sin on that scale, I wouldn't need divine intervention to get me ass. And, since Jesus hates fags so much, I'd probably have to have sex with dudes. Which I'm totally not into.

I've also been thinking about releasing a virus that targets the Y-chromosome into the atmosphere, eliminating every human male on the planet besides me. I have a hunch that there are a lot of women out there who actually would do me if I were the last man on Earth, their statements to the contrary notwithstanding. The great thing about this plan is that not only do I get to live out the rest of my days as the world's most (that is, only) eligible bachelor, but the lack of men will undoubtedly also trigger a higher incidence of hot lesbian action.

The only other idea I had involved threatening the world with an army of mutant monkey-men. Which I fully intend to carry out as soon as I a) figure out how to make my microwave run with the door open and b) find a monkey. It's like the old saying goes: in America, first you get the army of radioactive death monkeys, then you get the power, then you get the women.