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In This Issue

• DeLovely? DeLorean.
• What Would Future You Do?
• What Are Your Plans For That Junk?
• Letters to the Editors
• The Adventures of Young Boy and Park Girl in 4-D
• Hipsters Remember Awkward Tweens at Brooklyn Bar
• You Can Call Me Ishmael Anytime
• Oh, Take Me Over Awkwardly
• People Know Me. Cool People.
• Not Even Time Thwarts Yo Mama
• I Plan To Own The Future
• How to Write Love Poems for Girls Who Can Read
• Lies My Robots Told Me
• My Ears Are Bleeding! Wait, That's Just My Vagina.
• Veritas Forum Takes Stand Against Death
• Too Jewish to Play Ska?
• Damned Interface Technology!
• The Church of Timeology
• THEY WATCH
• The Staff of 21.5

Kimi Traube

Let me tell you, Paul Giamatti, you don't know sideways. These doors, bitch, open sideways. Side-fucking-ways!

Whenever I tell anyone that I've got a time machine, it's always the same questions. Are you going to assassinate Hitler? Are you going to save Kennedy? You've gotta meet Jesus! You know what I say to that: No, no, and no. Just because I've got a time machine doesn't mean I'm the Last Action Hero. I don't want to get into any car chases, I don't want to have to tangle with some dude named Biff and I definitely don't want my past-mom checking me out! In fact, I don't even care about time traveling. I bought the time machine for one reason and one reason only: because DeLoreans fucking rock.

    The doors open sideways! Sideways! Imagine this little scene. You pull up to the club, Bentley in front of you, Porsche in back, Versace suits waiting in line, and "Damn, is that dude coming out of his car or is his car coming out of him? He must be an astronaut!" And that's what people call me ever since I bought my DeLorean-the Astronaut. It's really the only name I answer to these days. I changed all my checks to read "The Astronaut" and hung up on my mom when she refused to stop calling me Larry and started bugging me about the rent again.

    Now, as you can imagine, with a DeLorean, the girls are just drawn to me. They're always asking if I'm from the future and I'm like "No bitch, it's called Queens." But, once they notice the hunk of plutonium encased by the gearshift, the jig's up and I have to tell them that it's a real time machine. Then they start begging me to take them back to the sinking of the Titanic so they can meet Leonardo DiCaprio. Look, I don't need that kind of competition! I didn't buy a DeLorean to duke it out with DiCaprio for the poon. And if it isn't the past, they want to go to the future and find out who they're going to be married to and, let me tell you, once they see the future and they get all lovey dovey about being married there's just no chance of them putting out. So what do I do instead? I get her in the car, crank up the awesome stereo and let the DeLorean do the talking. We stare at the plutonium for awhile. I take it out of the casing and we pass it back and forth, taking a few licks, getting a little loose, you know what I mean? Then I hit her up with some fast facts about the D-Machine, reminding her about just how sideways the doors really open (134 degree angle!). It's like they never even had a chance.

    You know who else didn't have a chance? The dude who backed his Camry into the D-Machine. I was all like, "What's up? This is a fucking DeLorean. You don't hit a DeLorean, any Delorean, much less my DeLorean!" And the guy was all like, "Let's exchange insurance information" and "Why'd you park diagonally in the middle of the carpool lane?", talking all kinds of shit. For a Camry owner, this guy had balls. Luckily, I keep a tire iron in the trunk of the D-Machine. So I opened the trunk (sideways mind you!) and took the tire iron to his Camry. I'm not a mean guy, but damn, anyone who owns a Camry is a tool. I really did him a favor. Maybe now he'll get a cool car and stop being such a douchebag.

     Time travel? I can take it or leave it. Owning a DeLorean? It just doesn't get any better. I mean, really, why go back into the past and run the risk of somehow becoming my own grandpa when all I have to do is roll up in the D-Machine, open and close the side doors a few times and all the poon this side of the L.I.E. is mine?