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TEASER EDITION WINTER 2009 THE TOTALLY BORING AND NON- OFFENSIVE ISSUE CENSORED

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Winter 2009-10

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TEASER EDITIONWINTER

2009

THE TOTALLY BORING

AND NON-OFFENSIVE

ISSUE

CENSORED

Ivory

Tower

Teaser

Ivory Tower

Ivory TowerIvory Tower

Ivory TowerIvory Tower

Ivory Tower

From the editors

Ivory Tower

Hello Fellow Undergraduates,Here we are, the semester nearly finished, and your window of opportunity to submit to The Ivory Tower nearly closed! Lucky for you procrastinators out there, we’ve decided to extend our submission deadline! So now y’all have till January 1st to submit your titillating work. Check out our website at ivorytower.umn.edu to get more information on how to submit.Now, without further ado, we invite you to peruse our Teaser, fully equipped with pieces from the dusty, but brilliant, Ivory archives. Go on now -- read, doodle on, try not to drool on, and by all means enjoy, our Teaser. That’s what it’s here for.Thanks for reading, Melissa Wray & Rachelle KuehneEditors-in-Chief

Dear Girl Over There, yeah, you, I just wanted to thank you for the amazing time I had walking up the three flights of stairs in Folwell today. It was magical because I was walking behind you, and you were wear-ing white leggings as pants. I couldn’t help but admire how tightly they gripped every outline of every buldge. I’m sure you looked at yourself in the mirror this morning, compliment-ing yourself on how the form of your ass was no longer a mystery for oth-ers to contemplate. Oh, but the part I loved best was when, upon clearing the top step...you turned and flashed your camel toe to the world. Bless you. - Maybe Gouging my Eyes Out

Dear Batman,I have eloped with the Joker in a Vegas killing spree against Robin and Batgirl.Oh, and we stole your bat-condoms.-Harley Quinn

Dear Restaurant Goers,You are a bunch of cheap bastards. Since when is it customary to tip less than 15%? I do not want your nickels and dimes and am not working this shitty job for my health and/or amusment. I think the world would be better off if you stick to your microwave, stove, and Subway. No tip involved and I won’t want to scream in your face.Sincerely,Disgruntled Restaurant Employee

Letters You’d Like

Dear Chaches, I can tell when you look at my butt. I purposely fart when you do so. -Flatulent

to Write,

Love and Kisses,The staff at Ivory Tower

Dear Biker with the rolled-up pant leg,Even though you are moving at twice my speed, that does not give you the right to run me down. Pick on some-one your own size. And you’re not supposed to be on the sidewalk anyway, so get on the street where you belong. Sincerely, Annoyed PedestrianP.S. Roll down that pant leg. I don’t care if it gets caught in your gears. You look ridiculous.

but...

A Glimpse Into The

A Panygeric UponGrammarians.being an appreciation of higher learning of the baser sort Mydoctorprofessorsoandso, Englightenedmanoffolderol Andrattletrap,withhighregard Forsuchandsuch,whofoundithard Toseerelaxedtheworkofminds Beyondhiskenandnothiskind, Ononefalldayaroseatdawn Andearlyleft,thewalkwaslong, Toreachthegreatmidwesternseat Ofhigherlearningtheelite. Oncethereourdoctoryouknowwho Wastoldtoenlightenmeandyou Byexpoundingongreatliterature. Heplacedhislecternfirmlyon Thepolisheddeskandturnedaround Tofacetheboardwithchalkinhand Andthenhefilledtheroomwithsand. Assignmentfortoday,hewrote, Willbetolearn,andallbyrote, Howmanytimestheletterp Occursonpagestwenty-three Andfour,andthentowrite,withsome Regard,abouttheslenderthumb Andlovelifeofthepoet’swife, Withwhomhelivedoutallhislife. Andsoitwasthequarterthrough Asweallsatandlistenedto Ourdoctorprofessorsoandso LaytheEnglishauthorslow, Andallofthisgoodworkwasdone Forfullappreciation Ofthegreatestworksofart, Towhichourdoctorgavehisheart.

P.duM.

Having stopped for a few days in Warsaw, I decided to pay a visit to a great poet who was the author of my favorite poems. It must not have been a very original idea to do so, since he had been—poor soul—completely worn out by the visits of his admirers, editors, publishers, and God knows who else. Yet he received me. Introducing myself in a trembling voice, I felt the stage fright made me sound like an idiot. I sat in the armchair. There was a polite silence. A fly was walking over the table. “I just happened to be in Warsaw, and I thought—,” I said vehe-mently. “What?” asked the great poet after considerable pause. “I say I just happened to be in Warsaw, and I just thought--” “What?” he asked more energetically. “I say,” I shouted, thinking that he was hard of hearing, “that I just happened —” “But what did you think, madam?” he interrupted impatiently. “That it would be good to drop in to see you. Because I have been dreaming to see you face to face. But you must be fed up with these visits.” “Why, not—” he said sadly. The fly was walking. “These poems are wonderful,” I said. He became livelier. “Which?” “Well, yours.” “And which of them do you like so much?” “Ah, for instance, this one: ‘I entered the darksome tomb of Agamemnon—”

The Visitsatire by Stefania Grodzienskatranslated by Danute Zamojska

A Glimpse Into The Ivory Tower Archives “That is Slowacki’s,” he said gently. It was my bad day. There was no use to even disagree. He must have known it better. The fly was crawling. “Sorry, but the ash of your cigaret may fall down,” I said after a while. He woke up so quickly from pondering that it really did fall down. “I beg your pardon?” he asked kindly. “No, nothing at all.” “But do say it, madam. I beg you!” “Well, but really--” “Don’t be shy, madam!” “Thank you kindly, sir, it is of no importance. It’s not even worth—” “Do not be so modest, madam. I will hear it with pleasure.” “I was just saying that your ash might have dropped. From your cigaret.” He looked at the cigaret. “But it already has,” I added. “And you maintain that it will fall again?” he said, astonished. “Not at all,” I said. “I said it before.” “Before?” “Yes. Before it had fallen.” The fly was strolling. I felt that the last particles of charm had left me. “I said it, but you didn’t get it,” I explained, tears in my eyes. “I am very sorry, but what did you say, madam?” he said with new interest. “About the ash.” “About the ash? Oh, that it might fall?” “Yes, just that.” The fly was promenading. I stood up. “Well, so I thank you kindly, sir, to have received me. I know you are very busy, and nevertheless — Indeed—” He bade me farewell, suppressing the sigh of relief. The fly flew after me. “It was an unforgettable talk,” I was later telling my friends, and they listened breathlessly. “We were sitting vis-a-vis, and we talked about very unusual inspiring things —”

“And what else?” my listeners became excited. “It is difficult to repeat it literally, it was more the mood of the talk itself that was important.” “Tell us of this then, at least approximately!” Well, at first we were wondering about this strange coincidence--that I just happened to have come to Warsaw, that I came to him. Then there was a very engaging talk about Slowacki.” “And what, what else? Tell us everything!” “It will be difficult for you to grasp it. We were talking about the ash from his cigaret. That, before you had time to realize the ashes fall, get tracelessly lost...Well, no, no, it cannot be translated.”

They looked at me with great respect.

OfTheCoedOF THE COED Shethinksthatby Bearingtheruggedsweater She’snotawry; Thathoneyedhair, CombedtoaGrecian’sbun,‘s Beyondcompare.

Shethinksthebooks Cribbingintoherbosom Arenotforlooks, Sinceuglybears AccompaniedGreciangirls Tooffsettheirs.

Owhyshouldshe ForbearanUr-somemajor-- Tominorme?

-Robert Kent

Cat by Judy Lee Wittmayer

sure, I killed the cat— the big, dirty mass of matted yellow fur. I watched the cat as she crouched beside our porch, the tip of her tail twitching ever so slightly. I saw her as she watched the tiny sparrow pulling and tugging at a bit of string fas-tened to a gar-den stake. The cat crept forward on her belly; her eyes were slits in her yellow face. Then she sprang at the sparrow and the two became a flurry of yel-low fur and grey feathers. Later I saw the cat with bits of grey feath-ers still clinging to her mouth and whiskers. She was sleeping in the sun. I went into the house and got one of daddy’s old leather belts-the one he always uses to spank Jimmy. I stooped beside the cat and stroked her dirty fur. She stretched lazily and blinked her eyes in the warm af-ternoon sunlight. I slipped the belt around her neck and fastened it into a leash. Then I picked the cat up, and carried her across the alley, into the woods, and down the river bank. She purred contentedly in my arms. It was cool down by the river. It smelled like fish and grass and leaves. I sat on the cement piling underneath the bridge and held the

cat. She smelled the water and began to struggle. She hissed and scratched my arm, so I tightened the belt until she stopped struggling. She blinked her green eyes at me and tried to fight but the belt cut off her wind. It was dark under the bridge, and the water felt

cool on my bare feet. It made my feet white where it washed off the dust from the al-ley and left a ring on my ankles where it stopped. A big dead carp floated by, its white upturned belly covered with green flies. I splashed it with my foot and the flies buzzed away. The cat began to fight again, so I stood up and tightened the belt. Now it would not slip over her head. I leaned over the edge of the pil-ing and gave the cat a push. She slipped off and dangled a few

feet above the water. I lowered her and she stiffened as her back paws touched the water. I lowered her some more and her back legs began to churn against the oily wetness, but soon she stopped because she couldn’t breathe with the belt so tight. My arms were beginning to ache, so I hauled her back up be-side me. I took the belt off her neck, and she blinked at me but could not get up. I stood up and she still lay there blinking. Her fur was wet and brown now. With my foot I pushed her off the pil-ing. I picked the bits of yellow fur off the belt, and then I went home because mother doesn’t like it when I’m late for supper.

originally published May 25th 1959 by The Ivory Tower

Teaser Created By: Anna Nething, Jade Bove, & Becky Wagner

Teaser Powered By:Rachelle Kuehne, Melissa Wray, Erin Flannery, Amanda Gordon, Alex Weaver, Courtney Reigh, Jessica

Mattson, Natalie Sosnay, Robert Kipp, Celeste Larson, Gena Cochrun, Eric Murphy, Samantha Degen, Becca Strauss, Eugene Lewis, & Agnes Rzepecki

THE SUBMISSION DEADLINE HAS BEEN EXTENDED

SEND US YOUR POETRY, PROSE, NON-FICTION, PHOTOS, PAINTINGS, SCULPTURES, PHOTOS OF PAINTINGS, PAINTINGS OF PHOTOS,

SCULPTURES OF PHOTOS OF PAINTINGS, TECHNICAL DRAWINGS, TRANSLATION OF FOREIGN TEXTS, MUSICAL

LYRICS, MUSIC, GOSSIP, UNFRIENDLY BANTER, FRIENDLIER BANTER, QUESTIONS, COMMENTS OR CONCERNS,

LIBERAL INTERPRETATIONS, CONSERVATIVE INTERPRETATIONS, CENTRIST INTERPRETATIONS, WHATEVER YOU LIKE OR DISLIKE.

YOU CAN ALSO SEND US COOKIES. WE LIKE COOKIES.

THE NEW DEADLINE FOR SUBMISSIONS IS JANUARY 1ST 2010

GO TO WWW.IVORYTOWER.UMN.EDUFOR DETAILS ON HOW TO SUBMIT

CUT HERE CUT HERE

ATTENTION!