Looking for new writers and graphic designers!
Come to our meetings every Sunday night at 9:00pm 5th floor of Lerner (near the student
government office).
All are welcome.
Buy a T-Shirt
Do you love animals? Or sodomy? Then buy a Fed T-shirt!
About Us
We have a long and storied history. Learn more about us...
In This Issue
- Letter From the Editor
- They Watch
- Alcohol.edu Valedictorian Gets Schwasty
- Student Spots Celeb and Doesn’t Flip a Shit; Friends Doubt Her Sanity
- Columbia College First-Year Picks Worst Chair in Classroom
- Columbiascopes
- Class Clown’s Unexpectedly Well-Conceived Joke Falls Flat in LitHum Class
- Tweets of the Week
- Black Friday: A Nocturnal Dad In The AM
- The First Danksgiving Miracle
- Santa Claus is actually Jewish
- What Do You Think?
- “A Rugrats Chanukah” Cures Anti-Semitism
- The Yellow Term Paper
- #ivyleagueproblems
- If You Tweet in the Forest, Does it Make a Sound?
- New Elder Scrolls Game Released “For Nefarious Pro-Capitalist Agenda,” Crackpot Says
- Dance for me, Millie
- How to Increase the Utility of Your Bathroom When You're Shitfaced
- Adventures on DateMySchool.com
- Decoded
- Ask Mark
- Heart2Heart “Facebook Official”
- Reviews of Movies We Haven't Seen Yet: Jack and Jill
- “American Horror Story” is Actually Crazy
- “Dance Moms”: Small Girls, Big Hair
Columbia College First-Year Picks Worst Chair in Classroom
Conor Skelding
Xavier Martin, CC ‘15, has now attended nearly a full semester of Literature Humanities classes, all in seminar room Hamilton 408. For sixteen 110 minute seminar sessions, Martin managed to pick any of the dozen or so solid, wooden chairs surrounded the oak kitchen table. “I had no idea how lucky I’d been in all those classes. I’d just been stumbling into the right chairs,” Martin explains.
That lucky streak ended last Wednesday, at the seventeenth class. Martin, instead of picking any of the wooden chairs which had served him so well in the past, instead settled on a supposedly better option.
“I saw the black felt cushion, and JJ’s hasn’t been kind to my behind, so I wanted the extra comfort.”
Extra comfort he did not get-- for, at the break, Martin got up to go to the bathroom. That’s when hell broke loose. As he arose from his unconventional seat, the chair squeaked.
“It was the felt, I swear, guys. I didn’t fart.” Martin wanted to explain. Instead, he stared into a circle of distrustful eyes and shuffled out of the room.
“I could go either way on this,” remarked Martin’s classmate, Saundra Peterson, CC ‘15. On the one hand, who would fart on the way to the bathroom; on the other, he would totally fart on the way to the bathroom.
Richard Stevens, also CC ‘15, took a harder line, saying, “I bet that little bitch was letting out squeakers the whole first half, just waiting for break so he could unload Wilma’s omelette. I know his game.”
As of press time, Martin had not yet returned to class.