By Sarah Reif
Dear Binston Swongo,
It’s your old friend, The Devil! Hope you’ve been good, buddy. I miss the good old times we had together. Especially our improv and sketch comedy troupe in Las Vegas! We did such important work. Of course, that was before I became President and CEO of Grocs.
I must admit, Binny, I actually write to you on business. I made a little visit to campus a couple weeks ago and I think I may have made a dire error while there. I need your advice.
By Sophia Levitas-Goren
I may side-eye you when you go to the kosher section on any other day — you don’t want to wait in line at plat, I get it. But this night, rather this week, is different from all other nights and all other weeks. These eight days I am requesting that all of you non-jews go eat at literally any other section. Let’s be fucking for real, do you really want to eat matzo spanakopita? I can promise you, it is not that good!!!!
By Sarah Reif for the B&S Editorial Board
As President of Grinnell, Anne Harris has involved herself greatly in College affairs. She has been a judge at Tithead, Halloween Harris’s special guest, patron of the arts, etc., etc., etc., and so forth. I also ran into her at Walmart yesterday.
As a result, she has absolutely squandered the mystique that accompanies being the president of a small liberal-arts college. She is too much the people’s president. However, we on The B&S Editorial Board have strategized specialized techniques to mitigate and even reverse the “normalization” of Anne Harris.
By Josh Emrys Payong
Dear Binston Swongo,
Every night since Halloweekend, I’ve found myself lost in the woods past the golf course, stroking each pine and spruce as if they were his own trunk. You see, Binston…I thought I hooked up with the real Lorax that Friday night. He whisked me away from the Harris by the arm with his soft cheeto-colored hand, his other firmly grasping his bushy tushy like he does when he flies. It was cold out, but it mattered not, for his voluminous moustache enveloped me like a womb does to a baby. He ripped open my fursuit from behind (you see, I’d gone as the Cat in the Hat, but with humongous naturals) and most definitely Let it Grow. But just as I was about to finish, I accidentally ripped some bark off the tree I’d been leaning on. All he did was stop, shake his head, re-twisted his cock (did you know that the Lorax has a corkscrew dick, like ducks? wild), then flew off into the night sky. What do I do with myself, Binston? How do I fill this stout, oval-shaped hole in my gaping ass?
Sincerely,
Cat in the Hat with Humongous Naturals
By Bella Takata
Dear Binston Swongo,
10/10 is next weekend, and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to make it through the day. Not that I think I’m going to die or anything, but 10/10 is a marathon and I’m more of a sprint kinda guy.
I have a pretty bad track record. Last year, at my first 10/10, I didn’t even start drinking until around 1 pm. We’d had a competition earlier that day, so my buddies were eager to get a “running start” when they burst into my room with enough alcohol to kill a Trojan army. I hardly made it to the first party. The tally marks counting the drinks on my arm were in the dozens within the first hour, and I’m not particularly big and strong or anything, so this really got me. At wrestling, I was sprawled out on the lawn 20 feet away, and by 3 pm, I was asleep in bed!
By Catherine Terelak
Dear Attention-Seeking Professor,
Welcome to late middle age! While we haven’t met, you once snapped your fingers at me while I was cashiering at Ace Hardware, which told me all I needed to know about the kind of person you are. (True story.) Additionally, I feel as though we’ve been introduced through Karen memes and American Psycho. Do you know how to read? Oh — In English and French? What a miracle! Studies show that your generation was exposed to lead as children, leading to psychosis, ADHD, and antisocial behavior. According to me (FYI, the NYT is for crosswords now), your cohort is cynical, emotionally repressed, and desperate for the comfort of a strawberry daiquiri and the stability of an early retirement. You are a “generation of swine” (Hunter S. Thompson’s words) because you came of age when it was cool to embrace the onslaught of anti-intellectualism and consumer excess for which you blame poor, sweet, earnest Gen Z.
By Carter Ottele
I’ve been remarkably lucky to edit the B&S for the last two years. Most schools don’t pay their students to print articles with headlines like “Tenured Professors Celebrate 1,000 Days by Selling Souls, Engaging in Wild Orgy” or “Grinnellians Die Alone”; the fact that SPARC continues funding the B&S remains a marvel and a mystery. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time with this publication, and I look forward to seeing it grow under new leadership.
By Catherine Terelak
At forty-eight years old, I never thought I’d be faced with the decision to aboyt my nineteen-year-old son. Pathologically useless, Brody graduated high school with no plans for employment, vocational training, or further education. For a year now, he’s been huffing paint in the garage, online gambling with an account attached to my credit card, and watching Israeli floor hockey videos at maximum volume on the family television. His intellectual challenges are such that he cannot perform the basic tasks of daily living, including feeding and hygiene. He cannot regulate his emotions and spends eighteen hours a day in a weed-induced trance, rarely leaving his childhood bedroom. His friends are similarly delayed and have become an additional burden for our family, perpetually sneaking in through the back door with thirty-racks of Twisted Tea.
By Henry Coen
Dear Binston Swongo,
I accidentally set my scale to kilograms instead of grams when I was measuring my mushrooms for Alice, and I think I might have broken my brain. People’s faces now look like monsters, all music sounds like farts to me, and the voices in my head have gotten so much louder. What should I do? Is there any way to fix this?
—Oliva Dosa ’26
By Bella Takata
Hey everybody, so sorry I haven’t written in a while!!
I bet you’re all wondering… Bella! Where have you been loca??
Well, it’s a crazy story.
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