Tag Archives: News

Party Blackout Allegedly Involved Alcohol-Induced Vomiting, Sbarro’s, And The Commuter Lounge Bathroom

by Party Boy

UNIONDALE — Verbal evidence from my friends and some strangers seems to allegedly suggest that I vomited on a girl, rolled around in some beer, vomited again, and then passed out in the commuter lounge bathroom.

My roommates and I made of the plans to go out to a party at one of Hofstra’s fraternity parties because we were sick of getting drunk and crying in our own dorm room. The night was started with a pre-game in our friend’s room: several beers were shotgunned and several shots were consumed. No one was sure on the number. When asked for comment my friend Steve said, “you drank a shitload that night, man. Like we all saw everything coming.” He then called me a, “Fucking idiot who needs to get his priorities straight.” I told him to let me live my life and now he has threatened to stop buying weed for me.

After I arrived at the party, I was allegedly a “riot” according to this one girl in my Math Excursions class. “Yeah, you were like dancing on this wall really getting into it. You’re so weird in class I didn’t know you had this wild side in you,” said one girl who chose to remain anonymous. “I came over to try to dance with you, but then you fell right off the wall into some beer,” she recounts.

At this point I allegedly started rolling around in the beer yelling, “Wrap me in a dough and call me Babe the Dirty Pig Boy. Feed me your dinner scraps!”

My friend, Deborah, who just happened to be at the party, helped me up. When asked about the situation she said, “It was really just a strange night for you. You were adamant about being wrapped in dough for a while then went into the frat house and ate all their hummus!”

I replied with, “That’s crazy! I did that!?”

At some point after this, the time cannot be certain, the cops showed up. Almost as soon as they arrived, I started vomiting a hummus-y beer mixture out of my mouth. My clothes were unscathed in the morning, so I was shocked when I was told this news. My friend Molly sorted it all out for me, “You threw up all over me. Down my shirt, on my shoes, everywhere. Then you made out with Stacy! And you know I have a crush on you!” I ran away shortly after that, scared of her crying or forcing me into commitment, so she did not give anymore quotes.

Several minutes of the night cannot be described, because no one was with me. My friend had left to go to the popular late night convenience store, “Bricktown.” When he found me, I was lying on a tree singing Rhianna’s 2007 hit, “Umbrella” despite sources confirming that Future was playing at the time. He allegedly put me around his shoulder and helped me walk back to campus. “You know how much more I can lift than you at the gym,” he said on the situation, “it was a breeze carrying you back.”

The two of us then went to Sbarro’s, the best pizza on Long Island, where we ordered several slices. I was said to have taken one bite and then immediately vomited on the floor. My friend then took me to the commuter lounge where I destroyed it with my vomit and urine and proceeded to pass out, pants at my ankles.

My other roommates were then called to come get me with their car, for they were sober. When asked to comment on the situation my friend Mike said, “You kept telling us, ‘if you try to make me move, I’m going to scream,’ you’re such a little fuck!” They eventually got me to my dorm and into bed.

I awoke the next morning with the feeling that goes along with a blackout: What happened last night? It could have been anything. I could not expect how disappointed I would be in myself after hearing the story.

At time of print, we have very few details regarding the appropriate amount of apologies that must be made, or if the girl from Math Excursions will call me back.

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

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!

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

“Money Is Tight” Says Administrator With Near Million Dollar Salary

By Zachary Johnson

In an op-ed piece published last year in Hofstra’s student-run newspaper (whose name we are expressly forbidden to mention) University President Stuart Rabinowitz discussed with a Hofstra student the prospect of funding LIRR transportation for internships. Students argue that since Hofstra markets itself on proximity to New York City and potential internship opportunities therein, they should fund transportation as students may end up paying thousands of dollars while commuting.

According to reports, President Rabinowitz considered that kind of structural change impractical. “Money is tight,” said the University President who takes in about a million dollars a year at a school that is technically registered as a non-profit. “It’s not like we’ve got a lot of money we can just give away like that.”

“I’ve crunched all the numbers myself, and there just doesn’t seem to be anywhere that we could be making any cuts,” said Hofstra President and Trustee Mr. Monopoly Man who was paid the EXACT AMOUNT of $981,546 in the year 2012 (you can see a screenshot from that page here) as his total compensation and it’s quite possible that number has gone up in following years while the salaries of private school presidents have continued to rise.

Under the President’s guidance, Hofstra University has announced a new Master Plan™ in order to raise funds, but has been typically quiet about the details. Effectively since most Universities often seem to function as microcosms for the real world that are just as disappointing and terrifying behind the scenes, the President considers Hofstra’s lack of funds akin to a mini-model of the economy.

“We have to face the fact that we’re in a sort of recession ourselves and we’ve got to correct it. We won’t find a solution from cutting obscene salaries, because as the real world has shown us, if those at the top are making an obscene amount of money then the wealth will trickle down to the proletariat and everyone will be totally happy and content with no problems at all.”

The President seeks to redesign the University’s admission process, which currently functions mostly by giving out many scholarships based on academic merit to a fuckton of prospective students who are first harassed with monthly postcards begging them to come to Hofstra.

“We’ve become too caught up on social entitlement programs like this,” President Goldman Sachs says. “If you want to be somewhere like Hofstra you’ve got to work hard by having your parents already make a lot of money. We can’t just keep handing out all these scholarship dollars, or accurately funding the school newspaper or something. We’ve got to continue putting our stock in the hopes that I will single-handedly save this University by aggressively waving our dick until people think we’re associated with Ivy League schools,” said the esteemed Hofstra President, a large cave-dwelling treasure-hoarding dragon,who besides being President and Trustee at Hofstra, serves as the director on two company executive boards, which he probably takes home enough money from that he could live really excessively comfortably if for some reason with unknown probable benefit he were to be making a little less money at Hofstra University.

“For now though, we’ll just have to continue spending our money responsibly” said the President.

At press time Hofstra University announced that they would be importing ten thousand dollar trees from Europe that will be installed over by Hagedorn Hall where no one will ever see them.  smalllogo

Campus Douchebags Assemble To Protest Hoverboard Ban

By Zachary Johnson

In light of Hofstra’s continued fear of things it doesn’t understand, a group of students has organized themselves to protest the University’s recent ban on Hoverboards. Nearly two hundred students, all male, wearing sweatpants and muscle shirts, assembled early this winter morning outside the student center with picket signs and catchy slogans.

“I’m not afraid of no cold!” Daniel “The Man” Abrams said while taking a drag off of his “My Dad Paid in Full”-flavored vape. “I’m out here for the cause!”

“Yeeeey yeeeyy!” His fellow protestors echoed, patting each other viciously on their smooth, prominent muscles. Their hands then collectively trailed down each other’s well-worked backs, tracing the curves of their spines down to nice, squat-formed, bouncy buttocks. The group then laughed their momentary homoeroticism off as a joke, because jokes about straight guys pretending to be attracted to each other are still funny in 2016.

“We earned these Hoverboards fair and square!” shouts a member of Hofstra’s basketball team, who received their team budget in cash and spent what would amount to hundreds of dollars on the infamous handless segways. “Hofstra is banning the future!”

The Hoverboard ban comes after an intense onslaught of Hoverboard-related injuries across campus, but according to reports the injuries aren’t the only reason for the prohibition.

“Let me ask you something,” the Dean of Students said in a press conference this morning. “Have you noticed anything different at Hofstra lately? Trails of vape smoke drifting through south campus? Waiting lines in the gym’s weight room at all the machines except the leg press? An increase of ridiculous muscle cars roaring through parking lots late at night? These things have always been here, these individuals have always been among us but never in the numbers we’re seeing now. Hofstra is experiencing record amounts of douchebaggery, and it’s high time we put an end to it if we want to continue begging America’s brightest to start thinking of us as their backup school. This ban is one step forward, and I don’t wanna hear any of you fuckers pretending you wouldn’t have done the same goddamn thing.”

“I think the Dean’s comments were a little harsh,” said Sean “Chicken Legs” Williams. “I know I’m gonna get shit for this but like, maybe she’s just on her period? My girlfriend is on hers right now and she won’t even let me try butt-stuff.”

At press time the group protest immediately dissolved to catcall the women’s basketball team on their way to just get some fucking breakfast.  smalllogo

If Elected President, I Will Personally End All Memes


By Zachary Johnson
If elected president by a large percentage of the population who I duped with my clever campaign ads, my first promise to the American people is that I will end all memes. For good.

You might think I’m crazy. I’ve heard that before. I’ve been called crazy my whole life. By everyone. Parents, teachers, lawyers, doctors, the homeless man I snatched up with the grill of my car while on a drunk cruise hopelessly pondering what to do with my meaningless existence. But I learned at a young age that if you can’t join them, beat them.

As the 45th president of the United States of America, I will personally end all memes forever. How do you like that, Jackson Samuels? Am I crazy now? I bet you’re gonna miss ironically posting all of those starter pack memes when I become president. Maybe it’ll make you feel bad enough about tripping me on the playground as a small child. What goes around comes around, buddy!

When I become president, nobody will think that I’m crazy. Even the homeless man, permanently stuck in the grill of my Lexus, will stop shouting at me. Maybe these sons of bitches will start to show me some respect when I take the highest office in the land by running an aggressive campaign fuelled by my own shortcomings and end all memes, forever.

It’s not as if I don’t have the qualifications for this job. I’ve shown that I can achieve goals. In 2011, I started a petition to end global warming, by turning off my lights for one hour each day. It was easy to achieve because I live in perpetual darkness, surrounded only by my loneliness and lack of empathy for other human beings, fostered by a harsh experience with mob mentality at a young age and the lack of an effective support system. I made it through the whole year, and I saved so much energy. Maybe now Obama can get off my back about it, thanks.

Speaking of Obama, I’m going to take his goddamn job. I will not be the second black president, but I will be the first president to ever take a stance on memes. I will ascend to the ivory throne, draped in the tri-color scheme of this grand nation, and decree that memes be abolished forever more. Nobody will think that I am crazy then, because I will be a politician, and no matter how far I go it’s not very likely that I’ll ever be Hitler anyways. Hitler is the only bad guy we can compare bad politicians to, and I don’t even look like him, so I am already less susceptible to campaign attacks than Hilary Clinton.

Then, I’m going to take it one more step further, and kick everyone while they’re down. Not only do I promise to end all memes forever, but I solemnly swear that I will end Lorde’s career, and make her work at Chipotle. That’s right. Goodbye Lorde and hello Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O’Connor serving me my fucking barbacoa. No, I don’t want to try the tofu shit. Sing me “Royals” while you wrap my burrito, and I can tell you that I never enjoyed that song, because I am the Queen Bee, and I also never really understood whether you were being ironic or not.

I am not fucking crazy, and I will prove it by being elected. I do not need your vote, because I have better votes. I know that my campaign message is something that will resonate with the people of the United States of America. I know that my finger is firmly pressed upon the cultural pulse. Elect me president, and I will eradicate memes from this earth like the scourge that they are. I fear what I do not understand.

Vote for me because at the very least I am probably better than Donald Trump.

Diners, Drive-Ins, and Destiny: My Guy Fieri Fan Fiction

Art Credit Heather Levinsky

By Langley Pussifoot

An excerpt from The Hofstra Issue

I had nothing to be nervous about. As a veteran student journalist,  I’d long understood the value of confidence and composure. For an assignment of this magnitude, though, I’d need as much of both as I could muster. Despite all I knew about proper journalism, I had long been relegated to the most benign and obvious assignments. “SGA to Vote: ‘Is Smoking Weed a Sin?’” was by far my biggest story last semester, notable still among my journalistic peers for my concise yet biting closing sentiments, “Christ does anybody even read this does anybody even read this shit you fucking swine yo ufucking shitbeastsss.” I’ll admit it was a brash decision, and perhaps at a different school it would have meant a swift kiss of death for my young career; instead, they made me editor-in-chief, allowing me to assign myself the best stories and fuck anybody I want.



It’s true we had an idea that something like this was due to happen soon enough; we’d received vague-if-teasing e-mails notifying us of a “New Era,” a “Master Plan,” and, seemingly unrelated , a string of off-campus assaults attributed to somebody named H O T P O P E Y E S B I S C U I T S. Hell, Hofstra had been attempting publicity stunts fairly regularly long before any of us thought we’d end up here; sure, we all remember the TLC Reunion fiasco of Fall Fest ’14 (only two of them bothered to show up), but what about the shocking Spring Fest ’09 that saw SuperChef Bobby Flay eat his own throw up? What about the night shuttle that doubled as a  Planned Parenthood clinic? (Thanks Steve) They had all failed to put us on the map in any significant way, and I suppose that by now it was pretty obvious we needed something big if we wanted the name-recognition of a Penn State or Virginia Tech. Their plan: Bring award-winning father and food eater Guy Fieri to campus to put some of our top-flight eateries on an episode of his seminal investigative series Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. My plan: turn this into the biggest story Hofstra had ever seen.

We were scheduled to meet upon his arrival to campus, if only for a chance to ask preliminary questions before the  crush of fanboys came flocking, tips a-frosted. I gripped the inside of my pockets like the crossbars of a roaring coaster, a buoyant anxiety growing inside me as if every step towards our meeting point furthered my crawl over the apex of Flavor Town Mountain. Something inside me knew already that soon my life would never be the same. I crossed the street towards the Student Center a nervous wreck of potential questions, thinking still of how I would draw the greater truth from such a complex journalistic muse. Then it hit me. A car; a sickly-cum colored Honda knocked my bitch ass down like nothin’, drawing blood from a scrape on my knee and a some pee from my penis. (Perhaps also some brain trauma because, well, letters and numbers scream at me pretty relentlessly.  But that’s besides the point).

My ears were still ringing when the unholy smell of Pulled Pork Vape engulfed me. A hand reached towards me through the hell cloud, the spray-tanned flesh clump bearing a faded reminder of once-flaming knuckle tats inscribed: “FOOD”. It was Him.


Shit brother, I can’t afford another case. Please man, you don’t need to go to a hospital do you? Do you know who I am? I’m fucking famous! I have money! Please, take my money. I have $38 dollars right here. I have some black and milds in my car. I can probably get like three more black and milds from my cameraman. Oh god I can’t believe this fucking happened again.”

Mr. Fieri,” I interrupted, “I can’t take your money or your delicious treats, I’m the one covering your visit. I’m supposed to be meeting you for an interview right now. Please stop blowing that Pulled Pork Vapor on my wounds. I am begging you to stop doing that to me.”

“Oh shit, the student-journalist. Yeah, uh, my publicist said that would be a really bad idea for me right now. I mean, besides the fact that I just hit you with my car, I’ve also got a lot of shit working its way through the legal system currently that may ban me from campuses altogether.”

“Oh wow, well I—”

“And I mean, I can’t even do a full episode here. They’ve got me doing an online-exclusive thing right now, which we’ll probably scrap altogether. They’re making me drive my car from home, I don’t even get anything cool! I can’t even believe somebody let me put myself in this situation. I killed like three cats too, I just ran them right the fuck  over. I shouldn’t be telling you this. What am I doing? Do you have any Xanax? Any shit at all? Please bro.”

“Look Mr. Fieri, this is my career we’re talking about. This event—you—this is a big deal for this school and for me. This is going to help me make a name for myself. Don’t you remember that struggle for recognition, for validation in doing what you love? I could be the next Guy Fieri, and you could help pass the torch! Don’t you see that?”

He paused and backed away suddenly, exhaling some additional smokehouse vapor from his ears and from behind his cool sunglasses.


“Kid, I’m sorry, but my career still has twenty-plus years. This is only the beginning for me. Hell, you probably think I’m what, 35? 38? Not even close. But that’s just the power of money my friend. Now stay away from me.”

With that, he lowered his powerful frame into what smelled like an outhouse made of kielbasa, and drove away as dangerously fast as he had come. I was stung, devastated the way so many were when Guy Fieri’s S’mores Indoors Dessert Pizzas turned out to be full of hot peppers and very little else. I’d been shunned by the one man who could surely change my life, pushed away by the master of my craft. He was right though; this business isn’t built on friendship. If he wouldn’t agree to help my story, well, maybe I didn’t need his permission.

Disallowed from my press privileges, I took a series of insignificant notes on Guy’s reactions from a distance. Impassioned howls of “Dang brother!” and “Wowza” filled the Sbarro kitchen for some time before he finally wrung out a slice of pepperoni pizza like an old dish rag, streamlining its orange grease directly into his face holes. He wiped his bristled goatee and looked in for the money shot: “That’s the kind of nectar we love, here on Triple D.”


My time was coming, and I knew it; I’d already watched Guy eat every kind of Sbarro slice, every type of sushi, a steak sandwich, and three different kinds of preservative plastic wrap. They were going to have all the necessary footage soon, and my story was not yet complete. I moved through the crowd with swift determination—my mind tuned to chaos, my heart to destiny. Our eyes met across the Sbarro counter and he stepped forward only to shake his head in silence .

“Hey Guy,” I shouted, confident that I was about to say something really cool. “Make this gun bullets a snack for you!” I was wrong. But it didn’t matter; I had just shot doting husband and affable neighbor Guy Fieri four times in the chest with a handgun I was able to legally purchase. I don’t know if I killed him, I don’t even know what the full extent of my charges are yet. I only know what the last words he said to me were, spat between coughs of blood and the regurgitation of some garlic bread. “I only have…this to say…the liberals were right. We still need stricter gun control. This all could have been prevented.”


So as you can see, President Obama, I’m writing this letter to you as a sort of olive branch. I’ve scratched your back, and your front, and your sides, and your grey little head. I fed the public the perfect appetizer of heartbreak with an entree of fear. I turned a national icon into a national tragedy, a bleeding heart mouth piece narrating the story of a nation in distress. I’m now isolated in a maximum security prison, mostly because I keep spitting on my fingers and smelling them. Nobody wants to be my friend. So now it’s time for you to help me. Pardon me of these charges, let me go back to the school I put on the map and do what I deserve to do. Help me tell the stories that need to be told. And please, Mr. President, bring back the Hofstra football team. The Master Plan must continue. My work is not done.

The Gentrification of Estabrook

Art credit: Austin Van Shaick

By Jesse Saunders

An excerpt from The Hofstra Issue!

This move in day spelled chaos and despair for local residents moving into the up and coming dorm building, Estabrook Hall. What started out fairly normal, became the worst day possible for many upperclassmen, including super-senior David S. Mack IX, “My family’s been with this university for years, half the buildings are named after me.” Stated Mack, primary-bloodline descendant of the guy half the buildings are named after, “But when I walked in this year, ready to move in, I was informed that the single I’d been in for years was now an artisan coffee shop.”

Mack’s room was not the only causality in the push to prettify the once party filled Estabrook. The building admitted 75 freshmen, who stated they just really liked the character of the building, and continued to correct this reporter whenever she referred to it as a dorm.

“It’s a residence hall, we’re trying to build a community here, and it’s much more than a dorm.” He said while adjusting his obviously fake horn rimmed glasses. Wait people still wear those? Wow.

Along with the 75 freshmen, the building is now home to four artisan coffee shops, 1 vegan cupcake place which is actually not that bad, a personalized day planner store, and either a slam poetry club or just a quad of very angsty roommates. The dorm acts as the centerpiece to President Rabinowitz’s new MasterPlan™.

“I don’t understand why these kids hold onto their dorms, like just graduate and let the residence hall be pretty.” Said President Foreman Rabinowitz as he laid out the plans for a Duane Reade to replace the student lounge.


7th floor Estabrook
Art by Taylor Thurmond


The most tragic story of the day was that of a hard-working family of five living on the seventh floor. The McNotwhite’s have been struggling to keep their single ever since they made the terrible choice to try and live on a college campus instead of in a real town.

“It wasn’t perfect, but it was home. Everyone on the floor ignored each other and that was just fine,” Said Todd McNotwhite, the family’s eldest son. “But now these kids expect us to interact with each other and go to their weird events, no one here wants to attend a Friends trivia night and I’d really like if they stopped asking.” Sounds exactly like something a person who didn’t know the original theme song was by R.E.M would say.  

Beyond the raising price of the dorm itself, the McNotwhite’s have to deal with the loss of the vending machines they once depended on for meals. Replacing the 13th floor vending machines is a cereal bar, which is still a very strange concept, and a “classic country” brunch joint, where everything is served in a mason jar, including the food. The McNotwhite’s tried to adjust to the changes to their home, but don’t see why you would try and put an omelet in a mason jar.

The family has already received several offers on their home, including one from a very persistent messenger bag store. While they don’t want to accept the offer, their choices are limited. With the continuing pressure from both the community and their landlord, the shadowy RSA organization, they’ll be gone before their meal plans run out.

These stories touched the hearts of P-Safe officers across the campus, who have taken it upon themselves to help the residents move out quickly and efficiently. With the help of one of the school’s many fire drills, unwanted students scurried out of Estabrook away from a cloud of unidentifiable dank smoke and into the welcoming hands of P-Safe officers, ready to aid the MasterPlan™ by quickly and quietly moving into a sadder building.

Following the rejuvenation of Vander Poel Hall by honors students less than five years earlier, Estabrook Hall represents a new standard for housing at Hofstra University. Students displaced from Estabrook were originally upset at the change, but they learned to live with it when they realized their new home of C-square, while nowhere near classes, is very close to recreation areas held dear to estabrookians, such as the scenic acid fields.

The day ended with what seemed a great loss for many students at Hofstra, but in the end that cupcake shop is really good, so it’s this reporter’s core belief that we’ll somehow survive.