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In This Issue

• Get Your Freak On, Dorks
• (Almost) Rejected by Israeli Security
• Beaten by the Retard: Adventures in Drama
• Letters to and from the Fed's Maxima and Co.
• Columbia Hipsters Are So Shallow You Think You’re in High School
• Are You a Terrorist? The Government's Shocking Answer
• Failed Terrorist Herbie Bin Laden Marries Jewish Wife, Dabbles in Scientology
• Poetry.com: Your High School Poems are Waiting for You…
• Bottled Water: Bigger than Jesus, and now Semen Free
• Revolve magazine: The Seventeenth Seal
• I Passed the Oral but Failed the Urine
• Horribly Hassled Hermaphrodites Harangue Humanity
• Trial and Error Your Way to Perfect Genital Design
• Shot Down! : Rejections Made Simple
• Your College Essay, but with less Suck
• New Twenties Bring Back Tired Old Monopoly Money Jokes

After having witnessed yet another one of Alma Mater's sports losses, this writer feels compelled to make a few suggestions. (Sure...this article was penned before the big Homecoming game, but come on...) It's time to bring up the issue that's been on everyone's mind: the question of finding Columbia's hidden population of hermaphrodites, possibly adorning them with gender neutral uniforms (complete with rip away pants), and putting them on the football team. Why, you may ask? Because it's such a fertile, unexplored issue, a potential beacon to investigative journalism, a heartbreaking but IMPORTANT story of  heartbreaking Disney-like strength to overcome the adversity of the prejudice against the gender-indeterminate.

And plus, let’s face it: hermaphrodites are funny.  It's hilarious enough simply placing one of them outside a non-unisex public bathroom, making bets, and then finally breaking into drunken laughter when watching said victim go from sweaty-on-the-verge-of-a-nervous-breakdown tremors to becoming just another statistic. And after all…ambiguous genitalia: it’s a topic just begging to be made into a fratboy-esque drinking game.

Ah, the intersexed. A group that from its very name promises nothing but fun filled, magical hours. Like midgets, the elderly, and other minorities too unattractive to garner a steady support group that would scream "foul!" or "offence taken!" at the drop of a hat, they're always ready to take one for the team. In the same way that the short, fat kid in middle school you always picked on knew that this was basically the closest he got to popularity, the intersexed are always pathetically willing to be the butt of any joke.

But I do feel it is our duty to reach out to them, to uncover whatever hole in the wall in which they’re hiding themselves, and watch them squirm in the light like the morose, solitary, insect-like creatures that they are. Their plight is a depressing one. Consider it from their perspective. You're not "queer" so you don't get to brag about how much The Man (TM) has been fucking you up the ass. (Or how much you've been fucking him.) Since you’re not a gay man, you don't get to wear Day-Glo short shorts that outline your genitalia in public with impunity. Boycotting Revlon and penning the sob story of your lifestyle doesn't get you a safety spot at Smith. (Or one at Wellesley, depending on the picture you submitted.) And since you’re not a lesbian, you don't get to frighten small boys by telling them just how much you'd like to castrate their tiny female hatin' phalluses.

And you aren't even guaranteed a steady stream of nubile young male things…or of hot "bisexuality goes SO well with my women's studies major!" female things. In fact, the probability of finding something that is A) attracted to you, B) willing to spend fifteen minutes on his/her/its back for you and C) not going to say, "Great...but where the hell do I put it?" is pretty low. You not only have to find someone who makes you think, "I'd like to wake up to that vulva everyday" (or conversely, "You know, I really wouldn't mind waking up to getting that shoved up my crotch every morning")...you've got to find someone whose genitals are the exact inverse of yours. And hopefully someone who also shares an interest in Depeche Mode, who wouldn't mind adopting 2.5 kids from rural China, and maybe, just maybe, who doesn't ask himself why they didn't finish off the coloreds, handicapped, and free-thinkers while they were at it with the Jews back in the forties.

Essentially, I feel it is our duty as CU students (read...as middle class white kids, desperately seeking that one last minority group still on the fringe of society) to make life more fun for these sad, hopeless basketcases of sexual dysfunction. Making them strip down on a regular basis, beat the crap out of one another, and charging money to watch...hey, it's not too different from the life they might have had. And just look around....we got to put nearly all the other groups on display for cheap thrills: gay nightclubs, all female schools. Why stop with hermaphrodites? Even cuter: that they’ll all think they're being empowered.