I’m Joe, but you can call me the “Police Blogger.” No, that’s not what my friends call me, it’s just what I call myself. This is my first blog post, so excuse the typos and ramblings.

Normally, in the paper you see the police blotter, where you read all the crimes. But I’m the police blogger–I give you the crimes and then I give you my opinions.

Let’s begin: Yesterday at 3:15 p.m., a Macbook was stolen from Hewlett 200 from some girl Carli. First off, Carli, seriously? Everyone knows Stanford students are hungry for extra first generation Macbooks. Plus, the report says you didn’t have a lock and are not actually sure that you lost it and that it might still be in your dorm room under your bed. I think what we have here is a case of the “I need to be more responsible”s.

Ok, next up: Last week in Mirrielees, a recording device was found in a bedroom. First off, creepy. Second, really? Ok, guys, if you are looking for recording space, I have this friend who does a really great job, he’s really professional and he can record your band for cheap. He’s done a bunch of local bands before–I’ll give you his number.

Last: Another day, another bike crash outside the Post Office. What can I tell you guys? Helmets is the name of the game. Let’s act like grown ups.

After several weeks of writing a column, I have been called “self-righteous masculinist,” “playa,” “pimp,” “thoughtless man-whore” and “shallow,” to which I proudly plead guilty.

You’ve got me pinned; I’m your stereotypical guy who thinks of nothing more than sex (specifically every six seconds, that is), and I’m here to tell you that we’ve been persecuted for far too long.

People may claim this is the age of sexual liberation, where you can go around talking about blowjobs and orgies and bestiality all you want, but I am living proof that this is simply not true. I won’t even tell you what happened the last time I started talking about my forays into bestiality.

We men, when we go out, we are just trying to claim our god-given right to the blowjob. The only thing we ever think about is boobs and vaginas and boobs and asses and vaginas and boobs. Yes, women of the world, you’ve got us figured out. Boobs.

All we do is read ESPN magazine to find out about the latest sex positions and drink beer to find enlightenment on the best pick up lines. This is our life.

And if you are a man who goes out just to get a simple blowjob every night, only to come back with a hug, I challenge you. I dare you to say no to these Stanford girls who tease you. Traumatizing studies have come out recently, revealing that a majority of Stanford men have been involved in a life-altering tease. Many of these men have never recovered.

You may think, “This can’t happen to me,” “This is Stanford,” “I’m a nice guy” or other similar thoughts, but I assure you, these teasers walk amongst us. They may look like your average girl, but trust me, these women are vicious. So BE CAREFUL PLEASE!

To discuss your forays into bestiality, e-mail flipside@stanford.edu.

I am outraged. The Gap has such great clothes at reasonable prices. Right now, for a limited time only, men’s and women’s shorts are 30 percent off. And have you seen their new gray chambray military shirt? It looks great with just about anything.

How could we, as Stanford University students, let this happen? It is our responsibility to stand for what’s right, to give justice to the weak and the fatherless, to maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.

F**k, this has got to f**king stop! Frat boys around the world, hear my call to rise up and fight for our rights. 
 
Rise up and unite against the looming cloud of oppression! Our rights to free speech are imperiled. Last week, some dude used a perfectly normal word in a perfectly normal way to describe a perfectly normal loser. He called somebody a—oh wait, I’m not allowed to say it anymore—starts with f and rhymes with bag. Or tag. How about I just say, “f-bag?” Yeah. Bring it. 

And this is a slippery slope. After they take away “f-bag,” they’ll take “d-bag,” and then they’ll take “a-hole,” and then before we know it, we won’t even be able to say “butt-f**ker.” 
 
We, the fraternal brothers of the world, need to speak out against this tyranny. We have the right to our kegs! We have the right to wear wife-beaters. And we have the right to stagger drunkenly across our sticky floors admiring the cleavage of sorority girls. 

Seriously guys, this is gay,
Charles “Chug it!” Frickman

Hey guys, I’m a member of the Stanford class of 2014! Well, maybe the Stanford Class of 2014. I also got into Yale, Harvard, Princeton and MIT. Did you hear that this was the hardest year to get into the top schools? That’s okay though, since I got into five of the best ones. Each of my schools only accepted 7.6 percent of the applicants. That means I’m in the top .0002% of students in the country! It’s great to hear people acknowledge how great we are. On the way to the Admit Weekend opening ceremony, I met a Junior majoring in physics. He didn’t seem to be impressed with any of the ProFros. I bet he wouldn’t have gotten in if he had applied this year. The admissions officers say they never make mistakes, but I bet what they really mean is that they didn’t make any mistakes this year. With the high acceptance rate they had two years ago, I bet they accepted loads of people who don’t belong here.


Did you go to the opening ceremony for Admit Weekend? I thought it was pretty cool. Our class has done lots of amazing things. You remember the kid who was named the top young scientist of the year by Time Magazine? That was me. How about the one who discovered the “Alzheimer’s Gene?” Well, that was me too! Our class sure has done a lot.



I think the best thing about preparing for college is joining groups and meeting people on Facebook. I’m a member of the Stanford, Princeton, Harvard, and Yale Classes of 2014 and the MIT Class of 2013 (I worked it out—If I go to MIT, I’ll be able to graduate in three years with a double major). I just think it’s important for everyone to know what options I have. How else are they going to convince me their school is the best?



This Admit Weekend has definitely been wonderful. I don’t know how I’m ever going to decide where I want to go, but with all of my awards and achievements from high school, I’m sure I’ll be successful no matter what. After all, I’m the best of the best! 


1) The Fire Truck House.

The confusion must stop! Students with dorm rooms on fire, homework on fire or who are on fire themselves will be attracted to the Fire Truck House because of its name. There, they will find a Women’s Community Center unequipped to deal with their fire-related difficulties and an LGBT center that will encourage them to accept, rather than extinguish, their flaming lifestyle.

2) Stanford Faculty TV show

It’s so easy for us as students to know our professors on a strictly professional level, but can that really reveal the drive behind their work and the truth that can be gleaned from their life experiences? No. The solution to that is simple: An Office-like sitcom published weekly on YouTube with a rotating cast of Stanford faculty. We suggest they start with economics professor Mark Tendall as Jim, Condi Rice as Pam and lovable emeritus professor of chemistry Carl Djerassi as Creed.

3) Pre-emptive invasion of FroSoCo to find WMDs.

No explanation needed.

No, we don’t get special fees and we’re not even applying this year, but we’d like your support anyway. See, we don’t need money. Our group relies on support from our readers and support alone. When we get invoices from our printer, we pay them by forwarding along the support we get from you. When our web hosting bill comes in each month, we pay them by sending your support through the internet tubes.

Today, as the special fees cost per student has skyrocketed, one thing remains constant, and that is that the Flipside gives you the hard-hitting news in its purest form.

Even after you pay Volunteers in Latin America $18,000, Mock Trial $30,000, the Orchestra $26,000, Solar Car $50,000, Sigma Nu $20,000, Student Service Division $32,000, Flicks $76,000 (that’s right), the Daily $90,000 (that’s also right), you’re paying the Flipside $0.00 in special fees.

Because that’s what it takes to tell it how it is. Whether you read the Flipside religiously or read it extremely religiously, one thing is certain: you do the Rebus puzzles.

This is why we, the Editorial Board, ask you to take the time to go to www.stanfordflipside.com, and just support us. For special fees. But we’re still not applying.

And as the Daily worded so articulately, “If you can’t fund [insert your group name here], then what can you fund?”

The environment is in danger. Each day, we go about our business—filling landfills, drilling in the arctic, killing rain forests—but do we do anything to stop it? No. Well I think this sucks, and I’m going to do something about it. Here at MIT, we know what it really means to help the environment—we predicted your environmental problems years ago. That’s why all of our students shower only once a month. All you idealistic environmentalists may talk big game, but when it comes down to it, you waste over 20 gallons of water a day. And for what? To feel “clean”? To keep your hair shiny? To attract girls? Well the environment doesn’t care about your hair.

Sure, you can make fun of us—you can call us “disgusting,” “gross,” and “the creepiest date ever,” but that misses the point. We may have BO, but because of people like us, you still get to enjoy the golden smells of mountains, springs, and fresh bacteria in dark, moist places.

Ben Burges currently attends MIT, a small school in Massachussets. MIT is the US News and World Report’s #1 “Green School.”

I am disgusted.  Everywhere I go these days, I find that any comment anybody makes that even has the slightest hint of being sexually charged is quoted as having come from my mouth.  This is defamation to the highest degree.  I am in a healthy, monogamous relationship. I teach elementary school children and donate to charities that feed hungry children in Zimbabwe. But everywhere I go, I am hounded by allegations that paint me as some kind of kinky, no-standards, two-bit whore. 

I was walking down my street last night and I saw my neighbor Neil walking his dog.  The dog said “Ruff”, and Neil looked at me, laughed, and said, “That’s what she said.” I went to a restaurant and I said to my waiter, “I’d like some extra cream sauce with my Italian sausage,” and he has the nerve to laugh and say, “That’s what she said.”

Even my own students, my kindergarteners, have not been sheltered from these rumors.  This is a failure not only on the part of their parents, but also on the part of society as a whole.  I feel utterly disrespected, and am calling for immediate action.  Congress must levy a fine on anybody who utters those four hurtful words so that I can be compensated for the damages that have been done to me.  If no law is passed within the next three months, I can assure you that I will be visiting the office of every single congressman, and I will not stop moaning and crying until they scream, “YES!”