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In This Issue

• Water On The Knee
• The Annihilator of Mathematics
• Demonic Speak-n-Spell
• The Fed Interviews Jon Voight
• Letters to the Feditors
• Sam Jenning, or: Eating Children For Profit
• Immigrate This!
• Where In Our Hearts Is Carmen Sandiego?
• The Life and Times of Carmen Sandiego
• Redder Rabbit?
• Good Golly Fucking Gumdrops, I Like Candy!
• The City’s New Hot, Sexy, Superhot Nightclub!
• Where's Waldo?
• Logical Journey into Eugenics
• Think Columbia Sucks? It's Your Fault, Doofus.
• A Farewell to Harms
• A Farewell To Bill
• Tracy Briskit, Fed Queen
• Make Your Own Safe Space!
• Columbia Trail: Safe Space, Bathroom in 347 miles
• Cook with Barney!
• THEY Watch
• The Staff of 21.8
• The Staff of Volume 21

Ria Mar-Fan

When I was but a young freshman, I had these ludicrous ideas that when you hurt another living being, said being had to be confined to your uterus. As in, "my body, my choice." So I limited my articles to annihilating the hell out of fetuses and embryos. (And, at that point, only to first and second trimester ones. I was a conservative young froshie,)

Yet after a while, I put away childish things. I realized that to limit myself to destroying only organisms that belonged to my body was stupid. By semester four, I learned that infanticide was totally okay. Just so long as it was limited to yucky, conservative Republican babies. I decided to take a lesson from Moses' mom, Oedipus' parents, and the whole of the Chinese people. Getting rid of living babies was okay—just as long as you had a really good reason for it.

In semester five, I realized that it was rather shortsighted to focus my energies on killing just babies and pre-babies. You could do so much more damage by torturing them while they were alive. Operating on the "my body, my choice" idea, I decided that if I were to warp my body while said babies were still in utero, it would be ethical – nay, über-ethical. With that, we got freak babies. Because maybe feeding babies Drano and Windex is wrong. But ingesting Drano, Windex, and perhaps a bit of thalidomide when you're preggers is totally kosher! Next stop: all kinds of weird and wonderful children. Another thing I learned is that having babies isn't so bad. It's not like you need to plan for them, when they're freak babies. Forget unnecessary things like cribs and diaper genies. All you need is a closet with a leaf to simulate its natural environment.

By semester seven, I was nearing the end of my college career. By that time, my greatest lesson was that people are often willing to pay you to do weird things to babies. They might even pay you enough to finance your whole college career, provided that you're a white Anglo-Saxon with proper body proportions who doesn't smoke. Yes, I was chock full of eggs. Not the Cadbury kind, mind you, but the money-making ones.

In semester eight, I came to the pith of how to warp babies. For one thing, it wasn't just babies anymore, but children. When you learn how to compromise your morals and ethics as far as I had, it's not too much of a stretch to do things to already-born, differentiated human beings. I learned one thing about children. They're adaptable. Malleable, even. You can cram them into refrigerators like so many Tetris blocks because their bones aren't fully developed. You can also sell them to other people who might do abusive things to them, especially if the children are ugly and foreign.

So the end result is that kids are funny. I learned a lot about them in my tenure at the Fed. I also made a lot of fabulous friends and great memories. Among other things, when cats fuck, it's painful. Like Dick Cheney. My orifices are full of wonderment and fishes. And when you get ovarian cancer, it smells a great deal like sulfur.