and entering


I Can Be Quiet Too, You Know

David Denman
By David Denman, a.k.a. Roy from The Office

By now, I'm sure all of you have heard about John Krasinski's new horror movie A Quiet Place. You might remember that Krasinski and I used to be on a little show called The Office. Those were the days, huh? Don't get me wrong: I'm happy for my former co-star's newfound success as the writer, director, and star of a box office hit about a family who must stay very quiet to avoid aliens that hunt by sound. I just wanted to put it out there that I can be quiet too, you know. 

God, I'm Sooooo Embarrassed About How Much I Drank Last Night (It Was a Lot)

empty beer bottles

By the white guy who just interrupted you

Hey Janice, Maybe I Want to Be the Little Spoon

By your boyfriend Brad

Listen, Janice. We need to talk. Every night, when you get into our bed in your SOFFE shorts and pink camisole, you instantly assume the position of the little spoon as if it’s your God-given right. You tuck your little butt right into my ripped abdomen, curl up into the fetal position, bask in the body warmth that I naturally exude, close your eyes, and fall into the best goddamn sleep of your life.

It’s time I stand up for myself. Damn it, Janice. Sometimes I want to be the little spoon.

Wireless Earphones Are Responsible for the Moral Decline of Our Nation

By an old man in a rocking chair

Harrisburg, PA — America was founded upon a strong bedrock of moral values—respecting our elders, helping those in need, and greeting our neighbors with smiles on our faces. For Pete's sake, using wireless earphones to listen to music is NOT one of those values.

From One Father to Another, Please Spare My Life

By a plastic table during March Madness

I know March Madness is exciting, but you know what else is exciting? April. And I want to live to see it. So when your team wins, do me a favor. Don’t crash all 250 pounds of your human meat into my varnished plastic top. Maybe, like, be chill for once.

Seeing the way you treat plastic tables like me during March makes me blow my top. Or, rather, it makes my top implode under the force of your left butt cheek. 

Triscuits Are the Devil’s Cracker

To my beautiful, communion wine-guzzling children,
It has come to my attention that many of my sons and daughters are unaware—or have accepted with complicit apathy—a dark, evil substance that has been wreaking havoc on my gorgeous earth for the past century. An unassuming but undeniably dangerous agent of chaos was placed on this earth to strike fear into the hearts of children and ruin tailgates.
Triscuits. Triscuits are the Devil’s cracker.

Dear Straight Men: Just Because I’m Gay Doesn’t Mean I’ll Only Eat Red Delicious Apples


By Josh Davis

Here's the deal, straight men: You need to accept that, as an out gay man, I eat more than just Red Delicious apples. It's true that what I do in the privacy of my own kitchen is my business and nobody else’s. But I’m not afraid to admit that I enjoy a wide array of fruit if it might teach privileged, straight men that my identity is not something for them to determine.

It’s time to end the harmful stereotype that identifying as homosexual is equivalent to declaring that you will only eat Red Delicious apples. 

Don’t Mind Me, I’m Just Fighting the Good Fight

By a Harvard Social Justice Warrior
I'm like every Harvard student: I keep my head down, do my studies, make self-aware jokes about "grabbing meals," and do my part to save the world. It's all so exhausting. Believe me, at the end of my grind as someone whose job is to concentrate in something, I would like nothing more than to watch a Greta Gerwig movie and be blissfully ignorant of the world’s problems. But sorry, world! My broke college ass can’t afford to let this shit slide!


Dr. Paul J. Barreira
Dear Members of the Harvard Community,
Everywhere you look. Everyone you know. So many public places, with people, who are SICK, with the MUMPS, and the FLU, AND YOU WILL ALL GET INFECTED. WE'RE ALL GOING TO GET INFECTED!

Barker Café Is The Worst And This Is The Hill I Will Die On