Category: Op-Ed

“Sweet Caroline,” “Jessie’s Girl,” and “Stacy’s Mom” Are All the Same Person and Here’s Why

by JACK SHANE February 10, 2019

Before you write this off as the ramblings of a mad man, hear me out. These three songs were released in an order such that the “Sweet Caroline” that Neil Diamond sings about in 1969 is a baby, likely his niece or cousin. The lyrics of Diamond’s song are much less sexually charged than the other two, showing that they are likely about a baby “reaching out to him.” Let’s be honest, there is nothing cuter than babies reaching out. His phrasing implies that he is babysitting this baby as the night “don’t seem so lonely.” He even sings about how perfect it feels “when I’m holding you.” So, either Neil is having a nice moment with his infant niece, or he is fucking this baby. Moving on.

In 1981, Rick Springfield longs to be with his best friend’s girl who, you guessed it, is (probably) named Caroline. Assuming that Neil Diamond was babysitting her between the ages of two and five, Caroline would now be 14-17, perfect age for the girl mentioned in Springfield’s high school anthem. Springfield laments about how Jessie holds her at night, likely reminding her of how her favorite uncle or cousin used to hold her when she was a baby. Hot, right?

Twenty-two years later, in 2003, Fountains of Wayne released the classic hit “Stacy’s Mom” about the same girl. Now a woman in her late 30’s, Caroline has birthed a child, who she named Stacy. This daughter has a boyfriend who longs to see Caroline. According to Rick Springfield, Caroline is a beautiful lady, which this boy now sees as well, even 20 years later. Springfield also grieves over how Caroline looks at Jessie, similar in the way that she is said to stare at the boy mentioned by Fountains of Wayne.

Canada Goose Heads South for Winter Break

by  BROOKE VAHOS and ELIZA JEVON Jan. 24, 2019

Hailing from Vancouver originally, Remington the Goose decided it was time for a change of scenery.  He so hated wearing his threadbare $1050 Expedition Multi-Pocket Parka Coat with Fur Hood. Drag racing his Lamborghini through the snow was getting old (he was generous enough to give his livery driver a break from time to time). So, he had Roger pack up his Louis Vuitton suitcases and book the next flight to Tijuana, Mexico. Continue reading “Canada Goose Heads South for Winter Break”

Clayton S. Rose: “If Everyone Could Just Venmo Me Like 5 Million That’d Be Awesome”

By SARA BARONSKY Oct. 12, 2017

Hey guys,

I know it’s super annoying, and you know I really hate to be that guy, but I kind of need you to send me that $5,000,000 right now if you haven’t already. So far I’ve only gotten money from Reed and the Schillers.

Graphic by Arah Kang 

Again, hate to be that College President, but I’m actually spending a lot out of pocket currently, so if you could get it to me quickly that would really mean a lot. Ugh, I hate to even mention this because, like, you guys know I hate talking about money, but I took out a loan against some of those new treadmills in buck, and it’s really getting down to the wire here.

Also, someone left a green Nalgene in the basement of HL. It’s in my desk if you want to swing by and pick it up. Thanks!


Guest Blog: I Have Never Seen My Own Penis


I wanted to write about something that has always been very hard for me to talk about. Whenever I bring it up, I get laughed at. Tormented. Prodded with wooden spoons. No one seems to get it, but I’m telling you all because I hope someone understands.

I have never seen my own penis.

I know, you’re probably already chuckling, but it’s the truth. I’ve never come face-to-head with my schlong. I think it’s there — I pee four times a day and have 2 beautiful children — I just haven’t seen it for myself.

No, this isn’t a weight issue. I’m definitely on the skinnier side, and I hit the gym every day. Maybe I just haven’t looked down enough? Other people have seen it, and even said that it’s the average length and girth, but I have yet to catch a glimpse of my own skin flute.

                            Maybe I left it in my other pair of pants?

What’s the next step? What do you think I should do? Maybe I haven’t been tried hard enough? Should I ask someone to take a picture of my one-eyed-snake? Or have I been lied to, and I don’t really have a pork sword of my own? It sounds crazy coming from a grown man, but I’d really love to see my giggle stick, even just once.

Thank you all for reading. I hope that this article helps end the stigma against men unable to examine their own meat scepters. Maybe this is the first step. Maybe you all will finally come to accept, even celebrate, that I may never get to see my own bologna pony.


A Possibly Phallus-less Fellow

Your Mental Health is More Important Than Your School, So Just Burn it Down Already, Feed it to the Flames

By HUGO HENTOFF Dec. 1, 2016

A lot of times it can feel like getting good grades is the most important thing in the world, but it’s crucial to remember that your mental health matters too. Make sure to make enough time for you! When you’re feeling overwhelmed, just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and grab those comforting matches you keep under your pillow. Make your mental health a priority and do what feels right. Burn your school down. Burn it all down. Feed it to the flames.

To be happy and healthy, you need to value yourself and your time. Of course you have academic responsibilities, but you also have a responsibility to your own wellbeing, so just burn it down already. Start with something small, like a shed or a teacher’s car, just to get a taste, and go from there.

             Slow down. Breathe. Commit arson.

Self-care is a 24-hour job, so build your pyre in the dead of night. No one will see you and you’ll have the beautiful flames all to yourself. The fire is insatiable, but she is beautiful. It’s time to feed her the world.

Honey, I Shrunk a Bunch of Stuff Way Worse Than the Kids


I just finished watching that Honey, I Shrunk The Kids movie, and it sucked. That guy didn’t have to tell his wife jack shit. I’ve shrunk loads of things way worse than some bratty teens. Those directors should’ve made a movie about me. It could’ve been a real gritty documentary that would keep the audience on the edge of their seats. Here are just a few of the movies they could have made about me. Ooh, or maybe it could be an HBO miniseries?


  • Honey, I shrunk our entire life savings by investing in a Ponzi Scheme

  • Honey, I shrunk an extremely poisonous tarantula and eight guns so I may have created an undetectable killing machine

  • Honey, I shrunk an entire orphanage but it’s okay, no one will notice

  • Honey, I shrunk this shirt, I’m not getting fatter, you are, fuck off, ugh

  • Honey, I shrunk a giraffe, and it was really cute, but I think I stepped on it, and now I’m not in the mood to sleep with you

  • Honey, I shrunk another orphanage and I think people are catching on

  • Honey, I didn’t shrink my penis, it’s just cold in here, sorry I’m not Barry

  • Honey, I shrunk all the pens in the house so you can’t make me sign those divorce papers

  • Honey, I shrunk Barry’s penis so now I’m all you have

  • Honey, I shrunk myself after you left and I’m going to marry an orphan
  • Honey, the orphans don’t like that I shrunk them and toothpicks are much more threatening now…please buy me a regular sized coffin, closed casket.

Hey BOC, I Think We Should Talk


Hey BOC,

It’s me, Nature. You know, the one you never stop talking about with all your friends. I really don’t know how to approach this since it’s a little awkward for me, but we need to talk.


Everyone knows how much you love me, but I’m just not there yet. All the, “I’m in love with nature” and, “I just want to be out in nature right now” is really overwhelming. You’re smothering me and I can’t take it any longer. I think it’s best that we just be friends right now.

This doesn’t mean we still can’t hang out! You can keep using me to justify not showering or feeling like you’re better than that guy in your history class who didn’t recycle that one time. You can even write in Bernie Sanders for president if it somehow makes you feel close to me.

I’m sorry this is so abrupt. Maybe it’s the general warming of the Earth, but I just feel like we should let things cool down.

Take care of yourself,


Image Source:

Tequila, Beloved Friend and Hamster, Died on May 2, 2016


As humans, we come into this world with very little direction. Hopefully, we have parents that set us on the proper path and friends to root for us. If we are lucky, we have people on our side, hoping for our success, but it is never certain. If there is one certainty in life though, it is that our pets are always on our side — even if owning them in a first year dorm is in direct violation of campus rules.


Like any good friend, Tequila was always there for those who needed her. Whenever someone needed to avoid a problem set or take a break from a soul crushing Gender and Women’s Studies paper, she was there. Sure, saying her name caused security to come check to see if people were drinking in the room, but she was worth it.

If love is a journey, then loving Tequila was like climbing fucking Everest. She wouldn’t hydrate some days. Other days, she would pee on drunken guests who tried to hold her. Cleaning her cage was not exactly pleasant either.

Could anything ever fill the void left by such a presence? No. Not yet. She burrowed into our hearts much like she burrowed into her cage where she slept for twenty hours each day surrounded by her own feces.

Tequila is survived by her five mourning mothers. The service was brief, intimate, somber, and filled with Coldplay. The casket that now holds her cold, stiff body came from the finest corks, popsicle sticks, and hot glue the Craft Center had to offer.

In light of this campus tragedy, we should all be reminded that, some day, we will all go into that good night, hamster and human alike. Death waits for us all.

Bowdoin Counseling Services are available to all students affected by this tragedy.

“Saudi Arabia? More Like Loudy Arabia,” Says Neighbor Oman


Fuck you, Saudi Arabia.

Hey there, it’s me, the friendly Sultanate of Oman. You may know me for not being the 1976 cult horror film, The Omen, or by confusing me with Yemen. But no, my confused American, I have beautiful beaches and I rank 74th in the World Peace Index. You should visit us! Please.

                                My Tinder Profile Picture

When it comes to Saudi Arabia, however, Oman does not give a shit about being “peaceful.”

You see, this whole ordeal started last Tuesday night. I had work the next morning and I went to bed on the early side. But around 11 pm, Saudi began blasting Michael Bublé! Who the fuck booms Michael Bublé at 11 pm on a Tuesday night? Not even Michael Bublé’s crotchety-ass mother, Amber! And even if she did, Michael would say, “Not now, Amber, it’s 11 pm on a Tuesday Night! What the fuck, Amber.”

So, I did as any good neighbor would do and called Saudi. And do you know what Saudi did? Saudi put me on hold. And guess what music Saudi played when I was on hold. Michael Bublé.

When I finally got Saudi Arabia, they denied playing the Bubs! They said, “Nah man, that was just some late night beheading.” Really? A beheading at 11 pm on Tuesday. Does Saudi Arabia think Oman is a fool?

Why Did You Let Me Sleep on the Couch Again?

By PAUL GARLICK April 25, 2016

I woke up on the couch this morning. Again. Why did my roommate let me sleep there? He knows I have back problems, and I know he saw me sleeping there. I haven’t felt this sore since last weekend, when he left me on the couch. Maybe wake me up next time, ok?

Why did you let me sleep on the couch again
                           Illustrated by Blanche Froelich

The couch is a hard place to understand. After crawling back to your dorm from whatever party you attended, taking a nap on the couch seems like a good decision. It’s easy. It’s convenient. You’re tired. You just need a minute on the couch. But, when you sleep on that couch, it will come back at you with a fiery vengeance. You’ll wake up sore, confused, and significantly more tired than you were the night before. You will regret absolutely everything about the experience, and the worst part is it would not have happened had your roommate cared.

If your roommate doesn’t wake you up from the couch, there is no clearer sign that they hate you with a passion deep in the core of their cold, dead heart. It’s the only reason they would let you sleep in such an unforgiving, inhospitable place. How many times has my roommate heard me complaining about waking up on the couch again? Too many. And how many times has he woken me up after seeing me asleep on the couch? Not once. He promised he would make sure that I made it to my bed, but he didn’t. I woke up in a hazy cloud, cold and shivering, yet again, with my faith in humanity crushed.

I TRUSTED YOU! I thought you really cared about me, but I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. You really just hate me. After all this time you’ve pretended to like me and just hid your hatred from me. You probably talk about me behind my back. Well, guess what? I HATE YOU TOO! I never liked you. I never want to see you or talk to you again, and now that I think about it, nowhere could possibly be as bad as any room you’re in. I’m sleeping on the couch for the rest of the year, so I never have to see your disgusting, backstabbing face again, you emotionless rat. Goodbye, Michael. Goodbye for good.