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In This Issue

• Spec to Columnist: Blow Yourself
• Vote Phil "Shuttlecock" Steigman
• Magic Cards Not Key to Happy Sex Life
• Letters to the Editor
• FU Foundation Unveils New Logo Wear
• Lerner Elevators vs. ROLM phones - The Final Battle
• Regime Change at The Fed
• Whoah It's A Scary Roach!
• Nerd Wizard Levels Up on Girl at Bar
• A Pleasant Star Wars DVD Fantasy
• Imaginary Superhuman Boyfriend Tell-All!
• Marauding Interviewer: Will You Take These Pills?
• Make Your Own Flamethrower or AIDS Drugs From the Web
• Freshman Magical Mystery Tour of Columbia
• Erotic Mad Libs
• Adventures of Ice Bitch II
• Catch As Catch Can
• Stickman Theatre
• Lord of The Rings Party
• Dining at Columbia, Mob Style
• Crane Droppings
• THEY WATCH

Matt Holden

I've only been a Columbia student for a few weeks, and I already despise The Spectator, both paper and staff. After directly suffering from the geeky sexual repression among the Specs, I must inform the public that the proverbial clits of The Spectator are dry, as well as advocate the destruction, nay, total deletion of the flimsy rag that is The Spec.

Now, for the five W's: In my lonely, hung over state this summer, I putzed around on the Internet constantly. Travelling through interspace, I found websites which helped Columbia kids “get to know each other.” That phrase rings with sex, but we’ll get to that part later. On one of these sites, I wrote my very personal and lame life tales. Naturally, a lot of these tales were sexually related. Consequently, someone suggested I become The Spectator's sex columnist. Apparently, last year’s columnists sucked. The necessary contacts were made, and I wrote a “try out” article providing blowjob suggestions and techniques. I took real sex to a whole new level, for I am as well versed in my craft as that old broad on Oxygen, not to blow my own imaginary shlong or anything. The Spec, however, did not think so, as I was rejected. I suppose this confirms our suspicions about how nervous the Spec kids are about sex. Are we to assume that Spec men are NOT sex men? Is any guy dating a Spec chick left high and dry when it comes to the cumpipe? We obviously need not guess anymore, for the truth has been revealed.

Thus, here is my advice to dudes with Spec girlfriends: Leave them.

The columnist they have hired instead of me is spouting candles-and-rose-petals mumbo jumbo. That cliche outlook on sex is imaginary; not imaginary in that awesome hardcore porn way, but in that fairytale shit way. What guy comes home piss drunk on a Thursday night with a random Barnard chick and takes time out to light a candle? None. Every random piss-drunk guy will want some head though, and I was ready to provide young ladies with the information necessary to satisfy their drunken CC or SEAS men. I even took that extra step and gave “Deep Throating: Not a Magic Trick Anymore!” suggestions: “You ladies want to give your subject an extra dose of wow? Deep throating is NOT as hard (although your man's member will be) as you may think. Position is very important: having your head on TOP of the penis is a great position for deep throating. Then, while going down on the cock, inhale. That will help a lot, and remember our motto, practice makes jizz-storms!” The Spectator crew, not content to miss out on plain old fucking, dismissed any shot of getting or giving stellar head as well.

While the Spec sex column only gives details about how to make your sex life seem as cinemax-porn as possible (but at least those girls APPEAR to be giving BJ’s), I am here telling you that a wet night is better than a romantic one. The mouths (and shafts) of Spectator writers are unfortunately dry, and with my absence will remain so. Serves them right. Serves them right.

I didn’t carelessly toss the word blowjob around. I also used the word fellatio, which is very classy. As such, one can only assume that Spec kids are not down with good old-fashioned cock teasing, as my article-that-never-was claimed, “Simple kisses on the inner thigh of any guy will drive him insane, and you ladies will have plenty of proof in just a few short minutes!” I also went into the now popular putting-on-a-condom-with-your-mouth trick: “The key is sucking, the key is always sucking. While holding the rim of the condom in your mouth, pulling the rest of it inward will make for a problem free application! Try it tonight!”

I was given no real explanation as to why I was shot down after what seemed like a wonderful exchange. Barnard ladies, any advice? All I received was a one-sentence e-mail a few weeks later, saying that I couldn’t be offered the position, but to try out some sort of Opinion shit. The Spec has a case of what I in my expertise like to call “The Fear.” Spectator staffers are strange creatures whose brains actually control their genitals. I wish to be associated with no one of the sort, and neither should any of you. The sexless Spec is trying to stomp out our dreams of bombass blowjobs and what my next article would have explained, crazy cunnilingus.

In closing, I must warn all of you, whenever you men are having a hard time keeping it up because of a lousy BJ, or whenever you women are gagging, running to the bathroom, don’t blame yourselves—blame the Spectator, the clear source of any sexual mishap or sucky sexual experience; sucky, as in horrible. And remember, you may say “FUCK THE SPEC’”, but I say, DON’T fuck any Spec members. They won’t know how to work the sweet meat, and their procreation must be stopped, NOW.