• Join The Fed
• Advertise with The Fed

• About Us
• Contact

In This Issue

• The Colombia Spectador... Online!
• President Bollinger Cancels Barnard
• Locals Don't Care About J.J. Food
• Allegations of Animal Intimidation Rock MEALAC Professors, Laboratories
• Six-Year Old Held in Terror Scare
• Saving the World, One iPod at a Time
• Letters to the Feditors
• A Slow Descent into Health
• Eat Shit and Die - or Learn to Love It
• Cholera Gives Me That Lovin' Feeling, Diarrhea
• An Open Letter to My Unborn Son
• Disorders to Earn You Psych Services' Lovin'
• On Dieting
• Bladder Stones and Other Terrors
• The Life and Times of Deranged Freak Babies
• Is It Abuse, or Is It Medical Care? See for Yourself!
• A Fed Tradition Continues Unfettered
• Johnny Cash Conquers the Martians
• Neverland Ranch v. Pleasure Island
• Marauding Interviewer
• THEY Watch
• The Staff of 20.7

Michael Bredin

Rob Notwicz

A couple weeks ago in Lit Hum, a smart-looking guy brought up the Gabriel García Marquez classic Love in the Time of Cholera. I smiled and nodded like I knew what the hell he was talking about, hoping he wouldn't turn to me.

"You ever read that book, Chas?" he asked.

"Huh?" I said. I felt the flop sweat of the uncultured freshman pouring down my back. "Oh! Sure! Love. Cholera. Lust and intestinal bacteria. That sorta thing. Gotcha. Oh, and it's in Spanish."

I smiled, thinking I'd once again narrowly outfoxed the ad hoc grievance committee investigating my suspicious acceptance at Columbia.

On my way home, I caught a unionized disease from a passing grad student. I lay in bed for a good three days, dreams of angry South American authors dancing in my head. I mean, love is all well and good, but in the time of cholera? That's pretty awful. You could walk by someone and think you're hooked, when in fact all you've got is a digestive disease that could kill you in hours. How, I wondered in my feverish state, would you tell the difference if you got one of them?

After recovering, thanks to a healthy dose of antibiotics and strikebreakers, I set out to discern the difference between love and cholera, using the trusty internet. I've designed a list of frequently asked questions to tell you, privileged reader, how to diagnose yourself!

Q: Yesterday, my boyfriend of two years broke up with me over the phone. He'd been cheating on me with some dancer in Jersey City for a month or two. I'm sitting here in my room with pictures of him on my wall, but can't bring myself to take them down. I want to get him to come back, but I don't know how. Am I a lost cause?

A: Not if you get to the doctor, and I mean now. You might be of an A or B blood type, which helps slow the disease, but as you speak, bacteria of the genus Vibro cholerae are munching away at your intestinal tract. Have you consumed raw or uncooked shellfish in the past few days? Seek medical attention immediately, and make sure no others come into contact with your bodily discharges.

Q: I keep going out to bars with this girl. It started casually, but I've really fallen for her, and she keeps dropping hints that she likes me too... but I just don't know for sure! I can't really articulate how I feel about her because I get all nervous inside. I feel all light-headed even trying to make eye contact. What should I do?

A: The Center for Disease Control's website lists this simple rule: "Boil it, cook it, peel it, or forget it." Obviously, you didn't "forget it," because now you're a festering pool of bacterium. Remember, rapid loss of bodily fluids might cause shock, so the best solution for you is convincing someone to give you intravenous water as soon as possible. If you have a friend with cystic fibrosis, they might be able to nurse you back to health, as they are virtually immune to the disease.

Q: Today in chem lab, this girl smiled and waved at me. I shrugged it off. After the lab, I bumped into her on the way out. She seemed nice enough, but when I tried to ask if she wanted to go get some coffee, I couldn't get the words out! Then, while walking home, my legs crumpled under me, I started throwing up violently, and wound up passing out on the steps of the library in a puddle of my own digestive discharge. What's wrong?

A: Hey, relax, buddy! The only sickness you've got is lu-u-u-ve sickness. You should consider talking with this girl. See if you have any common interests. She obviously thinks you're worth a smile! And, I mean, who hasn't passed out in the dehydrating stupor that love causes? Happy trails, you lucky dog!