SatireV

Breaking

and entering

Opinion

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

Triscuits
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

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!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Dr. Paul J. Barreira
Dear Members of the Harvard Community,
 
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! THE FLU! THE MUMPS! H1N1! H2N2! THE DISAPPEARANCE OF BEES AT AN ALARMING RATE! OH MY GOD! AHHHHHHHHH!
 
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!
 
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
 

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

Hey Guys, What About Me? Just a Thought!

William F. Lee

To the Harvard Presidential Search Committee:

Hey guys! What’s up? How’ve you been? Well, I hope!

We’ve been whittling down possible picks for the prez 29.0, and I think we have some great candidates! But— and this might sound crazy— hear me out: maybe we should consider… me? Just a thought!

Point/Counterpoint: Sasuke Uchiha Is the Greatest Anime Character of All Time vs. Sasuke Uchiha Is a Waste of Fucking Space

Sasuke Uchiha, in four panels.
Sasuke Uchiha is the greatest anime character of all time
by 14 year-old you
 

My Biggest Fear Is Mice and Also Liking Something from 2009 on My Crush’s Facebook Page

A woman sitting in front of a computer covers her face with her hands. She looks embarrassed.
Mice are God’s punishment for every lustful, greedy, messed-up thing that humans have ever done. I hate their beady eyes, their dirty whiskers, their disease-ridden fur, their incessant squeaks, and their residency in my vent in Kirkland.

But I would happily—gladly—invite an entire family of Stuart Littles to build a home in the floorboards of my dorm room if it meant that I would never accidentally like another post from 2009 on my crush’s Facebook page ever again.

I Won’t Settle for Anything Less Than a Tall, Fit 25-Year-Old Who Tastes Like Heinz Dijon Mustard

Some people can abandon their ideals in favor of what’s available here and now. These people are willing to take any man who is “good enough.” I say there’s no such thing as “good enough”—either he’s The One or he’s nobody. That’s why I’m waiting for the perfect man—a 6-foot-tall, athletically built 25-year-old who tastes like Heinz Dijon Mustard.
 

Pages