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In This Issue

• Scandal Pol Denies It All
• Hipster Ironic Since Age 14
• Baby Names May Be Lame
• AIDS Continues Dance Marathon Win Streak
• Jeff Sachs, Meet Anna Nicole
• Tales of the Inexpressible: Plumbing
• Iraq Gets Improbably Pale Spring Break Vacationers
• Compare, Contrast.
• Pics Worth 978 Words
• A Primer for the Primaries
• SEXILED: The Board Game
• Online Dating Adventures
• Well Bread
• Men Secretly Letting Their Hair Down and Asses Up
• Anthropomorphism
• Lerner Hall: Time to Take Out The Trash
• Fed Bash, Fed Bash, Fed Bash

Fellow Columbians,

In announcing my candidacy for next year’s Columbia College Student Council, I have agreed to subject my past and present beliefs and behaviors to intense scrutiny. Am I the sort of student capable of organizing the weekly affairs of such a complex student body with aplomb and panache and e-mails dedicated to my own particular blend of inoffensively manic humor?

The answer, undoubtedly, is yes, and that is why I, James Fennelick Prestwich IV, am running for Student Body President! But in hoisting this arduous task onto my broad, manly, hair-free shoulders, I feel I must make a full disclosure of my knowledge of the vicious, untrue rumors that have circulated about me in the back channels of the campus bureaucracy. I cannot stand idly by as the whispers of my embittered fellow council members suck the wind from my sails like so much flavored vodka through a twisty straw at the Amsterdam Café! Therefore I have compiled a list of declarations, specifically and categorically denying the untruths that my sniveling subordinates on the CCSC ballot now bandy about with such abandoned bandiment.

1. While participating on a panel for prospective candidates for the Class of 2010 Council election, I did not offer Marcia Glystone CC ‘10 my services as her “personal campaign manager,” nor did I offer to “up her poster quota for a little something–something.” Upon her purported refusal, I most certainly did not shout, “Well, all you’d have to do is put your big tits on a flier to have them eating out of your size-DD cups.” Ms. Glystone’s cup size is only a single D.

2. I never referred to the e-mails sent to my office by Dean Katherine Yatrakis as “Yatrak-Attacks,” nor did I state that removing vowels from her name would make her into a great Scrabble word. Dean Yatrakis is a valuable and caring member of the Columbia University community, and her name, if proper nouns are allowed, is easily placed when your opponent finishes a word with an “s” or “y”—allowing you to net the bonus fifty points for using all seven of your own tiles.

3. I did not eat any of the so-called “Nazi crackers” left on campus by a person or persons unknown (personally, I suspect the General Studies Student Council), nor did I comment about those crackers to any colleagues during the event, “These sure would taste better with some cheese or some yarmulkes or something.”

4. I did not call the Roving Reporter division of the Spectator, ask the editor to dinner as a ruse, and then beat him violently and leave him in Riverside Park without his wallet to make it appear as though he had been the victim of a violent mugging after he misquoted me on January 23, 2005. The non-lethal fatwa I issued against him was rescinded this past February, and he has since been seen at least twice out of his own basement.

5. On the subject of the Spectator, I have never found nor will ever find “The Rolling Eye” funny.

6. During mandatory anti-oppression training this past fall, I did not mutter, “Be diligent, or be deported!” during a speech on international student participation. Tangentially, I also deny involvement in the incidents of November 3, 2006, wherein a SEAS sophomore of Asian decent knifed Class Representatives Darling and Laurie (both CC ‘08) after they attempted to kidnap him for use as an “Econ slave.”

7. I have never uttered the phrase “I’m bringing sexy back,” either ironically or unironically. I am also not a fan of Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy.” “My Love,” however, is acceptable.

I hope these statements “clear the air,” so to speak, of these traumatic past events and bring you to a new understanding of my honest platform. Remember: vote for James Fennelick Prestwich IV this election season—because the Ivy League should have someone in charge whose boots have been shined exclusively by minorities! Drinks, cocktail weiners, and primo coke will now be served.