Posts by MGarczynski:
I Think My Boyfriend Is An Alien Tasked With Shepherding the Human Race to the Next Step in Its EvolutionNovember 17th, 2013
Hey, Liz. Thanks for coming on short notice. I know I can lay my guy problems on you pretty thick, but this time it’s serious. This time I really like the guy, and I want to try and make it work between us. It’s just that I think he’s an alien tasked with shepherding the human race to the next step in its evolution.
All the signs are there, like how he’s always saying he wants to “show me the stars.” At first I thought he was just being sweet, but when he telepathically transports me to a far-off star system, laying the universe out before me as if it’s a child’s playset, it’s like, red flag much?
And I know this sounds like such a luxury problem, but I don’t know if I’m ready to be anyone’s “Star-Child.” I mean, if I transcend my physical being and join him in a hyper-dimensional consciousness, will I stop being “Fun Maggie”? Will we still have girls’ night, you and me?
Things have just been going so fast. One moment I’m spilling a strawberry marg on his lap like a total klutz, and the next I’m at his place, hyper-aware of the web of time stretching infinite into past and future. You ever do a walk of shame from the fourth dimension? Kinda gross.
The worst part is I get the vibe he’s one of these “hit it and quit it” assholes, who bestows the gift of celestial knowledge upon you and drops off the planet for millennia. His last relationship ended with the Aztec Empire, which in itself is a solid track record, but will I be left to craft profound monuments to his glory for the rest of my life? I’m not looking to deify anyone right now. You know how weird I got after Brad.
At this point I know the relationship’s inevitable—I’ve seen the fourth dimension after all. I guess I just need to talk these things out because this conversation is part of a predetermined set of infinite circumstances, which also include me becoming an immortal Übermensch, you dying in a nursing home on Long Island, and the universe imploding in 300 billion years.
Anyway, thanks for hearing me out, Liz. I’m off to a date with this guy on a quark somewhere, and then we might try out some butt-play. He’s really into butt-play, which is fine.
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Welcome everyone to the thirteenth annual Cruis’n Exotica Worldwide Tour! It’s been over a decade since the legendary third Cruis’n racing game first took you to exotic locales around the world, and got you begging ever since, “When can I go?” Well the answer, dear cruisers, is right now. My name is Carol, and I’ll be your guide on this three-month, thirty-thousand-mile adventure. So let’s get cruis’n!
Right now we’re on the road to Seoul, the capital of South Korea. While left unacknowledged in the game, Korea is actually two countries. No, Dave, I don’t know why the roads aren’t all lined with flags and ancient pagodas. And I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think we’ll pass giant statues of the Buddha, or drive off wooden bridges steep enough to flip the bus. But if you’ll look out either window, you’ll notice trees that are very faithful to the gameplay. Ah, here we are in the city! The finish line with the buxom twins and gold trophy? Oh, there isn’t that either.
We’re now driving through Denali National Park, home of the highest mountain peak in North America. Haha, Dave, I am aware that the Denali is a car. No, we will not be driving it, or anything other than this here bus. And I’m sorry if this part of Alaska doesn’t consist of a peninsular beach the width of a two-lane highway, an ocean full of breaching humpback whales, a sky full of twirling biplanes, and snowcapped mountains on the horizon that never get closer. I don’t know if there is a part of Alaska like that, or a part of the world like that, Dave. So please sit back down. And no, I will not at least double-tap the pedal. It won’t make us do a wheelie.
Here we are in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, floating above the site of the mythical Atlantis. Yes, Dave, it’s mythical. That means none of it is real. The ruined Athenian temples, the gigantic tropical fish, and the road across the sea floor that you can drive on in an open convertible? All fake. No, we can’t just turn back to shore and check out Italy. If you want to see Italy, you sign up for the Cruis’n World Worldwide Tour, which runs from December to March. You already dropped forty thousand dollars to see the sites from Cruis’n Exotica, not the admittedly superior predecessor Cruis’n World, and I’m doing the best I fucking can, okay, Dave?
It’s Mumbai, Dave! There is no goddamn “open road” in Mumbai! I didn’t design the Cruis’n levels to be completely unrealistic interpretations of the real places they’re based on! I didn’t insist that real places be random assemblages of mundanity, rather than one-way courses flanked by iconic landmarks and hyperbolic stereotypes! This is the thirteenth year we’ve done this, Dave! You should have checked the message boards beforehand!
Don’t get on that plane, Dave. You’re the only cruiser left on what might be the last ever Cruis’n tour, and the only thing keeping me from crashing an SVT Cobra I can’t still afford into Angkor fucking Wat. My life is counting down from ten right now, and I just don’t know if I can continue. But you’re my extra quarters, Dave. Don’t run out on me yet.
The itinerary says “space camp,” Dave! How the fuck did you expect us to leave Earth?!
-Matt Garczynski ’14
The US Mint charged The Jack-O-Lantern, young creatives at a school that knows from money, with designing its next line of special edition quarters. Here’s what we whipped up.
-Matt Garczynski ’14
See Bonus Quarters Here
Gleep-Glorp and Mobiatron were my friends. Back when I didn’t have many “real” friends, those two cybo-bots came down from the planet Xxyxxflx to make my life worth the while. I’ll never forget the adventures we had: fighting the evil Cobra King from Mars, shooting off jet pack boosters on my big kid bike, crushing the ant invasion in my parents’ driveway. Oh, and the sex was great.
Those two crazy bots could always make school more fun, summer camp less soul-crushing, and nights a lot less lonely. You’d think with their cold steel hearts they couldn’t love, but their cold steel cocks proved otherwise. I remember wishing my time with them would never end, as I came buckets into Gleep-Glorp’s ectoport.
Mom and Dad were worried I was “withdrawing into myself,” I heard them say while I spent days indoors ramming positronic prostates. But they couldn’t have been more wrong. Gleep-Glorp and Mobiatron were opening me up, in ways my parents would never understand. Or maybe they would understand, if they ever found the crayon drawings I made. I diagrammed them pretty well.
But then I grew up. Gleep-Glorp and Mobiatron started booting up my butthole with their digi-dicks less and less, till I stopped seeing them altogether. I met a girl, and we got along great, but when I asked her to set phasers to “fuck” and pressurize my penetration tube she just looked at me funny. I missed my friends.
Will I ever regain that sense of wonder and innocence, fucking two robots made out of improvised Lego sets? Who knows? For now I can only look back fondly to that time, all those weeks ago.
It was two weeks ago. I was twenty.
-Matt Garczynski ’14
Matt Garczynski ’14
INT. GIRLS’ LOCKER ROOM
Justices RUTH BADER GINSBURG, ELENA KAGAN, and SONIA SOTOMAYOR step out of their volleyball uniforms and lift black ROBES over their heads.
Way to stick it to those Department of Labor biznatches, Sonia.
You take that game to the real court and there’s no way we can’t kick this case’s ass.
Shoot. We got a case today?
Big one. Deciding if it’s constitutional to ban marriages.
Oh, don’t start me on marriage. Ain’t nobody gonna tie this bitch down.
Not your marriage, El. Same-sex marriage.
Like for those musical theater kids in the Capitol Steps?
Ugh, you’re such a homophobe.
Am not. Speaking of marriage, when you and Justice Roberts gonna seal the deal?
The three justices step out the swinging locker room doors clutching their case files to their chests.
Hormone-addled law clerks and administrators mingle on their way to the Great Hall.
Besides, it was one time. At that Monsanto rager.
We legalized 5 strains of glyphate-resistant kush that night.
That was a bitch to overturn in the morning.
Roberts probably doesn’t even remember.
Justices JOHNNY ROBERTS, ANTONIN SCALIA, and CLARENCE THOMAS roll up wearing stars-and-stripes varsity jackets over their black robes. They are trailed by the dweeby SAMMY ALITO, sans jacket.
Oh heyyy Justice Roberts.
That’s “Chief Justice” Roberts.
He points to a big ‘C’ on the front of his jacket.
You ladies ready for game day?
Scalia dribbles an imaginary basketball and shoots a fadeaway.
Thomas deadarms Alito.
More ready than you jerks are. You’re probably gonna vote for the Defense of Marriage Act.
So what if we are?
Because it’s bullying people for being different.
That’s America, sweetheart. Voting American is the reason why we’re this court’s All-Stars…
He holds out his hands for Thomas and Scalia to low-five. Alito misses.
And you’re just the benchwarmers.
Thomas and Scalia let out an audible ‘ooooh’ as they walk away. Alito shrieks a hyena laugh and double-karate chops his crotch. He scampers after his friends.
Hopeless nice guy JUSTICE STEPHEN BREYER approaches Sonia. He was watching the whole time.
You shouldn’t let him treat you like that.
I know, Breyer.
Here. Let me take your files.
Cum in a sock, Justice Breyer. She’s good on her own.
Kagan, you’re just jealous ’cause I didn’t ask you to the inaugural ball.
Save it, Breyer.
INT. GREAT HALL ENTRANCE
Johnny Roberts, Scalia, Thomas, and Alito strut to the Great Hall door. Johnny gets a tap on the shoulder. It’s JUSTICE ANTHONY “TONY” KENNEDY.
Johnny’s eyes widen.
You go ahead, guys.
Something the matter?
Nah, just gotta cop some notes off Justice Kennedy before the case.
Scalia, Thomas, and Alito step into the Great Hall.
You’re voting down DOMA.
What? No way.
But you said!
I said a lot of things–
A vote against it is a vote for us. For our future.
We don’t have a future! We never did!
Johnny turns and trudges through the door. Tony stands confused, dejected.
-Matt Garczynski ’14
We sent Jacko correspondent Mike Hewitt ’16 to check out how the States’ most uninhabited non-state celebrates the 4th of July.
It’s a beautiful cloudless day here on Baker Island, a small US territory in the Pacific Ocean, where the Fourth of July festivities are just underway! The grass and low-lying shrubs rustle with patriotic glee on the abandoned WWII airstrip, a testament to the island’s cherished place in American history. It’s hard to sit down on a day like this, especially when the ground is covered in guano.
Baker Island is red, white, and blue as far as the eye can see, mostly because the three visible things are hermit crabs, guano, and water. And if you squint hard enough, or let the delirium kick in hard enough, every shit-filled seagull is a bald eagle. And every wad of guano is a cold, refreshing snow cone.
Life moves a little slower here out here in America’s heartland. And I call it “America’s heartland” in the way that this one diseased seagull chick has its heart beating entirely outside its body. Soon the little guy will join the founding fathers in freedom! So far no parade floats have passed by, but I’m ready to wave and shout at anything that floats by. I just accidentally set off my only emergency flare, letting loose the greatest fireworks display Baker Island has ever seen!
I guess it took coming to the far reaches of America to learn what it truly means to be American. And what it means to die on a floating pile of bird shit.
-Mike Hewitt [Matt Garczynski]