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In This Issue

• What To Do With Books
• Craigslist Finds New Ways to Disturb
• Ovary Mining: Profit In Your Pants
• Letters to the Feditors
• Experience? Uh, no
• Sitting On Babies?
• The Internet = Porn. Porn = The Fed. Logically...
• "Which Came First, the Chicken or the Dregs?"
• Hey, Athletes! Need a Team? Call Me Ishmael.
• Hot Sex? Meh. Mock Interviews? Ooo Yeah, Baby.
• Swipe, Suffer, Suffocate
• From The Desk of Lee "El Cuisinart" Bollinger
• Practice Protectionism in the Bedroom
• Living at the Speed of 2.99x10^8 m/s
• Sensitivity Training Averts Termination
• Congrats, You're Fucked
• The Hierarchy of Columbia
• THEY Watch

Kimi Traube

Suggestive sporting activities! Endangered species! What more could you ask for?

Ahoy there, matey! For you land lubbers that means "Hello, there, matey". There is an important topic that I would like to discuss with you today. As many of you know, Columbia is a world leader in college sports. We are revered from here to Princeton for our athleticism, devotion and drive. Why, just this year we actually won a football game! And we even dominate many less popular sports, such as women's archery and fencing. Now, some of you naysayers might think that these two sports are too antiquated and that we are wasting out endowment on them. Currently, Columbia University spends roughly $840 million (that's $986 million Canadian) on our Division I fencing and archery teams, or so a drunken SEAS ‘07 class treasurer told me while I was researching this article. But all this money is being spent for good reasons, people. For the day will come soon, my fellow Columbians, when we will launch into a battle with some other Ivy, say Brown, and it will be reminiscent of the Hundred Years war between England and France. Imagine it: the steep streets of Providence, Rhode Island running red with blood as our highly trained army of fencers and female archers slaughter those core-curriculum-free bastards. We will dominate mercilessly. It will be as if Genghis Khan came back from the dead, became his high school newspaper's editor, got a 1510 on his SATs, applied to Columbia ED, got in and ravaged the world all over again. No one will be able to challenge us. Harvard will, inevitably, attempt to question our power, but we will ride through Cambridge and sack their precious ivy-covered gates and ravish their over-achieving women. But, my friends, we cannot end there. It is not good enough that Columbia dominate the Ivies in the ways of medieval warfare, no! To ensure the stability and prosperity of our fair university, and the liquor stores that depend on its students, we must fully dominate in all aspects of antiquated competition. Where should we begin? The answer, my friends, is clear. Columbia University needs to start a whaling team.

    This would be far less complicated than it might seem. We already have a rowing team and a sailing team, so we have people who know how to manage a boat and people who can toil as slaves rowing below the deck. We have all those archers and, I know this from personal experience, operating a harpoon is no more difficult than operating a bow and arrow. Every weekend, they could go out in New York bay and hunt the various species of whale that thrive near our fair shores. Think of it. It's a glorious, golden afternoon. You spot a ship on the horizon, sailing up the Hudson. The team lands, hops a shore and drags a 60-ton, 55-foot long sperm whale carcass to the top of the steps in front of Low. We could carve up the beast and have a great, drunken bacchanal every Sunday night.

Of course, we wouldn't want to exhaust our resources by using only rowing, sailing and archery team members. We would inevitably have to recruit some veteran whalers. You thought football players were big and tough? Imagine having a 7-foot tall, 55-year-old grizzled sea dog for a roommate. He would probably also smell like rotting fish. Who wouldn't want that? These old mateys would end up just being another part of Columbia. You would probably have a couple whalers in your Contemporary Civilizations class. They would raise their hands every once in a while and say something profound like "arrrrgh, you talk about modern, Muslim nations that are our allies, but I thought that all Muslims hated us. Nar, har har har har". The whaling recruits would probably start a frat, too, called like RDRR. And once a month the whaling frat would sponsor wrestling in a tub of freshly shorn blubber from their latest kill and drunken girls with poor self-esteem would chomp at the bit to fight each other in a pile of aquatic mammal fat. Would that be glorious?

 I know at least I would want to do whaling for a P.E. credit or something. And think of all the new rivalries we would start! We would slough off our old rivalries with Princeton, Penn and Brown and start new ones with the University of Northern Svalbaard, Norway or with the Technical College of Greenland. Man, I fuckin' hate those Greenlandian bastards. They think they are such hot shit ‘cause they are located at the nexus of several whale migration routes. I hate those fucking Nordic cocksuckers.

    But in the long run, the whaling team is just a jump off point in our quest to rule the competitive world of Ivy-League Old World-style competitions. Who knows, if the whaling team is as successful as I think it's going to be, we could start like, a jousting team or a chivalry squad. We could even make catching bubonic plague or burning heretics at the stake competitive sports. The possibilities are limitless. But I need your help, loyal Fed readers, to get this dream off the ground. Write letters to Bollinger, Galil and Quigley. Start a massive protest, do something. Columbia is calling for it with the song of the humpback whale, who, incidentally, provide the best wrestling blubber.