Fall 1989, Issue 3

dEditor's Box

by Huff and Waypa

Mr. Pearlstein finally got "stuffed." Now we're in charge. Fuck yeah! Oh sure, we feel bad about the big guy, but hey, those things do happen.

So this is "The People's Choice Koala." Actually, the issue should really be titled "The Person's Choice Koala." We did manage to receive a whopping 314 ballots back from you, the weasel readers. So why bitch and moan? I think the fact that 309 of them came from one person might have just a little something to do with it.

Yes, that's right, one person took the time and effort to individually fill out and sign three hundred and nine identical ballots. In other words, one person single handedly took 309 copies of our pride 'n' joy out of circulation. At 7¢ a copy, the grand total comes out to $21.63, Mr. Cyko Kruger. Will that be cash, check, or charge?

Boy, these editor's boxes sure are exciting! There's so much to write about and so little space. I guess we might as well get on with the most important stuff first, our sex lives.

Finally after weeks of telling my friends "no luck," I've received a reply to my personal. I just hope to hell that no one is stroking my thigh on this. She, the woman who answered my personal, wants me to print a real picture of myself. Well, I'm sorry to say that I can't do that 'cause that would be self glorification, and we here on The Koala are above that. Besides, my face just broke out in mountains of acneous pus, and that doesn't photograph well. Anyway, I'm in The Koala office almost every day, so you'll just have to come in and meet me mono a-mono.

Speaking of pictures, did you catch the ones in The Guardian's Q&A? What humor. What fortitude. What glamour. We are just so stiflingly jealous that we feel we should close shop and go home. I mean, Atkinson in Groucho Marx glasses, that's just too much.

As far as the other Greg's (Huff) sex life goes -- I don't need to break down and write a desperate personal to whomever-wrench-it-mayconcern in the first place. No siree, I can just cruise down to El Cajon Blvd. and find dozens of hot babes that would love to be my friend for the evening. So there, pbthhh!!

Oh yeah, there were 309 votes for Alex to write this editor's box on Galapagos turtles. Obviously he is in no position to do that right now, and we quite frankly don't have a clue about the eating and mating habits of these beasts. Sorry.

We are the (Gr)eggmen. Enjoy the issue, folks.

Ask The Koala

Yo Koala,
How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?
Leigh Annie

Dear Leigh Annie,
10 more than it takes to get to the center of the Earth.

Yo Koala,
I can't help but notice you constantly bag on Greeks and ECE majors when the fact of the matter is that ECE majors are probably the only people who understand all your dumb humor and actually read the articles in your rag and Greeks are the only people who can drink more Generics than your staff. So put that in your pipe and smoke it and if you get high off it... Well then give me some.
Some dude
Just pondering life

Dear Some,
We appreciate the comment but frankly could care less about you and your problems. The only reason we ran this letter was to fill up space because we know sheep like you will read anything we print. And we'll drink any Greek under the (Round) table. any day of the week. Unfortunately, we probably would be in the ambulance by the time he actually fell.

Yo Koala,
Why do ugly guys have real high standards??
Perplexed and Puzzled

Dear P.P.,
So they can reach the top shelf.

Yo Koala,
When are you spoiled offspring of yuppie scumbags going to learn to bus your own tables in front of Galbraith Hall?
Holding my Breath
(and my nose)

Dear Holding 'Em,
Right you are! We had no idea that the Shuttle Bus now stops in front of Galbraith Hall, on the east ramp.
Silly us, we would carry our own tables over to the Shuttle Stop behind S & E Library, then bus then from there down to Kobey's Swap Meet.
Thank's for the update.

Yo Koala,
How the hell do they get the candy coating on M & M's so perfectly everytime?! This has been baffling great minds for about a year now. Please help!!
Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,
Good question. We called up the M & M's/ Mars labs in Hackettstown, N.J., and spoke with the Candy Coating division. Their chief scientist, whose name also happens to be Anonymous, explained the process.
"We make the candy shell first, using an old-fashioned method that resembles glassblowing. The shells are inspected by hand for roundness, and of course, each shell must pass the "m" test.
"Finally, we inject each shell with chocolate and the optional roasted peanut. And voila!, you have America's favorite candy."
Well, Anonymous, I hope that answered your question. Happy
Cavities'

Koala Staff

Editor-in-State
Alex Pearlstein

Production Editor
Greg Waypa

Associate Editor
Greg Huffstutter

Art Editor
Matti Siltanen

Senior Staff
Joe Alfano

Budgetary Manager
Per Caroe

Staffer still wanting fame
Doug Crews

Editor of the Negative Space
Bill Robison

Production Workers
Jessie Springer, Jorge Rosental, Per Caroe, Kim-Marie Burnett, Tamara Galchenko, Ian Loverro, Paul Ashley, John Grondalski, Steve Boswell, Cabbie, Frank Hanline, Jeremy Pasternak, Doug Crews, Seth S. & Phil "over there", Huff, Alex, Waypa, Joe, Matti,

Writers
Per Caroe, Joe Alfano, Greg Waypa, Alex Pearlstein, Greg Huffstutter, Jorge Rosental, Bill Robison, Doug Crews, Warren Ernst, John Grondalski, Paul Ashley, Steve Boswell, Ian Loverro, Phil, Phil's friend, Jeremy Pasternak, Frank Hanline, Jesse Sanchez,

Artists
Matti Siltanen, Milo Cooper, Bill Robison, Joe
Alfano

Photographers
Sioux Pygmy, Lisa Eshbaugh, Ian Loverro

TO ROBBY HUCKELL & DAVID CALABRESE: I FUCKED UP AND BLANKED
ON YOUR ARTICLE, BUT IT IS A GUARANTEED COVER NEXT ISSUE. SORRY

Shroomin' at the Hyperhouse
Stephen Bloom

I'm not sure what woke me, strange. I should know what woke me, but it doesn't matter. Only one thing matters right now, and she's still asleep. She doesn't even wake at the sound of the typing. Maybe it was her smell. Nothing sick mind you, maybe smell is the wrong word. Yea, scent is a better word. It's as much a part of her as her hair or her legs, you could take it away, but the world would be a worse place for it.

I hope the bells don't start up soon, they may wake her.

Well, my digital diary, I must go to class now. I go afloat on clouds of happiness..

Something is awry in my tulip garden, something is amiss, somethin' smells in the Kingdom of Denmark! I came home from my class, still awash with the pleasure drawn from our love (which is saying alot, since I had that horrible Chem. 11 exam, that was so hard that even the people I cheat off of didn't know the answers, what the hell is the Profs problem, doesn't she know that it's for poets and other assorted morons? And being the King of the Morons, I was pretty ticked). To find that my sweet, my beloved, my partner in passive restraint devices had left, leaving naught but a note.

Dear ***,
I'm tired of you always reading poetry to me by candle light; and those long, " tender " walks by the beach. I'm also. tired of you cooking dinner for me, giving me flowers when I'm blue or premenstrual. I'm gonna find me a real MAN. There's only one group that can make you a REAL MAN. They'll work you till all hours, make you do humiliating things, and worst of all, they don't pay diddly. They're our last hope. Call them:

The Koala
Q-007, C-9 UCSD Price Center
La Jolla, Ca. 92037, 534-4735
Copyright The Koala

There funding is from the AS & advertisers, but not their views, they're strictly meant to be funny. Please, for us. And so the note ends....