When Faking Sick Doesn't Cut It

By Larson Ross

Sometimes, you need to take a little “you” time. However, this time is not always easy to come by, for instance, your favorite show is coming on in twenty minutes, but there’s that pesky funeral that you need to attend. It’s times like these that you need to go a little extreme if you truly want to laze about. Exceeding laziness calls for desperate excuses. So if you really feel the need to miss out on the important things in life you can:

Set some fires:

There’s nothing more equally feared and loved than fire. Well, perhaps bathrooms, but let’s focus on the fire. Let’s say that your family is about to depart on the dreaded yearly vacation. Or maybe it’s an actual fun one this time, but you really just want to sleep in. In either situation, the best way to get out of this predicament is to channel your inner pyro and burn a few buildings. Preferably abandoned, but if REALLY don’t want to spend time with your loved ones, then it’s understandable to get some ones in use. If you’re feeling that motivated, then an orphanage is the best route to go. These fires will do two things: create traffic due to both firefighters and refuges, and (hopefully) keep your family glued to the TV in horror at the carnage. This, of course, means no vacation. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

Wolves, lots of wolves:

            Say you’ve got an exceedingly important test on the morrow, one that can’t be made up later. (Or even just a quiz, no judgment here.) In any case, the old fake cough route isn’t gonna cut it this time. It’s time to get drastic, and nothing’s more drastic than wolves. This one requires a little preparation beforehand. You’ll need access to several vans, friends who don’t mind risking rabies, and some chew toys. Oh, and wolves, obviously. The easiest way to get those is to go down the nearest dark alley and ask “Doctor Dante” if he can get you some dangerous canines. His answer will probably be no, but he can find someone who can. Allow three weeks for delivery. Once you have your mutts, it’s time to take this party to the streets. Load up the wolves (preferably at least 24) and head on downtown. Release two or three wolves every four blocks or so, and take any that you have left over closer to your school, so that no one quite knows where the wolves will strike next. Again, orphanages are always a viable target. Random mauling lead to panic, and panic leads to no test for you. (No test for you leads to both juvenile delinquency and the dark side, but that’s not important now) WOLFTASTIC!

Start a riot:

            Easy enough, easier if you live in Detroit, I see no need for explanation. EVERYTHING IS FREE! AND ON FIRE!

Secede from the Union:

            So you’re dating now, that’s great! What’s not great is actually spending time with the person you’ve chosen to date, who wants to do that? Your partner wants to go out on the town, but you’ve got other plans, most likely involving cookies and a couch. But you don’t want to disappoint this person, what are you to do?! It’s easy, round up some guys with mullets, shotguns, trucks, and at least two pieces of clothing with the confederate flag upon its grease stained surface (preferably denim).  Tell these boys that the time has come and use the codeword “Waffle Tuesday” and soon enough, all of Alabama will be up in arms! You’ll find yourself at the head of a moonshine-drenched, disorganized militia numbering in the high teens, so have some fun before either the National Guard steps in, or the boys figure out that they’d rather be watching some professional wrestling. As long as the attempted nation building makes it to the evening news, you’ve avoided building a meaningful relationship with your partner, and that’s something we can all get behind. EXTREME!

Saved

By Larson Ross

I see the light, I have been saved! And it’s all thanks to one man who took time out of His life to take time out of mine. I was on a date, sitting outside an ice cream shop with my girlfriend, when He parted the sea of people and came up to us. Obviously, I was up to blasphemous actions, or he wouldn’t have come, but I’m still at a loss as to what those were, but I’m ever so grateful that He saw into my soul and judged me in need of a spiritual intervention. “I can see you guys are having a nice time,” he so  humbly said. “I want you to get back to that, so I’ll make this short.” He then quickly spent the next ten minutes explaining the teachings of Jesus and the dangers of the sins that I was surely committing, though He had not seen them.

When, alas, he took his leave, he gave me a gift of one million dollars. Well, a fake piece of million dollar currency which had upon it words informing me that I was going to Hell because in my past I had looked upon a woman with lust. The evil in me initially made me reject these words as pompous and false, but as I sat there, his message tore through my thoughts like a bear through an orphanage. What if He was right? I didn’t want to go to Hell. I had already looked upon a woman with lust, and the one million dollars made no mention of possible repentance. Surely, though, this glorious crusador wouldn’t simply tell me of my unavoidable damnation just to feel superior to us shameful barbarians. He must have been trying to save my soul, so I accepted His god into my heart, and avoided looking at my female companion for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow, I promised myself, I shall change my horrible tendencies.

And thus, I doned horse blinders. These were effective for a time, but they didn’t solve the problem of seeing women directly in my line of sight. So, I took the logical next step and gouged my eyes out. Now there’s absolutely no danger of me spying a woman again! I know to some, this may seem a little extreme. I can understand that, and I hope you enjoy being boiled for eternity along with the likes of Hitler and Martin Luther King Jr.; he was married, after all.

Say what you will about my actions, but I care not, for I am free! Free to commit horrible acts of violence and engage in ridiculous amounts of sexual depravity without the fear of cosmic punishment. And boy, did I take advantage of these freedoms, for I was right in the eyes of God. However, soon, missionaries from other churches came to my door. I couldn’t refuse them, you see, because I had no idea that they were missionaries at first, due to my condition. They talked of their deities and how I was sinning in their eyes as well. Again, I’m an easily frightened individual, and I didn’t want to be banished to a horrible underworld in their religions, because they might be right as well. So, I accepted all religions that I was exposed to, to guarantee my salvation in at least one, if not more, afterlife.

And thus, I have officially become the world’s first Jenova’s Christian Islamic Hindu Shinto Manson Family follower of The Later Day Saints, and I couldn’t be happier, or more worried.

Expedition Journals #5

These are the expedition logs of Larson J. Pendelton Ross the III esquire, Archduke of Canterbury.
Transcribed into modern day English by Larson Ross, a decedent of the Archduke.

October 9, 1885:
The blizzard has yet to subside, but on the bright side, since we are near the cliffs, and snowing heavily, we can expect to have a field of dead albatross to awake to tomorrow. I love a good snack, and reminders of mortality.

October 10, 1885:
Just as predicted, the ground was littered with large birds. I allow no cook fires, though, since I don’t want to risk us scaring off the pandacorn. Raw bird meat is much harder to eat than suspected, and most of the animal is frozen. Fortunately, Jeremy Two knows how to use every part of the albatros, including the inc sack.

October 11, 1885:
Today I saw the shapes on the horizon again, there are still small snow flurries, so it was not clear what they were. It looks to be a small creature dragging something heavy behind it. Perhaps it’s a adolescent yeti carrying a satchel full of delightful ice objects to decorate its cave. They are so like us, which is why it’s fun to kill them.

October 12, 1885:
Jeremy Two nearly froze last night. It turns out that an Eskimo strumpet isn’t often the best equipped to deal with cold, given their attire. In the tent, this wouldn’t be as much of a problem, but I’ve taken to making her sleep outside. My status as Gentry back home may decrease if others learned that I had been sharing English body heat with those of non-Saxon heritage.

October 13, 1885:
This day was filled with both massive joy and slight annoyance. I shall begin with some context: I wished to gaze upon the semi-frozen waves crash against the cliffs like Napoleon's frogs against Wellington’s lines. An ultimately useless endeavor. So, I brought our party to the cliffside and continued on the journey. Suddenly, from out of the Wales-strength fog, a small form crashed into me from the side. Luckily, Jeremy Two was there to prevent me from falling to my moist demise. Unluckily, Death demanded a life that day, and so she was the one to fall. Anyone who claims that Death had a helping hand in my angry push motivated by the disgust of touching filthy heathen fur is both a liar and a fiend. Her flailing, blasphemous body may haunt my dreams yet. However, I shall be calmed by the fact that she will forever be imprisoned in the deepest pit of hell for being both a heathen and a woman, where she can never reach my divine spirit.


After the shock of watching Jeremy Two fall to her death, I looked upon the strange apparition that had caused the untimely, yet hilarious, stumble. Huzzah! It was none other than the scaly head of my lost companion, Jeremy! Not that eskimo harlot, but the original lizard boy! How he’s managed to live so long in this clime, I have no clue, but that is not my concern as of now.

October 14, 1885:
Jeremy is still as tired as a lady of the night after one of Prime Minister Gladstone’s special drinks has coursed through her veins. However, there is not a moment to be wasted in my search, so I have constructed a sling out of the remains of Jeremy Two’s jackets, she never quite used her layers well. I shall carry Jeremy for as long as I am needed to, he is indeed the answer to the age old question: Who is the real monster? Man, or beast? The answer is man-beast.

October 15, 1885:
Jeremy has finally recovered enough to tell me the tale of his survival. It turns out it was quite simple, all he had to do was kill the person who had helped him the most! English logic has finally broken through his savage skull. He had traveled with Stephanie for several days; she gave him almost all of the food that she hunted or had saved up, saying that she had to sacrifice to help the helpless. Such a fool, she is! When the rations had begun to run low, Jeremy used his cold-blooded lack of empathy to kill her and slice her stomach open to keep warm, commenting that he thought that she smelled better when she had not been in a state of both death and desecration. He proceeded to eat parts of her over the next several days, this also freed up more space for him to shelter. Eventually, he had turned toward a state of boredom and sought me out.

Annoying Things Girls Do

by Christiana Junta

Learn how to dress. Those new super short pencil skirts that are becoming trendy…they make you look like a painted harlot because you’re pulling the darn thing down every ten seconds because it’s THAT short. By the way, if another female can accurately guess your cup size, your shirt is too tight.

We play with our hair…all the time. Now, I personally do this constantly and didn't realize how obnoxious it was until I noticed some of friends meticulously playing with their hair. We look like chimps grooming ourselves.

I could never be a guy because I extremely dislike initiating practically anything you could name, but seriously, what is with the female gender no being able to initiate anything?

Guys don’t want to hear this, but why are girls’ periods synced with their friends? It’s like a cruelty of nature and shouldn't have come into existence.

We have a tendency to get grossed out easily. Admit it, if you have the option of killing the icky looking spider yourself or having your dad or guy friend kill it for you, you’ll choose the latter.

We like social networking a little too much. Whether that looks like texting your boyfriend constantly, spending ridiculous amounts of hours stalking guys on Facebook, or you’re like me and stay up until 3 am on Skype.

I understand using tanning lotion or going to a tanning salon, however, when you’re skin goes from pale to dark brown in a day; you may want to slow down and consider how mad your skin must be at you.

Don’t get me wrong, I love taking pictures and think they’re a great way to recall memories. What’s frustrating is when there are two hundred plus pictures of you and friend being bored posted on Facebook.

Why wear heels to schools? There are some cases when it makes sense, for example: ladies that play sports have dress up days and wearing heels on these days is practical. Other than those rare occasions, what’s the point of wearing heels? Just give your feet a break.

We have poor tastes in movies. I loved the Twilight books, but the movies turned out bad, really bad. I might even go as far to say they were atrocious.

A Letter to the NFL Replacement Refs

by Brian Heissenbuttel

To the fine gentlemen acting as the NFL’s replacement refs:

           

            First off, I want to congratulate you. Not everyone gets a magical note that allows them to abandon their current, meaningless life of hard labor at Party City or Dick’s Sporting Goods. You are a lucky, elite group of men who live their lives in their parents’ attic and play five hours of Madden every day. (If you haven’t beaten the Saints while playing as the Browns yet, you don’t deserve to make that claim)

            Second, why do you want all the mainstream teams to miraculously fail at the start of the season? The last time I remember the Seahawks having a winning record was…um…before my generation. Yeah. I do believe the Packers are good enough to squish the Seahawks. But you stubborn, biased, or just plain stupid referees decided to make things interesting. I’ve never seen a worse array of penalty calls. Defensive holding, pass interference (or lack of such), offside, and roughing the passer. This is football. People get boo-boos all the time and they don’t need to be defended with a 15-yard bandage.

            I don’t know how the normal refs feel about this. Those who are mostly concerned about their salaries were probably watching Week 3 with smug expressions based on all the dreadful calls. (If you didn’t hear, they were screaming bullshit after each bad call in Baltimore) The other bunch is sickened by the way these abominations of men are destroying the fiber of the NFL. Roger Goodell, you may not be losing money by the bucketful yet, but I guarantee by the end of the regular season you will have to trade in your 90” plasma TV for a 70”. Times are tough. At least you came to your senses soon.

            Finally, as a note to all NFL personnel, why did you choose this group of misfits for this extremely important role? This isn’t Bad News Bears. You need well-qualified people at each position for an industry as big as this. If you didn’t see death threats from disgruntled fans as a possibility, then you really need to focus your binoculars.

            I thank the people who finally decided that this had gone far enough. The fans will enjoy the rest of the season. I think we can all agree that if the kicker did not have two feet and an elbow in bounds, then the fumble was NOT wide left.

A Guy Thing: A girl's response to Borderlands 2

photo by Kristina Hagman

By Kristina Hagman

Borderlands 2 just came out! Borderlands 2? I’ve never heard of Borderlands 1! This is the kind of thing I hear about every time my guy friends and I spend time together. Videogames this, videogames that. And maybe a bit about the latest football game.
“Hey, you should come over and play Call of Duty with us sometime,” they invite. Guns? Killing people, however imaginary? No thanks.
As girls, this is not something we enjoy. Most girls would much rather spend their weekends laughing with girlfriends and shopping, not cramped up in a dark basement with simulated guns firing and blood spurting everywhere.
If girls can navigate the streets of Mario Kart with acceptable fluidity, we congratulate ourselves on the feat, and think nothing of the fact that a harder level will knock us out in the first seconds. After this achievement, we will continue onto something worth our time, like our hair.
Boys do not think this way. They have to be the best of the best of the best when it comes to the games they are playing. If they are not on the highest level of Borderlands, which happens to be 69, they are doing something wrong. If they do not have the best weapon that can kill the most people, they are doing something wrong. If they cannot race their car at least three seconds faster than the rest of the group, they are doing something wrong.
Where does this sense of competition come from? It is a well-known fact that men are naturally competitive. The nature of life causes them to show off, in hopes that they will snag a worthy female. But never have you heard, “I’m really into this guy, he has such a profound skill when it comes to gaming!” Never.
And what are the positive aspects of videogames? Hand-eye coordination? How to defend your house in the event of a zombie apocalypse? Unless mutant aliens invade our planet, or some other anomaly happens, these strategies will never help.
Girls don’t see the point of videogames. Recently, my brother decided to go over to his friend’s house, just to play a new one. That is a strange way of hanging out with someone. Laughing and talking and getting to know each other is a much more preferable method.
I’m not say that girls are superior. I’m just saying that you’re not going to find a group of girls yelling at a TV, shooting virtual enemies and killing as many people as possible. We realize that this activity is pointless, and would find a better way to spend time.
Naturally, many guys will argue that they enjoy playing videogames because it’s a way to get their competitiveness out. You could do that playing football, or soccer, or even chess if you’re that kind of person. And, to be honest, men playing sports are about one-hundred times more attractive than someone who sits in front of a screen battling away. What do you have to lose?
So even though the release of a new videogame might be synonymous to the release of a much-anticipated movie, keep the hype to yourselves. Borderlands 2 might be exciting to you, but you might as well be speaking gibberish to me. Is that about the state lines? Maybe it’s about Cuba! The level with the sky falling was really hard, I need to be a 69 to do it well!
I guess it’s just a guy thing.

What I learned on distribution day

What I learned on distribution day

Joe Redmond

Today was a long day. It was rewarding, nerve racking, and frankly inspiring. I have never felt so proud of my staff and my peers. I consider myself a fairly cynical person, but gosh darn it, if days keep going like this, negativity will be the last thing on my mind.

[Insert cheesy picture here]

It was comments like, “You got Jake and Amir? That’s sick!”, “What is this…? Oh, very cool!”, “I’m really happy for you; that’s really something special,” that made all of the hard work Strike has put into the issue worthwhile. I still can’t get over the feeling of asking someone if they wanted an issue, to which they would respond, “I already have two.”

That makes me ecstatic. Two.

Suddenly the world was a bit brighter and people were a bit nicer, all because of one magazine. I would really like to hand it to the community, because something like this could just fall through the cracks. Instead, people reading and sharing our publication brought people together. The community had a common thread on which to discuss. One person even laughed out loud in class reading our staff editorial.

This would be nothing without the support of our community. We tend to dwell on the differences between us, but in the end, people are inherently kind to each other. It’s crazy how far a little optimism and initiative can go.

As much as I tried to focus today on school, today was all about you guys. You all made this possible. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading.