Editorial: Nonsense 4 Kidz

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From Nonsense 4 Kidz

An Open Letter To Our Beloved Readers:

Hi everyone welcome to this issue of Nonsense Humor. I’m sure you’re just as thrilled to be reading this as much as you usually are. Thanks again for supporting us and thinking we are so funny and good. And beautiful.

Anyway we wrote this issue specifically with the thought in mind that one day, a real life child would read it. With that being said, you should not, under any circumstances, show this to a child. We’ve taken the liberty of splitting up this editorial into 2 sections; one rated “G” for “Gchildren,” and one rated R for “Rad-ults”. This way, the kids still get something to read, and it’s fun for the whole family. Liike the naughty jokes in Fairly Odd Parents, or a Friendly’s that also serves beer.

Okay so here’s the one for you kiddies! (If you’re reading this KidzBop, give us a call!)

(Drum n bass intro)

(Verse 1)
My name is Snuffy and I’m here to say
Drugs are bad in a really big way!
Don’t do drugs because if you do,
Jesus will come after you.

(Verse 2)
Ayyyy!
My name is Jesus and i’m here to say,
I just rose up on Easter Sunday!
I had enough strength to break out of my tomb,
So I better not find any weed in your room!

(Chorus)
Stay in school! Keep your body safe!
You’ve got nothing to lose if you just play sports!
Ride a bike! Swim in a lake!
Do anything besides things that are bad!
Hofstra Summer Camp: Enroll now!
Christ….out!

(Record scratch)

Okay, so now that we’ve got that shit out of the way, you kids can fuck off now. We’re serious. If you read the mommy and daddy section of the editorial, I swear to god we’ll find out.

Now for the boring grown-up shit. Nonsense is pretty much the same as it ever was, and by that we mean we are still suffering the slings and arrows of misfortune directed at us by the bureaucratic mess that is Hofstra’s administration. This time we deadass got censored by Res Life for “promoting a culture of negative self-esteem in the dorms” That’s hilarious, because there is no culture in the dorms, unless you count the ones growing on all the gross ass food that Matt leaves sitting out in his little rat’s nest of a bed area.  Unbelievable. But yeah we got censored and that is some bullshit but it’s okay because my RA just got fired, lmao R.I.P. Jaymie. At least she was always good to us.

But, hey, the good news is we’re printing this out on paper! The Chronicle might have told you in its club spotlight about us that we want your jokes, but we like to think we’ve done a pretty good job on our own. We’ve managed to include some cute little popsicle stick jokes on each spread and because we don’t need to bore you with more long, drawn-out articles, we’ve even got some games in this one. Zach also tried out their hand at drawing some portraits of us after the wonderful job that Heather did last time (let’s see if they compare!). If that shit isn’t enough, we’re even handing out 250-some complimentary packs of crayons with this issue. Our students are just so creative!

Moral of the story? Fuck, I don’t know. Don’t do drugs and then maybe end up with a real major, doing real things instead of writing for a college humor magazine? Also if you write for the Odyssey Online get a real internship because I’m tired of seeing everyone’s wrong and bad opinions online. Jesus.

Enjoy,

Zach and Heather  ❤

A Poem About A Clown

By James Sweeney

An excerpt from “Nonsense 4 Kidz”

 

There are a few phrases
You’ll hear all your life
If you are so inclined
to spread laughter and light

From families of fortune
and families of plight:
Why the hell’s my son crying?”
Get your hands off my wife!

I’m a clown!” you might shout,
It’s my job to have fun!
No need to get hostile,
but I too have a gun.

And on the Clown’s neck
a tattoo, freshly drawn:
The 2nd Amendment
Keeps the Clown Army Strong

With a honker like his,
and those shoes, flat and long?
A half-balding scalp
and a half-scalped schlong?
Why, it’s clearly no wonder
His smile’s painted on

Yet for all the Clown’s trials,
his oppression unseen
The heart of the Clown
is a curious thing

For it aches still for love
and the tenderness earned
from a boy whose just witnessed
his whole family burn

Now the Clown’s got a camera
and he’s sifting through weapons
For a fun little movie he’s planned on directing
Of a man with a gun, who teaches a lesson

Filming’s begun and its time for a close-up
The boy’s found his spotlight while holding back throw-up
Now repeat after me so they never forget it…

I’m Ted Cruz and I approve this message!

Choose Your Own Freaking Adventure: Just 4 Kidz Edition!

By Veronica Toone

An excerpt from “Nonsense 4 Kidz”

 

Well howdy there, boys and girls! It’s time to GO INSIDE OUR NOGGINS and create a wonderful adventure before we’re inevitably thrust into the CRUEL AND UNFORTUNATE SET OF CIRCUMSTANCES AND PAIN we’ll call the rest of our lives!

Are you ready to get started? No? Tough! Life is hard, Timmy, and the sooner you come to realize that, the sooner you’ll appreciate the flickering light of your DYING IMAGINATION! So get ready, kids, and STRAP IN, because this week’s fun-tastic adventure is:

LITTLE TIMMY AND THE MAGICAL EMPTY BAG OF DORITOS™!

 

START RIGHT HERE: Your name is TIMMY JOHNSON. You’re an eight year-old with the intelligence level of the average comic book eight year-old. You live with MOM AND DAD, two confused caricatures of generic middle-class adults with a child smarter than they are combined. You like SpongeBob SquarePants and Minecraft.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon. You’re sitting in a classroom full of your friends and they all love you. You’re wearing your favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt, and you’re happy as can be! Your teacher calls on you to answer the question, but oh no: you weren’t paying attention! “Timmy!” she bellows, with the force to bring an elephant to its knees, “don’t make me ask you a third time: what is seven plus two?”

If you decide to answer correctly because you’re a good boy who never touches his no-no square, go to PARAGRAPH 2.

If you can’t remember, go to PARAGRAPH 3.

 

PARAGRAPH 2: “Nine,” you retort, slouching back in your uncomfortable plastic chair. The teacher nods, satisfied (which means she’s happy! Good job! Gold star! Big sticker!), and moves on to harrow some other prey. You pull out your CRAYONS and begin to color a super duper fantastic picture of something totally wicked cool, like you as a superhero or something. “Attention, class,” your ambiguous teacher calls, “there will be a D.A.R.E. meeting today after snack time. Be sure to be ready to ask some questions!” A collective groan rises from your peers, but you’re excited about this news. A D.A.R.E. meeting? They have all kinds of helpful know-how. The bell rings, and the sound of fourteen plastic chairs scooting across linoleum echoes through the room.

Go to SNACK TIME!

 

PARAGRAPH 3: You can’t remember what seven plus two is? It’s in the paragraph right above this. Golly gee, you’ve been chowing down on those “special” gummies, haven’t you, Timmy?

Aww, darn: you’re in TIME OUT! Go back to PARAGRAPH 1.

 

SNACK TIME: You reach into your Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers lunch box and retrieve one WARM TUBE OF GOGURT, one bag of CRUSHED-UP GOLDFISH CRACKERS, and one POUCH OF CAPRI SUN (now equipped!). Nice. After a brief trade of with a sad-looking boy named Matt, you get a pack of DUNKAROOS in place of your warm GoGurt. Sucker. You finish your snacks and throw out your garbage like a good boy who never touches his no-no square. “Line up, boys and girls!” shouts your teacher, spraying spit across the room like a damn sprinkler. You jostle your way to the front of the line, standing like a general leading his foul-smelling, poorly-dressed kid troops into battle, and make your way to the GYM.

To pay attention, go to PARAGRAPH 5.

To zone out during the meeting, go to PARAGRAPH 6.

 

PARAGRAPH 5: After what seems like the rest of the school year’s worth of shushing and whispered scolding from more ambivalent teachers, a MAN walks onto the stage. He’s dressed in a nice suit, and has powdered sugar under his nose. “Hey, kids!” he says, and his voice is very loud. “You wanna know about drugs?” He pauses and wipes his nose. “I was born in the back of a van in 1978. My mother was a taxi driver and my dad was unemployed. I had big dreams of being a musician—” he stops for a second to wipe the sweat off of his hands, “—but that never happened.” He lets out a shrill laugh. “So, I’m here to talk to you today about why drugs are awful and you shouldn’t do them. For example: cocaine! Cocaine is a drug that costs a lot more money than it used to, believe me. But cocaine is a white powder that you snort up your nose.” He wiped his nose again. “And it makes you high. Does anyone know what high is?” A few precocious children that are still trying to feebly grasp at their innocence raise their hands. “Well, getting high is when you feel really really good for a little while!” He glances offstage quickly before turning his attention back to the audience. “But it feels bad after! So you shouldn’t do it, or something.”

Continue to PARAGRAPH 7.

 

PARAGRAPH 6: It’s always stifling in the gym, but you try to make it work. You make eyes at Susie Barnes, sitting about three rows to the right of you. She’s fine as hell and you know it. You turn your head to the front, and don’t pay attention.

What’s wrong with you? Pay attention, you rascal, you! Go back to PARAGRAPH 4!

 

PARAGRAPH 7: You put your hand up and wait patiently for him to call on you. “What?!” he suddenly says in your direction, turning dilated pupils on you. “Mister,” you ask, “do you buy cocaine with money, or can you trade it?” There’s a moment of silence, and then he laughs harshly. “Kid, you can get cocaine by doing lots of stuff. You can buy it with money, or sell other drugs, like a trade, or you can sell yourself!” There is a murmur off-stage, and he suddenly changes the subject. “Does anyone want some stickers?” Everyone around you cheers, and you decide you’ll wait until the end of the meeting for any further questions. He talks some more about a sad man he knew that took lots of cocaine, and now he drives around in a beat up 2007 Ford Fusion – whatever that is – and goes around to schools all the time, and that it’s a horrible job. After that, he finishes by tossing stickers into the crowd to the small, eager hands that awaited below.

To ask the man more questions, go to PARAGRAPH 8.

To grab at the stickers and never ask questions, go HOME.

 

PARAGRAPH 8: You make your way through the crowd before the D.A.R.E. man can leave and tug on his sleeve. He smells like old milk and fire smoke. “What is it, kid?” he asks. “Do you like your job?” “Yeah, it’s great,” he says off-handedly, and reaches into his pocket to pull out a CIGARETTE. Your teacher always says that cigarettes are bad. “Is that a cigarette?” you ask dumbly, and the man turns his attention to you. “You ever try sherm?” You make a note to ask MOM what sherm is, and shake your head no. He waves a funny-smelling stick thing in your face. “This is what grown-ups do when they’re bored. ‘S called a joint. Your Mommy and Daddy probably use this when they’re at home, after they’re done…” he thinks for a moment, then says, “doing their taxes.” “What’s in it? Did you buy it from your friends?” You don’t mean to annoy him; you just have so many questions! Frustrated, the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a TWENTY DOLLAR BILL. “Here, kid, if I give ya twenty bucks, will you get lost?” You’re fairly sure you could buy France with that kind of money, and he just shoved it into your hand like it was disposable. You take off with the money and jump onto the bus.

Continue HOME.

 

HOME: You jump onto your familiar yellow friend the school bus, amidst the harsh words slung around by careless children and the broken eyes of today’s youth. You take your seat next to your AMBIGUOUS FRIEND, and the bus rumbles away from the school. You stare out the window and talk to no one, thinking about all of the video games you’re gonna buy with your twenty dollars. You hop off the bus and go to YOUR ANTIQUATED HOUSE, and you’re greeted by your confused caricature of a middle-class generic white woman. She is wearing a bathrobe. “Timmy!” she says with surprise, “you’re home early!” “Yeah! There was a D.A.R.E. meeting, and school got out early because the meeting was over, and I got twenty dollars!” you tell her. She nods. “Right, honey, but why don’t you wait outside? Dad and I are doing our taxes—can you play with the dog for another forty-five minutes?” You nod and obediently and go to the backyard. It was a great day.

THE END. Super job, or something!

10 Steps To Get Your Elementary School Teacher Fired

By Spencer Charlotte

An excerpt from “Nonsense 4 Kidz”

 

14% of elementary school educators get accused of sexual harassment at some point in their teaching careers. Here’s how you can get yours! Follow these ten simple steps and you too can earn a life of no homework and no worries.

1. Make eye contact

eyecontact

Bitches love eye contact and your teacher is definitely a bitch. Stare her down like you’re trying to see those saggy nips. Hopefully she’ll return the favor.

2. Fake an illness

sick

“Miss Jones, my dick and berries are feeling a little sore.” Sure, she’ll be weirded out, but you’re nine and you need help.

3. Start wearing shorter and shorter clothes to school

dress

When your mom says, “Jimmy, those are your four year old sister’s shorts,” hit her up with some gender conformity shit. Make your liberal mom feel bad for hindering your journey.

4. Spend your recess indoors 😉

indoors

5. Ask her about her recent divorce

single

Make sure to call her Missus Jones each time so she HAS to correct you.

6. Write her long and unnecessarily personal cards each week using the writing skills you’ve been developing in class

loveletter

eCards? Hallmark? The fucking handwriting paper with the dotted lines on it? Screw that! You took hooked on phonics for christ’s sake, your mom reminds you every fucking day that she spent so much money to make you smarter than all of her friend’s kids. Call Ms. Jones the hell out for not putting you in Advanced Writing 3 and don’t forget to add as many “XOXO”s as you can fit. Hand it to her with a wink!

 

7. Act dumb so you can stick around after class

actdumb

Your teacher thinks you’re a fucking idiot anyway. What’s two plus two? Seven, bitch. “Jimmy, I think you need to stay after class.” Good. I’ll stay after class. I’ll stay all night.

8. Don’t tell your parents to pick you up

wink

Give them a vacation to Cancun to relive their college years. Someone’s gonna have to give you a ride home.

9. Take pictures of yourself

picturesofself

All of yourself. Use your gym stretches for inspiration.

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10. Go in for the kill

goinforthekill

Here we are. The last step. Take all the hate you have for your teacher and march into the principal’s office. Hand in the envelope of pictures and say it’s for Miss Jones. Your principal will call a class assembly and all your classmates will verify that you’re her teacher’s pet. After all, you two are always making weird eye contact and she does always keep you for special help. After three to ten short interviews with the cops and therapists you’re on your way to getting that hot sub to fill in for the entire spring.

 

If A Town Hall Debate Falls At Hofstra, Does It Make A Sound?

By Heather Levinsky

 

Following presidential hopeful John Kasich’s town hall meeting at Hofstra on Monday morning, many (okay, a couple) people were shocked at the lack of student turnout for the event.

“Yeah, I guess this isn’t really as big a deal as the debate was in 2012” stated former student Annna Davis, referring to the major presidential debate which took place on Hofstra’s campus a month before President Obama’s re-election 4 years ago. “We really expected Hofstra to take it up a notch after that, but they took it down at least several notches.”

Hofstra Debate 2012 was covered by major networks such as CNN, FOX News, Univision, and CBS. Today’s town hall event focused on the major talking points of John Kasich, a candidate who is the human equivalent of a pile of dry mashed potatoes with a strong distaste for women and gays. But thankfully, not many students were there to notice.

“Yeah, we figured it was no big deal” said HU President Stuart Rabinowitz. “Nothing to worry the students about, nothing to skip class over.” Many were surprised that the town hall wasn’t held over common hour on Wednesday, a time when all students have a break from class so they can attend events or meetings.

Exactly one email was sent out to students to notify them of the event, which, to be fair, is about the amount of attention that Kasich deserves at this point in his career. However, many feel that there was not enough publicity surrounding what appeared to be a major political event.

When asked about the low turnout, campaign staffers smiled in relief.

“We were initially worried about the percentage of young, impressionable, liberal voters that we might encounter at a school founded on the principles of the liberal arts” said Blergh Ferghuson, a campaign staffer for Kasich. “But thankfully, the large sum we paid the school to not only quiet down the event, but also to bus in senior citizens by the thousands paid off quite well. John feels really good about how the event went.”

When asked about the management of the event, HU President-in-Chief Stuart Rabinowitz, after a startled jump, resumed walking with his head down, pulling our reporter closer under the wing of his jacket. After dodging the rest of the unispan paparazzi, he responded exclusively to Nonsense.

“Yeah, I knew from the get-go that, with the exception of the 8 members of the Hofstra Republicans, the majority of the student body would either A. Hate Kasich immediately, or B. Have no idea who he is. Understandably, we thought it was for the best if we kept the town hall under wraps.”

Insisting that he meant no offense to his long-time friend John, Rabinowitz continued in a hurried whisper. “Plus, going from immense media events like the 2012 and 2008 debates to something like this is just…embarrassing.”

We caught up with Kasich in a local men’s bathroom and asked him for his thoughts on the town hall.

“I just wish the student body had given me the chance to speak to them and change their minds, you feel me B?” Kasich lamented. With the New York primary election approaching, many candidates are becoming seemingly desperate to reach out to their constituents. 

“Well, I guess I was right about young people; they’re woefully uninformed, unapologetically lazy, and they’re all bleeding heart liberals, for fleek’s sake. But if I could say one thing to the younger side of the Hofstra fam, it’s that they should know that I am the dabbing-est choice for the Republican candidacy, namsayin? I’m old, I’m bold, and I’m running for president. And I’m an honest man, as straight as they come; I would never pander or change my platform to win the youth vote. Deadass.” smalllogo