October 30, 2006 - Dolphin Student Group Web Accounts

First Call
Magazine
OCT 30, 2006
Volume 7, No. 5
6
FIRST
All Hallow’s Eve
LOOK
Lauren Saul
Lauren teleports herself into the male
mind and pretends to be two guys at
once. Happy Halloween.
15
FC Dispatch: Syria
Lena Zurkiya
Lena gets ripped off and ripped on as
a student in one of the oldest inhabited cities in the world.
4
Putting your Heart on the Line
benny laitman
Benny plays the celibacy game. Does doing it over IM count?
10
my brief foray as a semi-luddite
12
fairly unbalanced
kelly cataldo
Pre-game plus motherboard equals one painful week of computer-free
celibacy.
andrew pederson
When cable news needs all of your perspective.
14
movie makes hours of your life disappear
16
CrossWord: things that scare you shitless
mark leung
Pulling the rabbit out: Mark reviews The Prestige
the editors
cover: boo, krystal godines
Contact
FIRST CALL, Kelly Writer’s House
3805 Locust Walk, Philadelphia, PA 19104
www.firstcallmagazine.com
letters@firstcallmagazine.com
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006
Contributors
Editors-in-Chief: Lauren Saul, Anna Stetsovskaya. • Executive Editors: Andrew Pederson, Shira Bender
Assistant Editors: Adam Goodman, Isaac Katz • Design Editor: Michael Sall • Layout Editor: Krystal Godines
Business Manager: Anna Tolmach • Webmaster: Tim Potens • Artists: Shira Bender
Contributing Writers: Lauren Saul, Lena Zurkiya, Benny Laitman, Kelly Cataldo, Andrew Pederson, Mark Leung
Layout Staff: Ashwin Shandily • Photographers: Krystal Godines, Jin Lee
LETTER FROM
THE EDITORS
Dear Pennizens,
Sophomore year, a member of my
Management 101 group showed up to
a meeting with a two inch gash on his
forehead. At the end of the meeting, I
timidly asked, “What happened to your
forehead?” He looked up for a second,
then away, and replied “Uh, let’s just say it
involved a beer bottle.”
For some bizarre reason, this is not an
isolated incident. According to the Daily
Pennsylvanian, two seniors allegedly
struck another in the head from behind
with a beer bottle. The sharp object cut
off half of the victim’s ear. Granted, the ear
was not bitten off in an Evander Holyfield
rematch, but what’s the difference? A kid
is missing part of his ear. How’s that for a
friendly night out at Copabanana?
The pacifist within me shudders.
What argument could have led to such a
tragedy? Women, booze, calculus? Perhaps
they were settling a gambling bet.
I always wonder what happens to
these Penn criminals. Not the guy who
stole your laundry after you left it in the
Quad washing machine for a full week,
but actual criminals. Let’s see here: people
having sex in high rise windows, people
tar and feathering Princeton students
and threatening to light them on fire,
people “accidentally” winding up in a
strange female’s room, the people on trial
for murder, the people caught kicking a
female Democratic protester in the head
at a Republic convention. You know, the
kind real cops care about.
At first, you go private on Facebook,
take a few weeks off of school, talk to
grandma about a cash advance for a
retainer, get your attorneys together and
finally haul ass to court. People discuss
them for a little while, mayhap post some
Tootles,
Anna
Editor in Chief
EDITORIAL
POLICY
F irst C all is the undergraduate
magazine of the U niversity of
P ennsylvania published every
other M onday . O ur mission
is to provide members of the
community an open forum for
expressing ideas and opinions .
T o this end , we , the editors of
F irst C all , are committed to a
policy of not censoring opin ions . A rticles are provided by
regular columnists and writ ers . T hey are chosen for pub lication based on the quality
of writing , and , in the case of
commentaries , the quality of
argumentation .
O utside of the
editorial and other editorial
content , no article represents
the opinion of
F irst C all ,
its
editorial board , or individual
F irst C all other
than the author . N o content
in F irst C all unlessotherwise
members of
stated represents the official
position
of
the
administra -
tion , faculty , or student body
at large of the
U niversity
of
P ennsylvania .
m
s
i
all
rstc
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ignorant comments on the DP website
and after a few rounds of ritualistic
public shaming, the fire dies down. But
what happens to them after? In the case
of Tar-and-Feather, you come back and
speak at NSO about not tar and feathering
students in the future. Was that part of
the settlement? Next year, will freshmen
have an orientation speaker telling them
how not to hit people in the face with beer
bottles?
I imagine your real friends would still
talk to you and your parents, of course.
And money talks: a hefty bank account
certainly has something to do with a
return to normalcy. In between paying the
lawyers, paying Penn, and taking time off
to “find yourself,” being a criminal at Penn
certainly adds up.
I’ve never actually bothered to follow
up on these miscreants. Aside from the fact
that I am not a stalker (in the conventional
sense), usually you just feel bad for these
people. So a few friends got drunk, had
an altercation and wound up in front of
a judge. It’s shocking at first, pitiful later,
yet ultimately forgettable. Perhaps this
is exactly what Penn criminals need—a
little time away from the limelight and a
little time to get their normal name back
and come up with witty rebuttals to say at
parties.
In closing, this Halloween, let’s avoid
real brutality as much as possible. Stick
to the fake blood: it’s cheaper (in terms
of medical bills), kitschier (always a plus)
and easier to get out of your newfound
“friend’s” sheets. Happy Pumpkin Slut
Day!
What came first:
the phone or phone sex?
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006 Putting your heart on the line
making long distance relationships work
Benny Laitman
L
ong distance relationships in
college: myth or reality? It’s a good
question, seeing as it always seems
to pose a problem for some as they
leave their high school sweethearts,
go abroad or even transfer. Even if it
hasn’t affected you yet, I am sure that
it will sometime in the near future, or
your roommate will wake you up at
two AM with teary eyes and a ton of
stories.
And I’m not just sitting here
talking from an outsider’s point of
view. I too am in a long distance
relationship. My girlfriend, Megan,
goes to the University of Michigan,
in a land far, far away from here. We
have been going out for a long time
now—almost three years—longer
than many people are together before
they get married. So far, things seem
to be working. We are still together
and plan to stay that way. But I am not
going to lie; it has been really difficult.
It’s difficult to find time to interact,
and we do occasionally fight and
yell—mostly because we aren’t seeing
each other. It’s sad, yes, but eventually
I get to see her, and all is well. We
didn’t even start college with the
decision that we were going to remain
exclusive. However, as time went on,
we just fell back into this relationship.
Based on my positive experience so far,
I would like to call myself a believer in
long distance relationships.
On the contrary, there are an
overwhelming number of people
who are overtly against long distance
relationships. One freshman told me
that they are to be “avoided them at
all costs. The inability to talk directly
to my girlfriend or be with her would
sadden me every time that I’d think of
her.” When pressed further, I learned
that these thoughts most likely arose
from his fear that the relationship
would “become one sided.” Seth
Shapiro, a junior in the college,
agreed with this freshman. He said:
“I personally do not feel long distance
relationships work and would never
look to get involved in one if I could
control it. One of the best things
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006
about being in a relationship is the
comfort of having that person in your
presence and being able to interact
with them one on one. However, if
there are couples out there that can
make it work, I give them a ton of
credit and praise their efforts. I just
know that personally I would have to
be head over heels for this person for
it be worth my while.”
One sophomore who wishes to
remain nameless (for good reason,
as you will soon see) had only bad
things to say about long distance
relationships: “I don’t believe in
them. Too much work and no play if
you know what I mean.” Insensitive
as it sounds, this is actually the
common belief for many of the male
(and female) students on campus. If
they aren’t getting any, then it’s not
worth their time. It’s college, right?
The time to experiment? The time to
get shitfaced one night and end up
in a one night stand, or, for the more
adventuresome, a lesbian ménage à
trois? I have heard interesting stories
about what people do to experiment
during their college years—why
would anyone want to ruin it with a
boyfriend or girlfriend a few hundred
miles away? A freshman in nursing,
Sarah Gearhart, stated similar beliefs:
“I know from very recent experience
that they don’t work unless both
people really, truly desire to make
them work. They may not be the best
choice for college students because
we’re so young, and we need to have
more experience with relationships
as opposed to committing to one
person so early on.” Yes, it’s far from
the outrageous sexcapades I listed,
but she seems to agree with this lack
of commitment.
Maybe people are just afraid to
commit. It’s a difficult thing, especially
when we are so young. This isn’t the
nineteenth century, and no one wants
to be married off at 18. It’s a weird
position to be in to think that this is
the last person you are going to fall
in love with, and possibly the scariest
thing, that this is the last person you
are going to have sex with. I think
that is what scares us the most—the
fact that the possibilities for our next
great lay to be around the corner have
ended.
The prevailing wisdom seems to
indicate that whatever the sex is like
with that person, it is going to be that
way forever—so it better be good. But
this seems to be getting ahead itself.
How did a long distance relationship
suddenly become equated with
marriage? As Matt Difrancesco, a
freshman in engineering said,“it’s
simple.” “It’s a commitment. A really
tough commitment that takes a
lot of work.” People are afraid of it
because in order for a long distance
relationship to work, they have to give
a lot to it. If they have to give so much
to it, then it is obviously supposed to
go somewhere (possibly marriage);
but if it isn’t, then it’s just a waste of
time. And no one likes to waste time.
No one likes to work either. It seems
like a lose-lose situation.
Long distance relationships take
time and energy. A lot of energy. So
now you may be asking yourself why
I am not running for the hills. I too
am afraid of commitment at times,
it’s true. I have been through a lot of
things in my head and have had to
battle through difficult times with
my girlfriend, but we know in the end
that it’s best for us to be together. That
is what counts.
That is what it comes down
to—what is best for the couple. Seth
Shapiro, the junior I mentioned
before, also happens to be abroad
in Spain this semester. While he
personally, as his statement suggests,
is not in a long distance relationship,
he has a few friends over there who
are. Seth told me, with respect to his
friends, that “the response has been
varied. I have one friend who chose
not to go abroad for this reason among
others of course. I have another who
is keeping up the relationship just fine
through constant communication,
and I have yet another friend who was
having issues with the relationship he
had started before he left.” The gist, in
his words, is that “it really depends on
the nature of the relationship and the
future shared by the two.”
Indeed, it’s all about who is in it.
A sex-craved maniac isn’t going to last
in a long distance relationship, but a
diehard monogamist will do just fine.
The key thing is “that people have
to really want it to make it work”, as
freshman in the nursing school Dave
MacPhearson stated.
There does seem to be a few people
who share my apparently idealistic
view. Some people believe that things
like long distance relationships can
work. Some people believe in true love
and aren’t scared by commitment.
Some people don’t guide themselves
only by their sexual organs. One senior,
who wished to remain nameless, too
embarrassed by defying the mold,
said that he “believes undoubtedly
that long distance relationships can
work.”
Do I believe in true love? Sure, why
not? Am I scared of commitment? No,
not anymore. Do I guide myself by my
sexual organs? Hell yeah, but I know
when to keep it in my pants. That is
what I think is the most important
thing—the ability to hold back when
tempted. Temptation will arise.
What you do when it happens will
define whether or not you can be in
a long distance relationship. As Shira
Bender, a junior in the college, tells us
“long distance relationships are a good
idea for some, but not for all. They
can be done if they have a high level of
maturity and self confidence.” In the
end it’s a very personal decision, and
one which can have a lot of different
outcomes. Fortunately for me, I feel
I’ve been through the worst, and I
have made mine. FC
Benny Laitman is a freshman in the College.
You can write to him at laitman@sas.
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006 ,
All Hallow s eve
D
ear Pennpal:
This Saturday I was walking
home from Allegro’s when my eyes
caught a spot of brilliant red too
overwhelming for my freshman
self to overcome. My vision grew as
clouded as the cheese on a pizza pie,
and I crashed to the ruinous, spinning
pavement, purring cell phone in
hand.
I awoke in a state of confusion.
As I reopened my eyes, I was
Shakira’s latest piece of Latin pop
magic.
We freshmen were preparing to
unbuckle the shackles left over from
Parents’ Weekend. Only now were we
able to shed the constricting bonds of
loving mothers and fathers attending
our classes and soaking in the fresh,
young faces on Locust Walk enough to
create memories for a year’s worth of
vicarious living and excited references.
“Remember when your professor
we drank the local beverage of choice:
jungle juice. The autumn was ripe;
the packs of ten to fifteen had already
whittled down to a more respectable
size. The number du jour appeared
to be four, and many of these groups
were girls with a mission. House after
house was alight, and the residences
of the evening’s luckiest guys were
teeming with people desperate to
enter.
Everything started normally;
Dozens of scantily-clad brunette girls surround me,
women of the night and aspiring celebrities sporting
overwhelmed by my senses a second
time. Dozens of scantily-clad brunette
girls surrounded me: devils and
angels, high school rebels and hippies,
women of the night and aspiring
celebrities sporting Chanel sunglasses
in the darkness. I kicked my feet for a
moment, struggling to focus my eyes
on someone, anyone. Clarity was not
to be mine until a mighty, bicyclewielding man wearing bright yellow
and orange swooped in from riotous
Qdobaland, ready to rescue me.
Thank God for Specta Guards. But let
me tell you the whole story.
It was a cold night, and fishnet
stockings were roaming the streets. A
collective set of teeth was on edge, and
clothes were unceremoniously ripped
off as if convulsive teeth-chattering
would solve the palpable tension
that was dramatically pulsating from
called on you in Math 104? You and
Sebastian were so clever in doing that
integration problem.”
Away messages were carefully
and concisely designed, and the
world was newly aware that we were
“Outtttttttt…” for, like, the whole
night. Indeed, a diligently effortless
statement such as “I am away from
my computer right now” would not
suffice. In the days before Facebook’s
news feed told much, the primitive
AIM buddy list was the primary social
garbage collector. Back in the real
world, Pictures were ritualistically
snapped for future giggling purposes.
The pre-game was assiduously
played.
It was October 2003, and for
the class of 2007, it was our first
Halloween in the West Philadelphian
enchanted forest. Red cups in hand,
I was excited by my simultaneous
mastery of campus geography and the
Greek alphabet. I emerged from the
Quad sporting a collar more popped
than the collective bubble of precollege expectations in the Nipple.
After Greek Week, I was ready to join
a fraternity. My friends agreed, but
tonight we were all hoping that the
girls would notice us instead of that
Castle boy with the gigantic bedroom,
the plush leather couches and the
never-ending upgrade from jungle
juice.
Three crashed parties later,
and we had lost our optimism. My
khakis had juice stains, and my friend
Sebastian and I just wanted a slice
of pizza. Actually, any edible object
that would absorb excess alcohol
would have sufficed. We had our fill
and enjoyed watching groups of girls
by Lauren Saul
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006
attempt to walk inside and use the
bathroom without falling over. Then
we left. And that’s when it struck me.
I was exiting the outer doors
of Allegro’s. Sebastian was talking
about the night’s unattainable 10,
Becca Bickfeld. She was clearly into
some senior dude, but I was not about
to be the bearer of bad news when
Sebastian had more alcohol in him
than we could carry back from the
sketchy liquor store in our North Face
backpacks. You know, the one at 41st
and Market. So, I clamped my mouth
shut and prepared to keep it in that
position at least until we walked to
Zets.
Then I saw her. Pale skin, flaming
red hair and twinkling green eyes.
She was wearing a yellow polka-dot
bikini, and I was too far away to notice
any telltale signs of her humanity, like
the usual goose bumps and shivers.
Suddenly it was too much. Though
Twenty years earlier
Chris Jones was running around
the campus like an intoxicated
bat out of alcoholic hell. Girls cut
off their spandex leggings, spliced
their oversized shirts open for more
accessible viewing and were generally
enthused. Chris was in the throes of
his junior year. His three best friends
were studying abroad, and he alone
had to face the Halloween hookup
challenges. He was deeply frustrated,
though he was uncertain why. His
old girlfriend Janie told him chicks
feel this way all the time, but what the
hell. He isn’t some PMSing maniac.
Janie found some older grad student
MBA guy who was more “serious,”
or who was going to make more
money sooner. Whichever he chose
to believe. Euphemism or Madonnasung reality. Damn, that feeling of
frustration returned more powerfully
wannabe Goth girl told him if you
stumble over your feet while making a
right turn, you’d never find true love.
The McDonald’s odor pervaded his
nose. Some fries right might hit the
spot right now. Or a cheeseburger.
He walked into the McDonald’s,
meticulously avoiding the soda residue
and broken glass on the ground. As
he looked up and ordered meal #5,
his eyes met a clear, smiling green
pair of eyes surrounded by a mane of
radiant red. Wow, that alliteration is
sales-worthy, he mused. Radiant red.
Brilliant brunette. Yeah right, New
Jersey girls. Take that. “Brilliance.”
John Frieda, a few years later, would
put his formula behind it.
The next thing Chris knew, he was
lying on his right side in his bedroom,
and his empty stomach told him he
never ate that cheeseburger. His
housemate Alex, whom he stopped
hanging out with much after they both
devils and angels, high school rebels and hippies,
Chanel sunglasses in the darkness.
I don’t remember most of it, I’m told
I danced the night all the way away
and into a keg-induced coma. At
some point, a Specta Guard came and
biked me to the hospital, and they let
me sleep off my self-inflicted stupor
without contacting my parents.
Hurrah, Pennsylvania.
- Danny Stein
*
*
*
Days passed. Second midterms
came and went, and so did Rich
Girls. Sebastian had sworn to Danny
that he never even saw this brilliant,
mysterious redhead. Danny believed
him. After all, his friend could only
think of two things, and never both
at once: getting an A in Management
100 and Becca Bickfeld doing a naked
handstand. In a way he was grateful,
for he did not have to share his
memory of this red-haired chick with
any other male mind. As far as he
knew, he alone possessed all fantasies
of her.
*
*
*
than ever.
He tried to lose himself dancing
in the artificial disco light. The dead
deer on the wall kept staring at him,
its gaze familiar and unmoving. The
stupid freshmen girls around him
were all clones of the same annoying,
insecure whiny girl from New Jersey
or Long Island or wherever the hell
they said while he was not listening.
They always seemed to get mad when
he forgot, too. “You know what,” he
thought, “Tonight I can’t deal with
this bullshit. I’m getting out of here.”
He walked out of the place. Some
wannabe guy with Euro-hair dropped
a cheap beer on his foot, but Chris just
shrugged it off. He walked up Walnut
and waited at the light on 38th street.
Inebriation and jaywalking don’t mix,
his mind would always recall. No car
came, but he stood there obediently
until the light changed.
Soon he passed the CVS. Some
commotion was happening. He lived
at 40th and Sansom, so he was about to
turn right. Right turns always made
him nervous. Once in third grade a
went after some girl, who in retrospect
was totally useless, stood over him.
“Are you alright? Johnny found you
underneath the house, lying flat on
your stomach with a sun-shaped
corona of french-fries surrounding
your head.” Chris had no idea. How
did he get from McDonald’s to his
house? Did he eat the cheeseburger?
Where was the red-haired cashier?
By the time he got up, he was just
as angry as he was that night, three
days ago. He had no idea why he
slept for three days, but now he was
hopelessly behind in the week’s 1000
pages of pointless reading. And when
he turned the pages of Chaucer, the
only image his eyes could see was the
red hair. Charles in Charge blared
in the background. He switched to
the music on MTV. Why couldn’t
he graduate already, dammit. Or
his friends could at least come back,
so they could search for the elusive
redhead, or whoever the current target
was, together.
*
FIRST CALL
*
*
OCTOBER 30, 2006 I emerged from the Quad sporting a collar
more popped than the collective bubble
Present Day
This letter was found on the kitchen
table in a house in suburban Chicago.
Dear Michelle,
This year I couldn’t sit in our den
and watch Scream with you for the
twentieth time so that we could relive
our famous first date at the movies.
Johnny told a bunch of the guys that
this year they were going to have a
real Homecoming at Penn, since half
of us couldn’t make it the year after we
graduated. I didn’t tell you about the
trip because you were ice-cold to me
for the past four days, and I couldn’t
break the silence by telling you that I
had to leave on the weekend of your
birthday and of your favorite holiday,
Halloween.
I will be back on Sunday night. I
hope you enjoy Halloween with the
kids.
Best, Chris.
*
*
Chris walked out of Philadelphia
Airport, grabbed a cab and met his
friends in Rittenhouse Square. It was
Friday night and they all wanted to
get a steak and some good beer, for
old time’s sake. Johnny said Smith &
Wollensky’s would do the job, so why
not?
*
*
now Sebastian wasn’t even around to
mock him for it. Becca Bickfeld came
back from Paris with a new glimmer
in her eye, and she continued to pop
mints. Nothing she chewed would
*
In the unchanging cycle of the
Penniverse, Danny was a senior, and a
lot had changed since that Halloween
his freshman year. Sebastian died in
a breathmint combustion accident
PHOTO BY JIN LEE
*
while Danny himself had joined a frat,
got an investment banking job offer
and had learned how to ballroom
dance and create artful resume bullet
points..
It was his last Halloween in
Pennland. Next year he’d be in a
cubicle staring at a spreadsheet, or at
some bar way out of Smokes’ league.
He still remembered that redhead, and
combust, anyway.
Danny knew
Sebastian was already a dim memory
for Bickfeld. He decided to eat dinner
in his frat house this Friday. The chef
promised something tasty. His frat
of pre-college expectations in the Nipple.
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006
brothers were in an exuberant mood.
After all, nothing in college is as
uplifting as the expectations of what
should be an eventful weekend.
*
*
*
The night passed lazily. Chris
realized he never told Johnny or
any of the other guys even after they
returned from abroad about the
McDonald’s cashier. He told them
the story while they were watching
some insipid St. Louis baseball game.
He lived in the Midwest and he didn’t
even care about it. Some hot MBA
girls were at Smith’s, too, but unlike
his former girl-chasing rival, Chris
was too good to try anything with
them. Besides, they were all giggling
about their cohorts and New York.
Finally Johnny asked, “Oh, she gave
you the fries that you dropped on our
front stoop?” Chris nodded.
*
*
*
The next day, alumni and students
alike threw toast on the field in a
burst of Saturday morning tailgating
gusto. The day melted away. Mad4
was packed. Little children romped
around Izzy and Zoe’s. Dusk covered
the campus. The alumni decided to
conquer Smoke’s. Underage girls
started to dance on the tables.
Danny’s head ached as their feet
tapped on the tables. Those leggings
were hot.
*
*
*
Chris was spinning in circles. The
girls seemed so young. Everybody
else was wearing the same modified
Halloween leggings and billowing
shirts as two decades ago; the only
person in the room who had changed
was him. And his buddies. Their gray
hairs flickered in the cheap lighting.
The music played and the girls
bootie-popped. Louder and louder.
The bartender rolled her eyess and
blinked a few times. The 38 year olds
just couldn’t keep up.
Out of nowhere emerged a
redhead wearing yellow leggings
and a weird uniform top with a
nametag.
Chris straightened his
posture. Johnny smiled and put his
arm on Alex’s shoulder, pushing him
forward. Chris wouldn’t stand for it.
Not again. After twenty years, he was
tougher, smarter and more charming.
And he knew he flew all the way to
Philadelphia after a busy week at the
office just to prove it.
*
*
*
Danny was startled.
Two
completely
older
guys
were
surrounding his redhead, when she
solely existed in his memory! One
of his feet was already out of Penn’s
doors, and now these guys who looked
like they were fifty years out were
trying to woo her. He ran forward.
Some teen-angst-filled song played in
the background. “And I, will love you,
bayba-ay, alwaaaays! I’ll be there…”
The floor started shaking. The girls
around this red-haired goddess were
getting jealous. Danny’s eyes started
to hurt.
Chris’ eyes burned.
Everything
turned
white;
arms started flailing. Legs started
twitching.
The paramedics came. Chris’s
and Danny’s hearts stopped.
Three days later they awoke in
a HUP room. They stared at each
other for a moment, and then they
arose in their hospital gowns and
embraced. A single glance revealed
an understanding that none of their
buddies, girlfriends or wives could
ever have for them.
They both stayed silent. No words
could do justice for that moment of
mutual understanding. Each prayed
never to see the redhead again.
Another look at the unattainable
flaming hair, yellow bikini or not,
would probably be too much for either
of them to withstand. And, ultimately,
survival bests winning a glimpse at
the dream. FC
Lauren Saul is a senior dualing in the Whollege. You can write to her at lcsaul@wharton.
First Call Meeting
Staff, Writers, and Newbies
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 31, 8 P.M.
IN HUNTSMAN HALL ROOM F92
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006 my brief foray as a semi-luddite
mourning the loss of my laptop
Kelly cataldo
I
suffered a minor crisis two
weeks ago. Over the course of a
rambunctious pre-game, I managed
to spill an entire glass of diet Red
Bull and Bombay Sapphire onto the
keyboard of my IBM laptop. I picked
the computer up, turned it over and
dumped at least 2 cups of fluid onto
my desk. To no avail. As I watched
the screen flicker and fade to black, I
rationalized in my altered mind that
leaving the top open overnight would
give it enough time to dry out. The
next morning, remembering what
I had done, I raced—stumbled—to
my desk and anxiously pushed the
power button. Multiple times. I
anticipated that it might take a few
more days to dry out, so I just let it
sit, with the screen slightly pointed
downward like a flag at half mast.
After forty-eight hours, I threw
in the towel and phoned home. After
admitting to my parents that I had
spilled “Gatorade” on my computer,
they sent another laptop from our
home up with a friend’s father. It
was less than a calendar week before
I received the new computer, but it
felt like eons.
Initially, I was actually not as
panicked as I can imagine most
people would be if they had just
ruined a laptop. That morning, I
constantly pushed the power button
hoping that, by the grace of Bacchus,
the hard drive was not fried and my
comatose computer would breathe
new life. It didn’t—but all was not
lost. About three months before
this unfortunate incident, my
laptop had developed the peculiar
habit of displaying “FAN ERROR”
and immediately shutting down
whenever I tried to turn it on without
vigorously shaking it. I took it to a
computer repair place. I returned
to pick it up a long weekend later,
and the woman at the desk said
that the tech guy could not find
anything wrong with the computer
and that he could not get the laptop
to produce the problems that I had
described. Funny thing is, when I
10 FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006
took the laptop back home and tried
to turn it on, that ominous “FAN
ERROR” screen reappeared. So, I
decided that my computer was on its
way to absolute mechanical failure
and purchased an external hard
drive. Attention: an external hard
drive is the single most important
thing you could buy. Even if you
aren’t a drunken buffoon (like me),
you never known when technology
can crap out on you and it is a lot
cheaper to buy an external than to
have data extracted off of a decrepit
hard drive.
Hence, I was lucky enough to
have backed up all of the data on my
computer about two weeks before
“the incident.” Suffice it to say that
was probably the luckiest occurrence
of my life: I am deep in the throes
of law school admissions and had
stored a plethora of important drafts
and resumes (not to mention 4,000
mp3 files) on my former computer.
Despite the relief of not losing
my entire life, it was still incredibly
difficult for me to function without
a computer in my apartment for an
entire week. The initial withdrawal
(the first seventy-two hours) were
the worst: no morning e-mail
checking or reading celebrity gossip
blogs without at least a trip across
the hall to my friends’ apartment.
Unfortunately, their wireless router
has been on the fritz and functioned
about as well as my laptop, now
relegated to the floor with the rest of
the detritus. The nearest computer
lab to my Spruce St. apartment is in
the Gregory dorm. It was a terrible
inconvenience to have to walk
there just to know if I had received
another “RE: ViAjDhGrA” e-mail in
my SAS account or to find out that
Harry Morton had, indeed, dumped
Lindsay Lohan. And other breaking
news.
This incident honestly forced me
to reflect on what life is like without
the convenience of a computer in
my own home. I felt so powerless,
so handicapped, so woefully
uninformed. And it struck me that
I am addicted to this technology:
survival without a computer in my
apartment was rendered nearly
impossible by stymied expectations
of communicating with others,
functioning productively or staying
informed. How could anyone? Oh,
that’s right. There must be billions
of people in this world who, in
their lifetimes, will never use a
computer, especially not in their
homes. They will never have access
to the internet, to the vast array of
tracks available in the iTunes store,
to the idiosyncratic spelling habits
of Microsoft Word. What I thought
was utter deprivation was in fact
the “depravity” that defines the lives
of the vast majority of people in the
world.
Aside from feeling guilty about
being angry at the inconvenience of
not having a computer, I actually
began to adapt to my new “habitat.”
I was able to wake up every morning
for one week straight and take a
practice LSAT (which lasts about
three hours) without being able to
check Facebook between every 35
minute section.
I am immensely grateful that I
have a laptop back in my life. I am
now making a conscious effort to
use it as productively as possible,
but it’s hard when there are so many
fun things to do besides troll around
on Law School Admissions Council’s
electronic application interface.
Most importantly, I learned my
lesson about liquids and laptops:
like Scott Ward and young boys, they
should probably be kept apart. FC
Kelly Cataldo is a senior in the College.
You can write to her at kcataldo@sas.
First Blog
WWW.FIRSTCALLMAGAZINE.COM/BLOG
Kal Penn at Penn
Anna Stetsovksaya (10/27/06)
...
I’m torn about Kal Penn. He’s coming to speak at Penn as part of Asian Pacific
American Heritage Week. Is he a serious actor, or a stereotype-peddling Ashton
Kutcher?
Penn has made a career of himself playing stereotypes. Still, I’m happy to see he
has progressed to more serious leading roles, such as The Namesake (2006); this
film adaptation of talented writer Jhumpa Lahiri’s first novel is about an IndianAmerican young man trying to find himself between his parents’ traditionalism
and his own 20-something Boston reality. It’s a great book, too.
I think I’ll see the speech after all. If anything, it should at least be funny - I’ll see
you there!
NYC, Commas, Kickballs, and Shabbat
Shira Bender (10/24/06)
...
It’s Tuesday evening, and I just got back from fall break. I spent it in my home
town, New York City. Coming back after a break is always somewhat depressing.
But I feel a particular tinge of sadness every time I leave New York. I know the
stereotypes of the pretentious New Yorkers who think their city is the greatest city
on earth. I think I fit perfectly into that niche of people. Granted I haven’t been to
too many cities, and granted I grew up there so I’m biased. But still.
Over break, I played kickball in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park with a friend from the
city and a bunch of his friends. When’s the last time any of you played kickball?
Camp 8 years ago? Let me tell you, it’s pretty much the best sport ever. I’m not
good at sports, but kickball is like the ultimate I’m-not-good-at-this-but-I-canplay-it-anyway sport. And we played with a Dora the Explorer ball. And we had a
beer afterwards. Basically, perfection.
...
A few nuggets of too much free time
Andrew Pederson (10/22/06)
...
Women must assert their independent agency from their would-be male masters
and the anti-feminine social structures which reinforce expectations of deferent,
silent women who are subsumed by the male gaze. Liberation lies with action.
To act, one must take gender relations into her own hands and shape her role in
an even exchange. Men cannot be allowed to dominate the dating scene like the
relationship barons they wish they were. Nor can they be allowed to economically
marginalize women by paying the entire check, thus relegating the female once
more to a receiving role. NO! I SAY! We will not take it anymore!
It’s high time all women stood up, raised their fists and shouted, “Pederson! Get
your cute ass into that cab! I’m taking you to the movies!” Right on, sister. Right
on.
Log on to firstcallmagazine.com/blog to read and comment on the
rest of these and other blog entries. First Blog is updated daily.
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006 11
Fairly unbalanced
Why cable news needs a new player
Andrew pederson
I
f we’ve had one thing impressed
upon us all these years, it’s that
diversity is a good thing. Thanks
to the intense efforts of a variety of
groups, the era of the dead white
male has come and gone in everything
from economics to style. Capitalism
is good because it encourages open
competition between a number of
options and produces the highest
quality goods at the lowest possible
prices. Benetton is wonderful because
white or black, everybody looks
fantastic in those pants.
Indeed, having a variety of
racial, ethnic, gender, economic,
national, religious,
political, and
sexual perspectives has become
an indispensable talking point for
any public institution, a proven
marketing strategy private firms, and
a necessary condition for any media
representation. This kind of imagistic
lip service is all well and good for
Benetton-esque brochures of diversitypowered Happy Town University, Inc.
(Intel Inside!). But if diversity is so
important, why do the powers-thatbe cringe in the face of diversity of a
more substantive variety?
In this land of First Amendment
rights, where even a transsexual Nazi
Eskimo can publish a book on doit-yourself explosives and Howard
Stern can lob meatballs at porn stars’
desperately clenching butt-cracks
(there was a $2k prize) , nobody is
supposed to be silenced. Yet, as AlJazeera tries to launch its Englishlanguage 24 hour news network,
there have been overt proposals here
and elsewhere in the Western world
to legislate against its existence and
right to broadcast.
Set to operate from interlinked
centers in London, Washington
D.C., Doah and Kuala Lumpur, the
network has had to repeatedly set
back its launch date due to technical
difficulties and political resistance. In
the U.S., a recent poll by Accuracy in
Media, a non-profit media watchdog,
showed that the majority of Americans
oppose the presence of the network on
12 FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006
U.S. cable networks and would even
support legislation barring Al-Jazeera
from the airwaves. To date no major
cable provider has agreed to carry the
channel.
In Canada, the Canadian Jewish
Congress has brought up other
objections, based on unsubstantiated
accusations that the network has ties
to terrorist organizations and that
the network, if allowed to broadcast,
could threaten “the security and very
physical existence of members of the
Jewish community.” I doubt that the
opinion of U.S.-based Jewish advocacy
groups is much different.
This is unacceptable.
AJI
is a well-funded, well-organized
alternative to the currently limited
group of dominant broadcasters, and
those who would try to silence them
are nothing more than agenda-driven
ideologues with goals far outside
public awareness and objective
scrutiny in the news.
Contrary to popular belief, AlJazeera International is structurally
distinct from the original Qatar-
based, Arabic-language broadcasting
company; the company has hired
journalists from America and Canada,
among other countries, to provide
content and programming. Far from
being a jihadist, Muslim-centric
organization, AJI employs a wide
variety of well-trained journalists
from an eclectic mix of backgrounds
(eat your heart out, Benetton). Can
BBC anchor David Frost really be
accused of being a jihadist?
As well, nobody has ever proven
that either Al-Jazeera or Al-Jazeera
International is directly linked to a
terrorist organization, and AJI, being
partly based in North America, is even
further removed from the Al-Jazeera
which was (wrongly) accused of
broadcasting tapes of prisoners being
beheaded. Similarly, the fact that the
network sometimes receives material
from Osama Bin Laden is immaterial.
Why anybody is surprised that they
should receive videos from Bin Laden
is a mystery. Should Bin Laden just
hand the tapes directly to the CIA or
leave them in a basket on the embassy
steps? Certainly anywhere besides
the largest (and in some places, only)
broadcasting company in the Arab
and Islamic world, right?
Accusations
that
either
organization somehow intentionally
fans the flames of hatred against
certain ethnic groups are similarly
unfounded and ridiculous. Perhaps
you haven’t noticed it so much on CNN,
but certain people have legitimate
reasons to have a less-than-sterling
opinion of Jews and the Western
world. Does that mean that we simply
shouldn’t talk to them and shouldn’t
air their views? Whether these views
are “acceptable” or “correct” is largely
irrelevant in reporting the news. To
accurately represent the status quo,
we can’t simply shut our eyes and ears
to the things we don’t like to see and
hear.
Donald Rumsfeld is representative
of the usual objections against alJazeera. Last year in the Washington
Post, Rumsfeld accused the network of
“false” and “inflammatory” reporting.
What, you mean like Fox News? Or
how about the Weekly World News?
How about Steven Glass? And the
New York Times’s veritable crusade
against the Duke Lacrosse players
accused of rape? Then again, I
suppose balanced research and
transparency hasn’t been much of
a hallmark of this administration.
Suppression of free speech and
personal freedoms, however, has been
a specialty, and anybody who would
support unconstitutional legislation
against Al-Jazeera is denser than a
fruitcake at best and a raging fascist
at worst.
Further, considering that all
of today’s major media outlets are
controlled by ten large conglomerates
(AOL/Time
Warner,
VivendiUniversal, Disney, Bertelsmann,
Viacom, News Corporation, TCI, Sony,
Philips/Polygram, General Electric/
NBC), the resistance that AJI is facing
takes a darker political tone. If you
can stomach the complaints about the
“liberal bias” in American media, then
why not welcome a new perspective?
AJI is potentially the only news
service that is in a position to report
the news from an entirely different
point of view, one not subject to the
whims of a U.S.-based corporation.
Broadcast news media is controlled
by a handful of giants, and many are
directly beholden (to a limited, albeit
undisputable degree) to an individual’s
personal political preferences. Rupert
Murdoch and Tony Blair, anyone?
Because it exists outside of any
established framework, AJI could go a
long way towards setting up a system
of regular, easily accessible exchange
for viewers in the West and the Middle
East. If the usual suspects succeed in
quashing it, the chances for censorship
and “inflammatory” remarks only
increases, and we will find ourselves
once again cut off from the very
people that we are desperately trying
to reach with accurate information.
Can we really risk further alienation
and isolation in the Middle East?
Maybe if you have a stake in Defense
Department spending. For the rest of
us, we have to fight the urge to typecast
and expand our horizons. Before it
gets any worse. FC
Andrew Pederson is a senior in College.
You can write to him at awl@sas.
The Boston Consulting Group
Invites the
UNDERGRADUATE CLASS OF 2008
To explore summer opportunities in our North American offices
Tuesday, November 14
7:00pm
Houston Hall – Bodek Lounge
Business Casual
Please submit a complete application on our website at www.bcg.com
Resume Deadline – January 16, 2007
*A complete application includes: resume, cover letter, SAT scores, cumulative GPA
and top 3 North American geographic preferences
BCG is an equal opportunity employer.
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006 13
Two hours of your life disappear
Review: The Prestige
mark leung
T
he Prestige, the latest film from
English director Christopher
Nolan, sees Nolan paired up again
with his lead from Batman Begins,
Christian Bale. Set in 1800’s London,
The Prestige tells the tale of two
magicians, Alfred Borden (Bale)
and Rupert Angier (Hugh Jackman)
who, driven by the desire to one-up
each other, will stop at nothing. This
obsession takes over both men and
grows from an initial professional
rivalry into an all-encompassing battle
that takes over their lives. Nolan takes
his ambitious, tightly-wound script
(co-written with his brother Jonathan)
and fiery performances from Bale
and Jackman to deliver the kind of
suspenseful and unconventional
psychological thriller that we have
come to expect from this talented
young director.
Using the non-chronological
sequence that has become his
trademark, Nolan begins the film near
the end, with Michael Caine’s fatherly
Cockney voice-over introducing the
viewer to the world of magic, and the
three parts of a successful illusion: the
initial “pledge” to the audience, the
“turn” from reality to the extraordinary
and finally the titular “prestige,” when
what has disappeared is brought back
by the magician. This is played while
Angier performs his final trick, a
teleporting act enabled by an unwieldy
electrical apparatus. However, the
trick goes horribly wrong and we
see the magician drown, desperately
trying to escape as another man looks
on. This man, we learn, is Alfred
Borden. The rest of the film is spent
piecing together the events that lead
to his conviction for the murder of
Angier and his subsequent time in jail
waiting to be hanged. All the while,
he is being offered a sum to sell the
secret to his most celebrated trick,
the Transported Man, to save his
daughter.
The film jumps backwards, first
to Angier heading to Colorado for
an unknown reason, and then to the
magicians’ humble beginnings as
14 FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006
“volunteers” for another magician’s
act, a water tank escape act performed
by an assistant (who we find out is
Angier’s wife). The film cuts between
the development of these two budding
magicians, with such sequences as
Angier choosing his stage name,
their attempt at stealing a Chinese
magician’s trick and a little boy crying,
thinking that Bale has killed the bird
when he makes a bird disappear.
Indeed, the bird has been killed,
which the film neatly euphemizes as
“getting your hands dirty,” an accurate
description for the events that follow.
The first tragedy strikes when
Angier’s wife drowns; the seeds of
conflict are sown as Bale is blamed
for tying the knot around her wrists
incorrectly, preventing her from
escaping. Bale becomes increasingly
alienated from Angier and Cutter
(Caine) after this episode, and we
begin to see the increasingly violent
methods each uses to sabotage the
other. Angier shoots Borden when he
performs, so Borden snares Angier’s
hand in a collapsing bird cage and
breaks Angier’s leg. There is an element
of humor in all this as the two use some
ridiculous and useless disguises to get
past the other’s notice. In the center
of this hostility is Angier’s assistantcum-lover Olivia Wenscombe (Scarlett
Johansson) who fuels the jealousy
by abandoning Angier to eventually
become Borden’s mistress. She puts in
a solid performance, as does Rebecca
Hall as Sarah, Borden’s increasingly
put-upon wife, and Caine as Angier’s
backstage manager and mentor.
Borden eventually goes out on his
own to invent his “greatest trick,” the
Transported Man, which gives him an
upper hand over Angier. Thus begins
Angier’s obsession with discovering
the “secret” to the trick, the McGuffin
which drives the bulk of the film.
David Bowie is fairly low-key, if a bit
wooden in a cameo as inventor Nikola
Tesla, whom Angier goes to visit to
find this secret, while Andy Serkis
shines as Tesla’s wily assistant Alley,
simultaneously luring and misleading
Angier. These scenes in Colorado
distract from the action in London
and are fairly incoherent with their
pseudoscientific gobbledygook, but
Nolan manages to keep this portion
effective by cutting in scenes of Bale to
contrast the two intense but differing
personalities: Angier is obsessive and
relentless, and Borden is charming
but troubled. The film builds to a
powerful climax, with the magicians
risking everything to get the last word,
but Nolan concludes with a contrived
twist that doesn’t make complete sense
in order to tidy up the film instead of
leaving it ambiguous.
Despite this, The Prestige still
holds up as a satisfying thriller. Nolan
occasionally overreaches with his
cerebral script, but never loses track
of the feud central to the film. Bale
and Jackman live up to their end of
the bargain, keeping the audience
glued to the screen with exceptional
performances and explosive chemistry
which, together with a solid supporting
cast, carry the story and make it into a
compelling spectacle, much like one
of its breathtaking illusions. FC
Mark Leung is a sophomore in Engineering.
You can write to him at markal@seas.
FC dispatch: syria
life in damascus
D
uring one of my first weeks as a
student studying abroad in Syria,
a bomb exploded at the entrance to
the American Embassy. I arrived at
the embassy about 30 minutes after it
happened, for university paperwork,
and it was complete chaos. Two
American students I know well were
inside for the same paperwork when it
happened, and they later told me they
were forced to hide in a nearby school
while the situation calmed down.
The men involved and a Syrian guard
died from shots that were fired in the
confusion following the explosion.
The attack has been the only such
incident during my stay here, and with
the consequences of the HizbollahIsraeli war still raw, the experience
of studying and living in Syria has
changed palpably for the locals and
foreigners. Our society is bulging with
political pressure, masses of refugees
and asylum seekers, and a quickly
rising cost of living. The wars in Iraq
and Lebanon have not only been a
tragedy for those nationals but are also
taking its toll on the city of Damascus.
Resources are being pulled, with rent,
food and transportation becoming
increasingly expensive. Syria is
probably the country most affected
by the war in Lebanon, after only
Lebanon and Israel.
Interestingly, at the Damascus
Language Institute, Americans are the
most represented nationality (along
with Italy). Although Americans still
number less than Europeans overall,
there is undoubtedly a strong interest
from US universities to not only study
Arabic, but also to come to a country
politically at odds with their own.
In regards to the last course, all the
Americans have been from the best
universities and colleges in the United
States: Middlebury, Duke, Princeton,
Amherst, Georgetown, and many other
prestigious names. Many students are
willing to look past political tensions
in order to come to a city that has
the reputation of being the best city
for true immersion in Arabic. But
their experiences have not been easy,
lena zurkiya
both because they are Americans and
simply because they are foreigners to
this country. The Syrian people are
famous for hospitality, but Syrians also
recognize that Americans and other
foreigners have deeper pockets. They
face a certain tax on everything they
purchase. For every item, the offered
price before bargaining is usually
at least twice what a Syrian or Arab
would receive. This is particularly
true of shopkeepers and taxi drivers.
The unequal treatment is somewhat
of merchants and businessman who
are receiving more demand for their
products. Many agents and owners
tried to start bidding wars between
other customers and me. To put this
into perspective, less than a year ago,
a nice, independent one-bedroom
apartment in the city would have cost
roughly 200 U.S. dollars a month,
whereas now I was rarely quoted
anything less than 400 dollars.
Damascus
is
the
oldest
continually inhabited city in the
Although americans still number less than
europeans overall, there is a strong interest
from u.s. universties to come to a country at
odds politcially with their own.
understandable considering the price
difference involved is usually to the
tune of no more than a U.S. dollar, not
exactly an amount that will break the
bank in the West.
The elevated prices don’t matter
too much to American students here;
the cost of living still remains much
cheaper than Philadelphia. However,
the neighboring wars will undoubtedly
affect any American’s study abroad
experience. As a student holding two
passports, Jordanian and American,
my study abroad experience seems
to exist within two worlds in a very
strained community. For example,
after choosing to not stay with a host
family, I began searching for small
apartments in the city through real
estate agents and the local newspaper
listings. I never mentioned to renters
that I was from America, because
foreigners from the West are almost
always quoted much higher prices.
However, even as a Jordanian, I was
refused two apartments after agreeing
on a price once my nationality was
mentioned to the owner.
The political tension has affected
Syrians in different ways. From my
attempts at getting housing, I was
introduced to the small segment of
society that benefited from the local
political tensions. It consisted mostly
world, but its fame today comes
more from its government’s political
stance locally and globally. The
United States and Syria have a rocky
relationship, to the say the least – the
US State Department lists Syria
as a state sponsor of international
terrorism – and Syrian frustration
with American politics is widespread.
Syrians generally distinguish between
government and people, and American
students here should and do feel
safe. In fact, many Syrian youth are
fascinated with American culture and
music. Americans recognize, however,
that their country’s politics are far
from popular in this country – and
sometimes, as in the embassy attack,
violence results.
This
violence
presents
a
dangerous situation for American
civilians here and would deter some
students from coming. The American
women I knew in Syria had only just
arrived in Damascus, and explained
how shocking it was to be there.
But it is also interesting that those
same students are still planning to
stay a full year here, and I see them
personally learning to love a culture
and understand Syrians for their
enormously rich culture. FC
Lena Zurkiya is a junior studying in Syria . You
can write to her at zurkiya@wharton.
FIRST CALL
OCTOBER 30, 2006 15
things thatThings
scare
thatyou
scareshitless
you shitless
Across:
2. Getting stuck in an ____ with
someone really annoying.
5. Waking up in the morning next
to Ben________ naked and covered
in empty bottles of vegetable oil.
8. Going anywhere on _______ .
“We’re getting there.”
9. Carrying a pair of ________
pointing up, then falling on them
and gouging out your eye.
11. Amy Gutmann’s _________
infection.
13. FU! Learning that Penn
changed it’s name to ____University.
15. Doing too much coke and
whistling every time I breathe
through my deviated _________.
17. The _________ talk. Can’t
we just meet for dinner and sleep
together Thurs. through Wed.? 18. _____ on the highway. *Blink*
*Blink* DEATH MUTHAFUCKA!
19. Whatever lies beneath___’s
belly button. No wonder he could’ve
never been President if everybody
else died. EEK!
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
DOWN:
1. It chases the cheese andACROSS
your
6. When the __________ don’t
shoes.
Getting stuck
in anything
an ____ and
withbarely
someone
2 replete
shave
fit into the
3. The new ___________,
girdles they made of human flesh.
with branded sweatshirts with really
the annoying.
up7.in the
next
5 Waking
Themorning
_______
thattojust won’t
New York Times ‘T’. Anorexia
cults
heal,naked
no matter
much
are branded? AIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
Ben________
and how
covered
inneosporin
empty
or Band-Aids
4. Catching an errant spear in
the of vegetable
bottles
oil. you use.
9. Being
trapped on
a plane with
face while trying to enjoy a hearty
on _______
. "We're
8 Going anywhere
ten thousand _______.
meal at _________ Times.
getting there."
9 Carrying a pair of ________ pointing up,
then falling on them and gouging out your
eye.
11 Amy Gutmann’s _________ infection.
But which is she?
Maybe he could speak at
13 FU! Learning that Penn changed it's name
On the Quad:
commencement:
to _____
University.
Leggings-with-miniskirt girl#1:
So
Outside the high rises:
Doing
muchMy
coke
and whistling every
15and
I’ve been thinking about it,
like,too Guy:
name is Rock, but you can
I’d rather be pretty than really
time I breathe
through
call me Bono.my deviated
smart.
_________.
girl #2: Totally!
talk.
Can't
we-djust
meet
for
17 The _________
Or if he
was
roofie
that
night
...
dinner andIn
sleep
together
Thurs.
through
Annenberg:
Bear sighting on 43rd and Wed.?
locust
Guy 1: The way I look at it, it’s not
On 43rd and Locust:
really
gay if I keep
my eyes
closed.
_____
on
the
highway.
*Blink*
*Blink*
18
Girl 1: Do you shave?
Guy
2:
I
guess...
Girl 2 *Looks down* Yeah... DEATH MUTHAFUCKA!
overheard ) ) ) ) ) )
16 FIRST CALL
DOWN
10. Being related to someone who
It chases
the cheese
your shoes.
1wants
to “Betchslap
you,and
shetbag.”
The new
___________,
replete with
3_____,
OMG,
_____.
branded
sweatshirts
with the New York
12.
The thought
of _________up
my
balls. 'T'.
Like
peeing isn’t
traumatic
Times
Anorexia
cults
are branded?
enough. AIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
The _____
at Smoke’s.
an errant
spear in the face while
414.Catching
16. Jurassic _____/ Philly Style.
trying to enjoy a hearty meal at ________
Times.
the __________ don’t shave
6SWhen
tick it to the man, mofo!
anything
andtobarely
into
the girdles the
Security guard
guy infit
golf
cart:
made
of
human
flesh.
…and I won’t hit you, but I’ll bust
wit’
a stick…that just won’t heal, no matt
The
_______
7you
how much neosporin or Band-Aids you us
’ sheezy
, man! on a plane with ten thousan
trapped
9FoBeing
On
the Great Neck to Manhattan
_______.
talking
about
southerners:
Being
related
to someone
who wants to
10train,
Guy 1: “They so dirty, they don’t
“Betchslap
you,
shetbag.”
_____, OMG,
even wear no shoes! They walkin’
_____.
barefoot in Brooklyn! in Brooklyn!
The thought
of ___________
12There’s
no barefoot
in Brooklyn!” up my balls
Like
isn'teven
traumatic
enough.
Guy
2: peeing
“They don’t
be talking
English
good!”
_____
at Smoke's.
14noThe
OCTOBER 30, 2006
http://www.variety-games.com/CW/Puzzles/1152893270-puzzle.htm
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