Tag Archives: Recreation

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.

Hofstra Adds “Cards Against Long Island” Jokes To List of Achievements

By Zachary Johnson

Started in 2015, a Kickstarter campaign by Michael Sarrantonio funds a Long Island themed expansion pack to the wildly popular “Cards Against Humanity” card game. The unofficial, unaffiliated game expansion features jokes poking fun at Long Island, some of which include Hofstra University.

“I have to say when we found out about the campaign we were absolutely thrilled,” A spokesperson for Hofstra University, who may or may not be the President of this University—whose name we have published so many times in our last issue that we really can’t continue to make jokes about him—is quoted as saying. “We were looking for another way to desperately pander to a young audience after we tried sending a postcard to every single high school student in the world. To be quite honest we were looking for anything that we could just throw money at.”

cards 1

Hofstra University’s donation chalks up to a very generous $5,000,000. “Great Job! We Support You And Hope You Succeed In All Of Your Goals!” the donation message reads. “We Hope You Got That #Hofstra #Pride!”

“The project really looked like it was going to fail before Hofstra donated. I mean do people really still play this game? We couldn’t have done it without them,” Michael Sarrantonio, the creator of the unofficial expansion, is quoted as saying. “All they requested was we feature them on a specified amount of cards, with the logo, and then they made us sign a contract with a small-text addendum requiring us to pay them a copyright fee for each logo we print. I’m not sure how all the money adds up in the end, but I think we broke even?”

Upon the game’s official launch, Vice President for University Relations, whose name I guess we’ll omit because, I mean, idk fuck, I don’t know who this person is, I’ve never met them. I mean I met the President of the University once (and he told me he doesn’t read Nonsense because it makes him feel uncomfortable, but he also said he doesn’t read the Chronicle either, which I think is ridiculous, but what would I know, some sports journalist told us not to use the Chronicle’s name) but I guess at this point I should really just omit the President’s name for really various reasons. Anyway so, this other person, whoever the fuck they are, gave a press release in the University Club. “It is with great honor,” They said softly, avoiding the eyes of any student journalists in the crowd, “that I commend Michael Sarrantonio for his generous joke mentions, on nearly half of the cards in the whole deck. Jokes like ‘I woke up at Hofstra with _______ in my ass’, ‘I got mentioned in Hofstra’s Public Safety Briefs for ____’, or ‘Getting accepted into Hofstra is so easy, even a _______ could do it!’ only serve to strengthen the dignity of such a fine community, where all of our students are just so creative.”

cards 2

At press time, Hofstra University President—whose name we really should just honestly not even utter aloud after we literally beat that dead horse joke over and over and over again—was further quoted as saying, “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret here ladies and gents. Money is tight around here. We can’t even afford to buy more million dollar trees from Europe, let alone actually renovate and refurbish student dorms that are literally falling apart. I wanted to pick a smart, costly way to appeal to the youth, but I didn’t want to do it cheaply, so I just cut the salary of each cafeteria and grounds employee by 15%. I think we could say that it’s their way of giving back.”


The Hofstra themed cards have been wildly popular among prospective high school students. Jake Palm from Allentown, Pennsylvania is quoted as saying “I go to school with people who fuck their cousins, so my high school is already a joke. I feel like I could find a really comfortable home at Hofstra, now more than ever.”

“Does anybody even play this fucking game anymore?” Asks Teresa Schafer, from New Jersey. “Also what publication is this for? The school newspaper?”

Yeah. Something like that.


After a rich, delicious luncheon to luxuriously celebrate the occasion of being able to use something, i.e. a press conference, to eat like rich people in the University Club, the University President and staff opened up for questions. Patting this reporter on the back, the President of Hofstra’s University, whose name I think I just don’t even know at this point because I have literally worn it out, said, “You know kid, it’s become harder and harder to reach your generation, but I think we’ve finally found a solid and costly approach. The more joy we induce, the better our profit. Oh, uh? Did I say profit? I meant to say ‘community.’ Hofstra is a non-profit.”

At press time OSLE reported that the shipping of the cards would actually be delayed, as they had some questions and concerns about the content on the cards, and they wanted to clear some things up before the cards went to the printers. The release date has been officially postponed.

cards 4


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.

Point-Counterpoint: The Hofstra Hoverboards

By Heather Levinsky and Zachary Johnson

An excerpt from The Hofstra Issue!

When the Basketball team used their allocated budget (which they received in cash) to buy some Hoverboards from a questionable source (read more about this in the Chronicle), we here at Nonsense couldn’t resist the temptation of a juicy story. We asked our Editors-in-Chief what they thought about the issue. Here’s what they had to say:



When in the course of human events it becomes necessary to purchase a hoverboard, a man should, as is his constitutional right, utilize the funds allocated to him by his student government. However, when the flaws in the system grow to such a size that they interfere with the facility of obtaining such monies, students should take it upon themselves to subvert the system in hopes of a larger change. Therefore, the matter of the minor controversy enmiring the most honourable basket-ball team of Hofstra University is merely a bellwether for the general student populace’s current mindset towards their own government.

            The collegiate governing body at Hofstra is a pillar of oppression bearing down upon we, the innocent taxpaying students. Grievances upon grievances we have writ in great painstaking detail, and with such passion have we sent these letters unto our senators, only to have these stone-hearted judges cast them aside without empathy. In such ways we have been displaced from our homes and offices, taxed unfairly, and largely denied access to our own wealth which should be rightly allocated to each student organization, in concordance with the stipulations of our compulsory student activities fee. In addition to this, we daily suffer the insulting misfortune of being ruled by a class comprised almost solely of children dressed in the clothes of grown men.

            In defiance of such bureaucratic absurdity, the acquisition of these hoverboards, hereafter known as The Greate Purchase of Two Thousand and Fifteen, stands forthright. Such organizations who are privileged enough to recieve their allocations in form of liquid monies should not restrict themselves to purchases which could also be easily completed within the constraints of the system. Counterintuitive though it may seem, flaunting these loopholes and work-arounds brings higher visibility to the struggle of the proletariat in such a dramatic fashion that the issue can no longer be ignored.

            As thanks for this demonstration of solidarity this author further justifies The Greate Purchase by pointing out that these athletes are representative of the student body not only by their political actions but by the more traditional standard of athletic prowess, and thusly, that their limbs should not be troubled by the weariness of the layman’s primary mode of transportation. Foregoing walking, their muscles, sinews, and other assorted humours are kept in perfect condition, free of strain or stress from unnecessary use. These sinewy weapons are thereby reserved only for the occasion of the honorable sport basket-ball, which, in the aftermath of our foot-ball team’s great defeat (by the hand of this same institution against which we currently fight), is our only means of procuring glory and honor.

            Rightful as it is for a student to take claim of their their constitutional rights, so should these giants glide among us; with every passing day hovering closer and closer to revolution. 

            -Heather Levinsky, co-Editor-in-Chief of Nonsense, co-signer of the Declaration of Independence, writing instructor to Jonathan Swift




Look guys, we all know that global warming isn’t real. But let’s just stop for a second and think about the environment.

I know, I know. I know what you’re thinking. “Zach, we can’t think about the environment, when has the environment ever thought about us?” And you’re right, dear citizen, you’re right. But let’s just ponder this for one second: How will these Hoverboards impact the environment?

Lets take a moment here to look at the word “Hoverboard”. You’ll notice it has an “H” in it. What word also contains the letter ‘H’?


Do we want our environment to look like hell? I come from a strong, grassroots family line of people who were not afraid to go outside, and get their hands dirty. Mow the lawn. Mulch the plants. Extend our property line one inch at a time. Make the yard look nice and honour our Lord and Creator! My gran’ pappy and my dear old Mimaw Lacey would never want me to endorse something, willingly, that would make our Savior’s beautiful earth look like hell!

Furthermore, we haven’t yet thought about the emissions of these hoverboards. We know they’re fueled by gasoline, straight outta the Hofstra Oil Wells. Do we have any idea what that could do to this beautiful land?

Hofstra is an Arbyritto afterall isn’t it? The thing with the plants? Imagine living in your Penthouse Sky Suite in one of the newly renovated Hofstra Towers, looking out at the beautiful, smog-filled Long Island sky, and seeing it obscured by vape clouds and Hoverboard fumes!

This is why we need change! And not just any change either. I’ve got a real solution! My company, The Big Nice Smiley Face Corporation, is about to launch our new Green™ Hoverboard, complete with an economic, environment friendly, grass-fed, buzzword filter. The Green™ Hoverboard only runs off of green friendly resources, like Clean Coal and Farmer Pete’s 100% Organic Natural Gas™.

Stop the pollution, stop the waste! Invest in a Green™ Hoverboard, post-haste! (Vote For Me in 2020!)

-Zachary Johnson, co-Editor-in-Chief of Nonsense, CEO of The Big Nice Smiley Face Corporation, Board of Directors Trustee at Walmart, and financial advisor to former presidential candidate, Mittel Romney.

Local Bar Alone

By Meth

An excerpt from The 2015 Fall Sampler

It’s been 30 years since I graduated from Hofstra and I’m 52. I weigh 300 pounds and have many dimples on my ass. My wife divorced me two years ago for an oyster fisherman who was my best friend and I have two kids. I’ve spent thousands on them to go to college and both have dropped out. Now, the two of them are sophisticated hobos pursuing the arts. What a waste of sperm and money. I work as a professional phallic object collector. Any piece of art or object that is in the shape of a large phallus I collect and sell on ebay. Many are surprised at my profession and question my monetary gain but I will assure you, phallic objects are very in right now and I gets lots of dough money like that 60 cents rap artist. I live in a purple house on top of a large hill that has no windows and is regularly egged and teepeed by 12 year olds. The damage is costly and I spend long hours cleaning up the flaming cow shit they leave on my doorstep every night. I have often come outside with Uzis and shot at them but unfortunately at that point in the night I am too drunk and depressed to shoot straight and I end up shooting many of my neighbors’ pigs on his pig farm. Fortunately, my neighbor is blind and deaf so he thinks they have died of neglect. The routine ties itself up quite nicely but the boredom and loneliness on top of my hill is palpable. Often times, when I get lonely, I will get out the ol’ lubey tube and squeeze some out on my dick and balls. I then will call my dog over to ‘clean up’. Like I said, it’s a routine but it often becomes repetitive and stale like my sex moves.

Speaking of sex moves I decided to go to the local bar around the ol’ campus. Taking the walk down memory lane was quite surprising. First, I visited the bar McHebe’s. It was raucous bar with many lovely ladies but I could only tell from the outside since I was not allowed in after I accidently bumped into a group of young women. They claimed I groped and fondled them but I don’t think I did. If so then I blame it on my pregame which consisted of Windex, lighter fluid, and a bottle of Lysol. Sometimes after pregame, I can do some fire-breathing through my ass. I’ve never trained with a circus or anything; I just discovered it randomly one night at a Macaroni Grill while on some horse tranquilizer my doctor friend Leary Timothy prescribed me. Apparently, I discovered this rare talent long ago while trying to take a shit in an oven. The cook found me inside and when he opened it, I farted fire right into his face. Since that accident I’ve never been to Italy since due to the assault charges.

Anyways, when I hopped to the next bar, Social, I sat in the corner downing Jaegerbombs in great solitude. Alone and frightened and very fucked up, I decided to do my own version of fire breathing. I pulled down my pants like that one time in Clinton correctional and let the fire right out into the bartender’s face. He screamed and I crawled underneath everyone legs to escape. Those who stepped on me I bit with my super canine vampire teeth and I got the fuck right out of there.

The next and final stop was Dizzy’s. Still crawling, I made my way into the bathroom. I had to vomit but I ended up shitting myself instead. Fortunately there was a pair of assless chaps on the floor and I put them comfortably on. When I came out of the stall, there was a pretty young lady at the sink. She was about six foot, blonde, and was very sweaty. She too was wearing assless chaps and I could see that she too had dimples on her ass. Finding her my fancy, I walked over to the sink and I thought about using my best pick-up line, ‘Would you like to check my prostate?’ At the time I felt it wasn’t forward enough so I decided to go with my 2nd best pick-up line, ‘Nice shoes, wanna fuck?’ Surprisingly, before I could use it, the young lady groped my genitals and began to lick the mustache on my tongue. After what seemed to be a few hours, she took me to her home on her motor scooter. On the way there, I primally screamed fuck noises while she stared back me giving her best ‘O’ face.

Once there, she brought me into her small shithole of an apartment. It was filled with Paul Morissey posters and what seemed to be giant dildos and strap-ons. I was very jealous of her collection but before I could compliment her she took off her clothes revealing what I will now struggle to describe. It didn’t occur to me before that she had a set of arachnoid pincers under her jawline and as I looked down I could see a lion’s mouth held agape resting between her thighs. The mouth called to me “P’azzou-Zhoux.” That wasn’t my name, but it could have been in a past life. She then walked away into her 2 foot wide bathroom, with her full back tattoo of Snoopy crucified on his great and honorable Dark Lord and Conqueror Yhwh’s Cross, staring at me all the way. Her 2 foot wide Lion’s maw screamed without cease. I saw on a mahogany desk in the corner a stack of business cards that read: President of Hofstra, Stuart Rabinowitz. At the top of the desk a plaque read: Stuart Rabinowitz, President of Hofstra. At the time I didn’t think anything of it and I was just too horny to care. When she walked back in we began to fuck like rabbits in a hamster wheel. Unfortunately, after I cummed, I discovered that the condom broke. After that, I ran the fuck out of the room and all the way home. The next week I was feeling very ill and I had lesions all over my body, all the while carrying her hellbore in my now bewombed tummy. I went into the doctor’s and the nurse immediately told me I reeked of AIDS. So I have AIDS. And I feel very positive about this. Everybody needs to die someday and right now life seems too miserable to go on. Thank you, Stuart Rabinowitz, President of Hofstra. You have given me AIDS and the permission to die. I’m very grateful. Fuck you. Fuck you all.


John Baynor, former Speaker of the House of the United States of America