Tag Archives: HvZ

Nerf Dart Ballistics Test Reveals You Didn’t Fucking Hit Me

By Quin Asselin

An excerpt from our latest issue, The Fake News Issue!

I’ve seen the worst of it. Got a bad case of rug burn from one of them Velcro casings a while back during the Siege of Vander Poel. I owe my life thrice-fold to Ol’ Doc Stitches for patching up my flaky meat-wrapper…on more than one occasion. I’ve got a scar in the shape of my cousin Doyle’s fake leg on my lower back.

The point is, Chris, I know my shit, and you totally could not have hit me from all the way back there. The only blaster with that kind of range is a Longshot™ and that’s before you even take into account the wind, my amazing reflexes, or the Coriolis effect. The report back from intel states that our opposition doesn’t carry that kind of armament, and even if they did have access to that class of hardware – I told you I didn’t feel it hit me, you tool!

Listen, greenhorn, when I joined up with The Triple B (Bloody Blaster Battalion) I had no idea. First day in basic they made me disassemble a pair of Nerf Doomlands 2169 Negotiators™, using just a couple of moldy darts like chopsticks. Sarge spat in my mouth when I said I didn’t know that zombies were the resident bad boyz. He spat right into my open mouth. But I grew to love the taste and subtle pulpy texture of his residual oat-based knowledge nectar. I was like a baby bird, gleaming scraps of blaster discipline from Sarge’s salivary surprise. I know my shit, ya little Krumph.

I don’t care that you think you shot me. Look at me, cadet. Take a deep whiff of me with your sight sponges. Do you see that I’m more greased up than a baking sheet full of Crisco? I’m caked in the goddamned stuff. The purpose of this is two-fold:

  1. I think my salamander has really started respecting me more since I became such a slick muchacho.
  2. The bullets fucking glide off you, Chris.

Chris, do you even give a shit about accuracy in this realistic dart-based war simulation? Because, judging by your utter lack of grease, mud, or any sort of dart-proof lube, I’d wager that you didn’t even account for non-Newtonian drag. Oh no? You didn’t, huh? What a surprise that “Big Piss” Chris here doesn’t even know about muzzle drop OR in flight trajectories once that dart is out of the muzzle.

My ears are attuned, you wempled duck brain of a boy. I can hear a dart whizzing by like the honks of a legion of Canada Geese flying overhead and raining white hot salvation upon the war-grounds. I’ve got the reflexes of a little league baseballer on two Redbulls and a couple bumps of those sweet sweet… battle salts.

Here’s the deal, Chris: I’ll play the game with you, but I don’t have to… did you… did you just shoot me? Point blank? No way, I called a time-out earlier. This shit doesn’t count. I won’t be toppled, let alone degreased, by an outsider. Don’t make me. I HATE this game.

Alleged HvZ Hazing Involved Induced Gameplay, A Cage, And Anti-Nonsense Imagery

By That Chronicle Reporter

An excerpt from our latest release, The Fake News Issue.

I was five months into my investigation of the hazing allegations levied at Sigma Pi fraternity when I caught wind of something far more sinister. Hofstra students are likely to remember the well publicized and widely clicked-on reporting that brought us the images that are now iconic additions to the Hofstra canon. A man shoved in a cage? That’s pretty stirring. How about two fraternity brothers showering each other in regurgitated dairy? Haven’t forgotten that image, have you? Of course not, because The Chronicle published it and the New York Post republished it, without credit. Well, that was in November, and despite our best efforts to wring as much publicity from this story as possible, the Sigma Pi trail has gone cold. It was at this juncture that the editors of Nonsense Humor Magazine informed me that something far worse was brewing behind Hofstra’s closed doors. Even worse than praying on the insecurities of young men to somehow validate yourself before becoming continuously caught up in a cycle of abuse from which you will never likely escape, worse than hanging out on a regular basis with the people who be-caged you, and worse than me not yet being verified on Twitter.  All of these small grievances paled in comparison to the shit storm I was made aware of, in the killing fields that are the HvZ hazing ground. Former members reduced to shambling corpses, foregoing social interaction, hunting down other members, shadows of what they once were… But why? And for what gain?

The trouble within the HvZ organization began when an anonymous source gave Nonsense Humor unfiltered Groupme messages concerning the 2015-2016 school year. References made to players being pushed to attend “rules meetings” or suffer the consequence of not playing in “the Big Game.” Reports indicate that other coercive hazing techniques were employed, including discouraging members from consuming alcohol during meetings, not immediately adding new members to the groupchat and forcing members to engage in public displays of humiliation, such as playing with children’s toys in public.

“It’s just messed up, you know? Not letting club members drink during meetings. I tried to join HvZ my freshman year, and when I pulled out my cans of 4loko, they asked if it could wait until after the meeting,” said the greased up Nonsense underclassman we chased down and asked for comment. “That’s what I love about Nonsense. Hahaha, they get it. One time, Matt told me to race another kid to see who could finish one faster, haha, to see who was coolest. I won. I was the coolest. I just wish people didn’t feel like they have to be hazed in order to feel like they fit in somewhere.”

While these screenshots did not seem to point to the most destructive parts of the organization, it did reveal an even stranger incident. Images of members with Nerf guns, and other foam weaponry as well as an empty cage in the background raised many questions. While Nonsense Humor was not able to confirm what the cage could possibly be for, randomly shouted out suggestions ranged from a new age bookshelf to alien torture device used to indoctrinate new members. We sought an official comment from HvZ, to attempt to clarify the situation, to no avail.

“It’s a filing cabinet, you vultures! It’s a filing cabinet!” cried the President of HvZ when we asked him to explain himself. “Get that microphone out of my face! I saw you take my name plate off of my desk and slip it in your bag I would really like to have it back please. Why are you doing thi–” But it was no use. They would continue to dodge our answers.

The largest grievance of all came from another batch of GroupMe screenshots, this time highlighting a short discussion between several members concerning the critically acclaimed 2015 Hofstra Issue of Nonsense Humor Magazine. The names of students involved in this conversation have purposefully been omitted from this article to better protect the identities of those involved.

“Yeah I just read that new Nonsense Issue?”

“How was it?”

“To be honest, it was kind of eh. I don’t know why they bring us up.”

“Sounds weird, I’ll pass.”

“Do they not like us or something? I’m friends with a couple of them, and they say that everything is fine. It just seems kind of unfair, when they are literally just as insular, weird and–”

The conversation goes on from there, but it only becomes more offensive and shocking, however the focus of the story cannot be on poor tastes and a lack of a keen sense of humor as shown in the previous interaction, but instead on the terrifying treatment of those who cannot handle the rigorous hazing process. Students go from active and outgoing with bright futures to empty shells who live to hunt down the more successful “survivors” of the hazing, seeking to convert them.

When reached out for comment, the school simply regurgitated their anti-hazing policy and promised to send out another email.

Article by Jesse Saunders and Matthew Tanzosh.

Like what you’ve read? Check out Nonsense’s first ever Humor Variety Show this Friday the 31st, at 7pm in the Hofstra Cultural Center Theater!

Hofstra Versus Zombies: Gun Control

By Charles Bukkake

An excerpt from The Hofstra Issue

It’s been a minute since Hofstra Vs. Zombies has made the news for another tragic incident. An innocent bystander getting shot between the eyes, forcing them to drop their books, papers, hookah pen, and consequently their Hofstra pride, is nothing new. “Fucking shit-balls!” exclaims one Hofstra student we reached for comment, rubbing the Velcro out of his eye, “Seein’ as those fellas must be nice guys, they should kindly crawl back into the friendzone they so unjustly belong in.” However, this time the stakes have been raised—and I’m not talking about your daddy’s rib-eye. Earlier today, a senior citizen was shot and killed making their merry way over to the best pizza on the island.

“Bitch was so old, she may as well have been the walking dead,” explains the charismatic, dangerous and probable virgin Malcom “xxx_ShadowDragon_xxx” (as he insisted we called him). “I just bought this beauty at a K-Mart in East Garden City. There was no test or background check, well, aside from the Q-T cashier checking me out!” Yes, he indeed wrote out “Q” and “T” in the air with his damp finger.

Is it really this simple to purchase a “beauty” of that magnitude with little to no restrictions by our federal government? Does East Garden City even have a local government? We consulted local gun expert Mike Hunt and even local-er expert Xavier “No Chill” Johnson.

“Listen. The fact of the…the fact of the…the matter at hand here is the fact that liberals can eat my dick. I repeat, liberals can eat my dick. What was I talking about? Right—as I was saying, my ass is so clenched that I lost all feeling in my legs about thirty seconds ago. Please help me.” Mr. Hunt does drive a compelling point. Nerf guns don’t kill people, but dying of secondhand embarrassment at the fact that you manually carved a radioactive symbol onto a forty dollar nerf gun does. I bet that “instrument” isn’t even fucking radioactive. Fuck.

Mr. Johnson, however, also provides some pretty decent feedback. “So are you buying any weed or what?”

My homie, “No Chill” states the obvious in implying that guns need to be regulated when there is, technically speaking, a school shooting every time this organization meets. Uh-oh…what’s this? Breaking news? It appears we are having more action on the scene than a hot pocket in a lean cuisine. A devilishly dapper debonair appears before us, cheeto dust swirling in a tornado of desperation and class. Donning an emerald cloak, shrouding his tragic past, he speaks. “Good day to thee, my fine gentlesirs.” With this mere phrase our news team is bewitched as our undergarments smash the floor with unquenchable lust.

“You see, ‘tis not the size of the gun that is important; rather, it is the way in which you pwn noobs-er..peasants with said gun. Or so my girlfriend—Girlfriends! tell me.” Pulling me in by my tie, he whispers, “But it sure does help if you have a Desert Falcon Blaster 69xxx laser-mounted, special edition, Mountain Dew fueled-euphoria enducing, triple-action meat beater-killswitch engage-cockgrinder with auto-erotic asphyxia controls and a dignity depletion rate of 923 dates per picosecond.” Noticing Edith the—now terrified—intern, he tipped his authentic Indiana Jones replica headpiece and uttered “Farewell, fair maiden. Until we meet in the land of sunlight” and vanished, leaving nothing behind but the faint odor of Axe Bodywash and starch.

We don’t mean to harass people who are happy doing what they do. As a matter of fact, more power to them for being less cynical and douchey than our team of accountants (who are also probably armed). All we are saying is that—shit! You have an office! An OFFICE. You guys always seem so happy! It’s disgusting. Do you guys even know how to roll your eyes? It is disgusting. We are not bitter. Please give us our office back.

Hofstra’s 5 Hottest Cults

By Tyler Barragan

An excerpt from The Hofstra Issue!

#5 The Followers of  Dionysus


    Bringing that devil may care aesthetic to Hofstra, The Followers of Dionysus are here. Sporting clothes drenched in sweat and vomit, smelling of Four Loko, these thirsty youngsters are just looking for a good time. So if you are looking for a time you probably won’t remember look no further because this is what you’re looking for.

#4 The Children of Baphomet


   We all know that black is coming back this year and so do The Children. These stylish hell spawn worshipping heathens dawning fabulous black robes and a fetching pentagram carved in their chests know how to keep it classy. Keeping up with the hot trends of beheading your enemies and selling your immortal soul for earthly pleasures this club is heading for the big times. So if you’re looking for your dream to be fulfilled simply sacrifice a goat and chant the Hofstra almamater and join The Children of Baphomet.

#3 Stuart’s Goblin Army


    It seems our President Stuart “Rootin Tootin” Rabinowitz  himself has been instrumental in the foundation of this cult. Stuart’s Goblin Army is hitting the scene in style; sporting that business casual look with blazers and converse with pockets overflowing with embezzled club funds. These cute red skinned, sharp tusked little buggers are so devoted Goblin King Stuart Rabinowitz that they get their foreskin sewed back on to resemble their leader. So if you’re ready to be replaced by a little red imp monster and spend the rest of your time here at Hofstra locked away in the dungeon of Hofstra Hall than simply run for election into Stuart’s Goblin Army.

#2 Hofstra Versus Zombies


    HVZ, need I say more, these guys know how to bring glamour back to Hofstra. Of course to really get to know these guys you best be in HVZ because they tend to stick together. Keeping it hip in their fedoras, face paint, and those absolutely dashing Attack on Titan capes these guys take to Hofstra’s campus in a big way. Even if you don’t know them personally they’ll make sure to let you know they’re there because those nerf darts are going to hit you if the members don’t run into you first. So if you’re ready to have the whole campus looking at you, join HVZ.

#1 Nonsense Humor


    If self-indulgence were style, these kicky youngsters would be Jacqueline Onassis. Dressed in the finest silks that probably have their club name on them or something, these kids sure know how to let you know they exist. Super meta, these people are the best known cult on campus—breaking down what it really means to be a cult. Traditionally, cults are meant to be secretive, so shouting about boners on the unispan dressed like an indie rock singer may seem counterproductive. This is what makes them the best.